Baseball and Art Final Dream

Thursday, December 7, 2023

Dreams/sorta nightmares last night.

Dreamt I was in college as an art major again. First part of the dream, me and Robin were on a campus baseball team that gave me Futurama Blurnsball vibes. We were competing in like the finals or championship, or something, in a game that had stretched over three days of nonstop play with no scores on the board. We weren't actually a good team, Robin was our only decent player, but we'd lucked into the position and the other team wasn't very good either. So maybe we both were emblematic of the group.

So three days, no scores, and Robin was breaking down over not being able to carry the team, as the only one who'd come close to scoring--several times having very nearly hit a home run, but having drilled the backstop each time instead. I was trying to get them to try less hard when we finally lost the game.

I immediately had to run to a Final, it being a critique for one of my studio classes. It was some sort of group work thing, and we had the first hour to unite our elements, or something, and put the final touches on. Then we had to hang our pieces for critique. Our teacher was getting annoyed at how long the hanging process was taking, so I helped everyone load all the pieces into cheap poster frames, which the teacher side-eyed, but didn't comment on.

Cut to the critiques being over and everyone taking their pieces down and out of the cheap frames, and oh no, the antipasto on this colored pencil work has been crushed, and these pieces are ruined! So the teacher demands to know who's responsible for this, and whose dumbass idea it was to improperly frame all these pieces. So I step forward and take responsibility like, "It's me, it's my fault, I was trying to help and I messed up." And they demanded to know why I helped with all these teams, didn't I have my own work to do, and I told them no, my group's piece had already been up and done, and teacher had been angry about how long getting all these (complex) pieces up was taking, so I'd gone around the room offering to help. And they did the sputter and say it wasn't my responsibility, it was theirs, thing, and I was all like, yeah, it was, I know, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt anyone's projects, I messed up. And they didn't really have a response to that.

About then I woke up, and spun about how I should've used mats on all the pieces and how that might've saved them, but like...No? This really wasn't my problem? Like, I tried to help, but I was never taught how to do a thing, in this case that there's extra steps that must be taken when framing pieces like these and the authority figure whose job that was had been too pissy about the speed at which a thing was being done to attend how it was being handles. So yeah, fuck them.

I think the moral of the story then is that I'm putting too much pressure on myself to handle too much, and that I need to let go on much of it.