Oh I know you're surprised at the title.
Today is Tuesday. Tomorrow, as we were taught in grade school, is Wednesday. Wednesday is the day that I am officially back at University of Delaware, and I could not be more excited if I tried.
I'm moving into an apartment with a great set of girls. My best friend at school, Katie, is one of them, along with a girl Mary, who is very sweet. I don't know Meghan all that well yet, but we've got time, right? I have my own room with an attached bathroom, I can fit in a queen sized bed with both my art desk and regular school desk, and I still have more room than I know what to do with. The closet is half empty because I don't have enough clothing to fill it. More than half empty actually. I. Love. It.
Mostly I just want to be out of home. I like it alright, I love my family, but I'm just looking forward to my last year too much to want to be here when I could be the hour away. Surprisingly enough there haven't been too many fights in the household, I guess I'm not doing anything to tick them off as of late. It's kind of surprising how one aspect of your life can control the overall attitude. I dunno.
Mostly I'm just rambling because I don't want to find boxes for the great piles of crap that have managed to appear while I was cleaning out my desk. I'm a terrible pack rat. It's horrid. I can't throw anything away, not even the floppy disk that probably has one presentation on it from 8th grade. It's a problem. I've found old journals and notebooks, poems and stories. It's been hysterical for me to reread what I've done over the years. Thankfully both my prose and my handwriting have improved. It's been weird, though. I don't feel as old as I am.
Sometimes I swear I'm 16. Then I double check and say no no, I'm 18. Then I triple check and say holy shit I'm almost 21. When did I stop mentally aging? Sometimes I still feel like that awkward high school girl, when I know in so many ways I've changed and diverged from her. In a lot of ways I feel boring. I get bored of telling people the same story, even if they've never heard it before.
"I'm a senior at University of Delaware. Yeah, it's a really big school. I'm an Art Conservation major, no we don't hug trees. It's kind of cool. It's a small group." And by the time I get done with that I don't want to talk about it anymore. I'm tired of explaining what artcon is, I'm tired of telling people what I want to do with the rest of my life, because honestly I don't know what it is I want. I don't like talking to people who don't have some kind of passion, I don't like talking to people who like to get trashed and brag about it, I don't like having to explain everything about myself. I don't know if it's just that I think people are wasting my time, or if I just don't want to talk about me. My sister is great at it. The whole world seems to listen when she talks, and she can get a conversation going and keep it rolling. I on the other hand, like to sort of sit back and listen.
No wonder I get passed up.
My friends can't understand it. Guys I've dated can't understand it. Why would someone look me over? Well, I guess it's because I'm a pretty face that doesn't talk. Not in groups. I'm better in one on one, I'm more of a personal person, and I don't like to waste my life story on people who couldn't care less and are entranced by this beautiful dark girl sitting next to me. There's a lot in this world that I don't understand, and why I totally shut down when Steph's around is one of them. I try for a little bit, but she's the master, so I just step to the side and give up.
I didn't really intend to talk about my shortcomings as a human being in the social world. I think anyone who reads this who knows me knows that it takes a while for me to actually come on out and show who I am. And congrats, you all have passed the test, you're people I'm comfortable with, albeit naturally awkward.
Later, folks.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Oy
Alright, I'm far less motivated than I was at 6 am this morning. However, I feel like I haven't done any kind of update in forever, so I'm going to just go for it and hope for the best.
I've come to a crossroads of sorts. It's my senior year, and it means that I'll have to be making some kind of life decision, and soon. I think I've already made it, it's just a matter of implementing and hoping I don't fall flat on my face.
For the past 3 years I've slowly pinned, pushed, and buried myself into a place I don't exactly belong. I had resigned myself to conservation because I figured if I can't create, I'll conserve. And I was quite convinced I couldn't create. All of my projects over the past 3 years have been half finished sketches, overly emo watercolors, and copies for class. I've stifled my creativity to the point where I felt like I couldn't even write a creative essay, a short story, or even a few lines of prose. I didn't even like my signature. But I had told my creative self, "Sorry, you'll have to wait until I'm 50 with enough money to build my dream studio and space to fill with all my half-assed ideas."
Bill's given me a new look at things. He's given me a new breath of life, saying, "Hey, wait a minute, there's potential here. There's insight. There's something that speaks to people." And with that my little half crippled gasping for breath creative self seized a chance to poke out its head. To slowly work it's way back out, to push through the cracks and the locks my practical side had placed upon it. And suddenly, it's broken free. I look at things differently. I look at colors and textures, the way light catches on carved wood, the shine of brass rods, the shadows and highlights of everyday objects. I let my hand draw whatever it feels like and I don't scribble it out if I don't like it or give up on it halfway through. I've drawn myself a few times, I've drawn my feet, my hands, arms, back. If it's there I'll try it. I want to shape and sculpt and carve away. This project Bill gave me has given me the opportunity to just go with it. The best part of it all is that I don't have to stop and ask for how to do something, I don't have to wait for someone else to get to the next step. This is something I understand, something that I can look at and say "I need to take that edge down more" or "I like the way the marks from the chisel look" and I can move on. I can push through without regard for time. I have blisters on my hands, splinters in my skin, and paint on my face, and I have not felt this free and happy in what feels like a long time. It's not something dependent on other people, it's not something that I worry about other people liking. It's like taking a breath of fresh air after being inside for too long and feeling the sun warm your skin.
I've made up my mind. I'm going to get my master's in art after college. I'm hoping to apply as soon as possible, if not for the fall, then for the spring. I want to major in sculpture, and go back and get my master's in art conservation for objects. I want a two bedroom apartment to myself, where I can paint and build in one room, and sleep in the other. I can do this. I will do this. I don't care how long it takes me or how many jobs I have to hold down to get through. I found something that makes me happy and I am going to fight like hell to get it.
That's about it, I think. Welcome to it.
I've come to a crossroads of sorts. It's my senior year, and it means that I'll have to be making some kind of life decision, and soon. I think I've already made it, it's just a matter of implementing and hoping I don't fall flat on my face.
For the past 3 years I've slowly pinned, pushed, and buried myself into a place I don't exactly belong. I had resigned myself to conservation because I figured if I can't create, I'll conserve. And I was quite convinced I couldn't create. All of my projects over the past 3 years have been half finished sketches, overly emo watercolors, and copies for class. I've stifled my creativity to the point where I felt like I couldn't even write a creative essay, a short story, or even a few lines of prose. I didn't even like my signature. But I had told my creative self, "Sorry, you'll have to wait until I'm 50 with enough money to build my dream studio and space to fill with all my half-assed ideas."
Bill's given me a new look at things. He's given me a new breath of life, saying, "Hey, wait a minute, there's potential here. There's insight. There's something that speaks to people." And with that my little half crippled gasping for breath creative self seized a chance to poke out its head. To slowly work it's way back out, to push through the cracks and the locks my practical side had placed upon it. And suddenly, it's broken free. I look at things differently. I look at colors and textures, the way light catches on carved wood, the shine of brass rods, the shadows and highlights of everyday objects. I let my hand draw whatever it feels like and I don't scribble it out if I don't like it or give up on it halfway through. I've drawn myself a few times, I've drawn my feet, my hands, arms, back. If it's there I'll try it. I want to shape and sculpt and carve away. This project Bill gave me has given me the opportunity to just go with it. The best part of it all is that I don't have to stop and ask for how to do something, I don't have to wait for someone else to get to the next step. This is something I understand, something that I can look at and say "I need to take that edge down more" or "I like the way the marks from the chisel look" and I can move on. I can push through without regard for time. I have blisters on my hands, splinters in my skin, and paint on my face, and I have not felt this free and happy in what feels like a long time. It's not something dependent on other people, it's not something that I worry about other people liking. It's like taking a breath of fresh air after being inside for too long and feeling the sun warm your skin.
I've made up my mind. I'm going to get my master's in art after college. I'm hoping to apply as soon as possible, if not for the fall, then for the spring. I want to major in sculpture, and go back and get my master's in art conservation for objects. I want a two bedroom apartment to myself, where I can paint and build in one room, and sleep in the other. I can do this. I will do this. I don't care how long it takes me or how many jobs I have to hold down to get through. I found something that makes me happy and I am going to fight like hell to get it.
That's about it, I think. Welcome to it.
Whoooosh
Expect something later today. I can't guarantee it'll be any good, or make any sense, but I want to write what's floating in my head, and I will do it.
To work with me.
To work with me.
Friday, July 25, 2008
Overabundance of Excitement
Today is a very special day, ladies and gentlemen.
Today, I received my very first art commission. What does this mean? Well, let's just explain!
It means that my boss, after seeing some of my art, has shown me a space that he wants to fill in the shop and said "fill it." Followed by "I'll pay for all the materials. We have connections with stained glass workers and metal workers, so go all out." I took the measurements, I'm scheming away, and I have to have a design and material list ready by Monday.
I.
Am.
SO EXCITED.
I can already see it in my head, certain twists, curves, lines, blue stained glass hanging over windows (if allowed, if not, the design can be altered) all I need to do is put it on paper.
Wish me luck :)
Today, I received my very first art commission. What does this mean? Well, let's just explain!
It means that my boss, after seeing some of my art, has shown me a space that he wants to fill in the shop and said "fill it." Followed by "I'll pay for all the materials. We have connections with stained glass workers and metal workers, so go all out." I took the measurements, I'm scheming away, and I have to have a design and material list ready by Monday.
I.
Am.
SO EXCITED.
I can already see it in my head, certain twists, curves, lines, blue stained glass hanging over windows (if allowed, if not, the design can be altered) all I need to do is put it on paper.
Wish me luck :)
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Fighting for Air/ Washington DC
It's recently occurred to me that holy hell I get sick a lot. Not like maybe catch a cold kind of sick a lot, but full on hospital visits at least once a year. That, to me, says that I'm doing something wrong. I just don't know what it is. I'm eating healthy, I go to the gym, I work in a physically challenging environment, and those who know me know I love my sleep and try to get 8 hours every night. So what am I doing wrong that my body decides to just mess with me like this?
Since the end of last month, I have not had a single day of feeling just fine and dandy. For the first two weeks I was continually exhausted, and my mom thought I might have mono again. I slept pretty much for an entire weekend to get past the exhaustion, but the next weekend I wake up with a cough, which, even though I was taking basic stuff like mucinex to get rid of, got worse and now has settled quite nicely in my lungs. There's a weird ache in my chest and I can't breathe without coughing or wheezing, which is really just a barrel of fun. On Tuesday of last week my entire face hurt (which was almost amusing because of the joke "does your face hurt?" joke) because of some wacked out sinus pain. On Friday night, whatever it was dropped down into the chest because every time I tried to breathe it was like sucking through a straw.
Finally, yesterday, I went to the doctor. This marks twice within a week. She asked what the other doctor had said ("It's probably one of those weird summer viruses. Push the fluids and take some cough medicine with codine to help you sleep"). Then she listened to my lungs, nodded, and said, "We'll fix that." Two minutes later she came back with an inhaler. Not just one inhaler, actually, because she wrote a prescription for another. And a z-pack. Woo antibiotics! Apparently her plan is to effectively napalm my lungs. Either way, I guess it's working because I woke up this morning and could breathe without hacking up a lung or making strange noises.
Anyway, this past weekend I went down to DC (probably not the best idea, but I was hell bent on going). It. Was. AMAZING. I really like DC, despite its heat and humidity during the summer. I'd visited before, but I hadn't really used the subway system or felt like a non-tourist before. I think it also helped that I drove down instead of taking the train (I'm sorry, $150 round trip? Surely you must be joking, public transportation.) so I got to see more of the outskirts of the city. Friday night we basically just hung out in Brooke's apartment, ate Chinese food and watched Funny Face. Saturday we woke up kind of early (930, while late for both Brooke and I, is kind of early by the collegiate standard) and headed out to the Mall. You have to walk through the AU campus to catch a bus to Tenleytown, where we stopped at Zburger and had a healthy breakfast/lunch of milkshakes and frieds, then hopped on the subway to the Smithsonians. We went to the Museum of Natural History, because we both find those types of museums to be more entertaining. While a good art museum is fantastic, you can never, ever, ever touch, and Natural History museums tend to be more... finger friendly and you can interact a little more closely. Anyway, after the Mall we headed to Dupont, which is a really cute little part of DC with nice little shops and places to sit. Unfortunately it was ungodly hot and we were both pretty gross, so after about a half hour there we headed back to the apartment to shower and get ready for The Dark Knight. We caught the 830 show, and I really liked it a lot. It was sufficiently creepy with a little bit of hope thrown in there, I don't know what they're going to do about sequels because Ledger is dead, but I think he did an excellent job as The Joker. All in all, I think I'd even buy it when it comes out on DVD.
We got lunch on Sunday at a cafe on campus, and then I drove back up home. I had no idea how big of a state Maryland is until I spent a good hour and a half driving in it. I remember thinking "DEAR GOD AM I OUT OF MARYLAND YET?!?!?!" because once I hit Delaware it's practically home sweet home.
Back to bed with me, Sickies gotta rest.
Since the end of last month, I have not had a single day of feeling just fine and dandy. For the first two weeks I was continually exhausted, and my mom thought I might have mono again. I slept pretty much for an entire weekend to get past the exhaustion, but the next weekend I wake up with a cough, which, even though I was taking basic stuff like mucinex to get rid of, got worse and now has settled quite nicely in my lungs. There's a weird ache in my chest and I can't breathe without coughing or wheezing, which is really just a barrel of fun. On Tuesday of last week my entire face hurt (which was almost amusing because of the joke "does your face hurt?" joke) because of some wacked out sinus pain. On Friday night, whatever it was dropped down into the chest because every time I tried to breathe it was like sucking through a straw.
Finally, yesterday, I went to the doctor. This marks twice within a week. She asked what the other doctor had said ("It's probably one of those weird summer viruses. Push the fluids and take some cough medicine with codine to help you sleep"). Then she listened to my lungs, nodded, and said, "We'll fix that." Two minutes later she came back with an inhaler. Not just one inhaler, actually, because she wrote a prescription for another. And a z-pack. Woo antibiotics! Apparently her plan is to effectively napalm my lungs. Either way, I guess it's working because I woke up this morning and could breathe without hacking up a lung or making strange noises.
Anyway, this past weekend I went down to DC (probably not the best idea, but I was hell bent on going). It. Was. AMAZING. I really like DC, despite its heat and humidity during the summer. I'd visited before, but I hadn't really used the subway system or felt like a non-tourist before. I think it also helped that I drove down instead of taking the train (I'm sorry, $150 round trip? Surely you must be joking, public transportation.) so I got to see more of the outskirts of the city. Friday night we basically just hung out in Brooke's apartment, ate Chinese food and watched Funny Face. Saturday we woke up kind of early (930, while late for both Brooke and I, is kind of early by the collegiate standard) and headed out to the Mall. You have to walk through the AU campus to catch a bus to Tenleytown, where we stopped at Zburger and had a healthy breakfast/lunch of milkshakes and frieds, then hopped on the subway to the Smithsonians. We went to the Museum of Natural History, because we both find those types of museums to be more entertaining. While a good art museum is fantastic, you can never, ever, ever touch, and Natural History museums tend to be more... finger friendly and you can interact a little more closely. Anyway, after the Mall we headed to Dupont, which is a really cute little part of DC with nice little shops and places to sit. Unfortunately it was ungodly hot and we were both pretty gross, so after about a half hour there we headed back to the apartment to shower and get ready for The Dark Knight. We caught the 830 show, and I really liked it a lot. It was sufficiently creepy with a little bit of hope thrown in there, I don't know what they're going to do about sequels because Ledger is dead, but I think he did an excellent job as The Joker. All in all, I think I'd even buy it when it comes out on DVD.
We got lunch on Sunday at a cafe on campus, and then I drove back up home. I had no idea how big of a state Maryland is until I spent a good hour and a half driving in it. I remember thinking "DEAR GOD AM I OUT OF MARYLAND YET?!?!?!" because once I hit Delaware it's practically home sweet home.
Back to bed with me, Sickies gotta rest.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
BEST. MUSIC. DOWNLOAD. EVER.
Europe: The Final Countdown.
NOI'MNOTROCKINGOUTTOITRIGHTNOW.... >.>
/geeky moment
NOI'MNOTROCKINGOUTTOITRIGHTNOW.... >.>
/geeky moment
Good Samaritan
Yesterday I saved a baby robin from drowning. It had accidentally somehow landed in the pool, I'm not sure how it happened, I didn't see that part. All I know is I saw weird ripples in the water, and heard some lame attempt at flapping. I looked over to the source, and saw Honey (my bunny eating golden retriever) staring down at the poor thing. I climbed into the pool, skimmer in hand, and scooped up the little bird, then put it down in the shade of a bush in our neighbor's yard. I figured at the very least the bird wouldn't be eaten by my dog. An hour later, it was gone.
Strange how you can feel such sympathy for another living creature. My brother didn't even move, he just stared at it like it wasn't his problem. And honestly, I'm no big fan of birds, I've been pooped on by them, I've had my car used as a regular restroom by them (they like to sit on the side view mirrors and look at themselves), I find them loud, dirty, and really quite mean. But for some reason, seeing that poor little robin flapping away in the water, I felt like I had to help it, even if it would later go on to wake me up at the crack of dawn singing, pooh all over my car, and leave worms in my driveway. Maybe I won't be a crappy mom after all.
Strange how you can feel such sympathy for another living creature. My brother didn't even move, he just stared at it like it wasn't his problem. And honestly, I'm no big fan of birds, I've been pooped on by them, I've had my car used as a regular restroom by them (they like to sit on the side view mirrors and look at themselves), I find them loud, dirty, and really quite mean. But for some reason, seeing that poor little robin flapping away in the water, I felt like I had to help it, even if it would later go on to wake me up at the crack of dawn singing, pooh all over my car, and leave worms in my driveway. Maybe I won't be a crappy mom after all.
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