day 3: things that make you uncomfortable.

pants.

that last picture seriously describes me perfectly.  I'd rather wear a dress any day.  Or shorts.  Shorts are much better than pants.  Pants are the worst.

But really - talking on the phone.  I can't stand talking on the phone to people unless I know them pretty well in person.  When husband and I were dating, we had to do long distance summers, and we'd talk for hours.  Talking on the phone to somewhat when I don't even know what they look like is just really bad.  I have had a couple phone interviews for jobs - they were awful.  I didn't get the jobs.  Probably because they could tell I was shaking with nervousness the entire time.

the end.

some thoughts on moving house

(long, rambling post warning.)

Having a house is pretty high on my list of dreams for the near future.

I want a house at the moment more than I want a baby.  And I love babies.

I've spent years dreaming about what I want it to look like, how I want to decorate it, et cetera.

I'll be content with a pretty white house with a blue door and shutters.

(I just googled "white house, blue shutters" and came up with a whole bunch of pictures of the notebook.  How cute.)

The night before we signed the contract for our first apartment, I cried.

It was a basement.  And I'd spent the last eight years (minus about eight months) living in basements.

It had wood paneling on most of its walls, concrete floors, and a shared laundry room.

I didn't want it.  

It wasn't going to be home.

"You will make it ours," Husband told me.

So we moved in.  It was close to school.  It had a nice yellow kitchen with a lot of counter space, but not a lot of cupboard space.  It had lots of shelves where we kept our pictures and books.  We had a cozy bedroom with space heaters and a Christmas tree night light for when husband had to work graveyard and I was all alone.

Unfortunately some conflicts with our upstairs neighbors got us thinking it was time to move. 

We found a new apartment.

We moved this week.

It has carpet.  It has two bedrooms and two bathrooms and quiet neighbors.  It has lots of storage space.  It was going to be perfect.  I couldn't wait to leave that awful basement.

Except.

As we packed up the last of our things today, I realized the basement wasn't awful at all.  I let it sink in how much it had grown on me, and it was a lot. 

I'm going to miss the wood panels on our walls.  I am going to miss our cozy bedroom, and how the closet lights were so finicky that I usually found what I needed and turned them off again before they even came on.  I am going to miss my yellow kitchen.  And I cried again.

Boxes are filling up our living room.  Our new house is a mess.  Our new house isn't home.

"You will make it ours," Husband told me.

I hope so.  But until then, I am hoping lots of snuggles and listening to the cd this dear friend made before he left on his mission will help it to feel that way.  

And someday, we'll have a place that can be ours forever, but until then, we will be okay.

ramblings.

I know posts have been few and far between.  I have been busy or had no real wisdom to share.  Today i read a blog post (actually 2. but i'll get to that) by a girl who got married just shortly after I did.

She posted about how one day she didn't have much motivation and didn't want to get out of bed or shower or anything.  One day.  One lazy day.  And she was freaking out and calling herself a terrible wife, and saying how she'd had such a hard time that day.

The second post was a few hours from that same blogger.  She posted about how well she and her husband eat.  How she can throw random ingredients together in the crock pot and end up with a beautiful and delicious meal.  How her potato soup is the best.  How she is a wonderful cook.

This really struck me the wrong way.  I have been feeling every day like she was in her first post.  Every single day.  I think I am married to the perfect man.  He never leaves socks on the floor, never leaves dirty dishes in the sink.  He's organized and studious.  He is practically perfect in every way.

I'm not.
I had all these dreams of being the best wife I could be.  I was a pretty good girlfriend, an okay fiancee, but now I leave all my clothes on the floor, because I hate putting laundry away.  I sometimes (usually) don't make the bed until I get back from class or work.  I let dishes pile up, and when I actually do try to do them, I make a mess.  I am very easily distracted, and not motivated to work hard in classes I don't enjoy.  I try to cook healthy, homemade meals for us, but sometimes we just end up with hamburger helper.  I am a bad influence when it comes to grocery shopping because I want to get something to feed my cheesecake obsession.  The potato soup turns out watery and disgusting.

Her post wasn't bad.  She later talked about how she got over that feeling of being a failure.  I know this wasn't her goal in writing, but it made me feel a hundred times worse.  If that one day made her a "terrible wife," what does the last two months make me?

With valentine's day coming up, I want to brag a little about husband.  He's wonderful.  He is so patient with me and all my imperfections, puts up with my overreactions, and can handle me when I get overly emotional, which is a lot.  When I get feeling down, he always tells me how lucky he is to be married to me.  Which, while I don't understand that most of the time, is something I absolutely need to hear.  He's super handsome, and he smells nice, and he'll eat the disgusting failed potato soup, and tell me that it's really good, and that I did a good job.  He is silly, and he can always make me laugh, even though I'm doing my best to pout.  He's snuggly.  He wanted me to clear that up.  My last post made it sound like he doesn't appreciate snuggles.  He didn't like that.

Basically.  I love him more than I have ever loved anyone.  I'm a lucky girl.  

I think I'll keep him.

wisdom

"you've got to get used to having all

kinds of things happening to you.

you've got to look at all the good on one side

and all the bad on the other side,

and say

'well, all right then,'

to both of them."

sold

i legitimately sold a painting today.

it's called "why are you giving away all of your sunny days?"

and i made it last christmas break at my kitchen table.

(i spilled mineral spirits everywhere)

the girl in the painting lives in a world made of only black and white.

one day it starts to rain.

so naturally, she whips out an umbrella.

but the rain isn't bad.

it starts to paint the world in new, bright colors.

but the girl hides.

and she doesn't let the colors touch her.

because she is afraid of getting wet.

have a lovely day.

how my first week back is going.

i have learned that two art history classes are better than two studio classes.  especially when you've already got what looks to be a busy semester ahead of you.

i love art history class a lot.  it's probably a good thing i'm switching my major to it.

having a teacher switched on you at the last minute is annoying.

the best route between most of my classes has become a construction zone.

august is hot.

it's been a rough week on everyone.  sadly, marius and fiyero didn't make it.  we have had two fishy funerals.

there's been lots of free food.

campus is really busy.  i've gotten used to the quiet campus this summer.

my roommates are hilarious.  i love them.  just a lot.

i did more than enough reading this summer.  so if i can't find a spare minute to curl up with a book, i think i'll live.

i'm not dead.

and let's face it, the majority of people who will read that actually associate with me in person.
so you knew it already.

but to those of you who don't,
i'm not dead.
i've just found myself with very little to write about.

it sort of seems like all i talk about here is art.  and france.  because those are things that make me happy.
but happy things like france and art are not the only places in which one can find happiness.

remember this?


"happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light."

-albus dumbledore

so i propose a change.  my life is not all sunshine and puppies and ice cream and happiness.  the purpose of me writing this blog was to see the good in all that happens in life, because at the beginning of it, i was not happy.  i think that life is wonderful, but sometimes i forget.

so i'm going to remember.

i'm going to look for reasons life is wonderful.

i'm going to help you remember.

and for those of you who don't know it yet, i'm going to show you that life is wonderful.

or at least i am going to try.

life does not have to be perfect

to be wonderful.

also, i have $36.04 in my "jane needs to go to paris someday" fund.

oh, and my drawing class is the best.

have a nice day.

things that made me smile today that are probably stupid. except the inspirational happy ones. those aren't stupid.

the reason: i waste too much time on pinterest.

i want this so much.

my roommate can tell you this is true.

this is ridiculously cute and i want two of them.

i love michel.  probably because he's french.

the real reason we can.

zombie apocalypse.

and now the inspirational ones:

^

dear paris,

just wait for me. we're going to meet.

i promise.

love,

jane.

(love letters to paris, not men.)

life is too short...

to be anything but happy.

(remember this, jane.)

the earth without "art" is just "eh."

i am an artist and i always have been, ever since i could hold a crayon.

i'm studying painting, drawing, and printmaking with a minor in museum studies.
the goal is to someday work in a museum, where i can be surrounded by art and talk about art all day. and then go home and make art.

my future house needs an art studio, a room that can be as messy as it needs to be, where i can throw paint or paint on the walls or floor if a canvas just isn't tickling my fancy.

i love having paint or pencil smeared on my hands.
i love color.
making art gives me a chance to be alone with my thoughts;
to make sense of the world.

if you flip through my sketchbook, you will find chalk scribbles and fancy freehand pen drawings. you will find quotes and words that inspire me. you will find quick sketches i've tucked away to finish another day. you will find my life in pictures.

lately i have been what i call art-starving.
i haven't made art in far too long, and all summer, i've been worried.
actually, i've been worried since the day i decided to pursue the study of art.

what if i'm not cut out for this?







what if i'm only mediocre?

then today i found this:

it made me feel better.

because sometimes i am scared to death.  it's terrifying to present your work to a professor.  as helpful as critiques are, there's always the chance that someone is going to rip apart a piece you've put your heart into.  when i make art, it's for a reason.  it means something to me.  but sometimes it's just for me. what do i say when asked to explain one of those pieces?

art is scary.

art is wonderful.

art is life.

 i'll leave you with a little drawing i found in my sketchbook the other day.
it made me happy:)

this post was the cheese, and for that, i apologize.

i've realized that i am quite the overdramatic child.

but that's okay.

fish is fish

this may be a tad long, but it's worth it, I promise.
this is, hands-down, the best missionary letter I have ever recieved.
from a dear friend I went to high school with.

"concerning the fish question,

In considering the objective piscicity of a fish, fish-shaped object, or other nautical referencing object (heretofore known as fish), the question of perceptive integrity must be taken into account.  A subjective categorization cannot unambiguously determine the intrinsic nature of a fish, whether fishlike or otherwise.  Prudence would dictate that we preserve the delicate kingdom of fishhood.

The problem at heart is in the aggregious gaps in the fish paradigm.  We cannot justly say that a few unfishlike tendencies cam make a fish not a fish, nor can we say that a few fishlike tendencies make something a fish.  Germaine to our discussion, a few unfishlike tendencies, such as being stiff and made out of wheat, does not inequouically make a goldfish not a fish.

It would be quite inhumane to base the life and happiness of an otherwise innocent fish on the subjective perception of the fishiness of said fish.  It would be quite illogical to argue that subjective perception of fishiness is indivisibly toed to objective appraisal of fishiness.  The departure from prototypical fishiness can not reasonably be answered on the heads of the goldfish.  Any attempt to victimize an innocent fish would be morally wrong.

the impossibility of unambiguous fish assessment has let to many other fish related cases: whale v. fish, squid v. fish, tadpole v. fish, creepy weird deep sea fish v. fish.  All cases have ruled in favor of the protection and conservation of said fish and such nautical creatures.  We have no indisputable reason to reasonably differentiate between the plights of said fish-related court cases and the argument of goldfish currently under question.

To use a further analogy, saying goldfish are not fish because they are crackery is like saying a pine tree is not a tree because it does not have leaves.  I could also be evoking of saying bald people are not people because they don't have hair.  Such reactionary thinking must be discontinued if all fish are ever to hold hands in the circle of brotherhood.

In summary, you cannot unambiguously determinate the piscicity of goldfish under our current paradigm.  The interests of goldfish must be protected.

I repeat myself:

fish is fish, no exceptions."

I about died laughing. I believe the argument was over whether or not we should consider goldfish crackers to be fish.  I do believe he won.

Fish is fish, guys.