lady gaga will eat miley cyrus's first born child

Last night was a brilliantly accepted reminder of why I am at art school. Thank you, frat parties at Johns Hopkins, for being so terrible. Just because you're smart doesn't also mean that you hold interesting people, who listen to good music, and dance well. On the contrary, you hold bros and awkward girls who sip on dumb forms of liquid encouragement, that all throw their hands in the air and sing along to the Miley Cyrus mixed with some unfortunate rap song. You also only where sweat pants and running shoes, or mommy jeans and maternity blouses.

MICA, on the other hand, holds delicious Thanksgiving potlucks filled with four forms of potatoes, cranberry sauce, and a tofurkey by yours truly, long naps, Trash Art Shos, and Lady GaGa.

Are the two even comparable? I think not.

when i have the research, i'll be fine

It's the beginning of finals here at MICA, and everywhere, everyone is in stunted states of stress. It's impossible. Because it is the weekend, all anyone wants to do (and inevitably is) is to party. But me, I am trying my hardest to commit. I say this because this past week could have been my worst work week, ever, in MICA history. I feel like since fall break I haven't accomplished any form of art, and in this, I really, truly feel terrible. It's a spiral of bad thoughts, mediocre feelings, and the idea of waste. And I don't agree with waste. I'm need to establish myself as a professional artist in this cut-throat society of MICA-ians, but, even in this thought, I can't help but slack off, find solace in my friends, and nap.

These are all terrible, terrible things. I am a better student than this. I AM A BETTER ARTIST THAN THIS. So, I will be better. Actually, the Best.

The End.

In other news, the photos are from this evening, which included a calming trip to Whole Foods for some Thanksgiving goodness (because of the Pot Luck tomorrow!), a lovely walk through the campus to Jerome's, and dinner making, with the menus as: wheat pasta decadent with raw red onion, peas, tuna and caesar dressing, baguette bread topped with brie and honey, with a glass of Sparkling Grape Juice being the tie between it all. Delicious.

to remember

elements project:

tie in the beginning polaroid piece to the pop-up to the play with kitch. make it work as a whole. find and buy enough of the existing scrapbook paper to tie in the look. possibly recreate the 'target' processed frames and fill with photographs playing into the major theme of inner monsters. maybe, even, make an inner monster?

1:23

I just walked in the door from a Peaches concert, and compulsively have the need to write everything down in a stream of conscious manner, due to the fact that I may, or may not, still be inebriated. Here it is:

starting off i was sick, real sick, have been sick since friday, so it wasn't difficult to fake sick in front of my painting teacher. i hacked and snuffed and sounded all types of congested when she came round to talk to me about my piece. this allowed me leave, allowed me dinner, pre-gaming, and then the big show. first we had to go to bunting for cash. then we took the most expensive cab ride of our lives (40 bucks for six people for a ten minute ride). en route cindy pucked. she kept on vomiting. thankfully it was all into her kate spade purse, but when i got out of the cab half of my butt was still wet (puke or broken flask?). then the concert. we sludged our way to the front, dancing to the music until 930 when ponytail came to the stage. they were ridiculous. they were totally incoherent. it would have been terrible if i wasn't drunk. but i was. so, with them trashed and be not sober, we had a pretty good time. whenever the female singer screamed into the mic and rolled her eyes into the back of her head (which was alot) i howled. it was fantastic.

then, some music until man (le tigre's project) came to the stage. it was three of them and they were fantastic. amazing. outstanding. i couldn't believe how good they were. i danced and danced and cheered and danced, they were so good.

then peaches. i was so excited for peaches. all i wanted was peaches. but, when she and her band came to the stage there was a rush, and in that moment i instantly sobered up. there were so many people. i couldn't move. i couldn't breathe. i was in fear for everyone around me and was unable to enjoy peaches flashing vagina. i started to do head counts, make sure i could at least see everyone while i mainted a semi dance, semi protection over the few in front of me. at one point this gangly kid beside me was gringing my fired while flailing his arms, coming close to smacking dear jorden in the face. i tried my best to push him away in a dance like stance, but then he bit me. he full fledged clamped into my bicep and bit down hard. it was ridiculous. i couldn't believe it. at that point iram was gone and when the song ended i had to go find her.

but, jorden and i couldn't find her. so we smoked. we talked about how ridiculous the concert was. then we went back in and enjoyed ourselves.

first we stayed back, making sure just to dance, but then we needed to see if everyone was in decent shape, so we pushed forward. i ended up attempting to protect jorden the entire time, all the while dancing, from the sweaty mohawked man in front of us. he was so wet, that now i still feel like i stepped from a shower. also, i talked, briefly, to the tarc alex about my new piercing.

peaches ended with fuck the pain away. she encored with that song she does with iggy pop, and a few more that i couldn't decifer, but were still perfect.

i have peach's fake blood on me. or someone else's, i can't be sure.

in the beginning of the concert she stepped into the crowd and actually latched onto my hand, MY HAND, for support, holding it securely for at least 30 seconds.

it was only a 20 dollar cab ride home.

and i lived to tell the tale.

the end.

nachos, talks of thanksgiving, and laundry

Sometimes there are those Saturdays that you have no desire to dress up, go out, and get belligerent. Sometimes it's just good to chill, spending a weekend without intoxication, and let the body get drunk on being in Baltimore.

Today I ran to the Inner Harbor. Let me repeat, I RAN TO THE INNER HARBOR! That is a 2.4 mile run through the city of Baltimore. It was glorious. It wasn't taxing. It was probably the best thing to do for my cold. I am now exhausted, but, I also feel pretty cleansed. The only downfall to this adventure is that there has been zero amount of homework accomplished through this day. But, homework is homework. The day was well worth it.

Fellow runners and I ventured from campus, lightly jogging through the city streets that I have yet to seen, like Cathedral Street, which was glorious, all brick sidewalks with matching brick buildings and mullioned windows. Then we hit the Harbor, where we ventured into the chaos of the 50% off sale of Urban Outfitters. It was all types of ridiculous, the people vying for a spot in line for a fitting room, tearing apart the racks with the ridiculously patterned, overpriced materials, just to be flung every which way, and then the 10 minute hiatus where the store closed to clean due to the chaos.

All in all a good time.

I bought a pair of neutral toned teal moccasins.

How ridiculous are prices these days? I've been so spoiled by Salvation Army, Goodwill, and the like, and now I am completely incapable to spend more than ten dollars for some clothing, because, inevitably, I will get art supplies on my clothing, and then be really upset. So, I only spend less than ten dollars because then I cannot be upset when I ruin said clothing.

Michelle wants to have sex with pumpkin pie.

it's official.

I'm sick. I'm actually sick, not the, ihavetoomuchofarunnynosetogotoclass sick, or the, ikindasortadon'tfeelwell sick. No, I'm sick. Last night I was fine in all parts of the definition, but then this morning I woke up and couldn't move! I had to call into work (the the second time this week) and then spent all of the day tossing around in my bed in the hopes that sleep will solve everything (like it normally does). Instead, I woke again to find myself in the same state. My throat is terribly sore. My head hurts so much it's tender to the touch, and my nose is so stuffed that it feels ready to explode. And I have the normal body aches.

Why would I be blogging about this? Well, this is the first time I'm sick and away from home. I don't have my parents to tell me to drink lots of fluids, keep up on the Advil intake, and get lots of rest just to wake up in tie for soup. No, I'm at college. I'm on my own. I have to take care of myself.

It's thrilling!

Really, this, to me, seems so wonderful. I mean, yes, I do want my mommy, but at the same time I want to be independent and do it all on my own. Yes! I can get up and make some tea! Yes! I did take my last Advil! Yes! I can run to the store for some soup and Ginger Ale!

My body is sick, but my mind, this time, is not. It's a strange limbo. I'm a firm believer that being sick is also fifty percent mental, if not more, so, hopefully, I can clear this thing up by Saturday afternoon.

Oh MICA, look at me go!