After grudgingly reading the novel Divergent on the plane today (I recommend it) I started thinking about my fears. My true, honest, fears. Not just little anxieties, not fleeting shocks, but paralyzing fear.

I started to ask myself what I am truly afraid of and how those fears manifest themself in my life. Strangely, my list of fears is quite short.

1) I am afraid of being stuck.

2) I am afraid of losing control of my faculties.

3) I am afraid that my logical mind will rationalize itself out of a wonderful future at some point, and even worse, that I will not realize it.

Those are all that I can come up with as actual, deep-seated fears. Little things from day to day frighten me, but then I do them or get past them or accept them, and I am no longer afraid of them.

I’ve never been phobia-prone, I just don’t understand phobias at all. Feet, clowns, spiders, the dark, these are all just parts of life to me. 

I believe that caution is healthy, but having the courage to leap is the only thing I know. Not leaping, staying sedantary, is my darkside and what I try to avoid. It can lead me into depression and limit my actions in a way that is not healthy.

I have not always been this brave but I have always been this driven.

I cannot live my life afraid of the might-bes or the could-have-beens, so when I am in danger of falling prisoner to the three thoughts numbered above, I change the subject or take action. Just because you have a 4-in-4,000 chance of success does not mean that you cannot be one of those four.

Sincerely,

Emilie

Sitting in my hotel room in San Francisco, mere minutes away from the iconic Bay Bridge, I am a little in awe of my life. Just eight months after graduation I am in a wonderful position with lovely coworkers that takes me to places in the US I have never been, allows me to meet young students at one of the most exciting points in their life, and allows me to also pursue writing, music in my spare time, and to expand my position as I need more to do. As a student I was constantly asked by relatives, tourees, peers, strangers, administrators, and casual acquaintances the most aggravating question, “What are you going to do with a degree in music and theatre?” I would smile demurely, refrain from rolling my eyes or huffing in disgust, and give some sort of pageant-worthy response. What I wanted to say was, “whatever I want to do.”

Studies constantly show that music helps students in all other areas of school, and I cannot begin to recount for you all of the ways in which my double-majors have prepared me for the workforce. Public speaking, interview skills, discipline, response to critique, a thick skin for rejection, an unsinkable drive, critical organizational skills, communication with all sorts of people, critical thinking, adaptability, calm under pressure, the list goes on and on and on. I would wager to say that my majors may have better prepared me for most positions (other than technical) than many others.

I’ve spoken before of how I would love to teach in the arts, and this idea continues to gain momentum in my mind. I want to give the gift of the arts to as many people as I can. I want to nurture new artists, inspire them, and help spread the message that no matter what you do for money, the arts will help you do it better. It is my life goal to demonstrate the viability of a liberal arts education. That being said, I am on the verge of something very exciting.

Whether my current prospect works out or not, I am planning on being out of my parents’ house by April. I was searching for a roommate, but I think that I would prefer to live on my own. I realize that for some people the price would not be worth it, but for me it is. Some of my friends would spend the extra couple hundred of dollars on tech, or on voice lessons, or on outings with friends, or on clothing, or on travel. I consider the extra money an investment in my future. I plan to spend my time being a hermit (with occasional forays into society just so no one files a missing persons report) and developing my playwriting portfolio, instruments, and teaching beginning music lessons if I can find the students.

Doesn’t that just sound dreamy?

Now to the fun part!

In preparation for being on my own, I spent a little bit of money getting some kitchen tools I need. Yes, after about a decade of longing and lusting, I finally have a Kitchenaid Artisan mixer of my very own. Thanks to a colleague at work, I was pointed to a sale online at Kohls. $100 off, plus 20% off everything on sale, plus a $30 mail-in rebate, plus $50 Kohl’s cash. If you count all of those discounts, my $400 mixer cost less than $200.

Then I used the $50 Kohl’s cash to buy a beautiful set of Food Network glasses, which after taxes cost me $1.49. A set of eight drinking glasses and eight rocks glasses should be arriving at my home tomorrow.

[Apparently the exact set is no longer available but here is a similar glass. Mine is completely clear and smooth, and comes in tall and small.]

Of course, I had to have a matching plate set! (From JCPenney.com, apparently the same dishes they use on Chopped.) An eight person collection–each set is comprised of a plate, a salad plate, a bowl, and a mug.

And to complete my place settings, I went to Ross and purchased a Pfaltzgraft set of silverware. Fork, salad fork, spoon, and knife for each place setting, plus a hostess set of five serving utensils.

But what if I needed a knife stronger than a butter knife? Ross came through again with some beautiful one-piece steak knives.

Once I finally do move out, I will have to throw dinner parties every once in a while to show off my cutlery and plating before scurrying back into my well-lit artist’s retreat.

I am also hunting right now for an organization I can volunteer for. I am looking for an organization that promotes respect for women. I would love to do some volunteer work for the Women’s History Museum project that Meryl Streep is the face of, but I’m currently on the wrong US coast. Eventually I’d love to start my own positive-body-image/health-centered organization, as I am having trouble finding just what I am looking for. I don’t have the concentration for that at the moment—my energies are going into my plays—so I will try to do something with an existing group.

I’d blame the lack of structure in this post on travel fatigue, but to be honest I love the liberty of spewing my thoughts out to the internet on my own webpage. It is rather empowering, and I recommend it to everyone. [I need to interrupt this post to comment on a Google Chrome ad I just saw all about how the web is what you make it. This is so my philosophy on life—make it yours and use the tools available to you. This is why I am thrilled to be the new Social Media Coordinator for Admissions. It is going to be so much work but I cannot wait to begin.]

I shall leave you now so that I can prepare for my school visits tomorrow, and I challenge you to do something meaningful this week.

Sincerely,

Emilie

“There is in each of us so much goodness that if we could see its glow, it would light the world.” –Sam Friend

On art:

There is always a choice between flash and truth. One is fast–99% effective, and leaves no indelible mark upon your soul. The other is elusive, but once attained, lasting. This is the difference between an artist and a craftsman, the craftsman knows his or her trade, executes it well, and is happy with marketable and tangible success. The artist, while an expert at his or her trade, must be willing, yearning, to skip past the easy layer and dig far deeper and is not appeased with recognition. 

It is like that old question in playwriting class, asked with a knowing smile come by only with years and practice, “Yes, but what would make it worse?” The playwright does not always adopt the deeper, darker turn, but they at least had the courage to examine all possibilities.

Now, I would not want you to think that a comedian cannot be an artist, much as I would hardly dare say all dramatists are artists. It is as easy for a drama, a romance, a comedy, a painting, a poem, a napkin sculpture to be as either cheap or true as any other medium. An artist (or someone striving to create art) has a subtle itching under their skin, something that can become a wretched pain when ignored for too long (or even indulged) for more, better. Improvement is always necessary.

Oh, yes, art is work. Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise. There is no shortcut, and no amount of self-medicating, name-dropping, or muse-worshiping can substitute for or dull the aching of the real thing. The “rock-star” or “tortured artist” image is not sustaining–these shortcuts may for a time loosen a person’s inhibitions and allow them past their internal barriers and give them a tiny taste of what they are searching for. These methods are not permanent–soon a person cannot reach that state without false means, and the barriers are never truly broken but instead ignored. 

Eventually the walls will become so high and so strong that the person loses themselves and their desire to stay on the other side. They are lost in the scrabbling of cobblestones, unable to even see what they know to exist. Truth is pain and without having “done the work”, preparing yourself, you will burn up and fade out. Often the fire can be quite spectacular–but the hotter the flame the sooner you are ash.

No, the only way to be free in art is to willingly enter the struggle, break down your walls, and coming face to face with your greatest love and your greatest enemy–yourself.

There is always a choice. There will be times when you have to resort to the parlor tricks–time, money, talent, place in life, style, the bottom line, desire, these are all perfect reasons why you cannot dive beneath the surface. There are times when pursuing the deeper truth would kill you, so you cling to life through simplicity. There is no judgment–but also there is likely to be no art.

To want to be an artist is to be insane–but only the purest kind of insanity where one is unabashedly themselves, and when one doggedly shares with others your bonkers view of the world.

Artists are not any better than any other people (and they are often quite worse) but artists are honest. Artists lie–but artists tell the truth.

Have I created art? I’ve made purely the faintest ripple, I’ve seen glimpses of what could be. And what is, but is not yet. I learn, day by day, who I am, and I try to share. The struggle to see and understand is the point, and I am happiest when the muscles burn.Work is never ending. 

On feminism: I refuse to do things “because women do them” but I refuse to not do things “because women do them”.

On life: I’ll do what I want and the world can waste its time judging.

On the sea: When I look at the sea I feel safe. Blanketed. Because underneath all of that water is land. And it is quiet for my human ears. To be alone is to be happy. The sea is sexy. It’s alluring. The sea can be dangerous but it will ever be my friend.

Random: Was it the chicken or the egg or the ego?

If God really wanted men to be supremely in charge–why’d he make women?

Why is oppression the human default, and why is it so hard to prove the worth of expression?

There is a brilliance within me and it is my job to work on freeing it so that I can then share it with the world.

I am worthy of love.

————————————————————–

“You are not alone in this.”–Mumford & Sons

Sincerely,

Emilie

P.S. Check out my poetry tab for three new poems, Darkness, Dreams, and Skating.

Dear Readers,

I want to thank you for all you’ve been through with me. Your support, your comments, your anonymous stalker-ish online presences, they have all meant so much to me.

As I continue to grow up, and evolve as an artist, I have to change my blog in order to keep up with me. While I have worked hard in the past to cultivate a clean image and keep my blog an uplifting, inspiring, and most-audiences approved space on the internet, I find that self-editing has, at times, become artistically stifling.

I also feel that my intention to inspire and help women is more valid than ever, and I believe that by not censoring my struggles so much I can be the willing voice/figurehead for a lot of issues that many women feel keenly but are afraid to voice. There will still be much of the same on the blog, but there will also be a bit more of the other side, the struggle. I never want others to be turned off by what I chuckle at as “my preachiness”, and showing that I am not always on the peachy soap-boxy side of life will be a way to defray my own (occasionally off-putting) enthusiasm.

You may notice that there are two new pages above; Plays and Poems. These contain, not surprisingly, bits of work that I have written in their respective categories. If you liked my blog the way it was, I suggest caution in traveling to these new pages. Here, the self-editing is gone. While I have done my best to mark which poems contain profanity I must admit that it will be difficult to put up any other sort of content markers regarding to theme. If you don’t want to see it–don’t click. When it comes to my plays, just assume that there will probably be profanity at some point. [Note: I've only included excerpts of plays in order to combat intellectual thievery. If you would like to read the whole thing then email me]. I will add more tabs as I see fit, but I am transitioning to make my blog more of a personal site rather than just a blog. As such, it will include my efforts into all areas of the arts.

As another effort to making my blog more of a personal webpage, I now have a new domain. This site is now emilieestherann.com and if you would like to email me, you may contact emilie@emilieestherann.com. The old address will automatically redirect you to the new address, but if you’ve got me bookmarked please do change the link.

My homepage/blog will still remain mostly user friendly, but don’t be surprised if the topics venture into an occasionally darker territory or let the swears slip. When it comes to my poems, don’t be alarmed that I am sinking into utter lifeless despair–my writing is cathartic in that what I pen out doesn’t stay in to fester.

I hope that you will enjoy the slightly different purpose of this page and stay with me, “angst and swears and all”, but if you need to make your farewell I will understand. I’ll miss you, but I’ll understand.

Sincerely,

Emilie