In the year that I wasn’t in school, I had so many ideas I thought I might burst from thinking too much. There wasn’t enough time in the day to think about everything I wanted to, to write all the words flying through my head, to draw every image that flowed like visual poetry through my fingers.
And now, all I think about are my classes, my work, my duties, and when they’re done, and my homework is finished, I don’t want to think about anything anymore. I don’t want to paint, or draw, or write. It’s horrible. It’s a wall I can’t seem to scale, to get over: a creative block that could rival the Great Wall of China.
I’ve never really felt this way before, even when I was in school previously. I think it’s because… this is the first year in my whole life where art has not been a part of it. Even when I took Theatre for a semester we still had mini-art projects that kept my creative mind at work. But now… in Arabic… there’s no room left in my head for anything but vocabulary. And grammar. And culture. And whatever else we’re learning this week or last week or next week or any week.
I make it sound as though I don’t like Arabic. But I do. I think. It’s kind of interesting, I guess. I feel like I’m accomplishing something, I suppose. It’s just… sometimes the doubts in my head about learning this language are just too overwhelming to deal with.
I used to think my years in Communication Design made me hate art. And they did. Art was my passion, my life, and my time in Comm Des was like rehab for my art addiction: it made me never want to do art again. But now that I look back upon it, in hindsight everything is clearer. As much as I hated Comm Des, it was still art, and I was still forced to think in the creative sense, outside the box, be different and unique from everyone else. Learning a language is not like that. The language is inside the box, and jumping out will only cause confusion and distress. There is no vocabulary outside the box. The grammar must be kept at room temperature inside the box at all times. The culture would likely shrivel if exposed to the toxic airs outside the box. We are encouraged to stay inside the box, where it’s safe and comfortable and everyone is thinking along the same plane of thought. But that plane is so flat and barren and so very… very... empty.
It’s driving me mad. I hate the box. It’s cramped, and crowded. Most people live in this box. It smells. It's monotonous. It's miserable. The walls are so square. There’s hardly any light in here. We need air! We need color! We need words! We need life!
I need life...
