Sometimes, I’m amazed when I walk through campus with one of my friends and they wave and say, “Hello!” to a dozen people as we pass by. My friends seem to have an easier time meeting new people and getting to know them than I do, and their circle of friends is much larger. I’m pretty bad at talking to strangers; I can’t simply walk up to someone and introduce myself and maintain a conversation afterwards.

I’m introverted. I keep to myself and prefer to work alone. I treasure moments that I have for myself, where I can just sit and breathe and listen to music. I like being alone with my thoughts and letting my mind drift whichever way without other people interrupting. I like being home, cuddled under blankets and watching a movie instead of at a loud party surrounded by people that I don’t know, will probably never know.

But it’s one thing to enjoy your solitude, and another to experience loneliness.

“… I realize that even though I like being alone, I don’t fancy being lonely.”

It’s not uncommon to want time to ourselves, away from others and away from the stresses and obstacles of everyday life. Maybe certain people want more alone time than others, but it’s okay to want to be by yourself. At a certain point, though, I start to crave human contact. I need something to remind me that I am still connected to other people in this world, that there are still people who want to see me. That’s when the loneliness starts to kick in.

And it sucks. It really, really sucks feeling like you don’t even take up space in the universe. It sucks so much that I really believe that no one deserves to feel like this, that if there is something that is truly painful and can really eat away at someone, it’s loneliness.

I don’t have an enormous number of friends, but the few close ones I have are very dear to me and help keep the loneliness at bay. And to anyone else who starts to feel a bit lonely, there are people everywhere who are willing and wanting to make new friends, so don’t lose hope. Don’t ever let the loneliness overwhelm you.

(Wow, this got kind of… really personal. It’s my blog, I post what I want.)

I love to draw, from messy scribbles on the margins of my notebook to hours spent hunched over my desk with the fumes of my Copic markers filling the room. I love drawing enough to practice every single day, and I have drawers filled to the brim with notebooks and paper that can attest to this.

I’ve considered working towards a career in the art industry, but there are a lot of factors that leave me doubtful. Not only is art school expensive and rigorous, but I also genuinely don’t think that I’m skilled enough yet to make it into one, let alone bear the work load. It’s also really difficult to make a living as an artist, a sad truth that has only worsened with the state of our economy. But art holds such a big place in my heart that I want to keep at it. It makes me happy, and for that reason, I continue to give it a predominant part of my attention.

Sadly, there are people who give up their true passions because either they feel academics are more important, or their parents are encouraging them to focus their efforts towards school. Academics and education are important, I understand that. But if you truly, deeply love something, pursue it. If you enjoy composing or playing music, play. If you want to write fantastic stories of adventures and romance, write, write, write. Whether or not it makes you money in the future doesn’t matter. It’s your own personal reward. And your efforts do pay off, maybe not in material form, but definitely in pride and self-achievement.

Marthe Troly-Curtin explains it pretty well: “Time you enjoy wasting is not wasted.”

Do what you love because you love it. If your efforts went into honing a certain special talent or passion, then you shouldn’t regret the amount of time spent on it. For me, when I sketch on the backs of old worksheets or handouts, I tell myself, “A paper that was used for art was not a paper wasted.” I know I’ll be much more content with myself if I did the things that make me happy, and I won’t spend the rest of my life wondering what could have been if I chose to pursue my personal interests instead of what I “should” have focused on.

The whole reason we go to school and sacrifice blood, sweat, and sheets of paper for those straight A’s is so we can go to a good college and get a good job, so we can live a comfortable life and/or support a family of our own. We’re striving towards a goal that, once attained, should leave us content with our lives and free to kick back and say, “We did it, we’ve achieved true happiness!” Or something.

“Happiness is not a station you arrive at, but a manner of traveling,” said a one Margaret Lee Runbeck.

It doesn’t do to focus only on the endgame. I mean, I’m still working hard to get a job because, well, I don’t want to live on the streets but real happiness isn’t suddenly realized once you’ve passed a certain checkpoint. I understand that some people can’t afford to stop working because they’re shouldering huge responsibilities and commitments that can’t be put off. But every once in awhile, try to take a moment to smell the metaphorical flowers.

This isn’t my excuse to be lazy or to procrastinate; it’s just that while there’s work to be done, there is also fun to be had. I don’t really know where my happiness will lie, no one does, because life is infamous for breaking up into paths that have paths that have paths. So, I just keep traveling. And I try to make memories as I go along, good ones that bring a fond smile to my face. The happiness is scattered amongst those snatches of memory: in a day at the beach, in an afternoon spent with tea and a book, in the sunlight that streams through tree tops and speckles the grass beneath.

Maybe that’s a little worrisome, not knowing the single definitive location of true happiness. But the opportunities have a funny way of reaching you, if you take the time to let them.

So, now I’m going to sleep. Because that’s definitely my small bit of happiness for the day.

With junior year rapidly coming to a close and senior year looming on the horizon, the future is something that I've told myself repeatedly to start planning for. To be honest, I've only got a faint blueprint spread out for me to follow, and it's constantly being erased, redrawn, or crumpled up entirely. I'm a bit overwhelmed when all the questions of where are you going for college what are you going to major in what are you going to do with your life start flooding my brain and I end up shunting those questions to the side for awhile. But mostly, it gets hard to make choices for the future when I feel like someone else, someone better, smarter, will always be that much further ahead of me. I get discouraged. I know I'm not the only one. You get a B on a test, someone else gets an A. You think you drew a nice picture, someone else sketched a piece twice as beautiful in half the time. You thought you were going to be something, now you're not so sure. I've been there. I am there. But something I tell myself to help rekindle a bit of self-confidence is a quote that perhaps doesn't sound the most sophisticated, but still carries a meaning that resonates:

"For every Mona Lisa, there are a million crappy fruit bowls."

I can't find the exact source of this quote or where I heard it, but that's not what's important. Seriously? That's what I tell myself? Well, yes.

I try and I try and I try, try again. And there's still that person who does better than me. But the point is I tried. I did my best, I continue to do my best, and that is enough. It's not necessary to hold the number one spot - it's admirable and all, but it shouldn't be the only place to aim for. With every failure, there is precious new experience. And those experiences add up, make the next attempt easier, and they'll amount to something to feel truly proud of. It is discouraging when I don’t finish as spectacularly as I had hoped, but that feeling is only momentary. The disappointment is converted into fiery inspiration - determination - to do better next time and to not let the oh-well-you-didn’t-make-first-place experience permanently dishearten me from trying to improve. I make a lot of mistakes, but there’s a lot to be learned from them. Each one teaches me what to do differently, which weak points to fix, how to make each paint stroke surer. And so in the future, there will be fewer crappy fruit bowls and more Mona Lisas or Water Lilies or Starry Nights. And that is an encouraging thought.