vomitting contentment


My first week of college burned out like the end of cross country season. Friday Aug. 26th, 2016 at 4:50PM, I ended my last class, Art History & Culture. It has been an exhausting week so I’m surprised it went by so fast. Well at least I feel like everything flies by quickly. Sorry, this is going to be a series of word vomit—no, a stream of consciousness because that is the only way I can somehow get all of my thoughts on paper. As you can see from my warning, I haven't been doing my reading religiously. Please forgive me, for this may be an utterly weird, painful (at least for Ms. Kim) and confusing read. I’m about to either make a whole lot of sense or none at all.


The transition of being a student at one of the top public high schools of the South Bay to becoming full-fledged art student in New York City has been such a change. It’s hard to adjust not because I don’t enjoy doing art every day, but more of the fact that I have a feeling of sadness? Maybe discomfort is a better word.


If you know me, I mean know me, you would know that I get uncomfortable when I feel too content or too happy. I know that I’m a very fortunate person. I grew up in the Silicon Valley, have parents who have stable jobs, lived in a safe suburban area all my life, am able to spend freely if I wish, attend a private college in New York City and much much more. Or I guess you could say that I’m materialistically blessed. You would think being in such a “perfect” environment, nothing could ever go wrong. Well, shit happens. Maybe I’ll explain the shit in a different post if I feel like it.


I guess no one would ever be truly happy unless they find their self-worth. Someone can live with a disease where they smell like a pig’s ass 24/7 with major scoliosis and psoriasis symptoms yet still be happy. This pig's ass diseased person doesn't give a flying fuck about the people around them and they are content with who they are. I mean, the person who smells like a pig’s ass could try to find a nice perfume to cover that up, but that doesn’t come across as a problem in that person’s mind because that person doesn’t need anyone’s approval. As long as they keep their focus on their own self worth, I guess just stay at ground zero, they will have security—contentment.


No matter what happens, I’m never content. My life can be going smoothly with no drama or any other type of problem whatsoever and I’ll still never have that feeling of satisfaction. Don't get me wrong, for I do feel immensely satisfied kicking off my sweat-filled shoes and bra off after a long hard day of work and then sleeping comfortably in my bed; but that’s short-lived. This summer after graduating from high school, everything was perfect. I went on vacation to Taiwan, came back to the States and had absolutely no responsibilities. Fuck, if I wanted to lay in bed and have cake for breakfast, lunch and dinner while binge-watching a series of K-Drama on my friend’s premium Dramafever account I definitely could have. But for some reason, I had to find problems for myself. There were nights where I couldn’t sleep at all. I always have to find something wrong and I am the one making myself miserable. It all goes back to being over-sensitive which can make me a pretty insecure.


Yes, I'm a very sensitive person and I'm trying to gear my sensitivity toward other things in my life to make me a stronger and more productive individual.

This semester of art school, I want to make the goal of feeling content and I think I’ve been doing a pretty good job so far. I haven’t made any friends but I don’t feel lonely at all. I don’t hang out with anyone outside of class on in class, yet I still feel like people like me and enjoy my company. I mean obviously I would sometimes feel a bit uncomfortable, but I think I can say that I’m getting over it. In the end, I will be content with myself.




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