About Art

I gotta be honest here, even though this is my last post, I’m so tired that I could probably pass out right here and now. But I’m not going to do that. Because this is my very last post.

What does that mean? Well, unidentified, detached voice, I’ll tell you what that means.

It means absolutely nothing. I will keep writing and I will keep seeing shows. I will keep listening to music and I will keep having opinions on said music. I will keep trying to convince my friends to go see movies and I will (probably) keep getting rejected. I will still dance in my room with music blaring, and I will still sing loudly in the shower. I will still curl up before I go to bed and try and watch the next episode of my show until I absolutely cannot keep my eyes open any more.

Sometimes I wonder why I write this column. Not that I’m suggesting that I don’t like it, because it’s probably one of the best things that has happened to me on this campus. But I wonder how this column fits into the grander scheme of things.

If I’m being perfectly honest, not many people read my writing. I’m lucky if I get even a few clicks on my page.

But then, I remember what I feel like when I listen to Walk the Moon’s new album. Or how I feel when I realize that Rabbit Hole (2010) is on Hulu to watch for free. Or how I’m going to have hours of free time this summer to catch up on New Girl or to watch The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt. And then I realize that this column isn’t about me, as cheesy as that sounds. Its about bringing awareness to something I love. It’s about adding my voice to the echoing din that already exists on the internet. It’s about shaping my skills as a writer, and pushing myself to write something new, something different, or to maybe look at writing in a way I never did before.

In short, it’s about the art, and how the art makes me feel. And it always will be.

Sick Days and Movies

I’d like to propose a theory that has not been tested or proven in any way shape or form. To be honest, this theory hasn’t been around for very long because I may or may not have come up with it today while I was lying in agony trying to will my body to sleep. But it’s a theory nonetheless.

This theory? When there is an increase in sickness/illness/general suckiness, there is a direct correlation to the increase in enjoyment of any movie or TV show.

Note I said correlation not causation because if I hadn’t already had it drilled into my brain in high school AP Psych I had it again drilled into my brain in my (very easy) stats class last year.

Normally, today I would have one class in the morning, have an hour and a half for lunch, and have a 3 hour work shift after which I’d attend my last class of the day from 4-5:30. However my body was having none of that, so after waking up with a scratchy throat I went to my first class and in the course of an hour and half went from “ew gross throat” to “please help I’m dying.” To my chagrin, my poor attempt to use Panera Bread’s chicken noodle soup to nurse myself back to health did not work, and so I walked into my office a half hour earlier than I’m supposed to arrive and asked if please I could go back and rest, and she agreed heartily. (Side note: I literally have the best boss on campus. And I’m not saying that in case she reads this, because she probably won’t, but because it’s true, so you should all be jealous).

Only focused on how the wind was not lowering my pain tolerance at all, I shuffled slowly back to my dorm, took the elevator instead of the stairs, and crawled into bed. And even though I was completely exhausted from only getting six hours of sleep the night previous, I could not fall asleep.

Not only was I thinking of all the things I still need to do this week and how to accomplish them with the least amount of effort possible, I also was kept awake by the dull throbbing in my muscles.

And so, as I lay there, I thought of all of the times I had been sick when at home, and how yes, I felt horrible, but maybe it’d be okay because that meant I got to watch a new movie or finish a TV show.

One distinct time this happened was when I was in 4th, maybe 5th grade. My mom kept me home from school with just a normal (but brutal) cold, but she still had to go to the store and wouldn’t leave me home alone, so naturally I accompanied her to the WalMart five minutes down the road. As soon as we got there, there was a huge display in front of me, with at least three shelves all lined with one movie. This movie, which happens to be my favorite out of all Disney/Pixar movies, is Finding Nemo. I don’t know why my mom did it, maybe out of pity, or maybe she just saw the look on my face as I looked at the shiny blue cover of a movie I didn’t get to see in the movie theatre, but she turned to me and asked “Do you want me to buy this for you?”

Young and confused, I answered with my own question, “Why?”

“Because today is a special day.” I couldn’t see what was so special about it, but if it meant getting a new movie I was game, so I went and picked out one, a two disc special edition, and watched it when I got home.

Now, to be honest, I don’t remember how sick I was or how much I liked the movie the first time I saw it. But to this day, it’s one of my favorite movies, both to watch when I’m sick and when I’m fine. I can quote almost every line, and over break I bought myself a stuffed plush of Dory (I kid you not).

Okay, so I will acknowledge that this has less to do with “art” and more to do with psychology. Maybe it’s just this way for me, but when I get sick, cuddling up with a soft blanket and a movie works better than any medicine or home remedy. I can’t tell you why, but the connection still exists in my head to this day, because when I lay there in my dorm, miserable and desperately wishing for sleep, just sleep, all I really wanted was to watch Finding Nemo.

*Disclaimer* I am still very sick as I write this so if you see any typos or if some sentences just don’t sound the best, please forgive me, I’m about to take a shower and some Nyquil and sleep forever.

A Long Journey

My personal journey to University of Michigan has certainly been an interesting one. It creates great table talk, explaining how I’m a transfer student from Houston, Texas, and wow, isn’t it cold? But to me, it’s more than that. This journey here now defines me, and this entire life I have been living has been almost like a dream.

Since I was very little I’ve always been quite a definite person. Yes, I like cheese enchiladas. No, I don’t like the refried beans. My personality has always been quite honest, and even my friends now know when something’s up, even just by the way I text.

So when I started appearing on stage, I knew I was home. Being on stage, playing parts in thick costumes underneath heavy lights that blind me from the world, I let go. I dropped everything at the stage door and pretended to be someone else for a while. I invested in theatre. I breathed theatre, and while I had very little opportunities, I took every crumb I could get. I told myself I was passionate, and that would carry me through.

And then, one day, my mom drove me downtown. We went inside the building, and my legs were shaking. I was wearing leggings, shorts, and a T-Shirt, along with my favorite (and new) jazz shoes. I met so many different people, teens of all ages, shapes, and sizes. I clung to the forms as tight as I could, and I chanted you can do this. You can do this. You can do this.

I introduced myself more times than I could count. Everyone greeted me with a smile that hid the razors I could see in their eyes. This wasn’t a time to make friends; this was battle.

And battle I did. From the very first time I talked to the other kids, I knew I was hopelessly outmatched and outwitted.

I’ve been taking ballet for the past 10 years.

Oh. I mean, I took ballet when I was 6, but I never continued.

I’m in state choir. Really? You made state? I just sing for whoever shows up at our concerts – usually just parents.

But Jeannie isn’t the kind of person to give away her dream that easily.

The dance portion was the best. I could tell I was having fun, even with the sweat starting to form. I did my dance with a smile, and felt the music running through me. But try as hard as I do, and even with the natural disposition I have to music, fun cannot beat training. It took me longer to learn the steps, and even when I performed them from memory, I stumbled. But, like I said, I lacked training, and so I knew after I was finished performing that it was not star quality.

But I had more faith in my singing. While, again, I am untrained, I had more faith that I have a good singing voice, and the song I chose suited me, since it was upbeat, in a soprano range, and had sections dedicated to belting, which my choir told me I could do well with high notes.

So I was going to be okay. I could do it.

That afternoon, I walked into a room with three judges, and I left with four.

My accompaniment was perfect. The setting was right, I had the song and the notes completely memorized, and my nerves were assuaged after the brutal dance portion. But when I walked in, the judges didn’t look up at me. They didn’t acknowledge me, didn’t even know that I was there. And so, in one of the biggest regrets of my life, I started the song, dropped the middle, and ended, leaving the room with a self-esteem that sunk deep into my heart.

And that was the last straw. After that audition, I knew I couldn’t do it. I didn’t even compare to those who had been training their whole lives for their dream. I didn’t sacrifice anything, I didn’t deserve it.

Looking back, I realize it was a stupid mistake, and I shouldn’t blame myself for not having the courage to pursue acting as a profession. I thought that I knew who I was. Like when I was younger, I thought it was yes or no. Yes, I was going to be an actress and be fulfilled in my life, because it was the only thing that could fulfill me. Or no, I wasn’t, and I would lead an unhappy life trapped in a cubicle. My future looked gray.

But instead of coming to University of Michigan to pursue acting, I decided to pursue writing instead. And it seems like everything has fallen into place since then. I found this job, and I found so many friends and faculty whom I love and find happiness in. I’ve found clubs, and friends who share my passion, who look at writing not as a hobby on the side of something else, some other dream, but as their only dream, their only happiness. Through these people I’ve found my courage. I’ve been encouraged in my writing, and I absolutely love the time I get to spend writing these blogs. So no, I’m not pursuing acting. But yes, I am fulfilled. And maybe someday, I’ll get to see my name on the screen. But instead of being an actress, I’ll be credited with the beautiful script I wrote.

And that’s why University of Michigan isn’t just a far off dream school for a girl far from her Texas home. It isn’t just a college, where I study books and get grades and eat food. To me, this school has been where I’ve seen life happen, where I’ve seen bonds formed, and where I’ve seen a new dream that started from a tiny, unwanted seed grow into a beautiful flower that breathed new life into me.