My Mother Was A Chinese Trapeze Artist

I think I'll convert to Catholicism. Or maybe just become one, since I'm not really anything right now. It sounds like a good idea. I like the reverance of it. All the ceremony and pomp and work put into it seems so much grander and respectful than the usual Bible-thumping, matching color t-shirt Baptist Jesus junkies I'm so used to these days. I'm tired of Christianity being so cheapened and I'm at a time in my life where I think I'll be needed a lot of the Man in Charge's help.

Particularly when all of my compatirates seem to be lowering their standards considerably. One is settling for becoming a house-wife when she has the talent of a genius and fashion skills that would knock Vivian Westwood right off of her eccentric shoes. Another, who wanted to go to New York with me, is settling for cesspool New Orleans, which is, indeed, a colorful place, but it's not the place she was aiming for. I went to a financial aid workshop this week and felt the full weight of the provential world on my shoulders. There seems to be absolutely no way ever that I can be in the places that I want to be in and the stubborness that supports my very core still makes me believe that none of my obstacles that block my way and I'll be safely walking my dog in Central Park next year [well, as safe as New York can get].

My teachers are making me absolutely livid, and as they criticize me more [in a negative way], I am becoming completely determined to prove them idiotic by making art work so outstanding, they don't know what hit them. I'm getting some pretty good stuff done, too.

In fact, I'm going to National Portfolio Day on Saturday [hopefully], in Memphis, and will get some satisfactory responses to my work. If I get a negative response from the advisors that are there, I'm going to work harder and get a better answer in January, when I go again. If I get a positive response, I'm going to work harder and get an even better reply.

Bonne nuit.