Officially Official

I'll be honest. I almost wished I hadn't jumped the gun and announced to the Blogger universe that I was changing my major back to art. Because (being honest) I wasn't sure how I was going to back-peddle and tell everyone I wasn't actually going to change my major to art and that it was just me being hysterical and silly.  With some thought, I figured out all I really want to do is graduate as quickly as possible.

Except, I did change my major.

I almost didn't go through with it.  Change is super hard for me and I have had thoughts before about changing my major. And then I got over my hissy fit of how much I hated finance and went back to studying.

Everyone has their breaking point.  And this was mine.  It's not as though this semester is worse than last.  Nothing can be worse than last semester.  Ever.  Even though I'm taking bare minimum hours, I still hate what I'm doing.  And then I came to a cross road.

But still.  Change is hard.

Since we're being honest, I'll tell you that I contemplated never going to the art department, even after e-mailing with the department head.  I was in class this afternoon and was having a battle inside my head over whether to make the leap.  Because did I mention I hate change?

I think I give partial credit of making me take the leap to one of my dear classmates.  Some other finance students and I were discussing a test we had taken on Monday.  None of us were excited to see the results.  My sweet friend blurted out, "You know, I might not be graduating soon if all the tests are as hard as the first.  Too bad I'm not in a easy bullshit major like art or music."

I said nothing.  Actually, it didn't strike a nerve.  At all.  Remember, I'm being honest here.  It didn't phase me.  In fact, I smiled at her comment.  She doesn't understand.  She doesn't get how everything in life can be beautiful and can be recreated using a paintbrush, carving knife, loom, or even your own hands.  She doesn't get how good it feels to create something and be proud of it.  She will never experience the joy of taking an idea from her own head and turning it into something tangible and sharing it with others.  She doesn't understand.

Class ended.  I waved goodbye to my friends and made my way to what has already become my sanctuary.  Up many flights of stairs, I was huffing and puffing.  And when I arrived, I felt like crying.

Beautiful prints on the wall.  I spotted some intricate tapestries hung by rods.  Students were discussing art techniques.  This place really exists?

And I met with the head of the department and he was wonderful.  We talked for a good while about what I wanted from the major and what we'll do to achieve it.  I felt like I needed someone to hear me out.  I needed him to care about why I was coming back to art.  Why I had left.  And why I was unhappy.  Because I've had the answers bottled up inside me for almost 2 years.

He listened, nodded, and said that I need to go where my heart really is.  He understood.  And then he welcomed me back home.

I'm sitting at the computer right now eating my soft-boiled egg with toast.  A wonderful late lunch to celebrate finding what I've been searching for.  The paperwork hasn't gone in yet, but it doesn't matter.  I am calling myself officially official now.  Yes, I think I am back home.