I’m alive.
How odd, perhaps, that I choose to say that for an opening line. Perhaps it’s due to my parents’ constant worries and teeth-grinding about my inability to survive outside of a protected bubble, or maybe it’s their belief that my time spent here is a waste of their money and effort.
Or could it be because I am slowly crumbling under the mountain upon my chest that comprises my assignments?
I will admit, it has not been easy, adapting to the Digipen regime. With assignments increasing in workload and intensity week by week, and with no sign of my administrative matters receding into the background, I’ve been more or less either washing, cleaning, drawing or, thankfully, finally returning to training (though in very limited exercises; doctors are expensive here).
I still have not managed to get in a single game of TF2 since I landed at Seattle-Tacoma airport, even with blazing fast Internet (as an aside, FUCK YOU Comcast) and (almost) every luxury that I can own here, practically speaking. I mean, how many people here have access to a full mechanical keyboard like I do? And yet, I spend most of my time hunched over a sketchbook, cursing over exercises that seem, at best, just basic practice, and at worst, demeaning.
And the most excruciating part of all is that I still suck at them, and even though my grades say otherwise, I certainly don’t see any improvement thus far.
Of course, it’s only been 6 weeks: I’m only halfway into the first semester. But yet, even with my limited knowledge of how art school works, I am beginning to understand why, even with my miserable portfolio, I still managed to somehow secure a place in a supposed Bachelor of Fine Arts course.
Digipen is interesting, to say the least. On one hand, I’ve managed to meet several new types of different cultures and mindsets, all somewhat united by one of two common purposes: to either draw well or learn programming with regards to games. And yet, on the other, I feel like it’s being back in school, in the army, in my past life. I’m doing nothing new, varied, or especially interesting. People keep telling me how odd I must feel to experience a different country, a different culture, a different house, even. But apart from experiencing much more conveniences, a dryer, an oven, a washing machine, even, and learning to acclimatize to cold weather, is life really that much different here?
I did manage to meet a former intern who worked at Mikoishi studios as well, who is now in his 3rd year. He seemed friendly enough, and it was refreshing to finally be able to talk to another student freely, without fear of offense or inexperience. And the US family who has been assisting me all this while has been absolutely magnificent, bringing me around Seattle and Bellevue, offering all sorts of housekeeping advice and even sustenance, whether home-cooked or at restaurants. They have been wonderful, and I regret having no possible way to repay them for all they’ve done for me thus far.
But in a sense, like I said, it’s just like being back in school, in the army, in 12FMD: I know people, I know daily hardship, and I know never-ending work. But I fear I will not know anything new from my time here.
And that unhappy prospect alone fills me with more dread than that of failing this degree programme.
On the other hand, I have finally found unsalted peanuts, and they are delicious. So it’s all good.
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