I Am A Misunderstood Artist. I Even Have Ramen Noodles.

So I had this abstract oil painting I did last summer that I didn’t really like (one of those times when the idea is cool in my head, and not so cool on canvas. Happens about every time I paint). I had the brilliant idea at two o’clock this morning while I was trying to sleep (that’s when all my brilliant ideas occur. If I wasn’t too lazy to turn on my lamp, get up, and write down my brilliant ideas, I’d be a millionaire by now) to freehand paint in acrylic one of my favorite quotes by J.R.R. Tolkien, “Not all those who wander are lost.” It would be perfect next to any one of my three world maps I have for decorating my dorm room (What? I like maps!).

This was the end result:

 

Cool, right? One of the rare times a project actually turned out the way I wanted it to. Well, almost. I’m not complaining, anyway.

So I finish this and leave it on the kitchen table to dry. Then my mom walks in and says, “Did you do that to your painting?”

No, Mom. Little elves dug my painting out of my closet and etched a quote on it because they were just huge Tolkien fans or something. Honestly. The thing is, she doesn’t even consider abstract/modern art to be art. She says it takes no talent. My landscapes are proudly displayed on her walls, but my abstract stuff sure never it made to the places of honor! You’d think she’d see the addition of a literary quote as an improvement.

Then my dad chimes in, “That quote is theologically incorrect. The wanderers are lost. Haven’t you heard the song Come Thou Fount?”

First of all, the song does not say wanderers are lost. On the contrary, the song is talking about a Christian who occasionally wanders away, and is begging God to bring him back and seal his heart. Secondly, the quote is talking about traveling. It is not a spiritual metaphor. Thirdly, Tolkien was a Christian himself, so you probably shouldn’t be assuming that his quote is implying some sort of warped view of God. Fourthly, get your theology from the Bible, Dad, not from songs.

After I finish my very badly articulated protest, my mom comes to my defense with, “It’s a nerd thing, honey.”

Thanks, Mom. Apparently a meaningful, deep quote written onto an abstract work of art I spent weeks on is merely a “nerd thing.”

She also bought me ramen noodles yesterday. She is sealing my fate as a starving, misunderstood artist.

Except I don’t plan on becoming an artist. Because you can see just how supportive my family would be about that decision.

Packing is the Bane of My Existence

I hate packing for college. My hatred of packing for college by far exceeds my hatred of packing for trips or packing to move permanently to a new location. Why?

Because packing for college requires decision-making skills, which I sorely lack.

I’ve traveled enough to know exactly what I’ll need for any given one to two-week trips. Moving to a new house is basically putting everything you own into boxes. But packing for college means constant questions like:

“Will I want to read this book at some point this semester?”

“Do I have too many books?”

“Should I bring three or four towels?”

“What movies will I want to watch?”

“Should I bring more wall decorations?”

“Will I need this jacket too or is one light jacket enough?”

“How many bottles of shampoo will I go through this semester?”

“Should I buy a desk organizer, or is that just a waste of money?”

I do not know the answer to any of this questions, because I am neither psychic nor a time-traveler. Is packing this difficult for every college student, or am I just a rare breed of the human specifies marked by their complete inability to make a decision?

I just stared at a pair of shoes for five minutes trying to think through everything I might possibly do this next semester and what outfits I might possibly wear to those events and whether I will need that particular pair of shoes which perfectly match that one outfit I could possibly wear to that one event I might want to go to.

This is insane. Excuse me while I bang my head against a wall, because apparently packing for college requires me to become a fortune-teller.

Therefore I will, inevitably, forget something vital and also pack a ton of stuff I won’t end up needing.

Packing for college sucks.

A Single Had an (Almost) Awesome Valentine’s Day.

I don’t have a signficant other, and I enjoyed my Valentine’s Day. What now?!

My day started off with three great things when I checked my mailbox yesterday morning: a valentine card from my mother with a crisp $10 bill enclosed inside (hey, I’m in college, every little bit helps!), an envelope holding a notecard with a sweet note from my best friend back home and about a dozen cheesy little-kid Thor valentines with those little stick-on tattoos inside them (yes, my roomie and I entertained ourselves for a good half hour putting them on various places on our anatomies where we have remotely considered getting an actual tattoo), and a response letter from the residence office saying that I got the job as an RA! Yay!

Since my roomie’s boyfriend had to work that night, we had our own date, including a romantic dinner in the caf (ha) and a very sad, very girly movie which made me cry the whole time. My roommate thought that was hilarious, because I NEVER cry, especially in front of people. At least about my own life. I informed her that I am a sympathetic sobber; I only cry when someone else does. Thus I usually despise emotional movies. I can’t help it. When someone on screen cries, I just break down and NOTHING can stop those tears from a-flowing’. And if a grown man is crying, ugh, I am blubbering like a fool (why the age and gender makes a difference I couldn’t tell you but it does). I cannot tell you how much I hate that about myself. It’s not that I’m ashamed of emotion: I just would rather keep my private emotions private. And I get awful headaches from crying so I prefer other outlets to my emotions. Writing and music work best.

Wow, that was so off-topic. Anyway, other than the crying, I had a lovely time with my roommie celebrating Valentine’s Day and our mutual acceptance to the RA staff. I’m a little sad that we won’t be rooming together next year (we’re in two different dorms), but I was asked by another friend to live with her and two other girls in the dorm I’m the new RA of, so at least I’m not scrabbling to find roommates. Although I’m not exactly close to her, we just have several classes together and go to the same church, so some potential awkwardness there, especially since I only sort of know one of the girls and have met the other one once. But it’ll be okay, and at least I have a room and don’t have to go to my RD and admit that I have no one to room with next year. That would be embarrassing. And she might realize that she just hired a socially inept person to be in charge of people. That would be bad.

Oh, and let me just rant a little bit about this chick who lives in the dorm I’ll be RA of next year. It’s tradition for the RA staff of a dorm to wake up the new RAs for next year in the middle of the night/early morning to have breakfast in the RD’s apartment and get to know the new staff and whatnot. So I found out where I’d be RA of next year around 6 A.M. this morning. My roommate also went through this procedure. Now the dorm I will be RA of is the dorm where most of the honors kids live, and my roommate had one of her honors classes this morning. When she went to it, I guess they were all talking about the RAs for next year (I think there were one or two other future RAs in that class besides my roommate). This girl in honors says, “Well, our new RA for next year better not try to enforce the visitations rules! That definitely would not go over well!” (My college has rules about guys not being in girls’ rooms and vice versa past 2 A.M. or something like that in that particular dorm). My roommate replied that I was the new RA (and slyly texted me everything that was going on). Then she says, “She’d better not try to enforce rules on us, ’cause that will not work!”

Gee, thanks. I’ve known I was going to be an RA for about three hours and already someone is trying to make my life difficult. And now I’m sorely tempted to barge into this girl’s room at two in the morning every single night next year. I won’t, because I’m usually asleep by then, and I’m not that confrontational, but that really does annoy me. The dumbest thing is, that dorm has the laxest (most lax?) rules out of any dorm on campus. The freshmen dorms only allow guys to come over one weeknight and weekends during certain evening hours. Why she is complaining is beyond me. This is a Christian school: they have rules. If you don’t like them, go to a public university where you can do whatever the heck you want and no one will try to stop you.

Okay, this is a really long post. Sorry about that. Now that I’m done ranting, here’s a lovely, geeky valentine for all of you: