,

i will start writing in this. tomorrow.

somanygreat things.

i have so many great things to tell and talk about. so, so many great things. because i have refused to update my life in so long. blogging seemed pretty tiring, pretty useless. until i really thought about it as the only journal space i have right now, because lord knows i don't keep an actual journal, because that's stupid. why write what no one else will read. right? right.

okay. somanygreat things in t-minus after i get my homework done.

five year plan: summer 2011

Here is the second installment of the dreaded Five Year Plan. Seriously, this thing is fa-reaking me out. So much so that when I leave the gallery (where I do most of the planning) I have to sit in my car and steady my breathing because I am so ready to curl up and crash into other vehicles rather than having to make sure this plan comes to fruition. Seriously. I barely know what I am doing tonight, let alone for the next five freaking years.

SUMMER 2011

The possibilities are currently endless for the summer of 2011. This is mainly because I have little idea of what the school year will bring, and therefore how I will further be shaped into a working artist. Subsequently, my goals are rather vague, but goals nonetheless.

I have the ability to live in Baltimore, because of my current apartment, but also have contacts in Philadelphia and Los Angeles that can help with housing arrangements. Because of these contacts, my scope for finding an internship is rather wide. Mainly I am concerned with finding an internship more prominent than gallery work. My thoughts are on big names and big companies, or, relatively big, or at least relatively well off. Currently my list of possibilities includes: Squidfire (although I have a feeling I would need to first obtain some printmaking experience), Urban Outfitters Inc. (operates Anthropologie, Free People, and Urban Outfitters, all of which offer Visual Display Internships), and Martha Stewart Living (would be a dream, because, well, Martha is the man). These possibilities are narrowed into the vein of retail with an emphasis on visuals. Each would offer an unique perspective to the idea of sales and merchandising, as each explores a completely different theme within the scope of their company. With Squidfire I am interested in exploring the ‘Do It Yourself’ attitude of occupation, where one can utilize their prominent skills and capitalize on the fact that they are more than able to make a living. With Urban Outfitters Inc. I have thoughts of interning as a Visual Display Artist with Anthropologie. The Anthropologie line with the corporation is known for the presentation of their wares, immersing the consumer in a fantasy tailored to eclectic styling of kitsch meeting vintage meeting modern. Lastly, with Martha Stewart I find a personal dream internship. I have always been fond of Martha, spending much time delving into her extensive library of crafts, faking sick from high school just to watch her television program, etc. With the fondness comes the desire to work for her, be part of her crafting team, and maybe, hopefully, fingers crossed, I will one day be invited to present some fantastic craft making ability on her show.

Other possibilities include working as an artist’s assistant (preferably in Baltimore or Philadelphia), or maybe finding a small time publisher who deals with independent productions of zines and art books, and learning the ropes behind bookmaking on a large scale.

Of course, the summer cannot just be about internship. It must also be lucrative. I am resigned to the fact that I will not be a paid intern, and so, a part time job will be needed. But, I have been working since the age of fourteen, and so have saved and saved and saved, so much so that if I must sacrifice hours and a paycheck or two to internship duties, I will still be sound in money terms.

Lastly, a personal goal will be to be part of a craft mart, or some type of crafty event in which I can display my wares and pass our business cards and shake hands.

five year plan.

In order to complete my current internship and receive three credits for the one hundred and twenty hours, I must first do stuff. What is that stuff? Really, you don't want to know. But, imma tell you anyway, if only to remind myself.

The list includes some legitimate stuff, you know, like submitting an updated resume and cover letter in order to prove you're professional and on the up and up. But, you also gotta complete some craziness, like three informational interviews with people that are in your desired career path, and, this one gets me, a five year plan. Not one, not two, but five. A FIVE YEAR PLAN! A FIVE YEAR PLAN? What is this craziness? I don't know what I'm going to do when I wake up, let alone what will go down in the next five years. Leave it to MICA to make me figure it all out.

So, without further ado, here is the first year. Tell me what you think though, is this craziness, or am I just crazy?:

As a rising sophomore I have left foundation year with the fresh realization that the time is now. While I can I need to make sure that I am doing everything. All the opportunities posted and thrown and whispered to me I need to make sure to grasp, grab, and kick in the face as to fully assert myself as a working artist. It sounds much easier to do such when casually typed onto eight-and-a-half by eleven paper, but that does not mean that what is said is truth.

I just have to do it. And by it, I mean everything.

With the return to Baltimore, to MICA, to art after a lazy summer I plan to hit the ground running, running for my life as the noise of the starting pistol cracks through my eardrums; I start these next five years with the goal to win.

Of course, of course, easier said than done. But, here’s the plan:

SOPHOMORE YEAR

Already I am enrolled to take eighteen credits, a balance of nine studio credits and nine academic credits. I know the year will be rigorous, and I know I will break down more than once, but I also know that I can set my mind to accomplish eighteen credits, and to accomplish those credits well. This first semester is as big as a circus spectacle as it starts it all; I am stepping up from foundation year into the beginnings of Illustration with Creative Writing and Book Arts, a track so highly concentrated and therefore such a departure from the breadth of study focused upon during the foundation year.

As well as eighteen credits, I plan on continuing to build my resume any way possible. That paper, I have come to realize, needs to exude all and everything about my working artist life. Currently, the thing does not read as much, and so that must change. My goal is to obtain something of an internship during the school year. When I say ‘something of an internship’ I mean that I really just want to volunteer my time and abilities to some arts force outside of MICA. This force can be anything; gallery or artsy boutique or crafting group or whatever one can really imagine that involves art and able bodies and strong minds. My primary desire to do such work is so that I can begin to network with the likes of the art community within Baltimore. I feel like I, personally, am a student lacking much knowledge in the working aspects of the art world, and so desire to obtain the knowledge of being there, in it all, and working.

If I am unable to find something close to the aforementioned, I plan on continuing to work with Community Arts Partnership.

Outside of definable work things, I plan to have an outstanding year in the way of being a MICA student. I want to sink my teeth into the student community and get involved. I love MICA. I. Love. MICA. I really do not know how to justify this fact other than, if there was a MICA mascot, I would wear the costume everyday. And if not the costume, I would at least sport the school’s colors at all times.

Being part of the community, getting involved, that means participating. More lectures! And more gallery visits! And more meeting and greeting! And, maybe even starting a club of my own.

Lastly, I of course have personal goals. Well, really, just one. And that is to begin an Etsy of my own. I want to craft some D.I.Y. goodness and unleash it upon the world. If, for anything, to be more like Martha Stewart.

oh, moms.

My mom just sent me this email. It's some interesting knowledge, albeit, serious and ridiculous sounding. But, you know, I like to share things:

Car Air-conditioning -

No wonder more folks are dying from cancer than ever before. We wonder
where this stuff comes from but here is an example that explains a lot
of the cancer causing incidents. Hmmm. Many people are in their cars
first thing in the morning and the last thing at night, 7 days a week.
As I read this, it makes me feel guilty and ill. Please pass this on to
as many people as possible. Guess its not too late to make some changes

Car A/C (Air Conditioning) MUST READ!!!
Please do NOT turn on A/C as soon as you enter the car.

Open the windows after you enter your car and turn ON the AC after a
couple of minutes.

Here's why: According to research, the car dashboard, sofa, air
freshener emit Benzene, a Cancer causing toxin (carcinogen - take time
to observe the smell of heated plastic in your car).

In addition to causing cancer, Benzene poisons your bones, causes anemia
and reduces white blood cells. Prolonged exposure will cause Leukemia,
increasing the risk of cancer. Can also cause miscarriage.

Acceptable Benzene level indoors is 50mg per sq.ft. A car parked indoors
with windows closed will contain 400-800 mg of Benzene.

If parked outdoors under the sun at a temperature above 60 degrees F,
the Benzene level goes up to 2000-4000 mg, 40 times the acceptable
level.

People who get into the car, keeping windows closed will inevitably
inhale, in quick succession, excessive amounts of the toxin.

Benzene is a toxin that affects your kidney and liver.. What's worse, it
is extremely difficult for your body to expel this toxic stuff.

So friends, please open the windows and door of your car - give time for
interior to air out -dispel the deadly stuff - before you enter.

Thought: 'When someone shares something of value with you and you
benefit from it, you have a moral obligation to share it with others.'

mantis.

For the summer I, personally, was unable to return to the 717 with nothing but employment at the Cocoa Perk to my name. So, I got an internship. Funny thing about internships in the Central Pennsylvania area; they really do not exist for Illustration majors. And so, especially in Harrisburg, my only chance for the desire three credits that come with onehundredandtwenty hours of work is to intern at one of the (unbeknown to me) many galleries in Harrisburg. Late in the game I googled 'galleries+harrisburg' and found that there is more than just the Art Association of Harrisburg, the Susquehanna Art Museum, and the Whitaker Center. There are also a slew of lovely little galleries across the city, splattered about midtown and downtown, and each have their personalized representation as to what it is to show and deal artwork.

I was fortunate enough to obtain an internship with the Mantis Collective a space not new to Harrisburg, but new to Third Street as of this past February. Mantis exhibits fine art of the contemporary genre, featuring lots of artsy abstracts and thought provoking pieces that always have great titles. Really. A more eloquent description of the Gallery's nature is found by way of the link, but, this is my blog, so I can give you my version of the low down, which really is, the Mantis is a beautiful space. In a, uh, colorful neighborhood, and features art by some current juggernauts in the contemporary art world.
Why am I telling this, you might ask? Well, last night, for some internship hours, I worked the opening of Mantis's newest show, 'Memory Not Mine' by Andrew Guth (who also is co-owner of the space). Not only did I work it, it was also my first art opening, ever. And, let me tell you, those who think art and stuff is not a big deal and stuff, it was a very intense evening! It was filled with wine, copious amounts of wine, which allowed me to catch up on some stellar wine opening skills, with fancy and mainly older art people who were very impressive in how naturally blaisse they were, with lots and lots of sales. Think mon-ay, as in, 'get mon-ay, get paid'. Out of Guth's thirty pieces, he sold twenty one of them, TWENTY ONE! This fact makes me seriously consider getting into painting. There's an obvious market for painting.

Although, personally, I wouldn't really place Guth's work into the painting spectrum. Yes, he did use brushes, and paint, but the handling of the materials, which also spanned into beeswax, graphite, charcoal, ephemera, and collage aspects of layered text pages, provokes a whimsy solidly grounded in haphazard mark making that evokes a certain un-edited-ness that comes with abstract work.

The crowd really was into it, obviously. So, I spent the night amidst louder voices over top loud electronica, retrieving specially etched wine glasses for Mantis members, and constantly screwing through some wine cork while knocking down people's hopes of owning their own Guth piece by placing little red stickers next to sold pieces. At one point a couple asked to purchase piece number twenty-seven. I said surely and took them to the back to wait in line for the checkout. Ridiculous enough, the woman right before them had purchased the piece. I was mortified as I had to turn to the couple (who own their own gallery in Harrisburg) and apologize profusely for the mishap. The look of incredulity was one I could hardly define, was it mock shock or was she really disappointed? And let me tell you, some people were becoming expressively upset when they learned the piece they wanted was bought by another, or worse, that all three of the pieces they were considering were snatched by the same buyer.

All in all, a glorious experience. I cannot wait for next month's opening (one that I will be assisting in curating. oh, you know).An now, I am again at the gallery; a five hour shift consumed with three viewers (as of 5:47), this rambling blog post, and my new found love (as of 3:15 this afternoon), GLASS ETCHING!

i want it bad.

On the 1st of June I posted how I accomplished lots and lots of things. I wished I could have kept up the accomplishment feelings, but alas, tonight I am not feeling like I made much stride in the distance of summer accomplishment. Probably because for the last two days all I've done is go to work and than come home and crash. And when I say crash I mean lay down wherever I can, without showering the stink of kitchen staff stench from my body, and half sleep half watch television for two hours before prodding myself from my laying position for the sole reason of eating ice cream. Really, I accomplished being a fat ass.But, on June 1st I felt great. And that's because I made this:The local radio station 99.3 KissFM hosted a 'Gaga Look Alike Contest'. And let me tell you, I told myself I was winning that contest!. So, I took the unlimited amount of summer time ahead of me and assembled the creation above. It's based on Gaga's song 'Paper Gangsta' and so, is entirely made of paper torn from old and poorly written just starting off childrens' stories. It includes: 1. Literary Stunner Shades complete with the Gaga Bolt in Gold Glitter, 2. a Neck Collar and two Wrist Cuffs of the layered and shredded variety, 3. a Shrug of a jacket with some Killer Shoulders, 4. Fine Leather Belt Modge-podged with some literature, 5. Knuckle Rings bedazzled with gold glitter with the term 'Paper Gangster', 6. Fake Nails spray painted with gold spray paint, 7. Fish Nets
But, the greatest thing about this outfit was:THE HAIR! Holy moley I think I should go into business. This chick's hair was so intense, and let me tell you how I accomplished this feat of beauty: 1. I vigorously teased her hair out to ridiculous proportions because she has a head of glorious Italian hair, 2. I parted her hair in the middle as if getting ready to have a bird nest in the middle of it, 3. placed a cone shaped piece of styrofoam in the nest of hair, 4. and wrapped the remainder of the hair around the shape while, 5. adding a book that was half supported by the top of her head, half supported by her bangs, and just barely holding on with some pins.Needlesstosay, she got the most professional do of her hair gettin' did life. Oh, and to finish, I added copious amounts of gel and hairspray to her bangs and than poured craft glitter into the sticky mess. Just, you know, tell me if you have an upcoming event and would like your hair all done and stuff. I don't want to brag, but I'm pretty good. Obviously.

The final resulted in a photo shoot of simple proportions:
I think I should invest my time in becoming a stylist. Just sayin'.

But, the greatest thing about this whole ordeal I put Allison through: WE GOT A CALLBACK! On this coming Tuesday I have to put Alli through this ordeal once more to compete against four other little monsters for four tickets and hotel accommodations for a Lady Gaga concert in Atlantic City. And, let me tell you, we are going to win those tickets!
More to this story, though; I submitted as well. We had twenty four minutes to make a costume, put me in it, and photo shoot before the submission deadline was over. We came up with:
THE MONSTER! The costume, or, moreorless, the performance coincides with the song 'Monster', which features the lyrics, "He ate my heart / the boy's a monster". The best part of this shoot: I'm kneeling with a dripping cake in my hands and freshly spray painted feathers on my shoulders and in my hair, gorging on a cake while Allison is figuring out how to work the camera. Between mouthfuls I'm shouting, "Just hold down the button! Hold it down!"

All the while, my dad is holding the dog back, and laughing.

i.

am responsible for my own entertainment.

and for my own enjoyment.

what i like.

I'm currently wasting my time watching the rerun of MTV's Movie Awards. It's mindless entertainment that is keeping me hip with the knowledge of what's hott and stuff. You know. And now, so do I.

During the show Katy Perry performed her latest single 'California Gurls'. Great, I know. Not really. The song truly is some of the dumbest noise I've heard in a long while. Well, actually, not so much. It's pretty much equal to all the noise on the radio, and on MTV, and VH1, and FratMusic.com. But, what is outstandingly dissimilar about 'California Gurls' is Katy Perry. She knows how to perform. She got up on stage with blue hair, a spray on tan, and boobs pushed up to her throat while her backup dancers were choreographed as stunner barbies on speed. Now, this could all be just a coincidence, or, it could be that Katy knows how to make fun of herself while making fun of everyone else.

I mean, really, she gots some blue hair, a Bettie Paige doo, and some big ol' boobies. Yep, she knows.

Also, they aired an exclusive preview of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows. I cannot stop my excitement. It just comes from this deep part inside of me that hid away after seeing Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, the place that had so many hopeful expectations and dreams of a truly glorious movie that matched how embracing the trailer was. It has to be music. I hear it, that 'Do da da dooo, da dooo, doooo...', and get this fuzzy-all over feeling that smells like fresh carved pumpkins, tastes like toast and fogs my vision with train's smoke-stack steam.

I am excited. I cannot help it. Nor can I contain it.
Now, what will I dress as for the midnight showing?

woo!.

accomplished lots and lots of things!

more on this after i accomplish some much deserved sleep.

sunday ain't so sunny.

I hate that my job has the ability to put me into such a terrible mood for the rest of the day.

Stupid, stupid job. How I have come to loathe you.

.

Uhg.

love, love love.

I really like the idea of the Missed Connections sections in city papers or even on Craigslist. They all just seem so, entirely sweet, like something direct from a movie. Maybe more so in a paper than on Craigslist...

to do.

Okay. Okay. Okay!

I promise to be productive tomorrow.

But, seriously, forty hours a week now shooting to fifty is really beginning to melt my brain more than being home already has. But, also, tonight I did get some heady motivation in the form of my mom crying (and no, not about me; it's just, knowing your mom is upset really is a good kick in the pants to being a better person, if not for yourself, for her).

Tomorrow:
1. Plant flowers CHECK!
2. Write cover letter
3. Finish internship papers CHECK!
4. Call Illustration department about said internship papers CHECK!
5. Email Andrew CHECK!
6. Get in touch with Great Uncle Joe about moving CHECK!
7. Empty another box
8. Grocery shop CHECK! (okay, okay. I personally did not do this, but I made the list and cut the coupons, which is close enough)

This Week (in no particular order):
. Finish cleaning out room
. Clean car
. Start Claire's commission
. Bake something! CHECK!
. Craft three things! CHECK!
. Figure out how to sell things on eBay
. Read some more of Rant CHECK!
. Take down the god-forsaken Christmas tree
. Dispose of the other god-forsaken Christmas tree
. Decorate Mom's tree (with crafts!)
. Write something!

Okay.
I'm sticking to it. I made a list and I'm crossing everything off of it.

seriously.

I need to get better at keeping a sketchbook. How the hell will I ever be an illustrator if I don't even draw anymore!?

For serious.

happy.

What happens when you feel you don't have anything in common with anyone anymore?

The regular bonfire was tonight. It included the usual people, the mac n' cheese, the s'mores, and, of course, the sneaking off behind cars to smoke a clove (yes, that's right! my life is complete because I had one tonight. I can still feel it's whimsy floating around my lungs). And, of course, the night included me feeling like, just in high school, that I could really care less about what everyone else was talking about, or really what they were about, in general.

I do not intend to sound like an art school ass hole. I barely talked about art school tonight. Rather, I listened. Listened to what I am essentially 'missing' by choosing art school, and realizing, as I have in the past, that I really do not care for that which I am 'missing'.

This is to say that, 'HOLY MOLEY I AM SO ELATED THAT I KNOW ME AND WHAT I WANT AND WHAT I AM ABOUT (mostly)!' Those things that I am not about include frat parties and long weeks spent leaving class only to get drunk and thinking it really fantastic to partay hardy.

That does not mean I do not enjoy my partay. I just enjoy a different type of partay, one that doesn't include guzzling beer before receiving a poor blow job.

There, I said it. I don't want your sloppy blow job. With that, I don't think it's cool that you got the bronze in Beer Olympics, or that you spent your last Thursday of school drinking from 3 o'clock in the afternoon until 3 o'clock the next morning. Give me some baked goods and a silly movie any night of the week.

So, tonight was the first night that I was one of the first to leave, and to really not mind it. Because I know now that I am not missing out. I never missed out on anything. And I am happy.

seattle rain.

Today makes me feel like Seattle. A day of constant rain and a high of fifty-five, worked in the confines of a coffee house-turned-cafe-turned-restaurant for 'economic reasons' will do that to you. Especially when it is May. And three weeks ago you were waking up to sixty degree weather that was climbing to an eighty degree day filled with summer lovin' and whoopie makin'. Which leads me to these bad boys!:
Martha really knows how to do it. Peanut Butter Whoopie Pies go a long way in rehabilitating the need for summer by substituting it with a heavy portion of baked chocolate goodness and peanut butter gold, paired with rain, some Zeke's Hippie Blend smuggled over the Maryland/Pennsylvania border, and Chuck Palahniuk's recent Rant. And, making them was so. much. fun. The dry ingredients were just a big bowl of flour and cocoa powder that, when intermittently dumped into the wet ingredients, sprung to life in a huge cloud of cocoa-y goodness.The recipe was provided by the lovely Lizzie at her blog 'Every Last Cookie'. Her's is so legit. Not kidding. She pairs three magical things to make the perfect blog: 1. baking 2.witty banter 3. good photography (and I cannot stress enough the importance of good photography for a foodie blog). I'm an avid follower, which comes in handy because now I don't need to buy Martha's cookies when I have Lizzie's blog.This night time cooking was a crucial step into finally getting into this summer. I've been home for a week and a few days now and really have accomplished absolutely nothing besides makin' dem monies (which, by the way, is slowly killing me as I am slowly realizing that I actually, after two years of employment, dislike my job (but, that's neither here nor there)) and throwing a surprise party for my friend Liz Til.

It's weird to think that yesterday she turned twenty, and five years ago, when we met, she was fifteen. And I was fourteen. Really, what is this? Aging? Growing up! No. Nope. It can't be. Those things don't happen to people like us. We remain teenagers forever, with our only worry being what to do over the weekends, and what new costumed theme the party can be, and, really, you know, liking where we are.

But, that isn't the case because Liz turned twenty! We celebrated with an afternoon lunch themed Scarves and Surprise!. Really, the scarves came in as in impromptu because, after everyone arrived, we realized that it was the first party ever hosted, ever!, that did not have a theme. Well, that couldn't happen. Could not happen! Alas, scarves!

So, there were scarves, a surprise, and lunch with food provided by a fifteen hour shift at the Cocoa Perk (let's not go there). I was so impressed with my friends and how well we were able to work it all out in only a day and a half. Secretly, I was glad none of them are employed this summer, because that's the only way we were able to pull off such a stellar surprise. Not so secretly, Liz really was surprised, utterly and totally bewildered, and that's all I could have hoped for. I knew that this birfday was going to be a bit un-ordinary, and so weird, because really, what do you do with twenty? Especially when it's summer and your two best friends are out in their respective cities, being real people and doing real people things, while you're at home, feeling not so real, or maybe just less productive.

Surprise equals success, success, success.
Just as today does, and only because of Martha and her whoopie makin' ability.
Now, on with summer!
P.S. which means, on with crafting! all i want to do is craft up a storm! fabric, paper, glitter and glue everywhere!

to remember.

1. 'Treats' by Sleigh Bells
2. 'Brothers' by Black Keys
3. 'High Violet' by the National

damn.

I just feel like a storm cloud.

It's like, everything that I thought was going well secretly was just conning me into a strange level of comfort that has now totally vanished. Lots of things. I only feeling like talking about one thing.

I got a D/D- on my final paper for my only academic class. Really? Really. I really did suck that bad. I only know this early because my teacher sent me an email asking if I had cheated and merely reused a paper from a different class, or from high school, because the paper was so ridiculously off topic from the assignment. I am just in disbelief about how far I let my academics fail. This whole semester I totally did not consider my one academic, Critical Inquiry, as a solid class, and so throughout the week I failed to really put any effort into writing the papers that were due. Then, I would get to class and realize, 'Hey, I'm paying for this learning thing! And I'm learning a lot in this class!' Why, then, you ask, did I decide to fail it so miserably?

Because I'm stupid. The work for it wasn't hard. I was lazy. Unproductive. Unmotivated. Didn't recognize it as worth while.

Now, I totally regret being so stupid, because, now my entire GPA will spiral into an abysmal range (something that has never actually happened to me, ever). Even better, my parents are actually going to freak out because, you know, me being me, they have come to expect Dean's List.

Oh, holy moley.

best.

Easter. EVER.

Really. Today was the greatest day that Jesus has ever risen from the dead. In brief, it included:

1. An early morning of fabric printing prep that included two talks to two different grandmas, because, you know, I got to keep the family close.

2. A quick up hill gaunt to the church that was complete with children, everywhere. One in particular, a toddler girl, probably one-ish, stood in front of me and during the Baptismal Renewal, continually piped an 'I DO,' long after everyone else was finished. I was filled with mirth.

3. I beat the ANNA K OH! Challenge! Which means that I completed all my printing on an eight foot piece of fabric, and it isn't due until Thursday!

4. The family arrived, in its entirety, with not only a full easter basket, but also a bag filled with Target brand's Acher Farms food! My body quivers with delight at the thought of crisp, sugary sweat vanilla granola, of the glorious tub of monster trail mix, of bunny grahams and Costa Rican coffee.

5. A tour of what now can be called my apartment. Yes, my apartment! The building is a beautiful red and grey brownstone on Linden Street, deliciously titled the Avalon! It's a third floor two bedroom with hard wood floors and big, lofty windows, a chill-as-cuss landlord, and roof access. And, it's right behind a grocery store. And, IT'S OFF CAMPUS! And, oh. dear. lord, I HAVE AN APARTMENT. AND A CLASSY ROOMMATE. AND GLORIOUS THOUGHTS FOR NEXT YEAR!

6. A family trip to the best Baltimore spot in the world, Hampden. Where we took a stroll, my mother trying to walk barefoot through the neighborhood on hot asphalt to find a most glorious restaurant called Rocket to Venus. I am still full from the Sloppy Jo-Fu I devoured, which, not only made me the happiest vegetarian in Charm City, but also included a bonding moment for the Barry family: they all tried it! Mom, Dad, Major and Super Baby all took a bite of the Sloppy Jo-Fu! One small step for carnivores, one GIANT step for the Barry's!

7. Another gaunt, but this time to the Golden West for dessert. There we ordered one of each from the menu, which included: chocolate cake with mocha espresso icing, carrot cake with cream cheese frosting, a superb yellow cake with heath bar icing, and the most delicate banana cupcake with a sinful sugared frosting! So. Good.

8. Birfday presents! I'll be turning nineteen next Sunday, and so received some great gifts, including a drawing pad for the MacBook, more socks! and two sweaters, a grey one, and the other, oh the other! It's a creamy brown cardigan that also zippers. Really. It's legit. The ultimate in cardigans.

9. MICA's production of Midsummer's Night Dream that had the best set, ever. Seriously, you had to see it. The student crew built a giant forest out of, essentially, paper mache. And the costumes. Cobweb, by far, had the most thrilling. The fabric choice was such a crucial element, a light wisp of greyed-blue cloth that glided as she twirled through the faux sunlit stage. Oh. So. Good.

All in all, greatest Easter ever. Thank you Jesus. Really, it's all because of you and your dying for my sins. Mad props dog.

cerri mcquillan.

I want to get really good at drinking...

...so I can move out to Ireland...

...and marry this girl.

Or get with this girl.

Really. Hearing her talk makes me melt, with her sweet accent filled by dirty words. If all lasses in Ireland are like her, I'm going. Now. See you later. All I'm packing is shot glasses.

photos by Kip Carroll

sweet deal.

we are so attractive.

time.

Do you ever have so much to do, a disgusting amount to finish before 3:30, or before tomorrow, or before Friday, but have absolutely no will power to complete any of it, let alone, the will power to do anything?

Yesterday I learned that a very close, very close, family friend died. It's so much harder to deal with this now than it was then, to deal with such matters as an adult. As a kid, when I heard that my grandfather died, I had time to grieve, because I was a kid and nothing was expected of me. At that time, I didn't know what grieving was, or how to grieve, so, really that time was a bit wasted on me. I wish I could go back to that time and give my time to grieve to my mom, because, then, she needed that time most.

Now, I'm more of an adult. It feels like I have so many responsibilities as a student, to my personal work, to all the other work, and in all those responsibilities, I don't have any time to grieve. But really, that's all I want now; the world should stop, just for a bit, so I can grieve without the added remorse of not getting anything done.

Goodbye Cindy. I love you, and really, really miss you, and your woopie pies.

it's here..

.the SNOWPACALYPSE!

... and with it, no classes! I've only had to trek the streets of Baltimore once this week, adventuring through the piles and mounds and mountains of snow still unplowed from the previous storm Baltimore was hit with over the weekend. It's strange to me, coming from the rural northeast (and only an hour and a half away), to not see streets in so long! Even the main roads were barely plowed, a heavy amount of slush formed in the breadth between tire tracks. And now, there's even more snow!

It hasn't stopped falling since two o'clock yesterday. It's matched with a terrible amount of wind, so most of the day has been a cloud of blustery white. I've witnessed nothing out my window except for the white; no dogs being walked or people hurrying back from the store. The only sight of life is the frightened birds, flying off course and only nearly missing my wind, and, that's to say, if they continue to live through the night.

This is abnormal. Baltimore never received more snow than it has this year, and to match, even Florida got down to the twenty degree level. I feel like there should be more concern with the weather patterns that have been so drastically different this year, but instead the news is chalk full of headlines reading, 'Weather Strikes East Slowing Travel and Commerce'. Well, duh. That's going to happen. But what about where it's coming from, and why it's happening now, rather then happening so many years before?

It's eerie.

That also isn't to say how much class I'm missing. I feel like Hermione in revealing that I'm disgruntled with Baltimore's inability to properly plow snow because I want to go to school. I mean, I paying enough for it, and it isn't like grade school, where we'll be forced to stay an extra week and 'make it up'. No, I've just lost roughly $1000 in classes.

Cool.

At least I have plenty of time to get homework done, which I'm finding, is much more time consuming than I thought. And, there is a lot more of it than I had initially recalled. Just today, I've needle felted from 11:30 until 4:30, and I'm not nearly finished with the project. It starts with this raw wool:

We are to needle felt a ball, felt a flat piece, and also make a three dimensional object. The object, we were told, could not be cute; no little barn yard of forest animals allowed, because, we are artists, not little old ladies at a craft fair (or so we were told). With that in mind, I'm needle felting Bambi. I know, cute, right? Well, It's only his head, because he's been taxidermied. I know, not so cute, right? This is how far I am:

panic!

Charm City looks snow charming in white.

Since my last post, I managed to get sick, and not just, 'awww, mam, I don't feel good'-sick, but 'SHIT! my body didn't let me wake up for class Friday morning, even when two people came into my room and shook me to try to wake me for my first critique in Sculptural Forms!'-sick. Needless-to-say, by the time one o'clock rolled round, and I finally woke from my sick induced stupor, I was not in a pleasant mood. I quickly emailed my professor (who does not except late work!) and groveled. I am still waiting for a reply.

But! I couldn't allow mere flu-like symptoms to stop me from the weekend that was to be the SNOWPACALYPSE! I woke to find that snow was already falling, and had been falling for two hours, and continued to fall as I showered, cleaned my bedroom, napped, listened to Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix; you know, the usual. It continued into Morgan and my jaunt to the ridiculously packed Save-A-Lot, where I stocked up on food and waited in line amidst the Bolton Hill community (where Morgan and I were serenaded by a big guy ramping along to his cell phone). It still was going when we got back to my place, cleaned my filthy, filthy kitchen, made a glorious pasta with baby onions and green peppers, w

atched Charlie Bartlett, drank copious amounts of tea, ate copious amounts of ginger snaps, watched Say Anything, and, of course, 'worked' on some homework.

The night was glorious. We (Morgan and I), were (are) sick and snuffling, and laughing at how wonderful our Friday night could be by merely sitting in one room, holing up, and pretending to be 75. I was even embroidering (a true statement to my age (I continually told Morgan that I felt as if I ought to be on a plantation, sipping lemonade and continuing my embroidery. She protested, saying no old man would sit and do embroidery while watching the R rated Charlie Bartlett)).

Even better was my roommate's ridiculous amount of singing and stomping around to the tunes of Rent. Morgan and I died.

That night fell snow much snow that Morgan was forced to spend the night. We sat up, watching, and wondering if the few are far between flashes were lightening, matched with a muffled thunder (later, we learned of thundersnow).

We slept in, then WENT SLEDDING! After making pancaked paired with delicious, true Vermont maple syrup, of course.

SLEDDING, SLEDDING, SLEDDING! Station building hosts some very steep hills, very covered in snow, and it was still snowing. The trek from Gateway to Station was ridiculous, a whole different, brilliant world of everything iced in fluff, compacted in sugar, hugged by snow much love (I may be getting ridiculous, but, have you ever seen three feet of snow!?)! The cars were dollops of icing fit for the largest of giants, the brick brownstones mere rows and rows of iced gingerbread houses blanketed by a sky of pink and grey wonder of more and more snow.

A family lent us their toboggan, a two seater red one, which sped down Station's steepest hill like a blade through butter. It was glorious, and Morgan and I were snow covered. As we sped, it splashed about us, a froth thrown up into our faces, into our wide, laughing mouths. The family's dog pranced about around us, a big shaggy black thing, and would drag the toboggan back up the hill. Magic.

The way uphill trek back to the Commons was a fumbling display of wet, frozen limbs and faces shocked to pink. We were entirely snow covered, cookies rolled into confectioners sugar, walking alongside giant sized dollops of icing covered cars.

The afternoon called for soup, tea, and Floridian Honey Bells. Then came some actual homework doing, all the while listening to a 1920's radio station. If there is ever a point in your life that you desperately need to be reminded of magic, of wonder and nostalgia, listen to 1920's radio. Some, most, of the songs are riddled with static, and burst from an ihome as if from an old tuner radio. It brings a warming feeling, eases the mind, makes you think simpler, happier.

A few hours of reading up on psychoanalysis works up an appetite. The menu called for some homemade mac'n'cheese, with cherry tomatoes, baby onions, and green pepper baked in olive oil, and veggie burgers made with salsa and cheddar. It's a wonderful feeling, to finally be able to use a kitchen. Last semester my living situation allowed for zero use of my apartment facilities, including living space, kitchen, and, at times, bathroom. But, that was the past, and God has graced me with glory and wonder in the form of a fourth floor flat, complete with slanted ceiling, and good, great, grand (in comparison) roommates that allow use of the entire apartment, as if, you know, we were all real adults or something.

And so, I have been basking in the ability to cook, and with that, to feel like a functioning human being. That isn't to say that those that don't cook are not real human beings, more to say that I, personally, have feelings of complete gratification with the notion that I truly can take care of myself, at least, when it comes to feeding time (also, now that I think of it, the food that I put into my mouth is bought by me, by the money from my paycheck...not my parents. Not my parents, but mine. My money. My mind is exploding right now.)

Food was paired with (500) Days of Summer. And more embroidery.

The night wore on, the snow had eventually ended, and I closed the night with Cheri, a film with Michelle Phiefer and Kathy Bates about French Prostitutes and their retired lives. The movie itself was silly, the acting outrageous (which I took to be intended), but the sets and the costumes! They were as if old Art Nouveau posters c

ame to life, tres chic with the lavish hair and natural colors, soft with winding iron pieces and lavish foliage. Quelle suprise!

It made me regard my own works, how, for this first semester and now I had focused so much on kitsch, on fabrics and patterns and textures and things, and how, there is so much more that I love and want to explore! That isn't to say that I will drop the kitsch, far from it (as goes my embroidered self portrait), but, I want more than just one thing. I want to take the time to explore, read up on, study other forms of art that are still foreign to my knowledge. I want to bathe in books, bask in their texts, and breathe some new life into my art forms before they get too boring.

And, there is still another day! Sunday was made for a late brunch, an early surprise, in the way of cancelled Monday classes (because Baltimore doesn't have snow plows and so all residential roads were still piled high with a few feet of snow), and a complete detour from work. Morgan again was over, and we filled our time with Savage Love podcasts, drawing homework, more embroidery, lots of tea, some dessert making (delicious no-bakes oatmeal chocolate peanut butter bars), copious amounts of junk food (three take out boxes from the Myerhoff brimming with sandwiches, pizza, brownies, cookies, and cereal), and movies! This time The Hangover, and, finally, I Love New York.

All in all, the weekend could not have been any better. I may not have accomplished all that needed to be accomplish in the manner of homework, but I was finally able to rest, and breathe (figuratively, considering that my nose is still so stuffed up), and think about nothing but enjoying the moment, the time with a true friend that really sums up the college experience. Without the constant emersion in family life, we create our own, spending hours, upon days, upon weekends with each other to create, in very little time, the bonds of friendship and family that we are so used to in the home environment. But, this is home now, and this is family now, and it's always nice to take a snow day, or weekend, to see the reality in it all, in this college experience.

vices.

I've eaten two packs of Oreos in one week. Each and every Oreo has been paired with a dollop of peanut butter. This diet has come about in my attempt to stop smoking. So, basically, I've had two packs of Oreos and a half a container of peanut butter for every pack of cigarettes I would smoke.

Oh. Dear. Lord.

and now.

Let's compare...

... a ba-jillion hours later, and i've gone from two inches to nearly six. Only nearly. Oh. Deer. Lord.

still here.

Oh, hello there February. It's nice to meet you and your snow filled skies.

It's hard to believe that I'm already back in the swing of things, and I'm only nearing week three in Charm City. I love it. I cannot imagine, as I've said time and again, myself in any other setting. Really. I am so happy.

This spring semester (although ill defined by the glorious amount of winter weather we are having) has been bundled tightly in the warmness of love. Picture being blanketed in the perfect amount of hand knit mittens, home-spun yarney goods, scarves, hats, and long johns, made with love and tagged by little hearts, and you have my semester. On a non-metaphorical note, it consists of Drawing II with the wonderful William Downs (personal favorite optimist and zen master), Elements of Visual Thinking II with Judy Stone (shiny and new from the previous Michael Weiss), Critical Inquiry with ridiculous Rich Barber (also known as brilliant), Introduction to Fibers with the oh-so-cool Chrissy Day (from Illadelphia, a total hard ass, and best person, ever), and Sculptural Forms with Katherine Kavanaugh (I love her class because she smells like my grandmother).

Basically, the above is the best line up ever. I find that I can complete my work, on time and on task, which is a new experience for me, in the consideration that I fail, miserably, at time managing. I'm getting better though! I'm really trying, because I cannot afford not to get said skill down. There's just too much to do and not enough time. Already I have three applications to get through, not to mention trying to figure out what I plan to do this summer before the month ends (including the dilemma of Turkey vs. Internship vs. Summer Classes). Also, you know, I have very time consuming homework (who knew everything in fibers took longer than four hours, at least?) And, also, I'm trying to get involved on campus, which is failing miserably at the moment.

But, all in all, things are looking up. This past week hasn't been oh-so-productive, but, I'm realizing the mistakes and fixing them (they include watching the entire season of Glee, copious amounts of Saturday snoozing slash, movie watching, and over eating). Though it was terrible, this past week is not over shadowed by the two weeks before it. They included: DAILIES! (yes, I stuck to the New Year's Dailies! I just need to post them (unfortunately, they are not joined with stories..they didn't go so well)), 9 PULL-UPS!, SANDWICH MAKING!, FIBERS!, SLEDDING, SNOWMAN MAKING, and SNOWBALL FIGHTS!, INTERNSHIP MEETINGS!

The list does go on, but it's now 9:32, and I have more Fibers to do, in the way of WEAVING ON THE LOOM I MADE! Yes, that's right, the loom I made. No big.

P.S. I'm realizing this is a rather shakey overview of so much infinite glory that I have failed to share. But, I do promise to reveal dailies!, and fibers wonders, and other, exciting, lifestyle choices (like cherry chip ice cream with root beer).

stuff.

I have this thing about packing. I seriously dislike it. No, I hate it. I do. I get all cooped up in feelings and memories and a strange sadness just saps me to my core. I can't express why I feel this way about the whole ordeal, it just is.

I lay out all the things, the stuff, the utter nonsense, that I may want to bring on my bed, and then whittle it down to what I really need. Slowly, though, I begin to get distraught. I make the decision to take or leave something, then automatically second guess myself, and wonder and ponder if I do really need an object or not. I feel tied down to all this stuff, when, in fact, I could care less. Really, I could. But then, I can't. I need to careful go through everything, dissect the articles of clothing and artists' materials, the nicknacks and the literature, and wonder if I really, truly need it.

I hate to think that I'm one of those people that needlessly overpacks. To me, it is such a bad thing, a weakness. To be overpacked is to mean that you are dependent upon worldly goods rather than oneself. I hate the idea that I am dependent upon the clothes I cram into a suitcase, the books I shove into a backpack, and then the groceries I pile on top. It's ridiculous. Really.

Then, I get myself down, in the realization that I may never be one of those people that can just pack a backpack and hit the road.

But that's who I want to be. Just one bag, and one journey, only needing me.

birthdays, bird masks, and bad romance.

Yesterday was exhasting, but, the moment I finally got home, I just was unable to stop. I had all this pent up energy, a mad man running around the house, shrieking with the dog, unstoppably dancing to Kings of Leon. Later and later it got, and then, I decided to film a movie for my very, very good friend Anna K Oh! (http://grey-hoodie.blogspot.com/). Today is her 19th Birthday. Because we can't be together, I needed to do something special. That meant a filming a movie. Now, many of my friends always have stories of how they used to make little movies all the time. I never did such things. I think being in front of a camera is weird. I look tall and awkward and too tall to be allowed.

Needless to say, this one's for Anna K Oh!, KNOWN TO ROCK THE MICROPHONE!

Anna,

I love you. Really, I love you lots, whole big bunches and ooddles of love spill out from my thoughts about you. You and I always have the best of times together, from dancing in front of your mirror, to Thanksgiving, to jamming in the car, to secret cuddles on Annalise's bed, to helping me frantically move out of my apartment, and snow storms, and everything and anything else. Baby, you da best. Fo sho. Your like bright lights that make me feel brand new.

I hope your 19th year is a big one. We have another semester together, and a world of opportunity beyond that. Do what you want, and love what you want, and always, always keep smiling. Because you do that real good. Again, fo sho, and again, I love you, ooddles.

p.s.

i'm adding more dancing to my life. i used to dance alot. everywhere. and for no reason. i'm going to start doing that again.

okay.

So, here's the deal. I'm going to take a big step and try to do two, because I think two would be the most beneficial, as well as help to maybe tap me into 'responsibility' mode, or some nonsense like that.

I'll be taking on 'story time' for numerous reasons, including: comments, me not having written anything of substance this past year (and being very disappointed in myself whenever Carol or Josh ask me of such), and also, for my mother. Today, I drove her to work at the early seven am, and all the while, me in a morning fog, she talked and talked about me being an author, illustrating the Christmas story I wrote three years ago, and getting it published come next Christmas (really unrealistic mom, seriously), as well as telling me, 'not to lose your writing abilities!'

The thing is, I'm afraid I already have.

But, I will persevere, with some help, no?

And there it is, a story a day! It may be six words, or a paragraph, or a page, or maybe, I might begin one story and just keep it going, if I feel like it. You know, this is all about feeling it, so that's what I'll do, feel it all out. I'll also make sure to post each day's story, to keep me in check and you (whoever is out there) informed. Maybe I'll start up a new blog just for stories?

Also, I will do dailies! I've never been able to keep a journal, but always wanted to! I think this would be the best way to go about it, you know, keeping the art in check with the who 'me' thing. I'll post these once a week, keeping me in check, you informed. Likely, these will be on the same blog as the stories. THE PROJECT BLOG! or something of the sort. Maybe just this blog? Although, I have a feeling that I may be using this more, now that I am considerably using it. The project could get lost in all the jumble.

Whatever, another worry for another time, like later tonight, when I post my first story. Huzzah!