Today, I finished my second week of school for Fall Quarter of 2009. And in doing so, I spent four hours in the same art lab working on the same drawing... without finishing it. I've spent around six hours on it total now, and I'm nearly done. I found one thing odd, however, as I sat on the same uncomfortable drawing horse with an aching back for four hours working on the same drawing -- my mood was surprisingly happy.

Now, if this had been for any other class, I'd be completely frustrated, stressed, and exhausted. That's what I consider to be normal for myself while I'm in school. But I've noticed that art has an extremely calming, almost soothing effect on me, which I am elated to have found.

It doesn't matter if I have a paint brush in one hand and my palette knife in the other, mixing pigments to get the right hue for a specific part of my painting... or simply sitting behind my 400-series 14x17" strathmore sketchbook with various graphite pencils and kneaded eraser in my hand. There's something about getting lost in my own artwork that makes time both slow down and progress faster for me -- I lose consciousness of my surroundings and the people around me, as if time comes to a sudden halt and nothing or no one else matters, and yet in reality, four hours pass by like nothing. During this time, I'm not lonely anymore, nor am I stressed or tired from lack of sleep. The stressors that surround my life on a daily basis just suddenly melt away right before my very eyes.

Every school day, I either have two hours of drawing or three hours of painting. Sometimes more than that, if I decide to stay during open-lab hours. And although it's only two weeks into the quarter, I think I am the most at peace that I've been in quite a long time now. It's not that horrible things from my life have vanished for good -- they're still there. But it's those things that would normally leave me broken down and in tears that just seem... unimportant now. Perhaps it's my own work that's distracting me from them, leaving me in a pleasant mood for the rest of the day.

So yes, it's true that I can't find a job. Raising money for dorming or just plain moving out is difficult as hell. I'll probably be taking a crazy long commute to university every day starting in January that's going to drive me insane. My parents have me on an even tighter leash now than they did before. All that still bothers me and I realize it's still there -- but I'll get through it. I'll be fine; it won't kill me. I know I've always told myself that before, but I still had my doubts even then. It's just that for some reason, I'm not scared anymore. Call me crazy, but it's euphoric. And I'm not letting that go any time soon.

On the first day of classes last week, I ran into someone I shared my intermediate design and pottery classes with during the past spring, and we talked for a little just to catch up with each other. He brought up that once you start taking a lot of art classes, you start seeing things differently, and even though I agreed with him on that day, I agree even moreso now. After taking a design class, you pay more attention to composition and balance. After taking a drawing class, you begin to look at structures, both complex and simple, differently and more intently. After taking a painting class, you pay more attention to the colors you see and how those hues are created. In a sense, you live life in a new, clearer perspective than you did before. It has always been a bad habit of mine to stare out my window while in the car, and that bad habit has just intensified now. And it's not even just looking out the window anymore -- I'll get lost while staring at a painting hanging on the wall in a restaurant, secretly critiquing it or figuring out how I would draw out the framed artwork and entire room in my sketchbook itself. It's hard to explain, but it's almost like I was living in black and white for all my life and I've suddenly started living in color.

Besides the difference in my mood and how I see things, I've also noticed an uplifting change in my own confidence. I don't know if this has to deal with drawing gestures of a live model we had in class and understanding even better how the human body is structured, but for the first time in my life, I am able to look in the mirror and be satisfied with what I see. For so long, I would just stare at my own reflection and think, "I'm so hideous, no wonder I'm still alone," as sad as that may sound. But now, I only need to look at my reflection briefly and I'll think to myself, "Hey, I don't look half bad. Guys just don't know what they're missing out on," and I move on. Along with this, over the past few days, I've stopped counting calories. I have been doing that religiously every day for almost the past five years. That doesn't mean I'll go through a whole box of cookies in five minutes flat, though; I just trust my instinct more. It seems that it's usually right on target, as well, so the need to run numbers through my head is just superfluous now.

I'm not quite sure where this sudden boost of self-esteem came from, but my first guess is just from the praise I've been receiving from my classmates and friends. It astonishes me when people ASK to see my artwork... and it astonishes me even more when they compliment it. Honestly, more than half of the time, I think they're just BSing me, but it's happening so often that it can't all be a coincidence. I feel like people are actually noticing me as a person now and that they actually see potential in me. Even last weekend, I was outside in the front yard sketching when my parents leaned over to look at what I was doing, and they actually complimented me and were surprised at what they saw. They only said that it looked "pretty good," and that is the first and only time they have ever voluntarily looked and praised my artwork -- or hell, any work of my work -- without me having to ask them for feedback. And even if I did ask them for feedback in the past, they normally would not provide me with any positive remarks. So while this may sound pathetic to most, I am actually thrilled that they managed to summon a tiny shred of encouragement for me. I'm not saying that I'm happy with them and suddenly love them like they're the best parents in the world, because they're not. I suppose the little encounter made me feel good, that's all. That even though I've been a failure in their eyes for the past eighteen years, they *might* think I'm worth something for once.

So how do I bring this entry to a close? I suppose what I'm really trying to say is that... I'm actually content with life as of right now. I'm not happy-happy-joy-joy about it, but I'm not dreading it anymore, either. I think in the past, I had always relied on other people to make me happy, and when I was never able to get the guy I wanted and as friendships fell apart, so would I. But really, all it took was for me to start doing the things that I love and take the direction in life that I want for myself to learn that I don't need a boyfriend or group of friends for me to be happy. I can find that on my own.