You’re basically the queen of the designated craft space in your house.
You spend half your day surrounded by preppy sorority girls, and the other half with free-thinking liberal art students. They’re polar opposites, and you wind up being a weird combo of the two.
Every time you see a sister using a stencil for a craft, you’re like, “LOL, amateur.”
You’ve painted approximately five thousand coolers. It’s pretty much your claim to fame within the chapter.
Which kinda sucks, because you develop carpal tunnel every time you have to sand another one.
You wore Converse before they were cool.
You can’t help but feel bad for your friend when she’s doing upper level statistics homework and your only homework is yet another a self-portrait.
Let’s be honest. Everyone thinks you’re a geed.
People always want your opinion on their paddles/canvases/coolers, and you don’t have the heart to tell them that you honestly don’t give a fuck.
You’re jealous of how cute your friends look when they go to class, because you’re stuck wearing flannel and raggy t-shirts that will eventually be covered in charcoal and paint.
At least twenty people have asked, “Will you draw me?”
And you’re just like, “Uhm, no.”
If one more person asks you to replica the Patagonia logo with her boyfriend’s name, you’re going to friggin’ lose it.
Your friends are shopping for riding boots and pullovers while you’re freaking out over your new art supplies and wishing they weren’t so goddamn expensive.
You hate the fact that you can’t talk about your artwork with any of your close friends, because they have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.
Your Instagram is actually pretty legit, which is awesome considering the fact that you tend to stray from cliche ideas like blowing glitter or obnoxious selfies.
People actually want homemade presents from you.
You kind of want to date a frat boy, and kind of want to date a hipster. It’s an ongoing internal dilemma.
There’s always that one person who looks at whatever you’re working on and drops a really sad, “I wish I was artistic.”
And you’re so tempted to snap back with, “Yeah, well, I wish I was good at math.”
You have to come to terms with the fact that you’re going to receive one or two formal invitations from guys you barely know, solely because they know you’re going to paint them a dope ass cooler.
Your friends are literally always coming to you when they need to borrow different art supplies.
And you reluctantly oblige, even though they have no idea how expensive your premium acrylic actually costs.
You look at new paint and fresh graphite pencils the way your friends look at new makeup or shoes.
You spend all of homecoming responding to the beck and call of every liaison who needs something drawn out for them.
Your sisters always want you to help them with their big/little crafts, no matter how many times you try to explain that artistic and crafty are not the same things.
Everyone thinks you’re a huge hipster.
…Fair. You’re a huge hipster.
Your friends shop at Michael’s for glitter and stickers. You shop for required school supplies.
You have a love/hate relationship with the amount of attention you get for being able to draw. Sometimes it’s nice, and sometimes you just want to be able to work on something for thirty seconds straight without having to take out your headphones and thank someone for complimenting you.
But at the end of the day, you like that you’re different and have a rare ability. Even if it means you have to paint fifteen different fraternity crests come formal season.