The Call - my sister and me

Ever seen the Narnia movies? There is a song titled "The Call" that I used in many speeches to help explain many things in my head... in my heart. I like how music can match thoughts and help get people through pain. I think that is why I love the fine arts as a whole; Its takes away pain.

My biggest pain was the topic of our psychology class today. My adoption situation kept me from fulfilling assignments and has caused many issues this month. I can't make a real family tree. I don't know my medical history. Etc. Etc. Etc. My sister and I are very close because we are both adopted, but today I finally understood why it is even harder for her. Our class discussed the affects of alcohol and drugs on the fetus and what disabilities the child must deal with IF it survives birth. My sister survived birth and 16 wonderful years... And today, I feel a pain... that I cant cure for her. I can't do anything to change the facts. All I can do is love her. Sometimes I wonder if that is enough. She is my other half. I've sacrificed so much for her, and I would give up everything I own... Everything I love... to give her what she needs. I can't imagine life without her. She is my biggest blessing.

Right now, I'm making a decision. I'm tired of being told my family is going to hell. I am tired of being treated like being who I am isn't good enough. I'm tired of having friends that only are my friends when it is convenient for them. I am so tired, that art isn't enough. I pray and pray... but my prayers haven't been answered yet. I think I turned down the biggest opportunity in my lifetime to try and make Des Moines my home... but its not. I got 23 art residency offers for BFA Studio and BA Art History and some even for Art Therapy (which is my goal after undergrad). I turned down every last one of those offers. Every last one of them! I look back and think maybe God gave me those offers that I so desired because I deserved to be happy... not because he was testing me and trying to see if I would stay with this fellowship. He was giving me gifts and I turned them down!

Now, I'm dancing to get myself though the week in one piece.... calling my best friend every night so I don't cry to sleep. I drag myself out of bed every morning. My sister needs me. I need to be happy. And I need to fix this. I just don't know how to do that yet.

So I listen to "the Call"... and make my words grow into battle cries.... bring my memories before my eyes... because right now, thats all I can do. Wait for the next call to find what I left behind... what I didn't have to leave behind.

no one is "just like me"

This summer I learned a lot about myself. I was forced to look back and reflect upon my oh-so-long 19 years of life. I am one lucky girl. In the mist of the hell I was, and still am, confronting, I was given an amazing support system. As of two hours ago, my reflections were debated and concluded as worthless by this very support system. They told me that I do art because it is reliable, safe, and something that no one can do "just like me". I am my own person and I strive to be different. After reliving my past through one hell of a conversation... I realized that they were right. Isolated and left to cry my brains out... I admitted hurt. I am hurting by trying not to get hurt. That may not make sense to any of you, but I am afraid to get hurt... but by only doing art, I hurt. Without art, I hurt even more. There is no winning for me here.

Art is who I am. I can't distinguish between the two anymore. And I don't want to. All I want is art. I long for art when I am not in the studio. I can't enjoy time with friends... not simply because of the time limitations in my schedule... I cant enjoy that time with friends because when I am with my friends, I'm not whole. I feel that I am only friends with people when it is convenient for their religious and social views. I am not accepted the way I am. I am art. Art is politics and debates... its criticism and acceptance even in failure... its the risks and outcomes... its annoying,and uncomfortable and strange... irritating... confrontation... the feeling like you are on top of the world... confined and released... air.... joy... peace... LIFE. Art is life.

And if you tell me its all about jesus or all about greek parties, there is a high/ almost 100% chance that I would slap you right about now. I believe in Jesus and God... I also believe in support systems like greek row... but those fellowships or groups shouldn't define you or limit your life to one thing. What are you passionate about? What do you do outside of prayer? I am passionate about art. Art is not clearly defined. Art can be anything... anywhere... with or without anyone. Art makes me ... me. And it makes me feel safe.

Take that away, and you're at a loss... because no one can do art like me. No one can be me. This is my life ... and my time... so if you don't like me as I am .... if you don't like my art...

Screw/ *put "f" word here* you.

And if you think that my family is going to hell for being full of individuals with different cultures, passions, and a strength that you wish you had...

Repeat the above swear numerous times.

There is nothing left to say to you. You know who you are.