College killed my creativity.
I can now write formal papers and spew back memorized facts. But ask me to draw a picture, and I would stare at you, eyes blank, perhaps a bit of drool coming down my chin...
I remember as a child, doing crafts on the living room floor. There was the weird wax paper we colored and then shrunk in the oven to form necklaces, the animal keychains we formed out of brightly colored beads and string, the holiday ornaments and cards fashioned from scraps lying about (including old dry macaroni). When did I loose this?
I come from a long line of crochet-ers, so I decided to give it a go. Teaching myself from a book, my first project was a red tea towel with a white boarder. It went well.
Don't you think?
It's official. I graduated (with two useless degrees - not to discourage any Freshmen), and have found a job. Making food and farming with Salt Water Farm. In Maine.
I am moving to Maine. I say it to myself over and over, but I don't think I really understand it yet. These past 3 years (and even 4, if you want to talk about high school, which I don't), have been all about moving. At least every year, sometimes twice a year, and then my transitory summers. But this time, the moving is different. I am moving there for good. At least one year, with the strong possibility of more. I will have a steady job, a steady group of people, a pretty steady, routine life.
I know, I know - but isn't that what I have always wanted? Well, yes. Sort of. Maybe. I'm terrified. What happened to the reckless traveling? Sleeping on strangers couches? Staying out all night not to pay for another hostel? Working on farms all over the US and France, totally on my own? I will no longer have freedom summers; instead, I will be catering others' vacations. No more going home for Christmas; instead, I will spend endless hours baking cookies for rich fucks. Will I ever see my high school friends again? Will I ever see my college friends again? Wait, what the fuck is happening?
When I went home over winter break, it was to become an adult. I removed my parents from my bank account, I opened a credit card and a second savings account, I consolidated my student loans (be happy if you don't know what that means), and I made a budget. My mother signed the title of my car over to me. I went through all my childhood shit, which will come with me to Maine. One night, I drove the 45 minutes to see my childhood home, which, to my surprise, no longer exists. Talk about identity crisis. I sat in a bar with old friends - and completely ignored them. I slept with my first boyfriend. In his parents old room. And then, I left.
I have two more months in NYC. I need to make the most of them. I want to let go, of everything, like I could my Freshman year. I want to revel in old relationships. I want to dive head first into new ones. I want to be more creative, I want to look inward.
Most of all, I want the time to pass, fast. I'm not good at goodbyes. Act fast, don't think. Remember everything.
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