Pathetic.

I danced around my room a bit. Brushed my teeth and pulled out my makeup bag. I powdered my cheeks and then had to blow off the bit I spilled off my shirt. I unbraided my hair, sprayed in some dry shampoo and fluffed accordingly. I swiped on some lipstick and put on my Penny Lane coat. I got in my car and blasted One Direction while driving the backroads to school. Needless to say, it was better than a typical morning. I felt better than I had in a long time. 

I never imagined that my mood would be lifted by 1000x later on that morning. 

My final project in painting was due today, along with four other people's. Of course, I gracefully came into the room lugging a 24x36in canvas before coughing my head off because I sucked some air down wrong. We gathered toward the front of the room and looked at the work of the three people before me. I was the last to sign up, so I went last. My hands were clammy and nervously wrapped around my little floral notebook I carry around to take art-related notes. My hands were so clammy that the paper design on the book started to curl up. It was finally my turn so I put up my portrait, this one to be exact (a snippet of it, atleast!)

I timidly watched my classmates walk closer to my painting. Pointing fingers and whispering. I tried not to listen to what they were saying. I was trying to focus on how I was going to introduce this massive man's face that was staring at them. 

About a week ago when I began this painting, my professor came up to  me and told me to consider explaining my fascination with celebrity and why I tend to paint them more than anything else. That statement stuck with me for the remainder of the week. I really didn't know right off why I painted celebrity so much. Easy accessibility to photos? No personal connection so if I mess up they won't find out? Neither of those seemed right. I meditated over it until I came up with a reasoning behind it. And like most great ideas, it came to me one night when I wasn't able to sleep because of the cough I mentioned before. 

These paintings and drawings of celebrity come from a place of loneliness. A place of deep, deep, regret and loneliness. This might be more eloquently explained in the write up I did for my painting, 

"This portrait, like much of my work, is an open curtain to the inner workings of my heart and mind. Images of celebrities are a common motif in my work and for a specific reason. Growing up, I always dreamed of performing or doing something unconventional. I watched movies and listened to music, often with tears in my eyes because I was so moved by the work I was witnessing from these people I would never meet. Creating images of these people somehow makes me closer to them. On my loneliest days these individuals were there for me the instant I needed them. My hand was being held. The thought of never being able to meet these inspirational individuals lead to me creating portraits of them. The sadness I feel once I remember that thought is what drives me to make these images, and that is also why I usually chose an expression that is more serious. I create these portraits as a small thank you for all that they’ve done for me. I see so much beauty in them that I often don’t see in myself, so creating these images somehow helps me see that beauty in myself.  I see reflections of myself in them, partially because they’re living a life I’ve dreamed of since I was a child."

I know I've talked about all this before. But sometimes I feel like the extent of it is something I don't like to touch on because it makes me feel pathetic. The amount of times I went to Disney Channel for comfort instead of talking to an actual person is kinda pathetic. 

Which leads me back into the story of today's painting class, where the word "pathetic" spilled from my lips more than once. 

I was verbally explaining to my professor and classmates that I created this painting out of what I had written in my statement and because I was kind of in love with the Patrick Fugit guy I painted. I told them I felt like that made me sound pathetic for loving some guy who I've never met. I explained in great detail why I always painted him. I'm not sure if I've said this before on here, but if not I'll tell you now. Last October, I was having immense doubts in myself that have bled into this current year. I felt like I may have been making a mistake by being an artist. I felt like my work wasn't good. I struggled with confidence in my work. Around the same time, I stumbled upon Patrick Fugit's movies by randomly watching one of them on Netflix one day. I was enthralled with this guy. I connected with his characters and him as a person. Something about this guy continuously pulled me in. I was creating art again. I was drawing him nonstop. My love for art came back. I drew every little bump on his face until my hands were completely blackened with charcoal. I did the same with this portrait of him above. I wanted all of his imperfections in it. I wanted his bumps and that mole by his eye. I wanted to focus so heavily on those things because those things made him so human to me. He was no longer that guy on the screen. He was real. He was beside me. He was silently patting me on the back and telling me I'm not a failure in this field. Somehow this guy pulled me out of my slump and made me feel like an artist again. 

And again, I said this in class today and told myself that this made me pathetic to feel so strongly for someone who I've never met. To be so in love with some guy, so much adoration for him that I pay attention to his pores, the way his eyebrows curve, and his little eye mole. It must be pathetic. Quite honestly, while telling them this, I felt embarrassed. 

I also told them how painting these people with all their imperfections made me feel beauty in myself. I'm still not sure how to explain that one. I think by focusing so heavily on someone else's features, even down to the mole, and considering them beautiful - I think that in turn made me slowly start doing that to myself. My little freckles, my cheek dent, my different sized eyes. I slowly begin to see them as beautiful, too. 

I said all this and so much more. I basically put all of my insecurities and fears into this giant Gatorade bucket and dumped it on all my classmates like we were celebrating a big win or something. The response I got was unlike anything I could've ever imagined. 

These people I barely talked to were saying they were proud of me. They were proud that I poured that Gatorade on them. What?! My professor told me my self-effacing humor was hilarious. A couple girls who I've always been slightly envious of told me that they were in complete shock that I didn't see beauty in myself, then told me I was beautiful. The earnestness in their voice made it hard for me to respond. Again, what?! A girl said she just wanted to hug me. I was commended for my writing, and that the writing opened my painting into a completely new light they never would've known about. It was so crazy because I haven't talked much to these people and they were talking about how they would watch me paint during class and how amazed they were by what I was doing. I never even noticed any of it was happening. My self-deprecating self assumes people automatically don't like me, so I keep to myself. 

The one comment that struck the strongest chord with me was, "you aren't pathetic." I didn't realize how many times I called myself or my past pathetic until a couple people brought it up to me afterwards. Being told that my true feelings weren't pathetic was the most heart wrenching part of my morning. I never expressed why I painted celebrities or Patrick so much until today. I kept it under wraps because I felt like I was going to get thought of as "weird" or "pathetic" for it. I was reassured by my professor and another guy in class that having a muse isn't pathetic. Having someone I love to draw and paint and makes me feel like a beautiful person doesn't make me pathetic. 

The whole time during these comments I was still clutching my little notebook, trying to take it all in. I was nodding and smiling. I wish I could've recorded it all because I'm afraid I have already forgotten parts of it because I was so incredibly overwhelmed by the response my painting got. It was such a strange feeling. This may be extreme, but it felt like I had placed my fragile, beating heart down on a table in front of a crowd, expecting someone to look at me like I was disgusting. But instead, I saw nothing but pure love and compassion in their eyes. The way they were looking at me, I honestly don't think I'll ever get that image out of my mind. I can't explain it. My heart was pounding the whole time. 

It all wrapped up and I went to get my backpack to head out. I was looking at my phone and my professor came up and asked me if I understood all that had just happened. I nodded, and told him, "Yes, I think it's still sinking in." I may be imagining things, but I think he knew. I think he knew how much of an experience that must've been for me. I honestly believe he's somewhat understood all along. I think he's seen that lack of confidence since he first met me freshman year. He knows. And now other people do, too. And even though my inner child is scared that I opened up that much to others, my adult self feels more secure than I did when I walked into that class today. 

I believe there must've been some aura around me today that was exuding joy. I was standing in line in the food court after class holding my painting. My head was still reeling from earlier. A frat-looking guy (I understand this is stereotypical, but he just had that look. I don't mean it in a rude way, but usually I don't get attention from any guys like that) looked at me and asked "did you paint that? Who is it?" I looked at him, forgetting I was holding a painting. I laughed a little and said yeah, and told him it was Patrick Fugit. He told me he had no idea who that is but "if he sees it, I'm sure he'll be pleased with it." I thanked him, not knowing how else to respond. He kept continuing conversation and I was thrown off guard. He got his food and walked away from me, but before he left he said, "keep on painting." 

I don't honestly know why I'm writing this. I don't want it to sound like I'm bragging, I hope it doesn't. It was just the first time I think I've ever felt like an artist. The process of this painting somewhat solidified that for me. I've gotten more comments in person on this painting than I ever have in the whole time I've been creating art. I'm sitting in bed right now wondering what on earth I did to deserve any of this. It makes me want to cry. To have something that truly came from my heart, deep deep from  my heart, showcased in front of everyone and have it applauded for the amount of emotion that went into it, I don't know. That's something I'm not sure if I'll ever feel again. I've smiled more today than I have in years. My heart was overflowing all day. 

I will never truly understand or believe that all this actually happened today. I am truly trying to take all the comments I got today to heart. It's very hard for me to do that, since I grew up having a hard time accepting compliments. I promise you I'm trying to be kind to myself and let myself accept that maybe they're right. 

Thank you for reading this, I know it's long!

-Rachel xx 

Nerium Oleander

I wrote this back in the summertime and never shared it. I was flipping through some old writings and came across it and felt like sharing it with you. 

Nerium Oleander 7-12-16

The gardens bloomed as spring approached

constant whispers of new life

petals were warm and tender

waiting to grow into something beautiful 

I saw the petals

I heard the laughter of the wind

I reached to pluck you from the ground

my hand froze 

you came to me

The petals had joyous days

basking in the spring sun

butterflies landed on them instantly

the days were as sweet as nectar

My days turned silent

the laughter vanished

I reached to pluck you from the ground

my hand froze

you were gone

The petals fell on the dry soil

summer heat made them crackle

the rose whispered to the tulip

she didn't realize he was oleander 

You're Going to be All Right.

Something I've been telling myself, especially lately.

You are going to be all right. 

Maybe it's just that time of the school year where work is continuously loaded onto students. Maybe it's the fact that it's November 2nd and it's 80 degrees outside. (This winter baby wants temperatures below 50!) Maybe it's me feeling like I have no one who I can run to if I'm upset and need to talk. Maybe it's my lack of confidence creeping back in. Maybe it's all of these.

I was doing really well for the longest time. I stayed off my phone and tried plugging into tangible things. I took care of myself physically and was trying to eat better. My body, mind, and soul felt at peace for a few weeks. I was doing great. I was thriving. 

But recently, that feeling has started to fade. I've slipped back into my old ways. I've been staring at screens again. I began to compare myself to other girls I'd see on social media and in real life. I see pictures of couples and people getting married and I started to feel down on myself for not ever dating. Something must be wrong with me. Everyone else I know is dating, married, or having kids. These girls and guys are my age. There must be something wrong with me. Why doesn't anyone want to date me? Am I undateable? Toxic, toxic thoughts. Belittling my worth because I am not currently in a relationship with anyone. Telling myself something must be wrong with me since I'm single. Telling myself that I must be to hideous or somehow repulsive to others. It sounds so extreme but I fight with these thoughts every day, especially recently. I know I've touched on this topic many times before, but it's hard. It's extremely hard. I've never been one who felt the need to date to be happy, but at times I do wish that I had someone I could share those feelings with. My heart is internally exploding with so much adoration towards others, but trying to show that to someone without appearing "needy" or "overly-emotional" is difficult. It leads to a lot of feelings of isolation and like I'm going to be thought of as creepy for being so fascinated with people. It's a slippery slope and I'm not wearing the proper shoes. 

I've had to tell myself recently that beauty is subjective, and not the most important thing. I grew up not loving how I looked, and that didn't fade until I started college. But now the fade is becoming a little sharper. Those feelings are coming back. Feeling that I have to wear makeup and dress nice for people to notice and like me. Old, negative remarks about my appearance that I got from elementary-high school have been flowing back. Why? I have no idea. I kept hearing that kid in 5th grade call me a parrot because of my nose. I heard my friend tell me that my legs would look better if they were tan. I heard the guy online comment on my friend's MySpace photo, telling her that she was beautiful, but me "not so much." I heard that guy tell me I'd look better if I wore my hair down or if it was straight. I heard the laughter of my math class when I was told that the rat in the class "probably crawled into Rachel's hair because it thought it was a nest." All things that were said to me before I was even 16 years old. They came flooding back this week. I had them tucked away for the longest time. I feel like the stress I've been going through caused me to unearth things that needed to stay buried. All the things I've bottled up for years slowly start bubbling to the surface again. It's a monster I find myself constantly battling. It hurts because deep down I know that those comments were so dumb and more of a reflection of those saying them instead of a reflection of who I actually was, but they still resurface. I am worth so much more than how my face curves or how my hair falls on my shoulders. I need to tell myself that more. 

I've been having a rough few weeks at school. In my art classes, I've been doing well but I've begun comparing my art to other's again. I still sometimes feel like I'm not part of the group, I've been subconsciously distancing myself again. I feel like my heart isn't in my work like it was before. I'm sure it's stemming from my self-confidence falling to the ground again and falling back into my old ways. I've also been struggling in my other general education classes. I'm regretting taking two histories and two sciences in one day, 3 back to back and one hour and a half break. (Where I usually take a 20-30 minute power nap, just so I don't fall asleep in American History.) A couple weeks ago, I didn't get enough sleep. I woke up nearly every hour and felt restless. I decided not to go to my Geology Lab, just so I could get an hour more of sleep. In my three years of college, that is the only time I ever skipped a class. I didn't think it'd be a big deal. Well, boy was I wrong. I ultimately believe that decision is what made my last test grade in there lower than I'd like it to be. I missed one 55 minute class to catch up on sleep. Of course that one class I skipped was the class where he described a giant chunk of material that was on our test. That's the last time I ever skip a class, I'll tell you that much. After this semester I'll be done with all general education courses. Praying for a smooth end to this semester. 

My heart goes through so many highs and lows. Some days, like today, I feel good about myself. I took the time to make sure I ate and washed my face. I prayed for a productive day and peaceful day, so far it's going well. I am still a little bit stressed and overwhelmed, but for the most part I feel okay. My critique in class went well and I have a lot of ideas flowing about a new painting. My mind is still floating back to those negative thoughts. Listening to the Almost Famous soundtrack helped me regain some hope. I got a good night sleep last night and woke up feeling renewed. My hair cooperated with me and I put eyeliner on. (I haven't worn eyeliner in months, so the fact that I put it on and it looks even is an accomplishment for me, haha!) A sweet girl in my class told me that my paints that I mixed up were beautiful. I found out that even though I made a not so amazing grade on my last Geology exam, I did better than the overall class percentage. I'm trying to set little goals and focus on the positive things. After tomorrow I won't have another test until late November. I get to start a new painting soon. It's almost Christmas time! 

Ultimately, I keep telling myself I'm going to be all right. These tests do not define me. My relationship status doesn't define me. My looks don't define me. My friends may be going out on dates while I'm sitting at home writing, but that's okay. Maybe I'm placed in these predicaments for a particular reason that hasn't been shown to me yet. Maybe all the nights I stay up drawing or writing will turn into something bigger than anything I can imagine right now. I know God has a plan for my life. I know his righteous right hand is holding me as I trod through these times. He made me this way for a reason. He made me loving and forgiving and full of a childlike hope for the future. Right now may seem kind of muddy and bleak, but there's a glimmer of hope shining through. I'm going to be all right.  

This song by John Denver has remained constant in my mind through these past few weeks. I think it perfectly sums up how I've been feeling.

So you speak to me of sadness

And the coming of the winter

Fear that is within you now

It seems to never end

And the dreams that have escaped you

And the hope that you've forgotten

You tell me that you need me now

You want to be my friend

And you wonder where we're going

Where's the rhyme and where's the reason

And it's you cannot accept

It is here we must begin

To seek the wisdom of the children

And the graceful way of flowers in the wind

For the children and the flowers

Are my sisters and my brothers

Their laughter and their loveliness

Could clear a cloudy day

Like the music of the mountains

And the colours of the rainbow

They're a promise of the future

And a blessing for today

To end, I just wanted to say thank you for reading this. Thank you for being a friend to me and taking time out of your day to read this jumble of words that flow from my mind to my hands. You are the friend I need to talk to, and I am thankful you are there for me to talk to. 

-Rachel xx

"Get yourself out there!"

It has been a week, and it's only Wednesday. 

The past couple weeks have felt like weeks, if you get what I mean. Every day I've had something due in class. Every day I filled at least 3 pages of notes per class. I've made near 100 flashcards this week alone. I painted into the night just to finish a project by morning. I've heard so much information in my classes that at this particular moment my head feels like it's going to explode. Every weekend this month I've had some sort of plans, from lunches to family reunions. (Which I love, by the way, they've been good de-stressers.) 

Monday, a dear friend of mine helped me lug 8 framed drawings/paintings of mine across a crowded parking lot then up two flights of stairs to the painting studio for a show this Friday. She had to park illegally just to help me out. (Missy, you are God-sent and I'm so glad you didn't get a ticket.) Because Lord knows if I tried to carry all of those across campus I would probably be laying in the Peay Bowl right now because I would've just given up. (The Peay Bowl is a giant sinkhole on our campus that they decided to fill with pretty rocks that form a large "AP." Just in case you're reading this and very confused!) Just wanted to say thank you again to Missy, who literally saved the day on Monday. 

I have my first show this week that isn't an on-campus juried show. I received a scholarship and was given the opportunity to show some work. As amazing as that is and as much as I've been thanking God for it, I am extremely nervous. This show isn't in the cushy comfort of my professors and friends. This is me having to drive my own work to some place that I've never been. The event is called a Soiree. That sounds super fancy. I feel like I need white gloves just to go to the thing. The fanciest place I've ever been was The Cheese Lady in Michigan. (And little did I know in my one-stop-light-town mind, there are more cheeses than Kraft singles.) I am totally excited but equally as nervous. But I also feel little better knowing two other students are showing work, too. I'm excited to see what they've done since I'm not too familiar with either of them. I know it'll be fun, but y'all know me. Uncertainty has always made me anxious. I am so thankful for your encouraging words and hugs every time it gets brought up in a conversation, I really am. This is all so new and exciting and I don't think it's sunk in yet. I'm sure it will on Friday morning.

All of this got me thinking about how much I tend to keep to myself without realizing it, especially with my work. I've always been timid and quiet. I have a lot of things I want to say but never feel like I know how to efficiently articulate them. In class today, my professor gave a talk about getting our work into the world and how to network and all of that stuff that terrifies me. He used me as an example a couple times, people turned and looked at me. I felt like that kid in class who always raises his hand, but in this case I never raised my hand. 

I often feel looked over everywhere I go. I didn't really realize why until today when my friend Tyler came up to me and asked why I was separated from everyone else in my class. (My easel was on the right side of the room while everyone else was on the left.) I stood there for a second while I was trying to give an answer. I honestly don't know why. I believe it's a subconscious thing. I've always preferred working independently instead of in a group. I get very distracted when other people are working around me. I want to watch them and I feel like I have to say something to them if I'm near them. I guess I feel like I work better if all I am focusing on is what I'm doing. I still don't really know why I don't put my easel with everyone else's. It's easy to be overlooked and left alone if you are separated from everyone else. Tyler ended the question with, "Get yourself out there!" 

There's a lot of truth in that exclamation. Keeping to myself and not involving myself in things that could benefit me is doing nothing but holding me back. Sitting in bed and drawing in a sketchbook and closing it, being in a class with other people and professors and not engaging in conversation, neither of these things are helping me. Deep down I know that my timidness is what has held me back for years. As I've gotten older, that fact has become even more blaring. I'm learning it all in baby steps. I'm trying to ask more questions. I'm trying to get my work out there. I'm trying to make more work. I'm trying to talk to people, even if it doesn't seem like I am. The fear of saying something wrong to a friend, a professor, or even in a critique has been a constant nuisance. I'm trying to work on it. I really am. 

I'm not really sure what I'm trying to get at. Again, here I am feeling like I'm saying something completely wrong. I was setting up my easel to start a painting before bed and something was telling me to write. So thank you for reading. Thank you for reading any of the things I write, for that matter. Thank you for your continued encouragement and hugs. Thank you for commenting on a drawing I did. Thank you for helping me carry stuff up stairs (lookin' at you, Missy. You're still the best.) Thank you for not losing faith in me when I let my nerves overtake me. It means more than you'll ever know. 

Everyday I've been working towards bettering myself. Body, soul, mind, & spirit. And now through my artwork. 

In the words of my favorite semi-fictional character, Penny Lane:

"It's all happening." 

-Rachel xx

  

I Can't Do It Anymore.

This is going to be shorter than my usual posts and I hope you understand what I'm saying. 

I cannot do this anymore. 

Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Snapchat, all of these social media apps are squeezing me dry. Something I once loved and looked forward to being a part of is becoming the biggest soul-sucker in my life. 

I am not getting into a  political conversation, but I am so, so, so incredibly tired of all these presidential posts. I'm tired of logging onto Facebook and see people attacking one another for their beliefs. I don't agree with a lot of people's opinions I see on my feed, but you know what I do? I accept that it's their opinion, and move on. I rarely post any political beliefs because I know I'll be thought of negatively for it. People who were kind to me will start to treat me like my brain is made of green jello. And do not tell me they won't. I posted a painting I did of two African American girls holding hands during a Social Injustice Rally, literally the only somewhat controversial thing I've ever posted, and my intentions for it were immediately questioned by someone who I thought was accepting of me. A painting. Something I love to do was questioned because it made someone uncomfortable. 

And I'll tell you right now, I am no theologian, I'm no pastor, but I know that this is not how we are supposed to be acting. God told us to love. We are supposed to love everyone. Black, yellow, red, purple, polka-dotted, Republican, Democrat, Gay, Straight, smelly, clean, short, tall, loud, quiet, dancey. No matter who they are. If you agree with them or not. You are called to love them. We are not called to hate. And I've seen way too much hate. We are not representing God the way we should, and my heart is broken. (Disclaimer: Just in case anyone jumps my tail, I am not perfect & I'm not saying that I am. I make mistakes. I've been hateful toward people before that I shouldn't have. We all make mistakes. But it's time to change those hateful thoughts into love-filled ones.) 

I love being on here. I love looking at people's photos. I love sharing my art with you. But the amount of hatred I've seen lately is way too appalling to even continue to try to maneuver this whole social media thing. And before you say, "just block the people you don't like or are offensive, or hide their posts." I have. The hatred continues to surface from the most unlikely of places. The only way I know how to avoid it is stop feeding into the source, and learning to put my energy into other, more meaningful, things. 

I am just exhausted. I know it's silly to blame social media entirely, a good chunk of it is because I've struggled with insecurity since I was a tween. I've wanted to be accepted by someone or something for years. Social media is not it. Social media is not where I need to gain acceptance. Memories aren't made through social media. You won't remember the likes you got on your photo ten years from now. I still catch myself today looking through girl's Instagram pages that I know, many who are way more attractive than I'll ever be, racking up 200+ likes on every selfie they post. It makes my measly 25 look like dust on the ground (and I rarely get that many.) But that is so stupid! Likes? Someone's thumb tapping a heart shaped button is making me feel like I am not as pretty as these girls? Ugh. It's so dumb and I hate that I feed into it. I hate it so much.

Truly, I have found that spending time in other things that are not screen-related are so much more worthwhile. Indulging in things that seem somewhat dated now, such as writing, listening to records, thumbing through an antique store, taking a walk and talking actual words to an actual, living person...what a concept. I've begun to live like it is 2002 again. Using cellphones for communicating. Taking in things that can only be truly absorbed with your face towards the sun rather than toward a screen. Reading a Bible or a book instead of a news story that won't benefit me. 

Saying this, I'm not just disappearing completely. I'm still going to be on here every once in a while. I still want to write and post my drawings for you. I'm just cutting it out enough where I can learn to enjoy life again. Enjoy it the way I did when I was seven, running around my fence picking up acorns and pretending I was Lizzie McGuire. Back when I loved everything and everybody in my life. I'm ready to get back to that. 

I'm Not Sorry.

Long time, no see!

I haven't posted since July 1st. I've written a few things but never felt like they're worthy enough to post. I was in the middle of writing a post called Forgive Me, but then I was like, you know what? I'm not sorry. I'm not sorry for the things I was writing about. I've been so insecure about the things I was writing about for so long, but right now I want to say that I am not sorry. 

This summer was lovely, but I saw a lot of people's true colors. Several people that I cared about started treating me like I was worthless and I lost a couple people I thought I was close to.

All summer and these past few weeks of school, I've been hating myself because of how big and open my heart is. I let so many people in and trusted people who just treated me like an annoying gum wad stuck on their shoe. I want to say that I don't regret anything that happened, because honestly I do. I wish none of it happened. I wish everything was happy and jovial like I like it being. But life is not like that. I'm thankful for those hurtful times because they made me come to the realization that I'm not sorry for how big my heart is. 

I'm not sorry for believing people wouldn't misuse my trust. I'm upset at all the drama I had to go through for people who would not go through it for me. I'm upset that I thought I was making new friends when in reality they could care less about me. I'm upset that people who I thought I was close to don't talk to me for months on end, even when I try to reach out to them. I'm upset as the years go by that it seems like my group of friends is getting smaller and smaller. But I'm done with believing I am the problem. I know I have faults and I'm not saying that I'm a perfect friend, because I'm definitely not. But I know that all my fizzled-out friendships aren't from me being who I am. I've learned that you can't be bestfriends with everyone you meet. I've come to realize I'm not the problem, but it doesn't make it hurt any less. 

I'm upset that I gave my heart to a boy who doesn't seem to care for me anymore. It hurts that someone can act so supportive and loving towards you, then turn around and not speak to you for months. It hurts. It hurt then and it still does right this minute. I feel like such an idiot, but it broke my heart into a zillion little pieces. I liked a guy for years before it hit me that he didn't like me the way I liked him. I got over him, and it hurts that the first person I genuinely liked and cared for after him seems like such a distant memory now, almost like it never happened. I'm still not over it. I should be. I should be moving on. I'm kind of embarrassed at how much it's affected me. But I'm not sorry for giving my heart so freely to you. I would give it to you again if you needed it, which might be contradictory to the whole point of this entry. I'm thankful for those times we did have conversations and I'm thankful for you support, because I still support you and hope you're doing amazing. 

I'm not sorry for doing things that make me feel safe and comforted. I stay up late just to draw or to write lame poems that no one will ever read. I thrive off that kind of emotional release. I need to get better about time management and making sure when I promise I'll draw somebody something that I'll actually do it. I tend to work on impulse when it comes to artwork and I know that isn't a good habit if I want a career in art. I'm working on it. Drawing is very personal and has more of an emotional connection to me than it ever has, especially since school started back. I am sorry for taking so long on some of your commissions, I genuinely am, and I promise I am working on them. 

I'm not sorry for being so stand-offish to new people. I can be friendly towards people, but after all the things that happened this summer, I am a little leery of people now. I still will welcome new people with open arms but I'm not so free to open up on details of my life anymore unless I feel 100% secure with you. I have an open heart, but please realize that it'll take time for me to warm up to you. 

I am definitely not sorry for my heart. I'm not sorry for loving the people I did this summer. I'm not sorry for feeling so much and so vibrantly that it physically hurts at times. I'm not sorry for crying every time I watch Almost Famous. I'm not sorry for giggling like a school girl whenever I see David Spade. I'm not sorry for who I am or who I am becoming. I'm 20 years old now and finally realizing this is who I am. I'm always going to love anyone who shows love towards me. I'm always going to want to be trusting of everyone I meet, but I'm learning to put my guard up. 

I don't feel like faking being happy anymore. Because more frequently recently I haven't been happy. I've been pretty sad and feeling defeated. A lot has been happening, even more than I wrote up here. I'm not like, sitting in a puddle of my own tears every night. I just feel hollow at times. Like, I am happy, but there's a emptiness that is tickling my insides. I've been trying to pinpoint what is causing it. I'm still searching and getting guidance from the sweet Lord above. In time it'll all be okay. I can tell that I am headed towards somewhere where I truly belong, even if it's just for this season of my life. At this current moment, I feel like a weight has been lifted. I needed to write this. I needed to let this out. Thank you for reading (if you made it this far.) 

To end, here is part of James Bay's song Best Fake Smile that has seemed to describe how I've been feeling lately. (Because sometimes I feel like music written by others explains how I feel better, and more beautifully, than I can.)

No you don't have to wear your best fake smile

Don't have to stand there and burn inside

Oh oh oh if you don't like it

She's working late and making eyes at the door

She's sick of everybody up on her floor

She wants the sun in her eyes but all she gets is ignored

She used to put it out and get it all back

But now she's slipping trying to carry the act

She's sweating under the lights, now she's beginning to crack

Woah

No you don't have to wear your best fake smile

Don't have to stand there and burn inside

Oh oh oh if you don't like it

And you don't have to care so don't pretend

Nobody needs a best fake friend

Oh oh oh don't hide it

No hesitation now she gets up and walks

She thinks of all the pain and pride that it cost

She empties all the tip jars and won't get back what she lost

Outside the window with two fingers to show

She lifts her head up just to blow out the smoke

She doesn't have to look back to know where she's gotta go

No you don't have to wear your best fake smile

Don't have to stand there and burn inside

Oh oh oh if you don't like it

And you don't have to care so don't pretend

Nobody needs a best fake friend

Oh oh oh don't hide it

If you don't bleed it you don't need it anymore

If you don't need it get up and leave it on the floor

No more believing like it's a voice you can't ignore

If you don't need it you don't need it no

-Rachel xx 

Craving.

Walking through the traffic on a Monday

In the town I grew up. 

Shelter from the rain in every doorway

It's dark and everyone's numb.

Kids are making faces in the bus lane

But nobody looks up.

Everyone's life the same as yesterday

Just like the ticking of clocks.

And I'm craving, craving, craving something I can feel.

Where do I go, what do I need, is it ecstasy or is it fear?

Am I on my own, am I even close

'Cause I'm craving, craving something I can feel

Never thought the night could get so lonely

'til she called me up.

Never thought these streets could've out-grown me

I guess it wasn't enough.

So I put my faith in everyone around me

Then she sold all my stuff.

Sheer and wild abandon that's all I need

And someone I can trust. 

Take me far from streets and roads

Lead me out in the night.

Don't show me the way back home

 - "Craving" by James Bay 

This past Monday I went for a stroll around Target with my cousin when our pool plans got rained out. I had been listening to James Bay on Spotify for the past week, and I really wanted to get his album. I went into the CD section, and lucky for me there was just one left setting on the shelf. I purchased that beautiful little album and enjoyed the rest of the afternoon with my cousin. 

Once I left her house, I turned it to my favorite song of his, Need the Sun to Break. I sang my little heart out. I listened to his other songs and listened to the words James sang. Long story short, it's been nearly a week and I'm afraid I may have burned a hole in my CD already. There were only two albums of mine that I was able to play all the way through without skipping, Keith Urban's Ripcord and Fleetwood Mac's Rumours. Chaos and the Calm by James Bay was added to the list.

This isn't supposed to be an album commentary, (though I would love to do that), it's a revelation I've had while I was listening to his album. A revelation that I've had numerous times but this time it seemed to hit me a lot harder than previous times. 

I've realized recently how important it is to peel ourselves away from our screens/social media and focus on tangible things and things that better the soul. A bit contradictory saying this in a blog post, since I'm currently typing this and staring at a screen, but it's the only way I can write and it be available to more than one person. (I would actually love to write you all individual letters, but I'm not a very fast writer and I'm sure you wouldn't want sporadic 3-page letters arriving in your mailbox.) There are positive sides to social media, but for me personally, it is more of a negative influence than positive. 

I find myself almost constantly looking for acceptance online. Looking for someone or something to make me feel like I have some kind of purpose. I've been guilty of posting a photo of myself I really like, then constantly checking back to see if it got likes. I hate this. People clicking a heart or a thumbs up on me shouldn't define me, but I let it. I see other girls with hundreds of likes on their photos, and soon I automatically assume I must be the lumpy, dull apple on the pile of smooth, shiny apples. Likes mean nothing. Yes, likes can make a post go viral, likes are a way to show someone you read something. They aren't a bad thing, I like photos a lot. I'm not against likes. I'm against how they make me feel. Because when I think about it, sometimes I don't like people's photos, but I'm sitting there looking at the photo they posted thinking about how much I miss them or how beautiful I think they are. There could be people doing this about me, which I'm much happier knowing rather than if they hit a thumbs up on my selfie. And I still like posting selfies, it's just the mechanics and mindset I absentmindedly put on myself after I post it. 

How does James Bay come into this exactly? Well, every once in a while, I seem to stumble upon a musician or actor that seems to have a different sparkle in their eye. I see it and grab hold of it because it's a particular kind of sparkle that I am just crazily drawn to. They're the kind of people that I find myself thanking God for. I know I probably sound like a crazy woman, but like I said before, bear with me. I have always been fascinated with Hollywood, musicians, movies, celebrities, everything and anyone considered "famous." I've been told before how liking these things is silly, and how there are millions of other people claiming to have "personal connections" with those in the spotlight. I know that I will most likely never meet these people, and I know it's sort of impossible to have a connection with someone you haven't met. But my imagination, passion, heart, and soul have always been big, and I don't plan on squeezing it into a more "mature" reality anytime soon. I've always tried to find some kind of spiritual connection, or just some type of connection with artists I admired. (I hate admitting this, I can just see a sea of people rolling their eyes and shaking their heads.) With James Bay, I found that connection through his lyrics and the way his voice moves throughout a song. It's like I have a giant row of light switches in my chest with a different emotion, and every time I feel like I connected with the artist or something they did, a light switch flips on. James Bay came in and flipped the dusty, yet well beaten, switch labeled "Soul Reconnect." 

My soul is an interesting place. It's a smorgasbord. There's daisies, God's love, charcoal covered hands, laughs that include snorts, and the most recent addition, one on one time with people. Most of you reading this know me pretty well, and you probably know I'm not the most outgoing person. I love people. I am so fascinated with people, but have never been able to efficiently express that fascination in a way that I felt wasn't creepy. If I'm attracted to someone I want to draw them. I find myself looking at facial features that I feel are often overlooked, like the the bridge of the nose or the curve of someone's eyebrows around their eyes. It's hard for me to ignore these things. I'm good at observing people, but I've never been good at talking and complimenting people in person. I can do it behind my phone screen but once I get in person I freeze up. I recently got two jobs, one working at an art gallery and another in a clothing store, both places centered around guests. I went from sitting at home with just my family to being put into public with strangers and having to talk to them, how frightening! And they talk back! And smile at you! Wow. What a revelation. I initially felt like working sucked all my personality out of me, but I'm learning that it is a balance of being professional but still injecting yourself into your professionalism. So far I've complimented strangers and started up a conversation about music with a coworker. Baby steps! 

I've also re-learned recently how I need to stop hiding myself. There are so many things that I love and things I do to express myself, but I'm afraid someone will see them and it be considered weird. It's not like I make voodoo dolls in my basement or anything, I keep telling myself that nothing I do or enjoy is crazy at all. The things that make me feel alive are nothing I should be ashamed of. I want to share them with others, but I often still feel like I will get looked down on for the way I live and believe. I often feel like I try hard to be a good person and try to fit in with my friends with similar beliefs, but I can't be that perfect person. I've come to accept that. The things that other people are inspired by and ignited by are not the same things I am affected by. And that doesn't make me a weird or bad person. I thrive from having one on one time rather than being in a giant group of people. I feel like I have a closer connection with God when I'm sitting alone in silence rather than worshiping in an congregation. My heart races whenever I hear/read words that make dull words sound like they were sung by angels. There's actually one song that has come out recently that I feel perfectly describes how I feel regarding spiritual experiences, it's called "My Church" by Maren Morris. I get chills and tears in my eyes every time I hear that song. I didn't mean for this to be a religious post, but hey, wherever the road takes ya, just thank God and muddle through it. I love church, I love hearing hymns and reading the Bible, I thrive off of Sundays spent in my little hometown church. But I think it's also okay to find spiritual blessings from outside of the church walls and outside of things deemed Christian. There's a lesson in everything. When I draw people, I feel like I just encountered God. When I listen to particular songs, I feel like I just encountered God. Even if the songs or people I'm drawing don't believe in/aren't about God. He gives all of us gifts and I think he uses people who may not believe in Him to showcase these gifts and lessons. 

So, what on Earth am I saying? I intended this to be a little blurb on social media and the effects of it and how I've overcame some of it, but it ended up being a letter and reminder to myself that I am fearfully and wonderfully made, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with who I am. I am in an extremely adventurous and scary time in my life. I am craving something more than just online acceptance. I am craving something I can feel. Craving the feeling of being loved and accepted for who I actually am, and learning to love and accept myself. I never knew buying a little black album with a hat-adorned British lad on it would put so much perspective on what I am really here for. The name of his album is particularly fitting for this time in my life, Chaos and the Calm. 

-Rachel xx