A Cornish Hen

It has been a crazy month.
A month ago today I was in the Badlands of New Mexico and Utah sandwiched between Taco and B.B. Monster, trying to read a magazine in the heavily vibrating cab of a Budget rental moving truck. Slowly moving across this ridiculous nation at a mind-numbing pace of a mere 60 miles per hour.
Ugh.
When we got to Seattle, there was no where to park the moving truck to unload. But after just parking the thing and then dealing with numerous apartment tenants yelling at us as we unloaded our belongings (for the 6th time in 3 years) into our new home on Pacific Time. We had a great first week before Van went to work -we went everywhere and had fun, almost a vacation.
Then, once Van went off to work, it was time for me to begin what I came to Washington to do: Get into Cornish College of the Arts. A highly competitive Arts school and proud alma mater of many, many, many famous people. I worked nearly every day to finish 5 paintings in one cohesive theme, 5 sketches, 2 essays, and one really good outfit. Finally the day had come. I packed everything in my car, set the GPS, and headed to Cornish - a twit of nerves. The campus is in one of the oldest buildings in Seattle, on the top of Capitol Hill (Seattle is divided into hills) and in the middle of everything. Once I got in there and set all of my work up, and big woman named Bonnie came in, totally not in the mood to see me, or my shitty artwork, and told me to get started, because she only had 20 minutes before she had to catch the metro. This woman, was Bonnie Biggs. Arguably one of the best female sculptors of the 20th century. She sat there and quizzed me on everything art technique term I could think of, berated me like a drill sergeant and asked me about a million times: "Do you really think you're up to this?" After looking her in the eyes and replying with: "Did you think you were ready when you went to Art school?" She then softened and asked me if I'd like one of the junior professors to give me a campus tour. I said yes.
And this next part, in addition to the day my father passed, is why this day was one of the worst days of my life....
It was immaculate. Amazing studios and work everywhere. It was just as good as RISD, if not better. The students were chugging coffee and working. One guy we talked to said he hadn't slept in 2 days, trying to finish his painting before the summer was over - drinking coffee and taking pills (drugs are kind of 'no big deal' at Cornish - which I can't lie, I kind of liked) and in addition to looking so focused, everyone in that school just seemed so fucking miserable. No one smiled there, no one laughed - it was intense. Which is what art school is, just like med or law school, people are there to work, not play. But one girl told me she was going to UW in the fall to get her second Bachelor's in Business, and one guy said he's going back to school after grdauating Cornish to get something in education. I asked why, each time: "Because it's just not what i used to be."
Let me explain something to you all: There was never a point in my life, where I didn't identify myself as an artist. Everyone has their thing that they are good at and that they love, art was mine. It didnt matter that I could fail a Math class 20 times, because when I'd put a brush or pencil in my hand, different worlds were made where I was queen. I created it all and at the same time, it was beautiful. That is the best feeling in the world. It make everything else disappear, it clears my head so i can figure things out, it brings my dad back to life, it makes memories I had forgotten resurface, music sounds better - everything is alive when I'm making art. I think I'm a very dead person at times. I have no sympathy for most people, nothing really impresses me - I'm not a good girl, I'm not a good person. But when I'm making Art - I am a good person. I feel like I can do anything, say anything, and people will finally understand me and what I'm trying to do for this world.
I don't ever want that to go away.
And it's the same drug-like feeling that inspiration and artistic motivation comes from - and most nearly as artists have it. The "Selfishly Me and Free and Fuck You" gene. I remember when I signed up for Music classes at HCC. I was beyond excited. I was doing a lot of shows at Lakeland at the time, and one thing Lakeland does to teenagers and kids is boost their confidence - almost too much. At home being treated like a child, then at Lakeland treated as an adult professional that shares the stage with other adults - it can lead to feelings on over-whelming invincibility. I was told I was talented everyday by people, encouraged to make it a career - while other people told me I was a bitch, un-talented, refused to cast me, and sabotaged my chances of getting in to NC School of the Arts by writing nasty letters. So, I did take music classes. I was going to be a performer and nothing made me feel better than singing next to Art.
but after one semester - I hated singing. After Singing nearly everyday, learning theory - I never wanted to sing again- and didn't for nearly a year after. Now that was HCC. And even though Chris was a great teacher, I doubt he has as much fire and pressure on him as the professors at cornish do. I can't imagine 4 years of that. I knew that after those four years, or maybe even before those 4 year were over - I'd hate art. I'd never want to pick up a brush again - unless I had just sold $300,000 worth of work at a show - but who knows if I would ever get that show? The idea that I'd lose Art is like the notion that tomorrow you'd wake up and your best friend would be dead. Or your lover, or your soul-mate. They'd be dead when you could've done something to stop them. I couldn't handle that.
The next day, I woke up and went to check my email. Via the admissions counselor that was handling all of my info for Cornish I was sent this message:

Hi Elyse

I am so glad you were able to come for the portfolio review. I am sorry everything was so last minute!! I have spoken with Bonnie and you have been admitted for the Fall semester! Congratulations!
The next step is getting FA in order. Have you filled out a FAFSA?
Let me know what questions you have.
Take care,
Cari

Cari Mc Ialwain
Admission Counselor
cmcialwain@cornish.edu



* Cornish Near You: view our Admission Calendar.
* Missed the 2010 BFA Exhibition? View our Online Catalog.
* Visit Cornish: 2010 Departmental Open House dates.
* EVENTS: 2010 /2011 Merce Cunningham minEVENT
* Interested in a pre-college program? Visit Summer at Cornish.

I couldn't breathe. I guess I could compare it to when I found out I was pregnant. So amazingly excited but yet so extremely scared at the same time. Immediately, my brain does what it always does: split in half. On one track, I was parking my car and heading into the building on my first day of classes, coffee in one hand, cigarette in the other, balancing my nerves and messenger bag. On the other track, I was sitting alone in a studio, day 3 of grayscales, measuring my hands and feet for accurate profile drawings, looking at the clock and realizing I'm missing dinner, meeting friends for drinks, calling Leanne and going out (in this fantasy Leanne lives in Seattle :) .... ) I don't know. Not happy.
When you're spiritual like me, yet at the same time, so totally against organized religion - you have to go with what your gut says. My gut was telling me to stop. Not to mention that cornish basically needed $1000 by the end of the week that I just did not have... I basically said, 'thanks, but no thanks. Maybe next year." Bonnie Biggs had told the admissions counselor I was admitted for the fall, and not Spring. So, I can re-apply next year, but I don't think I will.
My favorite memories of childhood and all the way up to 20 years old was drawing and painting, and seeing my dad's reaction to it. It made me want to do better. When I make art, he comes back a little bit for me. I don't want to lose that. I refuse to sacrifice my passion on the altar of 'You got a good thing here, Elyse.' So, I said 'no' to Cornish. Am I having second thoughts? Fuck yes, I am. All day, every day. In the middle of the night I have them, while I'm cooking I have them...they don't stop. But hey, you do what feels right.
Right now, I'm trying to get my life in order. I'm looking at schools all week, every week. Whether it's massage schools, graphic design programs, Culinary school - whatever, I'm exploring my options. Why? Because I can. I want to find a career path where I'll be happy what I'm doing, providing for my family, and not losing myself. And that takes time and dedication to the craft of "Trying" - you've got to try it all to figure out what is right. I just don't care anymore. I don't care what people back in North Carolina say about me, or the choices I make. I don't care about what my mother thinks of me - because I know I am doing what's best for my head and heart and husband. Now, everything would be perfect if Leanne would just move out here.... haha.
I don't know yet what is right for me. I know I'm 24 and I should know by now, but i don't. Congratulations if you're 19 and you think you've got it all figured out just because you're in college doing what it expected of you - but wait till school is over, and you're out in the real world and you'll realize - you don't know a fucking thing about yourself. Your career? It's what? A career? Oh, wow, but I don't really like nursing, or business management, or English, or Anthropology..." Yeah, you don't.
But I do know one thing, I know that Art is my religion, where I am in constant prayer. But i'm not ready to give up the faith quite yet.

Um, well,

I would write more if my keyboard wasn't a whore from Mexico.

A Brog?

So, obviously, I've left North Carolina. Here is a list of things that are either currently running through my mind, or they did run through my mind prior to leaving.

1. I miss my best friend Leanne (Lennon) Patrick so goddern much, it's inappropriate. Some people call us lesbians because we're so close, but, we're not.... or are we? No, we're really not, but we are close. She's the first friend I've ever had that I trust completely and honestly. We're so much alike, it's well, look, she's my family, no other way around it. I don't know what I will do if she doesn't come out here in October for her birthday.....
...I really don't know what I will do if she gets an amazing job offer that keeps her from moving out here after her graduation.

2. I want to get back into school RIGHT NOW. I've applied to a few universities in the area, but I've got a portfolio review for Cornish College of the Arts in 2 weeks that I am racing like hell to finish. I am very nervous.

3. Seattle traffic is NO FUCKING JOKE.

4. I am glad I left Peace College when I did. In all honesty, I went there because they accepted me, and they had a major I was interested in. It didn't change my life or some shit like that. I met some great girls there, but I also met a lot of bat-shit, butt-ugly, bitchy ones who would do better learning in a place where there are posters of boy-bands on the wall and Ring-Pops on their hands. But hey, to-MAY-to, to-MAH-to.

5. Also, don't act like you chose to go there because it 'changed your life." You told me numerous times you went there because Meredith didn't accept you.

6. I don't give a fuck that you went to Mexico. Honestly, I didn't know about it until after you went there because I had deleted you a long time prior. Sure, I would've loved to have gone, but it's hard to save for a trip when you're paying $2000 a month in rent and utilities because your room-mate only chips in $260 a month. (But she uses your dishes, silverware, Internet, Netflix, etc....) But really? A school Mexico trip? Nah. I want to drink and smoke with the locals, go to Frida's house, paint on a cliff, and do shit on my own time. I'm not impressed, nor do I care. But, hey, the semester will be back on soon, and you can start hoarding your shit again, like plastic bags of cat shit that you don't throw away. Not changing your nasty litter box, letting your cat get on the same surfaces that your prepare food on (you may be fine with bacteria and fur in your food, sorry if I was not) and spending hours watching the shittiest shows on TV ever made. Also, you're not a witch. Please don't disgrace those of us that are by calling yourself that. Also, I hope you find a your own personal style - and stop trying to imitate everyone you meet. Good luck - honestly, I mean that. The only problem I really have with you - is your deceitfulness. That's it - other than that, I wish you all of the best. Really.

7. No one is bad person for smoking weed. It's better and safer than alcohol and cigarettes - and everyone here in Seattle does it.

8. I miss Leanne. I know I said it, but, hey.

9. My husband is so comforting to me.

10. I'm addicted to fountain soda diet cokes.

11. My mother finally gave me my father's ashes. I don't think I've been happier. On the same note, having them in my apartment is kind of creepy.

12. I actually enjoy talking to my mom on the phone. This move may be a good thing.

13. I miss a lot of people from North Carolina, but not the people I THOUGHT I would miss, a whole other bunch entirely.

14. HempFest is in 2 weekends!

15. I'm going to the goddern Zoo this weekend - HAPPY. I WANNA SEE TIGERS AND PENGUINS!

16. I want to get more tattoos. Seriously.

17. There are so many Asians in washington State.

18. My friend Wyatt Rollins is one of those friends I don't want to lose, and am liking more as an adult more and more. Seriously Wyatt, you're a great person and the only person who can EVER keep up with me in quoting entire movies. That is a rare gift, my friend, and we have both been blessed by whoever or WHATEVER with it.

19. Brian Lewis is a great guy. So is Christopher Wright. Both are exceedingly talented and need to do SOMETHING and EVERYTHING to use it properly. Artists are not meant for corners and dark rooms - they are meant for moonlight, stages, and open windows. GO FOR IT, I LOOKED UP TO BOTH OF YOU AT ONE TIME IN MY LIFE. <3

20. I want to be Lara Croft when I grow up.

21. I have more, but I need to sleep. My bed just seems more comfortable on Pacific Time.

22....Oh yeah, this Pacific Time change is fucking with my head.

?

I don't know how to exist anywhere besides the Art world. And if they don't want me, then what?

Hipster sex.

Sometime ago, I found myself being forced into trying bondage with this guy whose name escapes me at the moment. He was one of those hipster guys with skinny jeans and a octopus tattoo across his breastplate, and asked me over an Irish coffee if I wanted to be tied up. Raising one eyebrow, although in my head I really just uncrossed my legs, I shrugged and said, 'Why not?" Back at his place, just under an hour later, he used my fishnets to tie my hands to his headboard and then proceeded to give me the worst sex of my life. It wasn't the bondage, if anything, he tied the stockings too loose. I think it was the incessant moaning and asking me, "Does that feel good?"
Does that feel good? I rolled my eyes over and over and felt the Irish coffee sloshing around in my belly. I looked over to his bedside table, knowing that in the tiny drawer he stored his rolling papers and small amount of weed. That would feel good. I knew that as soon as he came, he'd want to roll and share one and make me listen to fucking underground band that no one knows about. So I quickly faked an orgasm and waited the 2 minutes until he came. When he went to the bathroom to clean up afterwards, I stole his weed and slithered out of there. The point of this story is that hipsters suck at trying new things and sex.

I am amazed.

- At how many people are educators, or call themselves educated people, yet they can't spell the simplest of words.

- How people who have known me for years still write my name like, "Elise" instead of the correct, 'Elyse". From now on, I am going to purposefully misspell your names. It makes me feel like you don't take me seriously enough to learn my name, or that all this time, I've been associating with a retard.

- How mediocre some people are.

- At how a left hand turn completely terrifies people.

- When a drive-thru line is longer than 5 cars, and people still refuse to get out of the fucking car and just 'go in'.

- That some of the most devout Christian's I know are also some of the most petty, egotistical, back-handed, and ugly people I know.

- You are able to call yourself a friend to someone when you basically used them for a year.

- How much I'm going to miss Leanne when I move to Seattle. It's tearing me apart.

- How much I still miss New England - but mostly the seasons and landscape, not really the memories.

- That weed is still illegal, but alcohol is not.

- At how much I don't care about the Casey Anthony trial.

- Or any trial unless I'm in it, or it effects my civil rights.

- How some people think they can lead a revolution, but never leave their bedroom.

- How some people don't realize that one day, they will be alone. So they better start learning how to take care of themselves.

- How you really don't think anyone suspects that you're in love and/or mind-fucking your brother.

- That you aren't willing to get healthy.

- That you make promises but you sure as hell never keep them.

- That some days my opinion matter s to you, and other days, it's not even acknowledged.

- That you think you're smarter than me. Just because you can do a math problem doesn't mean you are. It means you can follow directions. I suggest you join the Marines, they love people who follow directions.

- How I never trusted you.

- How badly I still miss my father, that I cry once a week when no one is around.

- At how badly I hurt you.

- At how much you've changed for the better since I've hurt you, and how proud I am of you. And jealous.

- How delusional you are about yourself.

- At how you should really stop wearing heels, you look like a water buffalo who was given two legs by Ursula - but you don't know how to walk with them.

- At how you can actually call yourself a witch. It disgusts me.

- How you can call yourself anything but a liar. I've never seen your real personality, style, or sense of humor - because they don't exist.

- At how much I love my dog Taco.

- At how much I hate salad.

- At how much I love music and theater, but that I don't care if I ever get paid for doing either one.

- At how much I want to be an artist - and not really anything else.

- At how much I don't want children, or really like any of them.

- At how people use the term 'simple-minded' when they really mean, 'close-minded'.

- At how I never get tired of fountain diet cokes.

- At how often I youtube 'Are You Afraid Of The Dark?"

- At how scared I am to start over - AGAIN.

- At how bad I never, ever want to work in a shopping Mall.

- At how much I hate having a boss at all.

- At how often I say, 'Fuck You.'

Artist's Plea

We are the Artists.
The eternally young, perpetually angry, constantly looking, beautiful, honest, courageous - artists.
....For many years, we've made this world beautiful.
Laying color on top of your concrete,
Blooms on top of your foundation,
Shine on top of your skyscrapers.
....But we'd like a chance now.
We want your deafness to repair itself.
....We know what we're headed for, and what is heading for us.

....Give us ONE day, world.
Where you let us drive.
The planet is thirsty,
...sick,
.... scared,
...plain,
...uniformed,
........Dying.
We have the tincture,
the remedy,
...the cure.
It is thick laughter, sarcasm, sex, color.
It's profanity, pushing children out of the way, shielding the world from pain,
...But not honesty.
.....Not all do-gooders are soft people.
For a long time, we have tried to open your eyes, minds, souls, bodies, and heart to change.
For forever, it seems, we have ran across endless numbers of you, refusing to do so.
Despite your adverse reactions to some of us, despite the pain you've caused those unlike yourselves,
Regardless of the shame you've made us feel, the outcasts you've made of us,
...We still love you,
...We still hope you'll join us,
....We still hope that you will listen.
By pushing us away, you pushed into the darkest corners of ourselves.
Shuddering from the cold you made us feel, we look up, and saw our demons in the darkness.
They held out their hands for us, offering wisdom and courage.
Some of us took it.
..... You people like to fight your demons, and kill them.
As artists, we know they're with us for life. Parts of ourselves.
...We work with them.
They keep us mighty, they keep us smart, they keep us awake from the terrible, monotonous sleep some of you dwell in.
...In this darkness, dancing with these demons - we've grown stronger.
In our bodies, our souls, our brains, and our hearts.
...Those with the greatest capacity for hate, also have the greatest capacity for love.
...Not all those with weapons seek to harm.

For many years, you've driven the ship.
Creating monuments, markers, and technology.
You've built our world faster, stronger, heavier.
In our sleep, in our dreams, we artists feel her weight.
We feel her tremble with fear of herself, we feel the gasses growing hotter,
The air growing sour, and the silent screams she gives out.
....They're nearly whimpers.
...We're not saying that the world needs a 'reset' button.
...But, we're asking for ONE day, ONE chance to prove ourselves to you.
To kneel before OUR god, maybe even YOUR god, and say, 'We're Ready."
To say, "Trust Us."
And you respond with, "Okay."
...Believe in us, even though we're unlike you.
...Don't insult those who are different than you.
Who may be slower, or faster, or weaker, or stronger.
Because then, you are more alone than you ever have been.
...Let us save you, ourselves.
...Let us learn the right way.
...We're running out of time.
even if you don't know it,
...You're always running out of time.