A Discussion About Art

I overheard a discussion in my sewing class today about being a perfectionist. Obviously this conversation is bound to come up in a sewing class where you are constantly deciding if it is worth picking out that row of stitching for the fourth time...

This adorable girl in my class is studying art and she was telling a story about how she used to be SUCH a perfectionist. She ended up having to go to a shrink. Yes, she called him her shrink. I'm not just being offensive. This was his advice: Flunk an assignment on purpose. Just full on don't do an assignment so you can see that the world will not crumble on top of you. He tried for over a year to get her to do this and she just couldn't convince herself to not do the assignment.

I'm not sure how she was eventually cured or if she ever actually flunked the assignment...I tuned out and that's not relevant to this post. What IS relevant is this: I am a perfectionist, and at one point in my life, I don't think I could have intentionally flunked an assignment either. I guarantee I wouldn't be able to.

Now I'm in college and I regularly forget to do my physics homework and thank goodness learning to sew has, while aggravating my perfectionism, also taught me that sometimes you just have to let something go and it will still turn out alright. So for anyone who may criticize my perfectionism, and a note to myself when I become frustrated: THINK HOW MUCH WORSE IT COULD BE! I'm glad I don't have to see a shrink over it and that I am learning how to put it aside in some cases.

On another note, I have to ask myself this: why is it the artistically minded that are so tortured by perfectionism? Not always, lest you scientists come after me, but frequently. Ever heard the expression tortured artist? Ever heard of van Gogh? Thought he was no good and killed himself. The guy was a genius and he didn't know it!

We are our own worst critics and it slowly eats us away every single day.

SO STOP BEING SO CRITICAL ALL THE TIME.

One of the greatest quotes I ever heard that I just spent fifteen minutes searching for the person to whom I should give credit: "You are doing better than you think you are."

Okay. I've officially gotten carried away. So we'll leave it at that.

The Good and the Bad

I'm not even sure when the last time I wrote was. But since whenever that time was, life has been grossly, ridiculously, embarrassingly full of good times and bad times and mood swings.

The Bad: Had my car towed, failed a test twice, forgot various homework assignments, got very far behind in multiple classes, missed my best friend miserably, went to bed late on weeknights and early on weekends, battled a fierce cold, fell apart multiple times, got a lecture I didn't need from an adviser, was a semi-jerk to a nice person and potential friend, have only had three meals a day about twice a week, bullied and guilted myself over the decisions I can't make, etc. etc. etc. I won't recall more than that.

The Good: Watched the seasons change, signed up to volunteer at the art museum, submitted my first college paper which I was quite proud of, got a LETTER, got some PICTURES (consequently brought me lower than before but that's irrelevant in this post), got a 74% on my econ test (yes, that's good, relatively speaking), got caught up in school, impressed my sewing teacher, and as of today I have a new nephew.

Unfortunately, as welcome as they are, the highs always slope back down to lows. And I always struggled with being a positive person. I have a hard time searching for the good when deep down all I see is the bad. But I'm working on it. Despite the snow I walked home in today, I couldn't help but marvel at the bright colors of the trees. I would say that's an improvement. I was desperately hoping for a 60% on my test. I would say 74% is an improvement. You don't want to hear any of this (whoever that ambiguous "you" refers to) but I needed to write something. So there.

kerielle

This is a story worth saving. Why kerielle?

Ninth grade. Mr. Willey's Honors/AP Geography class. Waiting in the library for the bus to arrive to take us to Salt Lake City for RHSMUN. Obviously, very bored. So my two friends and I start flipping through the largest dictionary of names in the world. We looked up our own names. We looked at the surrounding names - names that are close to our own but a little more creative. I doubted my name would be in the dictionary - it's so unusual, you can't find it anywhere. But it was, and right beneath it was the name kerielle. Yes. It must be spelled with a lower case k. Leave me alone. And so it became a joke - we all had our close-to-real-name-nicknames. Mine was kerielle. And it grew on me. Certain people picked up on it and used it since then.

So the significance? If, no, cross that out, WHEN I get my own line of designer clothing, it will be called kerielle. It seems like designers are all known by one name - first, last, combination of the two or something completely irrelevant. Neither of my names are very cool. So...kerielle. Designer-worthy. At least, I think so.

That's the story.

Sundays

For some reason, Sundays are the hardest days. These are the days that I miss my dear friend the most. Perhaps because these are the days he would come visit and we would sit on the front porch in the sunshine just talking. Every week.

This week, I invite my South Korean roommate, Heather, home to have dinner with my family. It was an "on" Sunday, which means ALL the family came home for dinner. Heather is an only child. Needless to say, it was much more crowded and noisy than she is used to. At first I wasn't sure if it was a good idea, just because it would be so crowded and noisy and I didn't know if I could keep up a conversation long enough for her to feel comfortable. But I'm SO glad I did. We had fun! My family was very kind to her and asked her questions. She loved dinner, and on the way home we stopped by to visit my Grandma who also made her feel very welcome.

Here's the point of the story. At the end of the night, Heather was thanking me for the evening. She said Sundays are the hardest for her - the days she misses her family the most - and she liked not being by herself in the apartment. I realized that having her over today made Sunday not as hard for me - I was thinking about someone else and not how bad I miss my friend.

I decided maybe days like today should occur more often. Maybe we started a tradition.

Tender Mercies

For some reason, when it rains, it pours. Everything becomes unbearable at once.

I didn't know that it was possible to receive so many tender mercies at once.

A friend who's going through exactly what I'm going through at the same time.

New friends I could have a good time with and forget my troubles with.

Watching a friend get his mission call.

People going out of their way to help you out.

An old acquaintance getting back in touch with you and wanting to be better friends.

Genuine appreciation for your company and personality.

A roommate who is walking through the rain just as much as I am - maybe together we'll find an umbrella.

When all hope is lost, I PROMISE that there is someone watching out for you still and when nobody else can fix it, He can and He WILL. Somehow. In due time. I'm so grateful.

Wasting Time

So...I should be studying for either of my tests tomorrow. Really. That's what I should have been doing all afternoon. Really. In fact I should have accomplished something, anything this afternoon more than what I actually did. Really. But I just didn't have the heart today. I'm feeling sick. I'm stressing over school. I'm getting behind. I'm missing my best friend terribly. Really. So I should go now and forget my woes and study. But instead I'm writing a new post on this blog that nobody reads. Really. Maybe it will inspire me.

Two tests. One day. 8:00 AM sharp - Book of Mormon. Tomorrow afternoon - Econ. Kill me. It's gonna be fun.

My best friend flies away from the states for two years tonight. I can hardly believe it's only been two weeks since he left and I can hardly believe it's already been two weeks. For some reason, even though communication has the exact same limitations, New Zealand just seems like more than I can bear right now. That is SO far away. Three weeks for mail. At least. At the very very least. But in a sense, moving to New Zealand is progress and that means that despite what it may seem to me, time IS moving on. And maybe once he's there I'll actually get a letter.

Today I'm grateful for sunshine. It's been so cold, but today I sat in the sun and ate my lunch. Pretty soon it will start snowing like crazy on us and the sun will go away forever. I dread cloudy days. They make me sad and give me headaches. So for now, I enjoy the sun while it lasts.

And now, to study.

Patience

There are several words that I hate in the English language: wound, morning, alarm clock, ointment, school, favor, and MOST of all, waiting.

I am running out of patience.

Someone please tell me this is worth it.