snail mail

When I was little, I would anxiously wait for my father to check the mail. I'd scurry over to the table as he'd throw down a handful of envelopes and flyers. My eyes would widen and my heartbeat would quicken, soaked up in the possibility of seeing my name scribbled across an envelope.

There have been a ridiculous amount of benefits with the evolution of technology but one thing I hate is how nobody communicates in letters anymore. I still check my mail, rummaging through envelopes and flyers, hoping to come across an envelope with my name scribbled across the front (something other than a cable, internet, or phone bill).

There's something so personal and precious about a hand written letter. Because everyone communicates in Facebook messages, MSN instant messaging and e-mails, perhaps "snail mail" is even more personal and precious now than ever.

I want to introduce you to a website I was told about. www.sendsomething.net is a website where you put in your mailing address and have people send you random postcards, letters, knick knacks, artwork, and just silly little random things to make you smile. You can browse through many profiles and addresses of people who would love to receive something from you and they'll happily return the favour. This website makes me unbelievably happy knowing that there are people in the world who value the preciousness and simplicity of a handwritten letter. There's something so satisfying and heartwarming knowing that the person you decide to send something to will be delighted to see their name scribbled across an envelope in your handwriting.

So, go register for that website. Maybe I'll come across your profile and send you something in the mail that will make you smile (only if you promise to return the favour!)

How full is your bucket?

If you had one day left to live, what would you do? Ride a bull? Throw a legendary party for everyone you love? Vegas? Now, if you had your whole life to live, would you lose that drive, or would your list just keep getting longer? It's all in the question: "What do you want to do before you die?"

It's reading week and I'm home (as are a lot of university students). Everyone's break seems to have fallen in the same time frame. Everyone's frantically trying to find plans to fill up their week; however, for me, instead of thinking about my plans for the week, I'm constructing my bucket list of goals I want to achieve before I die.

There's a new TV show that I've been watching on http://www.mtv.ca called The Buried Life which tells the story of four university students from British Columbia. These four friends have constructed a list of 100 things they want to do before they die. They journey across North America trying to accomplish everything on it. The main plot revolves around the question, "What do you want to do before you die?" For every thing they strike off their list, they help a stranger do something that they want to do before they die. It's such a motivational and inspiring show. It's also pretty amusing and hilarious while they attempt to achieve goals such as "party in the PlayBoy mansion" and "go on a date with Megan Fox".

It really got me thinking of things I want to do and there's no reason why I can't cross everything off on my bucket list. I suggested to my boyfriend that we should both come up with 50 goals each and, every year, cross a few off.

Here's what I've cooked up with so far (in no specific order):

1. Travel to Ireland
2. Write and publish a book
3. Become a well established and well known independent visual artist
4. Sell a painting for a ridiculous amount of money
5. Go white water rafting
6. Sky dive
7. Take up skiing as a hobby
8. Learn to surf
9. See Stonehenge
10. Float in the Dead Sea
11. Visit the Lascaux Caves
12. Take salsa or tango dance lessons
13. Ride in a hot air balloon
14. Go on a helicopter ride
15. Go snorkelling somewhere exotic
16. Go rock climbing
17. See the Taj Mahal
18. Climb up the Statue of Liberty
19. Go camping around the Cabot Trail
20. Jump from the top of a waterfall
21. Fly a kite
22. Learn a magic trick
23. See a NHL game live
24. Learn how to sew
25. Finish learning how to play guitar
26. Learn different types of origami
27. Read all of The Chronicles of Narnia
28. Get a Masters degree in Fine Arts
29. Go tubing on water
30. Donate blood
31. Watch the 250 top movies on IMDB
32. Learn to drink wine
33. Get married
34. Swim with dolphins
35. See penguins
36. Revisit my old house
37. Go on a safari
38. Ride a camel
39. Go on a silent retreat
40. Get a professional massage
41. Stay in the Hydropolis Underwater Hotel
42. Scream from the top of a mountain

So, what do you want to do before you die? Start constructing your list. It can be as simple or as complex as you want. Just don't ever think of a goal as being unachievable or farfetched. That's not even a possibility. Every goal is achievable if you put your mind to it.

the uncomfortable abyss of oblivion

I really can't think of anything but the vast abyss that is laid out in front of me. I hate the fact that it's not even me, standing at the crossroad, forced to make the decision for my future. My future and the decision to travel down either road is in the hands of complete strangers, and I'm not even entirely sure when they're going to make the decision.

While I was standing, staring into the abyss of oblivion, a possibility dawned on me:

What if I don't get accepted anywhere?

That thought had never even occurred to me and the more that thought sinks in, the more nauseous I get. I have to get accepted somewhere or else I'll have to start paying back the copious amount of loans I'd been granted over the past four years. I'm not usually one to wallow in negativity but the realization that it's ultimately not up to me where I go in September is swamping my mind daily.

I have no doubt in the strength of my art portfolio and I'm confident my love for what I do evidently shines through in my artwork; however, I'm just really worried because the competition is tight. I've applied to the Toronto School of Art who accepts about six people for the program I applied to and I've applied to the Nova Scotia College of Art and Design who probably doesn't accept many more than that.

NSCAD would be an ideal choice. Halifax is perfect. My brother and sister live there as well as the vast majority of my friends. I've been to Halifax plenty of times and if I did get accepted into NSCAD, my life and what I want to do is completely laid out for me.

However, if I get accepted into the TSA program there's so much adventure laid out in that option. My life is fairly plain, boring, predictable, comfortable. Lauren Conrad said she wanted to move away from her perfect life to be uncomfortable, and there's something inspiring about this point of view. The more I think about it the more excited I get about the possibility of being in Toronto and the completely different lifestyle I'd be exposed to. Who knows what direction my art would take. It's sort of overwhelming to think about.

If I don't get accepted into any school, maybe I'll just take that leap face first into the abyss of uncomfortable oblivion and move to New York City.

teaching a lesson

So, I hadn't heard back from Cape Breton University about the Bachelor of Education program that I'd applied to, and I'm not entirely upset about it. Though, I think it is ridiculously rude that they haven't contacted me to let me know that I wasn't accepted into the program. I think if you've paid an application fee (which I did) it should be mandatory for them to put the simplest effort into sending a letter or e-mail stating the outcome of their decision.

I've come to the realization that they don't want art teachers educated to teach specifically fine arts because they can just hire English teachers to do it. That's basically what the majority of high schools do for their art class and is exactly why the art programs suck in high schools (in Cape Breton, anyway). You get teachers not passionate about art - teaching it because they have to - to students who are taking it because they have to, and not because they're genuinely passionate about art. I feel, however, that I could've changed that. I feel that because art is something I'm so passionate about, I could've enthused and motivated students and changed their view on taking it "just because they have to" or taking it "for a bird course".

But apparently that's not going to happen.

Everyone thinks it's a blessing in disguise; they feel like I would be wasting my talent if I went into teaching. For the most part, I believe they're right. Like I've mentioned numerous times before, I feel I'm meant to do something big with my art… and that doesn't involve being cooped up inside a classroom. I tell everyone I'm going to be famous. They laugh. I don't need them to believe in my theories about art, my art, and the world. They don't need to understand my passion for art, my art, and the world. They don't have to believe or understand my drive for wanting to succeed as an independent artist; the only person that has to believe in it is me…

… and I'm not sure I've ever been so sure about something in my life.

Don't ever let anyone get in the way of your passion. If you're passionate about something then someone (and someone important ) will eventually recognize that. Don't let other people discourage you from following your dream, and eventually you'll get there.

www.bethmartinartwork.com

you're only a day away

Sixty. Soixante. Sesenta. Fifty + ten. Thirty + thirty.

Sixty days is all I have left in Sackville... forever. I happily updated my Facebook status displaying the countdown. I stared at it. The longer I stared at it, the faster the happiness started to diminish and be replaced with sadness... anxiety... fear.

As excited as I am to pack up all of my belongings and start the next chapter of my life, I'm sad to leave behind the school that shaped me into the independent artist and individual that I am. I'm sad to say goodbye to the friends I've made here whom I've shared classes and memories with over the past four years. I'm sad to step outside the comfort zone I've built up... and fearful of what's to come.

I'm thinking back to the beginning of this chapter of my life that began when I graduated high school. I was anxious and scared to move away... and I'm experiencing those same sort of intense feelings now. Mostly because I still have no idea what I want to do next year... or what I want to do with my life for that matter. I wish it was all laid out for me, but I suppose it would be quite boring if you knew what cards were dealt to you in the hand of life.

So, I have sixty days to make memories that will last me a life time. I have sixty days to figure out exactly what my options are for next year and what route I'd like to go. I have sixty days to figure out how exactly I'm going to pay off the copious amount of debt that has been built up over the past four years. I have sixty days to figure out how I'm going to pay for further education. I have sixty days to soak up as much of Sackville as I can. I have sixty days to create an astounding body of artwork that will hopefully set a name for myself.

But for now, all I can really do is take it one day at a time. That's really what life is all about... taking it one day at a time and living for the moment. How terribly sad life would be if all it consisted of was countdowns. It's like being a kid and as soon as school's out for the summer, you start counting down to the last week in August when you go away to your favourite camp. The whole summer is consisted of anxiously tearing off the days of the calendar, making your way closer to the day where you pack your bags for camp. Before you know it, camp has come and gone, summer is over and you're back to school again. You don't know where the summer went.

You don't want your life to be full of countdowns and not living for the moment because before you know it, you're ninety years old and wondering what happened to all the days of your life.

So, let's rewind back to the first number we were ever introduced to... and let's start there.

One. Un. Uno.

1.

One day until tomorrow. Let's live out that one the best way that we can.

all you need is love

I'd love to be one of those people who doesn't succumb to the cliche that is Valentine's Day. But I'm not. I'm completely infatuated with the idea of a day devoted completely to love. I'm one of those ridiculously sappy people that craves for those unattainable fairytales that seemingly only exist in novels and movies. My friends call me a rare breed and say I "bring faith to the idea that love can be real and exist". Love is something I've always been extremely passionate about. It has always been my drive and motivation for a lot of things.

My mother wants me to be completely independent, and for the most part I am. "You don't have to get married, Beth. You know, you could just live for yourself and live out all of your dreams on your own." I smile and nod when my mother tells me these things, but think to myself, "...but Mum, those dreams aren't worth living to me if I'm not sharing them with someone whom I love." A lot of people are brought up believing in the ideology that they must meet someone, fall in love, and get married. It's rare that you find someone perfectly content on their own... with no intentions at all with finding someone to share their life with eventually. That way of life is so exotic and attractive to me, and is the basis around the facade I sometimes try to paint for myself. I claim independence when I travel to all the places I've traveled. I claim independence when I'm as spontaneous and have a fire for life the way I do. But, for the most part, the only person I'm really trying to fool is myself.

It doesn't take long before the paint starts to crack, and my true romantic and completely dependent self is exposed. It takes a lot of willpower to continually try to resurface that exotic and independent facade. But like I said, the only person I'm really trying to fool is myself. I'm coming to terms with that. My friends and family are completely aware of the fact that I'm in love with love... and I always will be.

So, no, I don't think Valentine's Day is over rated. And sure, I do believe that love should not just be celebrated on one day, but every day of the year; However, sometimes our vision is blurred and I believe a day such as Valentine's Day is there to allow ourselves to refocus and realize the extent of love that we have for that special someone in our lives; and it's about celebrating that love; and celebrating that love with each other.

the inevitability of failed perfection

Failure.

I was one of those pre-teens and teenagers cursed with severe acne. I never really thought of it as a serious condition until I made my first dermatologist visit in grade eight. She closely studied my face before responding, "Well... this is really bad, isn't it?"

For years, I made countless trips to that same dermatologist office being prescribed numerous ointments and pills. The acne weighed me down and shred my self confidence. Every time I looked in the mirror I'd see the ugly facade that masked me. Every time I met someone knew, or had a crush on a guy... I knew all they'd see was the vast amount of pimples and redness that plastered my skin. It was a painful experience - both physically and mentally. I'm an extremely impatient person and the thought of waiting at least six weeks per treatment to see results frustrated me. I hated how my dermatologist constantly told me, "it has to get worse before it gets better." I hated how my parents constantly regurgitated that same line to me. I hated the routine I fell into - the swallowing of pills at particular times before and after meals, the application of the numerous tubes of ointment that were to be used at specific times of the day. I didn't just have it on my face. It was on my arms and my back. I was prescribed specific ointments to apply to those areas at specific times of the day as well.

Makeup became my best friend. I was obsessed with caking on copious amounts of liquid foundations and powders to cover my face. My dermatologist would scold me when I popped a pimple, telling me it would scar. I didn't care. I had no patience to deal with said pimples, and they were much easier to cover with makeup once they were popped.

In high school, I would make routine visits to the bathroom and my locker before, after and between classes to check my face. Ten minutes at the end of every class was designated to haul out my foundation and mirror to retouch what had come off. No matter how hard I tried, the acne would always beat me down. I couldn't run away from it. I strived for this ideal perfection that I never could really obtain.

My acne is gone now, but I still see that pimpled face teenager when I look in the mirror. I'm cursed with the scars that my dermatologist warned me would appear from popping the pimples. Makeup is still my best friend. I'll spend forever getting ready for the day, applying my makeup; at the end of the day, I'll look in the mirror and see that my makeup has diminished. I'm still striving for that perfection that really is unattainable.

I think we're this way with a lot of things. We all want to pick the apple at the grocery store that isn't bruised... We all strive for this idealized perfection.

When I was a child, I would colour the pages of a colouring book like most children do. When I'd accidentally scribble outside of the lines, I'd get frustrated at myself and tear out the page to start over. How many times do we get frustrated at ourselves and want to wipe the slate clean? A lot.

I was asked by my professor to document a performance piece themed around "failure". Here, I sit at the table... blinding myself. I give myself thirty seconds to colour the page of a colouring book. Once the thirty seconds is up, I tear it out - recognizing (even without looking) that I have failed my goal to stay inside the lines since I'm unable to see. It's essentially an infinite project of striving to reach that goal of perfection... a goal we all strive to achieve throughout our lives... will we ever realize that perfection doesn't actually exist?