Rafa: Oh! You never told me! How'd it go with the grad schools?!
Me: I didn't get into any.
Rafa: Damn... none?
Me: Nope. None.
Rafa: So what are your plans now? Joining the Peace Corps?
Me: hmmm... yeah, maybe, I guess. That... or just committing suicide. One of the two is bound to work out.
That was the first conversation I had with my brother when he picked me up from the train station in Princeton. It was about five seconds into the car ride.
Everyone in the car gasped.
I'm the definition of a ray of sunshine.
It's true that I haven't been this happy in a very, VERY long time... but still, I catch myself feeling sad... even while in New York (when I was at Central Park, it was gorgeous and I was enjoying my time, but then I'd see all the street performers, all SO talented, but practically begging for chump change. The sketch artists would doodle you a caricature or a more realistic sketch of yourself, and it was all for five dollars. Five FUCKING dollars. WHY must I have been born with the soul of an artist? The fucking hobos of the world... fuck my life, dude). Just randomly. I'm pretty sure this inexplicable sadness is something I'll deal with for the rest of my life. I'm just a sad girl.
I tried explaining my naturally sad/quiet disposition to Pacemaker (as we waited in line to get into the McQueen exhibit)... you know, my fluctuating personality where I can be so happy one day, and miserable the next. A concept she can't grasp. I tried using McQueen as an example, but it was just confusing her.
It was frustrating.
Here she was excited about getting to see the Alexander McQueen exhibition, but the more I'd try talking about McQueen, the more I realized she had NO FUCKING CLUE who he was, or what any of his work looked like. She just knew he had something to do with the royal wedding (she didn't even know he was dead, much less that he committed suicide after his mother died. I felt like a very reluctant teacher as we waited in line and I had to catch her up on some of his work).
She wanted to appear cultured and read-up on fashion... while all I really wanted to do was see this guy's work in person, not because I think I'm a fashionista, but because I just... feel his work, if that makes any sort of sense.
Once I gave up on trying to explain myself to Pacemaker, I finally just said "Check out his work... all that shit he created... that's what goes on in my head. That's pretty much my soul. There are moments of bright, whimsical beauty, and others of... abysmal darkness... melancholy."
Pacemaker was kind of getting it, at first, when the dresses were kind of tame... stuff maybe Beyonce would wear.
"I'm a romantic schizophrenic" came around... and she started getting A LITTLE uncomfortable.
"Well... that's weird..."
Then his work started getting even darker.
We entered a room where they showed one of his runway shows... and that's when Pacemaker lost it.
The girls were dressed in headgear that was bone-related... or blood-inspired... and they'd be walking with a complete skeleton tied to their feet, getting dragged.
It WAS a little jarring to watch... but I was intrigued because... it was interesting.
Once we left the exhibition, we continued talking about what we had seen.
Pacemaker: Wow... wow. That was creepy.
Me: Really? I thought it was beautiful. It was... me.
Pacemaker: That really goes on in YOUR head? How do you sleep at night?!
Me: Trust me, there are scarier things... that's just how my life and my mind work. I can be very happy, but when I'm dark... I fall to the pits of hell. Plus, he had some happy stuff, like that gorgeous flower dress... and there was that flowing dress... although that one made me cry because there was so much melancholy in the fluidity of it...
Pacemaker: Really? You got that out of seeing a dress flow in the wind?
Me: I'm weird like that. My bad.
Pacemaker: You're... interesting.
I tried. I guess it becomes difficult to understand when even I sometimes don't understand why in the world I can't find the strength to smile.
I'm just... a girl who is often sad, but will go to any lengths to make others NOT feel as empty and depressed as she. The good-girl who will always have that slight mischievous streak.
"I oscillate between life and death, happiness and sadness, good and evil."- Alexander McQueen
"La tristesse durera toujours."- Van Gogh
I'm motherfucking emo today. The day just wouldn't fucking end.
Me: I didn't get into any.
Rafa: Damn... none?
Me: Nope. None.
Rafa: So what are your plans now? Joining the Peace Corps?
Me: hmmm... yeah, maybe, I guess. That... or just committing suicide. One of the two is bound to work out.
That was the first conversation I had with my brother when he picked me up from the train station in Princeton. It was about five seconds into the car ride.
Everyone in the car gasped.
I'm the definition of a ray of sunshine.
It's true that I haven't been this happy in a very, VERY long time... but still, I catch myself feeling sad... even while in New York (when I was at Central Park, it was gorgeous and I was enjoying my time, but then I'd see all the street performers, all SO talented, but practically begging for chump change. The sketch artists would doodle you a caricature or a more realistic sketch of yourself, and it was all for five dollars. Five FUCKING dollars. WHY must I have been born with the soul of an artist? The fucking hobos of the world... fuck my life, dude). Just randomly. I'm pretty sure this inexplicable sadness is something I'll deal with for the rest of my life. I'm just a sad girl.
I tried explaining my naturally sad/quiet disposition to Pacemaker (as we waited in line to get into the McQueen exhibit)... you know, my fluctuating personality where I can be so happy one day, and miserable the next. A concept she can't grasp. I tried using McQueen as an example, but it was just confusing her.
It was frustrating.
Here she was excited about getting to see the Alexander McQueen exhibition, but the more I'd try talking about McQueen, the more I realized she had NO FUCKING CLUE who he was, or what any of his work looked like. She just knew he had something to do with the royal wedding (she didn't even know he was dead, much less that he committed suicide after his mother died. I felt like a very reluctant teacher as we waited in line and I had to catch her up on some of his work).
She wanted to appear cultured and read-up on fashion... while all I really wanted to do was see this guy's work in person, not because I think I'm a fashionista, but because I just... feel his work, if that makes any sort of sense.
Once I gave up on trying to explain myself to Pacemaker, I finally just said "Check out his work... all that shit he created... that's what goes on in my head. That's pretty much my soul. There are moments of bright, whimsical beauty, and others of... abysmal darkness... melancholy."
 |
| The entrance (the white dress is made of clams. It was great). |
 |
| Dress smack-dab in the middle is my joint. I'd wear that in a heartbeat. The shoes on the far right were also awe-inspiring |
"Well... that's weird..."
 |
| Weird indeed... but I still wanted to pet it. |
We entered a room where they showed one of his runway shows... and that's when Pacemaker lost it.
The girls were dressed in headgear that was bone-related... or blood-inspired... and they'd be walking with a complete skeleton tied to their feet, getting dragged.
 |
| "Eww! WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!" -Pacemaker Something tells me Pacemaker won't have the stomach to accompany me to the Tim Burton exhibit... |
Once we left the exhibition, we continued talking about what we had seen.
Pacemaker: Wow... wow. That was creepy.
Me: Really? I thought it was beautiful. It was... me.
Pacemaker: That really goes on in YOUR head? How do you sleep at night?!
Me: Trust me, there are scarier things... that's just how my life and my mind work. I can be very happy, but when I'm dark... I fall to the pits of hell. Plus, he had some happy stuff, like that gorgeous flower dress... and there was that flowing dress... although that one made me cry because there was so much melancholy in the fluidity of it...
Pacemaker: Really? You got that out of seeing a dress flow in the wind?
Me: I'm weird like that. My bad.
Pacemaker: You're... interesting.
I tried. I guess it becomes difficult to understand when even I sometimes don't understand why in the world I can't find the strength to smile.
I'm just... a girl who is often sad, but will go to any lengths to make others NOT feel as empty and depressed as she. The good-girl who will always have that slight mischievous streak.
 |
| 2AM, about to get yelled at by the stoop's owner, but I'm still taking the risk. For "Hey, Arnold!"'s sake. |
"I oscillate between life and death, happiness and sadness, good and evil."- Alexander McQueen
"La tristesse durera toujours."- Van Gogh
I'm motherfucking emo today. The day just wouldn't fucking end.
2 comments:
I LOVE this post. I think I understand you a little better than before. Sorry the letter didn't help you get into grad school. I have enjoyed the pics you posted on Twitter from your trip to NYC. I'm glad you had such a great time. I'm jealous. I want to make a visit there sometime
Also, sorry I don't come around to visit the blog as much anymore. Mine's just getting along with minimal effort. Probably because I'm so depressed about living back in Utah. But I keep telling myself, a job here is better than unemployment elsewhere. Right? Right?
Thanks, Minnow! I HAVE missed you and your great comedic timing (as for not getting into grad school, I guess it's a good thing... right? I mean, at least I'm no longer going to spend $$ on a useless degree in the humanities).
Bummed to hear you too are depressed (science should come with a warning: Be prepared to contemplate suicide, at least bimonthly), but yes, being employed anywhere is better than being an unemployed leech like yours-truly.
Post a Comment