Living with Senioritis

It has taken 21 years, but I am finally hitting into my youth. The catalyst was a stage four diagnosis of senioritis. Yeah, senioritis, that phenomenon where a high school student's laziness overcomes them in their final year. It's so universally accepted in education that I have even heard college professors discuss "senioritis" as if it has any place outside of the frame of Urban Dictionary.

The thing is, I was spared in the senioritis epidemic my senior year of high school. Back in 2012-2013, I was an overachiever to the extreme with a nice little chunk of club titles under my belt, a love of all things school, and an annoying inability to be rebellious. I only missed one day of school while my sister skipped out on fourteen (She is a really good student. Don't let this fact misguide you.) At the time, I couldn't process how my peers were so fed up with a place that I felt so engaged at everyday.

That momentum continued in college. Every time an assignment opened I finished it within the day. If a big project was due in November, I was already working on it in August. It was not even a thought. Just do. I would craft several papers in a night, read text on the bus, and keep myself fueled with a hearty Italian's amount of caffeine.

Scholarship is the word. Not stress or excitement. I genuinely felt moved to learn for the sake of knowledge.

Except, this semester, I feel like your friend's fat, orange, cat who lazily acknowledges your presence when you come over. I'm tired. There is no fancy language or rhetoric I could use to layer that. I just am. And I shouldn't be. It doesn't make a shred of sense. Here I am at my Internship- the holy grail for Education Majors- and I am finding trouble putting on my rose colored glasses and getting the butterflies aflutter.

I'm slowing down, but my world isn't (Great song title for anyone looking for one). Everything should be overwhelming, but I am honestly just underwhelmed by it all. And that's hard, it's really hard because I have long term goals that are a lot more relevant to me that my short term desires.

So senioritis is real. (I'm already sensing the self-sabotage with that line if any future students find this blog post) But so is what you are working towards. I'm just pushing myself through it and even though I'm not at the pace I want to be at any progress is good progress. Getting stuff done is easy when you feel motivated, but not being motivated is no excuse for neglecting one's responsibilities. Being in a state of "meh" doesn't mean I get to take a detour or pause at the rest stop of my goals and dreams. If anything I have to grasp for those wants even more because I'm the only driver to get myself there. Wishing myself luck on the journey and, of course, thinking of you all too.

Trying not to have a super melodramatic post so I'll leave you with a cute sea horse I drew and painted. :)

Fail Beautifully (Or Not)

I am a klutz. Not in the adorable way or even the YA fiction heroine way (because let's be honest that is a thing). I am a klutz in the whole that-random-person-just-saw-me-trip-on-nothing sort of way. That being said, I do not ever expect to win any sport game as playing for me is synonymous with surviving. God (understanding how handicapped I am) somehow helped me avoid P.E. for most of my life and the single year I did have to fumble through it my classmates pitied me enough that I wasn't always picked last.

So naturally, I ended up dating a guy whose life is so defined by sports that his baby photo from the hospital has a small plush soccer ball in it. This would have been fine had it not been for his faith in my ability (a terrible belief). Max, my boyfriend, encouraged me as much as possible to try out athletic or semi-athletic activities. However, after I almost blinded him by tossing a set of keys (as a general rule I do not toss or attempt to catch anything) and was basically reduced to tears when being pressed to try bowling, he finally accepted the fact that I am perfectly happy just watching (Or at least I hope he has).

Now, I had never thought this situation would be reverse. For my birthday, Max bought me a single voucher to go to a Painting with a Twist class. For those who are not active members of Pinterest, Painting with a Twist is the latest fad for sorority girls and PTA moms everywhere. Basically, it's a place that offers painting classes and alcohol. This was a wonderful gift for me (your neighborhood average artist), but when I suggested Max attend the class with me he was a bit more hesitant. Unlike sports, art is not his thing. Yet, trying to make a point that he was not against trying new things (something he points out I do all the time) he agreed. 

We painted Paris in the Moonlight because I am basic and always have dreamed of going to Paris. The instructor was moving too fast, but to be honest, I kind of started tuning him out early on and doing my own thing. Max, on the other hand, grew more and more irritated as the lesson progressed. He was picking up his brush way more than his drink and I noticed, as time went on, that he was comparing our paintings. There was no point to this as I had gone mildly off script, but for whatever reason he saw my painting as the average when, in reality, his looked more like those around us. 

The whole night I felt rotten about dragging him to the class because I knew how it felt to be pressured to participate in something I didn't want to do. Art is simple to me. Color to canvas. I assumed that even if he painted more of a blob than a moon he would still have fun with the act of painting. And I'm realizing now, I bet he assumed the same thing when he asked me to bowl and felt the same disappointment when I endured each turn like a grumpy toddler being forced to eat broccoli. 

But the truth is when "all we ask" is for someone to try something what we really want is for them to try it out and enjoy it. Which, in reality, isn't fair at all. A person can't pick or choose what they enjoy. If that was the case there would be a lot more college freshman sticking to the pre-med track. So trying a new thing out has to be enough. My advice (if you care for it): Be patience and gentle to those you pull into the art class or the field. Be the same way with yourself. Build confidence out of your ability to try and not your ability to do. You might find something you love, you might fail beautifully at it or (more likely) you might just epically fail at it. And that's totally okay. 

Introduction

Hello Everyone!

I'm Olivia and the creation of this blog itself already seems to be reflecting my life. My relationship with writing is active and yet typically private- solely for myself to read. In this blog, I hope to explore topics of curiosity to me, share some of my art (why not?), or maybe just pen (or type I guess) about my day. Thanks for reading and happy writing!