This year is over. I am looking forward to next year. Believe it or not, I can't wait to graduate, because I love my major and have begun to believe I can do it.
I left Rochester this morning. I had a lot of things dawn on me, none of them good revelations necessarily, and said, "I need to get the f*** away from here". So I picked up and drove the seven some hours home, windows down, music blasting. It was so beautiful... Blue skies, motorcycles everywhere, and the rolling foothills of the Appalachians throughout PA. Even Cleveland looked pretty against good ol' smelly Lake Erie. Heck, I even reveled in some of the architecture of run down Toledo. I felt free. And dammit, I did it because I wanted to.
First thing I've done for myself in ... ages. I need to reflect that in my work from now on. I am my toughest critic, and if I can ever impress myself, I'll probably stand a better chance at impressing an art director. At the beginning of this year, I thought I wanted to paint rock stars and attractive people and nothing else. Now, I'm not so sure. I love painting gore and horror. Back when I did creative writing competitions, I realized I got higher scores if I made the judges cry; if I made them feel something. That and I honestly think my writing was better, because I just vomited twists of past experiences on the pages. It worked then, and is working again for me now. So I'll guess I'll see where this takes me.
I'll head back to new york tomorrow night for finals week. But I needed some support. I've been through a lot of rough things lately, from funerals in Florida to tough goodbyes. I'm too tired to have even bothered to do this, but sometimes... you just have to do what feels right. And what's seven hours in a car for a hug from someone you love?
That's the way I hope to be as an illustrator. I will go anywhere for a job. I look forward to it. Life is short. You never know when the rug might be pulled out.