Chakravada

Oct. 31st, 2007 12:31 pm
chantico: (Energetic)
Happy Halloween/Samhain/All Saints Day, everyone! Florence is a wonderful city for this time of year, seeing as it is almost entirely focused on the past, on reflection and dark stone and bone-white birch trees. Sadly, there is no such thing as Halloween over here: we have All Saint’s Day, but that’s completely different. One of my classmates got a package filled with Halloween candy from home, and I lamented. Candy corn and Reeses Cups, I miss you! Apple cider, I shall write you s longing ode!

I can’t believe it’s the end of October already. The early part of the month found me in unhappy places, culture shock fully setting in. I thought it wouldn’t happen to me; oh no, I said, I’m already used to enough strangeness, enough non-stereotypical American behavior. Culture shock? Bah!

Yeah, *right*. That attitude wore off pretty quick when I realized that I felt utterly helpless, essentially lost, flailing in a sea of dirty urban streets, perverted old men, gelato and traffic laws that make no sense whatsoever. I wanted to kill every person that laid eyes on me. I wanted to throttle them while screaming NO PARLO ITALIANO. I was, ah, a little stressed.

Then midterms! Nothing like a good bout of panic . . . or not so much panic as mild interest . . . to get me back in gear. Actually, I attribute my feeling better to two things, the first being that instead of studying I spent the weekend before midterms *writing again*. Man, when I get going, I don’t fool around. 40 pages of story later, I was feeling inspired and excised. Why did I *ever* stop writing, aside from lack of time/intimidation felt due to nearby presence of awesome writers?

Number 2 was fall break, in which I shopped (Calvin Klein feather down coat, check. Dark brown mid-forearm Italian leather gloves, check. Gorgeous blue and purple Pashmina scarf, check. Sweet hematite and gemstone swirly sparkly, check. Utilitarian but comfortable black sneakers so I can throw away my nasty ass old Sketchers, check), and more importantly went on vay-cay.

Guess where I went?


Read more... )
chantico: (Painting)
I. I have been *Doing Things*. Many of them, actually. Where on earth do I start?

First, I should say OMHIGOD CONGRATS to [livejournal.com profile] swantower and [livejournal.com profile] kniedzw for their wedding. I saw the pictures, or at least some pictures, and they all look exceptionally lovely and romantic and wonderful. It sounds like you all had a marvelous time; I'm very very sad I couldn't be there. I'm not going to write to much more on the subject, because I already walked into Italian class all teary after lookign at the pictures and if I start wibbling now I will never get my errands done.

Classes are not intense, but there are a lot of them. Most unpleasantly, they are on an American schedule, which flabbergasts me and makes it very difficult to get used to an Italian schedule (i.e. everything being closed whenever we have a break for food/errands or all fun stuff that goes late happening the day before we have early classes). I love all of my teachers, however. The art teacher, Raffaela, is AMAZING. Mostly because she's *harsh*. Not mean, just very, very unforgiving. If you're doing it wrong, she'll lay it on you like a cat macro, and if you're doing it right she'll be pleased and point out everything that's still wrong about it. And we are not, NOT allowed to call ourselves artists. Sellable, maybe. Not artists.

Whether I agree or not, I have improved leaps and bounds under her tutelage, happy to let someone else criticize my work instead of constantly obsessing about it on my own. It makes me yearn for some kind of artists circle in Bloomington who can look at what I do and tell me. "This is fucked up. Here's how you fix it." And likewise I can do the same.

My italian is also improving, though usually only in specific phrases, like "Where is ____?" "What is this bizarre thing on the menu?" and "No, I do not want to 'make friendly' with you!" Also, my bargaining skills are rapidly becoming leet. I bought my first big present to myself (a sparkly of great magnitude) and I brought it down from 100 euro to 50.

In life, I have been CLEANING UP after myself, doing the dishes, making my bed and doing my laundry. This I take more than anything as successfully upkeeping The Ritual of self-evaluation/change that I began in coming over here. I am most pleased.

Also, I have been travelling. Descriptions under the cuts, as they are long. Since I am very lazy and very busy, they are cut and pasted from e-mails I have sent out earlier.

Capri, Sorrento and Pompeii )
San Gimignano and Siena )
Non Traveling Bad Parts )

As if this wasn't long enough, I have finished my first piece of painting in months: a piece that's actually very important for my spiritually, as it's the first one done out of a series of Oracle cards I am making just for me, and represents the stage I was in when I first traveled here. I am very, very proud of it.

ART! )

Podcasts!

Sep. 18th, 2007 03:35 pm
chantico: (Relaxed)
Since coming over here I have discovered just how much I love Podcasts. When I'm feeling lonely or distant, they really help me feel a little more connected. That being said, there's only two I regularly listen to-- A Prairie Home Companion and This American Life. Does anyone have any reccomendations for good Podcasts? I'm looking for good ones about magic, science, games, music . . . pretty much anything you think would entertain me. What do *you* listen to?

I'm doing better today. I'm pretty sure I need to back off myself and stop trying to shove square pegs through round holes. It works much better when you work at making the holes square, as well. In other words, I need to stop waking up every morning and going "Ok, great, you got here! Now be a great artist RIGHT NOW/be a great cook RIGHT NOW/clean up after yourself perfectly and fix all of your domestic issues RIGHT NOW/be thin and healthy RIGHT NOW. Push push push! No rest, no break, no commendations-- you need to keep pushing at yourself, all of the time!"

Whether it makes any sense for me to do that or not, I do. I shouldn't, either . . . it's going to burn my out in all sorts of ways if I do. How can I appreciate that OMG I MADE IT if I dismiss the accomplishment as 'meh, ok, what's next?'

Live in the moment, chill the fuck out.
chantico: (Melancholy)
This week started off with an unpleasant encounter: I have met the Adversary, and he be named The Garbage Truck That Wakes You Up At Six Fucking Forty Five In The Morning. Appearently, this creature is natural to cities, but being a poor country bumpkin who is used to her peace and quiet the screaming of un-oiled metal, rattling of metal cans, and shouting of angry old men caused me a near fit.

Maybe it's the lost sleep, but I'm feeling not so good today. There's something deeply pyschologically disconcerting about existing on your own in a place where you can't communicate with *anybody*, because of language, culture, or social differences. I may be able to speak to my classmates, but all they want to talk about it getting drunk, Sex in the City or similar things. Plus it's all rainy, and an overcast sky in a city feels poisonous to me; it's already gray enough, why add more?

I had an okay weekend-- Saturday was great, as I got out to the Boboli Gardens. They're *amazingly* beautiful, and huge. I'll be visiting there a few more times to try and cover all of my ground. The most amazing sight I didn't get in pictures yet, but I'm excited to show you all-- it's an area where they made sculptures to look like cave structures that sort of looked like sculptures. I'll get some photos when I go again, but for now the pictures I have are below the cut, more in my scrapbook gallery. Sunday was drab and overcast part two, but I made myself go out and draw. I was supposed to go to Fiesole, but hiking in the rain did not sound so good. I found an big park filled with old birch trees that were losing their leaves, dark clouds, black hedges, and, best of all, a closed down carosel. It was perfect and yielded a pretty good drawing before I had to run form the rain. I also tried a mozzarella, tuna and tomato sandwich (having no idea what I was ordering). That didn't sit well, so then I went home and was sick and fatigued for the rest of the day.

I'm worried about my loan, too. Two weeks until my bill needs paying. . . I've been emailing and bugging them, and they *say* it's being processed, but, mrr.

I know I promised a post on me, but I don't think I'm up to it right now . . . my magic is strong, but as I was reminded on the border of dreaming and being awake, I need to "Remember . . . you're dead right now." It's true. I'm doing the whole Underworld thing, and that's always tough.

Walking with the Dark Lady all this semster, but this week, UNDressing of Salad, Miss Dreamweaver and good old Hobyah are standing on their heads at me, facing the fiery sword. It's gonna be a tough week.

Favorite Pictures )
chantico: (Conquering)
I cannot believe it's only been a week. It feels much, much longer. Florence is so stupidly beautiful, I don't really know what to say, though this time I have some pictures to show you. No landmarks yet, except the river-- I am determined to walk every street in the city, so I'm going section by section, cordoning my map off into 'neighborhoods' which I can explore at my leisure.

Little newsie tidbits:

Classes are going pretty well. I stumble through Italian as always (but only in class . . . outside, I've been using it quite well, and communicating fairly effectively, proving to myself that my problem with language classes is being put on the spot). Art History is teaching my a lot of interesting things that I didn't know while covering material that I've covered many times before, which is a good sign. Drawing and sculpting are great fun, and I should be able to do watercolors after all-- not as a class, but independently working with my drawing teacher. The pyschology class is difficult because the teacher does not speak very good English. I feel sorry for her; she's obviously very frustrated.

My roomies are all okay-- very nice girls. Holly is the best; she's very normal and giggly, but seemingly less insulated as the other two. Amanda, the Jesus girl, is getting her head blown. I can see it everyday in classes, especially art history as we dissect the ways that the modern church has appropriated pagan symbology. This cracks me up mostly because she and my other roomate, Kyla, were talking about the orgins of Halloween being "devilish", that word exactly, and the next day the art history teacher began listing off things that modern christianity took from paganism. Kyla is your typical blonde, middle class republican girl. She's not very aware, and yells in american at people, and drinks a lot of diet coke.

My new painting is going on swimmingly, and I'm dying to write/do something else creative, but I don't have a lot of energy. Sleeping is still difficult; no matter how much I get, my body DOES NOT want rest until 3 AM, and DOES NOT want to get up before 2 PM. I'm forcing it asleep and awake, but oh, I'm tired. On the plus side, I am eating so, so healthy, and walking up four flights of stairs at least six times a day (as well as all over the city). I know I've already lost a lot of bloat, and true fat should follow soon. Not a drop of soda has passed my lips since I've been off the plane; I drink water pretty exclusively. The quality of the tap water is actually better than in Bloomington.

ON the sad news side, I found out my uncle died on monday. he had been diagnosed with lung cancer only a month or two ago, and collapsed suddenly while taking a walk. It was very quick, and almost painless-- and I think he wanted it that way. He watched my cousin Erica- his daughter- die very slowly and very excruciatingly over the course of many years from cancer, and I don't think he wanted to do that at all. I feel bad that I can't be there for the family; especially my mom.

Glumness aside, time to post some pictures! Here's the link to my gallery in my scrapbook, and here's a few of my favorites under the cut )

On Monday, I'll give a little more of an update on *how* I am doing, not just *what* I am doing-- since most of this is aimed not just at seeing and doing things but on disciplining, focusing, analyzing and expanding *myself*, not just my walking muscles. You can get an idea from my mood.

Radio silence until then, as the school is closed. Ciao!
chantico: (Refreshed)
Walking past the rope barriers and into airport security was one of the hardest things I have ever done. I feel like I left a part of myself waiting in the airport terminal, engaging in conversation with strangers just so that my mouth was moving and something like terror, but more subtle and lost, did not overwhelm me. I lost sight of me/her as I stepped through the boarding gate, and unto that plane. It looked from the inside like the gullet of some beast, ribbed like a throat and about as comfortable. The night before I left for the first leg of my trip I woke up haunted with the name of a poem I read once upon a time and one time through— Luke Havergal. It was— is— appropriate. By passing across the sea, I stepped, not unwittingly, through my own western gate, eastern though the direction might have been. Now, I feel suspended between, a thread pulled taut and about to be released.

Florence and Tuscany feel like homes I’ve never had, but also alien and very frightening. There’ve been some hang-ups that have contributed to the feeling of being helpless, washed in one direction or another by an ocean of unfamiliarity. Somehow, my jewelry disappeared from my luggage—I’m sad about that one, because I had a locket in there from my young childhood, and a gold necklace my grandfather gave me when Grandma Kok died. At the very least, I remembered to carry my sparklies directly with me, though some of them were damaged in transit . . . nothing a little superglue won’t cure. Food is very cheap here, which is good, because the exchange rate is worse than I thought. I can’t take my watercolor class, because it overlaps with all of my classes I actually need the credits for, but I’m hoping to sit in sometimes, and this means my paints, which I could not directly bring because of flight risk or something, can be sent without fear of too much time passing.

Mostly I’m lonely, overwhelmed and scared- and absolutely starstruck. The lonely part is pretty bad. My roommates are nice, but continents away from where I am and why I’m here. Apparently my Italian payphones doesn’t register on people’s cell phones, and so they don’t hear when I call, and I’m left wanting to talk to them more than before, having wistfully listened to their phone ring three or four times in hope they would pick up. My new phone card won’t let me leave messages either.

I’m sure things will get better, and quickly. The adjustment time is hard, especially when you’ve left someone behind who you miss very, very badly. Florence itself is *amazing*. I can hardly believe that I’ve seen the things I’ve seen just today—the Duomo, the Ponte Vecchio, the Uffizi, the Rape of the Sabine Women, and the million small streets, shops, markets and squares (and scooters!) that are everywhere. Ohhh, do I wish I had more money . . . the shopping! Dolce and Gabbana! Prada! Armani! Versace! Miu Miu! Guess! Downtown is the leathermarket, with shoes and bags for as little as 15 euros . . . that’s about 25 dollars. And the men . . . rowr. The city s surrounded by the Tuscan skyline: mountains sublimely beautiful, a deep blue sky that turns green-gold like the underside of a leaf in the evening. I know know what “Purple mountain’s majesty”, really means. Tuscany is a land of *warmth*. Everything is red and gold and dark green, purple and charcoal, all without appearing burned out like Bloomington does right now.

I feel bad about how very, very American the group I’m traveling with really is, with a few exceptions. As I said before, my roommates are sweet, but loud and kind of oblivious. Going to dinner with a large group the other night was kind of horrifying. They were so loud and obnoxious, and seemed to have no idea that they were being so. Classes started today, and they seem really good. Sunday I had a little time to get my bearings around the city, which is freaking Kafkaesque in it’s design sometimes.

Overall-- hangups aside, WOOOOO. I have to go now and catch my classes, but tomorrow there should be some more details on some of the specific sites, and some pictures, starting with my apartment and room WHICH IS SINGLE HAHAHAHA.
chantico: (Optimistic)
My passport should be in hand come Friday. My initial reaction was less cheering jubliance, more "Good, now I can finally attend to the 19294 other things on my list" but today I'm feeling much better about it and my prospects in general. Not quite up to the everything is fine level yet, but moving there. My textbook I need before going over is also ordered, my final loan submissions go in this friday, my plane tickets are here and my list is rapidly shortening. What I have left to do: get my Visa, organize my monies, pack, figure out where I'm going to get luggage, find out how I'm getting to Minnesota exactly, fix up my laptop, and spend every day praying that they won't go through my bag and toss my watercolor paints at the airport for being dangerous. I'm not bringing my oils for the above reason; I know people who've lost hundreds of dollars worth of paints on flights. Also, are external hard drives okay? These things, I do not know.

Other news is sparse. I'm feeling violently antisocial, which is good considering I have three long days all on my lonesome while [livejournal.com profile] deadmanwade and new roommate do the GenCon thing. The shwag I really wanted to get from there is already acquired-- yay Changeling book! I'm really, really, really enjoying it so far. It's different from old Changeling, to be sure, but in my own opinion, not mangled like some of the updates have been. But then, I liked the new Mage.

What else . . . Sunday is my birthday. I'm not sure what I'm doing fully, though I know I'm heading up to Indy for the day. I *was* going to get a pass into GenCon, but prices are stupid high for a day pass. Maybe the zoo, *definitely* the IMAX Harry Potter. If people are interested in going to that with me, I'll post times.

As far as further celebrations go, I'm going to wait until I have my going-away/birthday party, tentatively scheduled for Sunday Sept. 2nd. You'll hear more about this next week, as I have to make final arrangements.

September is dangerously close.
chantico: (Catty)
So in case you haven't heard, LJ has gone a fucked up once again. I'm too tired to track everything down, so here's a link to a site that's compiled most of it. The two biggest problems *I* have with the whole thing?

1. LJ is making judgement calls on what constitutes artistic merit and *banning* people who don't fit that mold.

2. They ban Harry Potter fan artists but outright defend pro-anorexia journals, stating they do not promote self harm.

Yeah . . . fuck this. I'm tired of SixApart's bullshit-- I'm moving my journal. I'll keep this one to keep in contact with people and crosspost up through when my paid account expires, but then I'm moving to Greatest Journal. I already have an account there under the same screen name, so if you do decide to migrate as well, look me up. Besides . . . I get everything I get on LJ for my precious monies for free over there, and then some. 2000 icons, yo. I can finally have my whole collection up!

In other news, today was a rotten, no good, very bad day. Fucking passports. Fucking stupid people. Fucking beauracracy. I do not like being told that I will never get a passport in my life. It's out of my hands now, and in the capable paws of my caseworker.

LESSON LEARENED: Home birth? Fucks your kids like woah.

I feel bad that all of my posts are insipid, badly written and filled with about as much substance as a Ben Stiller movie, but that seems all I can muster right now. Errrrghg.

On good news, I have new shows. Now I just need to learn how to walk in them.
chantico: (Panicked)
July was an odd month. It didn't have the internal panic of June. I worried, and worked, and sat in a kind of haze from which things and people came and went. I mostly I didn't pay attention, hid in my house and hauled myself from project to project, kicking and screaming all the way. August doesn't have that feeling. You know how August feels?

AAAAAUUUUGHHH!!

OMGI AM LEAVING IN A MONTH ARE MY BILLS PAID WHAT ARE MY TRAVEL ARRANGEMENTS WHAT HAVE I FORGOTTEN WHERE'S MY PASSPORT WHEN AM I GETTING MY VISA WHAT ABOUT TEXTBOOKS AND JESUSCHRISTTHEARTSHOWAIIIIIIIEEEEE!

Yeah. That about sums it up.

Speaking of which, this Sunday, 2:00 PM, I'll be having a fundraising Art Show at my aunt's mansion-on-the-hill. There will be cookies and lemonade and a pool. And art. That you could buy. I'll be offering prints of some of my work that you've seen, some you haven't, and a whole lot of original watercolors plus some other things I scrape together. Some of you have heard of this, but since I am terrified-- like seriously nightmare terrified-- that no one will show up, I'll post it again. Directions, for those needing them, can be provided through AIM, e-mail, calling, or an LJ post I'll make tommorrow.

Now . . . back to work, panic, more panic, and more work.
chantico: (Default)
I am surprised I have not ruptured internally from all of the vitriol I have been spewing and/or swallowing over the past week or so. I am currently rather temperamental. This is kind of like saying a fire is rather full of burning. If I am gnashing my teeth in your general direction, more likely than not it is nothing but thin skin on my part-- though it could be more aptly described as taut skin, because I am and have been a nervous fucking wreck and feel so stretched thin that I'm likely to snap like Paris Hilton in a jail cell. The air feels like it's thrumming with 'threat', amorphous, ever present, and completely ridiculous on my part. Italy is looming over me, and I'm addressing it more lie a six-year-old than a competent adult-- if I can't see it, it can't see me; if I pretend it's not there, it will go away. See, *reason* would say OMG ITALY FLORENCE OMG OMG YAY, but I'm am not reacting that way . . . quite to the contrary, I'm irritable, vicious, depressed and frightened, when I am not just, well, numb.

I'm not excited. At all. I am not happy, optimistic, gleeful, hopeful, looking forward to, or any other positive words or phrases you could apply to this. I am regarding the whole situation like a rather large spider that I have just found sitting in the middle of my bed. It is there, it is watching me, and it has *fangs*.

Mostly I think I'm very worried about letting myself become excited for fear of something going wrong (and something has, but I'll get to that in a minute) and if I edge my way warily towards the inevitable, I'm not going to be absolutely and completely smushed into a smear of wibbling, sobbing and despair if it falls through. This is logical to me from a removed perspective, but it is also COMPLETELY STUPID from any other. As I've said to those I've mentioned this to directly: if I am not getting excited, if I can't be happy about this, it won't *mean* anything to me.

I mentioned something has gone wrong, and it has, though not *spectacularly*, and if this is the other shoes, on first assessment it's more pink and mary-jane shaped than the combat boot I was expecting. My passport has been delayed, because they say I have not submitted proof of birth. Problem: I don't *have* traditional proof of birth. I have not birth certificate. See, when I was born, home births were not all that common in Indiana, and those born at home were never issued Birth Certificates. Only "alleged" Birth Certificates. Alleged. These documents *are* official and issued by the State, and I've gotten things like my Driver's License just fine with it, but I have baffled the passport people, apparently. They want hospital records or early school records from early infancy (???), but I don't know if the hospital *has* those records on hand after 22 years. Basically, I have to call and yell at them, until they stop being dumb.

Bah. BAH, I say.

On the plus side, this is just awesome.
chantico: (Reflective)
It's strange how doom and gloom can cling to you. A good mood is so easy to lose, and a bad mood is so hard to shake; I think depresssion and wallowing are some of the most addictive things ever.

Not saying I'm particularly down right now-- I'm busy and nervous, but not *bad*. I just find myself whingin a lot more than I need to and getting cranky over small things. I also feel distant-- not from people, but from self-awareness. When I peer into my own head, it feels foggy, and clogged up with spider webs or anxiousness.

I think a lot of it has do with Italy. Soecifically coming to terms with the chasm that exists between the preparation that I am doing to go (the automatic, machine actions of figuring out money, working through school, filing paper work) and the realization that I AM FUCKING GOING TO ITALY. The excitment, joy, and pride that would come with that realazation are distant; I can barely see them waving at me from the other side, and sometimes I can hear the echo of their shouts, but I feel like I can't access them.

The chasm? The pyschological gap where I feel undeserving of achievment, like I've somehow cheated to get this, like I am not worthy of it, fed by a river of certainty that I can not have this, that dreams do not come real. Not for me.

Which is of course the LAST fucking thing I want to be acknowledging, because I know that sort of thinking will be the thing to sabatouge it.

I'm frustrated. I want, I know I need, to build a bridge to the other side, or better yet, simply take a leap of faith and start walking, but I don't know *how*.

How do I trust myself? When did I *stop*?
chantico: (Moody)
Yesterday was not as productive as I would have liked, but I did manage to spend the day *doing things* rather than sitting in front of my computer doing nothing at all except puttering around the internet and fidgeting with iTunes. As much as I like doing these things, when I get things done, no matter what they are, it always makes me feel like a better person-- I have accomplished something, therefore I am capable of accomplishing other things. Lo, I have left my mark on the world-- even if it is only because I did my laundry. Which is indeed what I spent yesterday doing, and some of monday. Laundry. ALL THE LAUNDRY. IN THE WORLD. For serious, yo. I also cleaned the upstairs, including nasty things like getting lint anf grime out of corners, scrubbing the shower and dusting the bedroom (no wonder my nose has bneen so stuffy for monthes-- it was like a bunch of dustbunnies rigged themselves with TNT in some kind of suicidal attack on the bookcases). I also did a little painting, and a LOT of studying for my Italian oral exams today. Those did not go well. Or, my teacher said they went well, but I don't trust my teacher, and I stuttered and mumbled and understood nothing, so they couldn't have.

Ahhh, Italian. You are a langauge I actually enjoy. it's a shame that I can't speak you at all because my head is like a sieve and my tongue like a dead slug.

I am subleasing my apartment for June/July. It is cheap (245-295 a month). Anyone looking?
chantico: (Default)
So on Monday night, my Grandfather passed away. Condolances are appreciated, but not especially necessary . . . he wanted to go pretty badly and had been suffering for a long time. As with most deaths in the family or otherwise, I don't find myself especially upset-- perhaps becuase I have not had anyone I was especially close with die, but also because most of the deaths I've been around for have been absolute mercies-- Grandpa Kok, who was battling cancer for years, my cousin Erica, who also battled cancer and died armless, legless, and absolutely finished with trying to fight it; my Grandmother who was drinking herself to death as suicide anyway; and now Poppa, who was utterly incapable of taking care of himself, completely lost in dementia, and begging to see my grandmother.

The wake was today, and it was pretty insane. I forgot how big my family on that side is when we all get together, and with just us and the closest friends there were still 200+ people packed into one house. This afforded me the oppurtunity to catch up with the few family members who I really connect with, and spend a good portion of the day doing some great sketches.

Speaking of which, I compiled a couple of pages of said sketches, all from life; you can view them here, here, and here. Some of them are older-- it's the last page that's mostly from today-- but this is a side of the regular practice I need to do which you guys don't really get to see.

Otherwise, life is going okay. I have a master plan on what I need to do for the Italy thing. I am pursuing it. I also have a good backup plan if it falls through, I think, and my financial aid will be fine if I stay in Indiana.

Mostly I'm just suffering a lack of time in which to do the things I want to do, which is normal.

Right. That's all, then.
chantico: (Default)
I've finally come up with some viable plans for what I'm doing next year, which is reducing my anxiety at leats somewhat. Even if they're still flighty and nowhere near concrete, I have back-up plans no matter what happens (within the realm of foreseeable possibility of course).

Most of my worry stems from the uncertainty of living situation, let alone school. These are the options that I have been working with:

1. I go to Italy in the Fall, and temporarily store my stuff at my mother's, renting a place come January. This is complicated by the uncertinaity on whether I shall be:
a. Going to school full time the following semester
b. Going to school part time the following semester
c. Unable to afford school.
2. I go to Italy in the Spring. This still raises the other school questions, and adds another variable:
a. Find a short-term lease/sublease for August-Jan
b. Move back in with my mother.
c. Find a roomate who has someone else lined up to live with them come January.
3. I do not go to Italy, and things progress as normal.

I would be able to deal with most of this, if it wasn't for that fact that, really, in the situation I'll be in next fall, paying full rent for a place is going to be just *stupid*. I will be spending most of my time at Knightridge, since [livejournal.com profile] deadmanwade, [livejournal.com profile] moonartemis76, [livejournal.com profile] oddsboy, [livejournal.com profile] kniedzw, [livejournal.com profile] swan_tower and a plethora of others will be living there. I will never be at home, and I am remiss to pay 400+ dollars a month for something I am not going to be using. On the other hand, I *hate* being homeless and without a space of my own. Splitting my time like I do now is bad enough, and has caused more than a little irritation on my part. At long last, I have established a space that is MINE, and going back to floating through other people's territories does not appeal in the least. I do not mind sharing my space with a roomate or housemates or whatever, but it still has to be invested as my home territory. Not having that is just uncomfortable.

However, so is officially moving back in with my mother, being there regularly or not. Besides, I vowed I wouldn't be the type of student who gets to the end of school and moves back in with their parents; I've been self-sufficent since I was 17, barring a half-semester of hell when I temporarily needed shelter.

More important than that, I need a space where I can work. Not having access to my shinies and my books is one thing; not having access to my art supplies and a place to create is another.

So in short: I need a space where I can crash if I need to but won't feel obligated to, where I will not being paying stupid rent, where I can work, and that I can make mine. I need a studio.

I talked it over with my mom last night, and she agreed that for a hundred bucks a month I could establish a small space in either her basement or upstairs room. This avoids the problems of actually living with her, and allows me a place to go so I'm not just a freeloader at whomever's house. Anya can stay there but I will still see her regularly, and I will have space uncluttered by furniture and 'house stuff' where I can set up an art space.

I still have to figure out the Italy thing, which I waver back and forth on whether I want to bother pursuing and be dissapointed, or try anyway because I will never forgive myself if I just give up. I don't think I'm going- I'm just too poor and have nothing to fall back on for help-- but with luck and hardwork there is a SLIM chance that I can scrape together enough funds for it. The cost for one semester is more than an entire years of living expenses and tuition for IU, but because I am finally claiming myself as an independant on my taxes and FAFSA (despite living on my own for forever), I think a lot more money will be available to me.
chantico: (Default)
I finally started the long and involved process of applying for overseas study, and might get shut down at the gate. I have no idea at all how I could cover afford it, unless I went to school for *one* semester next year and took the maxium amount of loans I am allowed to get in a year. That means I would have to wait a whole other year to graduate, and have a job where I could actually pay rent starting that January. And even then, it wouldn't cover it, and I would still have to scrape together the money for emergencies, spending money, supplies and a passport (not to mention vaccinations!).

Wow. I'm starting to realize how much of a pipe dream this really is.

This semester is going to kick my ass. Aside from taking Advanced Oil Painting (bleh), I'm enrolled in Italian, my intensive writing course ( Religious Philosophy, a 400 level Philosophy course-- I have hithero taken Intro to Philosophy), a 400 level art history, and Anatomy for the Artist, absolutely the most intensive art class IU offers.

I'm going to DIE.

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chantico

May 2014

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