Carpe Diem

Before I started my MA program, I had to keep a “journal” for a month. Just writing anything, really. Here’s the entry from June 4, 2008.

I’ve heard a lot of

-CARPE DIEM-

Today.

(Largely because I watched Dead Poets Society, but bear with me)

I helped stack the kiln.

I wanted all my pots to fit.

“I need a short one.”

“I know I have one of those.”

Kiln space is valuable.

Carpe KILN.

Carpe the diem kiln.

I don’t know when the next firing is.

So I took it.

Then I watched that movie.

It was about being what you have the potential to be.

Not what they told you to be.

Is it as simple as that?

I want to be an artist.

“But there’s no money in that!!!”

So I’ll write, then.

“Well at least that’s MARKETABLE.”

This is free, see.

Art school was not free.

THANKS FOR THE UNIVERSITY JOB, DAD!

It’s okay.

This is art.

I can’t touch it and feel the paint

Or clay

Or textile—

But it’ll work. It’ll have to.

Besides—I have a knack.

(I won a scholarship for it…

The day AFTER my dad got our tuition remission agreement)

So I have to carpe this diem.

Seize this day.

Smell these rosebuds

(While I may).

Or at least until I graduate

(For real, this time)

And have to make a living.

Can I still have an art studio?

Or is this supposed to be all-consuming?

I don’t want to be pigeonholed.

Let me paint on this paper.

Until I read that, I forgot how unhappy I was about the whole MA program. I didn’t want to do it. Hell, I spent a lot of time during the program bitching about all the reasons why I STILL didn’t want to do it. I always felt out of place, and I didn’t think anyone (except Becky) took me seriously.

But I stuck it out, and I’m so much better for it.

Seems like everything happens for a reason.