Diamonds.Are.Dead

I can't believe it, but my time to show the world what I'm capable of has arrived at last. I have a portfolio interview tomorrow at OCAD (Ontario College of Art and Design); the process of getting here seemed so long, but it's actually here now. OCAD's the school I'd imagined myself in ever since I had heard about it. Many would say it's for the "artsy-fartsy" individuals, and I must admit that some of the people that attend the school certainly have an interesting taste in style. However, the work that is produced there and the absolutely amazing people that come out of there after their schooling is incredible. I love art. It is my passion. Many would argue that there is no way that anything could come of it; I can't make a career out of art. And I must admit that it's not going to be easy to begin working in a field such as this one, but why should I not even try? That wasn't the way I was brought up, and that isn't the way I want to live.

I am constantly asked why I hadn't chosen a more 'academically promising' subject, like math or science, to follow as my future. I have a reputation for being smart, which is a little misleading. I don't believe I am more intelligent than anyone else; I'm just simply curious about the world around me. I love to observe and I love to learn. When I create art, I discover. The assumption that revolves around art is usually that it's only for the people who have the ability to draw. I say that's bullshit. Anyone, with the proper training, practice, and enthusiasm, can draw well, but it's the meaning behind an artwork that is more important. On my first day of art class in high school, my art teacher made an interesting statement that changed my perception of art to this day. She said that "without meaning, art is just a pretty picture". I had always assumed that having the ability to draw was the basis of being an artist. Just having that technique was enough to be one. Boy, was I wrong.

As I went on in art and with each passing year, I discovered and I grew and I truly became more understanding of what it means to create art. And it is nothing that I can explain in words. The feeling that comes with dipping that spattered paintbrush into a crisp jar of paint; the emotion that courses through your fingers as you sculpt and mold clumps of nothing into something; it's all indescribable. I am one of the lucky few that gets to experience this, and I wouldn't trade it for the world. It is for this reason that I want to pursue art as a career, even if no one understands it.

So, tomorrow I walk into the intimidating new environment confidently, hoping and praying to God that I don't mess this up. It's my one shot at becoming something no one really believes I am capable of; it's the one chance I get at bringing to life the passion that everyone is blind to. It's finally here and I'm going to face it, head-on.

"Ew! What is that?!"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, it just looks so gross."
"I don't think it's gross."
"But it's mustard on potato pancakes!!"
"So? I like it."
"But doesn't it make you want to throw up?"
"Most definitely not! I can't imagine eating it any other way!"
"But that's just so disgusting!"
"Have you ever tried some?"
"Ew! No!"
"How do you know it's gross then?"
"I just do."
"Alright. Whatever. To each his own."
"...well....what does it taste like?"
"Like mustard on potato pancakes."
"Oh..."
"Do you want some?"
"Uh...I guess I'll try it..."
"So. What do you think?"
"Oh my gosh! This is....
...it's....
ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTING."

She looked back and began to wonder,
Whatever happened to a simple "hello"?
Why has this greeting lost it's magic to bring life to a face?
It's been replaced with stony looks from passersby,
And rarely witnessed with a smile.
The "hello" is no longer just that...
It's something more now....or perhaps less?
It used to greet us, bring light to our day,
Now we've discovered new ways to greet.
With insults, swearing, slang, and name-calling.
But whatever happened,
To the simple
"hello"?

Someone once asked me,
What is magic?
Can you sense it? Can you smell it?
As it casts an invisible glow?
Is it card tricks, funny gimmicks, coins behind your ear?
Can you really know the number I think of or what colour underwear I wear?
Is it a gift? Or a prank? Or perhaps a talent?
Is it a power? A force? Or maybe a product of the imagination?
Can it be freed from books? Captured in songs? Exposed in movies?
Does it come from wizards and witches? Spells and potions? Wands and broomsticks?
Is there really any proof that magic exists?
It could be that it hides from the undeserving,
Seeking only those that are worthy.
It can wear a cloak and play some tricks,
A magic that has not limit, no restrictions, no end.
It can take on molds, shapes, disguises,
Whispering only to those that know it is there.
It can whisper in tunes and in notes,
Or colours, cultures, and faces.
It can lie in the seasons, the stars, or maybe the vast oceans.
It can begin an idea, catapult a thought.
Magic can seize us, inject us, and course through our veins.
It can appear in a hurry and end just as fast,
But sometimes it lingers and makes moments in life last and last.
It can find its way into peace, love, and compassion of the everyday soul,
But in truth, how would I know?
I'm just living in reality,
An observer of magic, through a tiny peephole.

I was once asked the question, "why do you write?"
It took a lot of thought and tons of consideration, but I did think of a few reasons:
(1) To take all the emotions, worries, and feelings that have been accumulating in me, and just dump them on a piece of paper.
(2) To express and discover myself in ways I otherwise cannot.
(3) To show the world that there is always more to a person that what is perceived in first judgment.
(4) To expose myself and others to the truths that are vicious, gruesome, and real.
(5) To relate to those experiencing the same thing as me...or not.
(6) To be someone else, even if it's just for a little while.
(7) To find the answers to questions no one else can provide.
(8) To prove to myself that I am not empty.

So, I've actually never really had a blog before and I'm not really sure what's considered "right" when blogging. When I read other blogs and posts, I see how profound everyone is in their writing; it's incredible and I never really thought how much talent it takes to word the perfect blog. But I will learn, I will grow, and I will continue to read so that maybe I too, can someday be a great blogger. And from there, I hope to become a great writer. And that alone will be enough to keep me busy for the rest of my life.