"Does the body rule the mind, or does the mind rule the body?"

Lesson of the day: never be the last person to meet with a professor. It was 9:30 p.m. and she was tired, wanted to go home and irked when she saw that I was using my sketch-book instead of the only template given to me for my rough. I was drawing several ideas in my sketchbook because I like having all of my papers bound together, in sequence. I find it helpful in the design process. It's how I was originally taught to work and I just assumed that such a practice was acceptable. Sketches=ideas, right?. Also, I did not want layers of erased marks on the paper I would eventually turn in. 

"Why aren't you using the template?" she raised her eyebrows over her thick red glasses. 

"I didn't want to commit at this point since I'm not sure what I want to do."

"Well, it's not committing if you use tissue. And I gave you like thirteen templates." (She had not)

"I don't know, what's wrong with using a sketch-book? I was putting down several ideas in..."

"Hey, Marie, don't get defensive, alright?! I've been here all night. Relax!"

I am used to sugary, sweet professors. Even the art teachers at SPU were not this temperamental. At least she didn't say this to me about my design idea: "Oh, gosh it's just like frilly flowery hearts over and over. Oh it just makes me so sick!" "Come ON! This is third grade, is it not?" She laid those ones on other students. 

After asking me a personal question, thereby making me cry she accessed the mother-compartment in her heart and turned into the gentle instructor I am so used to. I hate crying. I hate crying in-front of teachers even more. I hate the fact that she perceived something in me that I try so hard to cover up. 

I can not keep my heart off of my sleeve. My face talks when I do not want it to. Hiding is not a skill that I have perfected.  This is confusing for me because my friend, Z- mentioned the fact that he has, in the past, wished that I would open up more. This comment led me to believe that I conceal much of who I am, and therefore must be good at it. Before he said that, I thought I was an open person, but from what he said, and from what my friend S- has said I am not an open person. Well, then what about tonight? A virtual stranger saw through me. X-ray vision? Maybe I give off the physical signs of certain feelings, but do not verbalize them for most. Yes, that must be it.

It is baffling when we realize that we are not at all who we think we are.