Few greater are the joys

There are very few things better than yesterday. I have a firmly held belief that I can have everything I want, with little exception. I went bra shopping with my sister (in this case joy comes from NOT being the one buying bras), got 8 pair new underwear from VS (I blame the twin), met up at the Getty Center with my friend Kate, grabbed awesome falafel and hummus next door to the Lammle where we caught Persepolis (who knew that Encino had a downtown?) for free care of movie passes, and had sassy repartee with Starbucks employees afterwards. For the record, everyone in Encino smokes, and I find that refreshing, though I do miss the smell of menthol and Baltimore (Newports, anyone?). The twin is leaving today for going back to school, and I really do have to send of my MacBook since the camera doesn't work and there's actually a sharp part of the case due to some plastic cracking then chipping.

Vacation cut just a little short

I'll be leaving Los Angeles the morning of the 17th in order to be back at school the night before Desk Assistant re-training. Which means I will be in Baltimore the night of January 17th--slumber party and dinner, Sima?

Sad lips part 2

On the plus, as if detecting the impending doom of my former relationship, SiF (adults only, not particularly work safe) podcasted episode #99 on break-ups this week. I met up with my friend Eric who's starting at CalArts this fall (after 3 years off from school) and we had quite the talks about relationships and such, and as miserable as the end of a relationship is, there is, off in the distance, hope for a better one. Sane, rational thoughts in this situation are somewhat new-feeling to me, so I'm not as unhappy right now as I was last January. In fact, I'm not very unhappy right now at all. I would even say that I am happy. I love the writings of the contributors of Nerve (also adults only, also not super work safe) for their uncanny ways of describing situations of the heart, body, and mind. Crying In Restauraunts is a feature by Sarah Hepola for Nerve, and in Septembers' installment I read something that stuck to my ribs : I've written before in this column about the agony of breaking up, of the ways love can disappoint when it runs out of breath. But sometimes just as agonizing is falling in love. There is a temporary insanity induced by the nerves, the distraction, the hoping and not-knowing and fearing. Months later, spooning on the couch during a Grey's Anatomy marathon, all of it may seem so quaint and funny. But falling in love is scary and bewildering. It's like hoping for a kiss and bracing for a slap, puckering up even as you wince.

Happy birthdays, sad lips

I would update more but my schedule here at home is really stressful and there's just no time in my day. What is L's day like in Southern California, you may ask? 5-6 AM: Get woken up by puppy (possibly more than once) to get let out. 6-7 AM: First breakfast, dozing. 7-8 AM: Take dogs for walk to the park, second breakfast. 8-2PM: LEGO Star Wars, watching Home Improvement, reading my blogs, and if the day is even-numbered a shower. 2-4 PM: Run errands-see if Circuit City has nunchucks for the Wii (they don't, ever), either spend some Starbucks gift money or spend other money I can't afford to while meeting up with friends from high school as works in with their own vacation schedules. More TiVoed Home Improvement, some IMing, listening to KT Tunstall. At some point I will eat again and 4-8 PM: Make dinner, hang out with parents, play more Wii, play weboggle with my sister in the next room over (teamStillInPJs FTW). 8-9:30 PM: Get ready for and go to bed. So you can see how your demands for more frequent updates would be met with my busy Angelino lifestyle. Seriously, though, happy birthday to fellow blogger Good times, noodle salad, who turns 21 and is spending the evening watching other people drink. As for sad lips, I ate ONE bite of papaya and my lips, two hours later, are red, numb, tingly, and itchy. NOW they (mom and sister) tell me it is related to the mango. Some starlets would kill for a cosmetic containing a compound that puffs up and reddens their lips for a protracted period of time (2-3 days). Me? Please, enzymes in enjoyable tropical fruits, stop ruining my week. So, if you're looking for me, I'm driving my parents' Prius, playing Wii, asleep on the couch, slowly ressurecting my OKCupid profile, and asleep by 9. New heights of cool, I know.

Oh noes I'm awake!

Happy Christmas everybody! moar funny pictures In a remarkably chilcdish accomplishment, I am up before 6 AM on Christmas Day of 2007. This was not due to excitement (though I did look in my stocking as permitted per Section 2 Paragraph 3 Line 8 of F-F Family Christmas Day Protocol), but instead due to the fact that I am a huge fuddy-duddy and went to bed yesterday at 8 pm after finishing getting my presents ready for under the Christmas tree. And since we had latkes for Christmas Eve dinner, I figured I'll go all-kinds-of-trad for breakfast with cinnamon rolls and blueberry muffins. And a little bit of NPR. Ahh, the holidays!

Now I can continue making break-up art.

The boy off-and-on for nearly 2 years and I are no more. And, unlike the last time when this happened, it was a mutual decision. And I'm not going to do the crazy things I did last time this happened. His birthday is December 28th, and it seems fitting that while we were not dating this summer he sent me a pretty awesome birthday package at camp (notebooks, Let's Get Primitive, collapsible chop-sticks, Luna bars, can't really recall what else at the moment...), and I'm going to do the same. Luckily, this go-round our lives (though not our evenings) were less entrenched, and I still have a lot of support both here in So Cal and back in Baltimore, which wasn't the case when I was an RA last January. Anyway, now I can finish my break-up hair quilt, and do the performance piece where print-outs of e-mails are produced and shredded ad inifinitum. In time, when I've processed enough, hopefully we'll be able to be friends, not just friendly. For now, however, my heart aches, and my eyes are sore, and I'm not going to be able to talk to him everyday (though I will still play Scrabulous against him), but I think I know this time in a way I didn't a year ago that I'm gonna be okay.

WFR woes

So, it looks like the next period of time for me to get my Wilderness First Responder certification is spring break, which for me goes from March 14th to March 23rd or so. As such, I'm posting an all-points-bulletin and will post on couchsurfing.com, but I am looking for people in and around the following places who could offer information about transportation and lodging in the area: Spearfish, SD Flagstaff, AZ Salt Lake City, UT Hudson, WI If you know anyone or anything (more than explained in Oregon Trail II) about these places, let me pick your brain, or direct me to links what may be helpful. Thanks so much in advance!

A lovely evening.

I love being able to run errands and help out at home. Taking morning walks with my dad and the dogs, going on shopping trips and to the surgeon's office with my mom, putting dinner on the table for my mom and dad when they get home. This week, one of the first things I did was to look up the local rock climbing gym and check it out. My dad went with me last night and I showed him bouldering, taught him how to put on a harness and do the figure 8 with follow-through and back-up knot, and he did two climbs, I was SO impressed! It's very different belaying something that much heavier. He didn't think he could do it and he did! And I got to be cheerleader to my father instead of 8 year old girls. I wonder if I can get him to take the belay class and we can be climbing buddies when I'm home? I had a great time with the old man, and I'll remember last night for a long time coming, if only for the fact that Dad put his life in my hands and never questioned me once.

Rush rush rush ... rest

Today I drove all the way to USC and I am very much out of practice on freeway driving. I had a panic this morning because I could not find my iPod (which was, of course, hiding from me), and my mom and I had to be out the door to get to USC on time. I sat through two hours of talking about the knee surgery my mom's having (total knee replacement), and came home to repairmen letting in the cold and taking forever. How long does it take to replace a hot water heater, really? So I'm going to grab some food at some point, I stretched a work on canvas I did long ago for my mother, and am thinking about mounting a lot of my drawings and paintings here in California that I do like (I'm not particularly harsh). Alas, no money or materials so here I am, doing nothing, freezing in the not-balmy 53* farenheit SoCal winter, looking at presents for my hon which I have to wrap, thinking of cleaning my room, in short not doing much of anything. And I am okay with that, don't get me wrong: I've been pretty productive, all said and done. It's so strange being in my parents' house, sleeping in my loft-bed, not having my full-size office (i.e. my bed in Baltimore), being surrounded by trappings of so many summers spent half-here. The room is nice, don't get me wrong, it's sweet and homey, but it's no longer home. Funny thing is, no-where is. Not a person, not a thing, not a city, even.

If Tim Taylor had a website...

"There's no shame in not owning tools/just like there's no shame in holding your wife's purse for a minute." "Northern Tools: Where Warriors Prepare for Battle"

Topping off my podcasts at the airport.

I have a New York Times from today, and I'm downloading some more podcasts, organizing my RSS feeds (75+), and trying not to think about myself and the boy, we had our talk finally and it was pretty illuminating, but not necessarily encouraging of the future of our relationship. But it was more we've talked since...I don't even know when, beginning of the semester? Some time apart physically will allow us the space to think, and I think both of us need that right now. Not to mention recovering from finals. I can't wait. I am aware that it's pretty silly to pay to go on the interwebs, but I just turned in 12 time sheets which will result in over $700 being directly deposited in my account before the end of the year. Yes, it is sad that of me and mine I'm the only one working a campus job (other than my friend Aric, a graphic designer and book-maker), everyone else is in the field and making far more than $7.50 an hour. Perhaps I should work on that next semester?

To my Ikea rabbit duvet:

To the bunny rabbits whom it concerns: Seriously? Why must you be some welcoming? So full of polyester fiber-fill and well-worn? And, full-size-bed, I must say you let yourself go during finals; Food wrappers, pill bottles, a half-consumed bottle of Manischevitz and paperwork abound. I mean, it's me and you and the junk on your top. Granted, you are also my vanity where I spend more time than is unembarrasing to admit plucking, trimming, manicuring, shaping, and painting my own face. And as much as I love you and will miss you over the next five weeks, let's not make this harder than it has to be. Enfolded lovingly by every fiber of your soul I relaxed from finals with Dharma & Greg and Tim, Jill, Randy, Mark, and Brad. I wrote my papers, artists statements, studied chanoyu, and then picked at my toenails some more. I'm sorry, but I need a break. I'm neglecting my studio, my desk, heck, even my shower stall is not as spic-and-span as I would like. So, as comfortable and right as I feel with you, my red-and-white Swedish cotton bunnahs, I've got to move on. I've got to do dishes, vacuum, and clean out my fridge, and get ready for going home on Sunday. Maybe five weeks will be enough for me to figure out the balance I need to strike in my relationship with you, but I can't know unless I leave. I'm sorry, I hope we can someday be friends again. Say, in five weeks? Love, L

Somethin' about Grover Washinton

Television is too distracting, flickering from programs to commercials, and radio is much the same (not to mention late-night radio is pretty darn slow-jazzy and sleep-inducing). Podcasts are too interesting and draw my attention rapidly away from the subject that is supposed to be at hand. When stuff gotta get done, I tune into my father's XM Radio account online and turn on channel 23, the Heart, which is all love songs, jazzy, Marvin Gaye, Elton John, and lots and lots of love ballads from soundtracks (Top Gun, anyone?). No commercials. If there is a sensible bone in my body, I will not get cable, I will get XM when I am no longer destitute. What's that, ladies and gentlemen? You want to see my visual aids?

Thanks for the memories, Martha

RIP Blueprint magazine.

Ah, Busted Tees

Because two Scrabble tee's (and matching socks) just isn't enough.

One day I'll figure out the blog version of the LJ-cut

I am in your layout, messin up yo frames! Robert E. Lee park in Baltimore.

In absentia

Apologies for the lack of postings and updates, it's the last week of finals here and I'm just huddling in my emergency space blanket working until it s al over. Many thanks to Marc for his care package, there aren't words enough to express my gratitude. Sunday I'll be on my way back to California. There are finals to finish up, dishes to wash and a fridge to clean out, but more pressing is talking with Justin about "us." Last year I came back to Baltimore only to be broken up with, and not only was that not what I would have liked, but my parents were upset at his choice of timing. I mean, so was I. It's so easy for him and I to go through our days, recap, and relax with one another, but at a certain point those crucial questions need to be addressed. So far, there just hasn't been any time, and I'm not really forseeing any until later this week, if then. Maybe Saturday? Today I'm going to Robert E. Lee park to take photos of my hi-tech/touch Mudpie garments, being worn by trees (hopefully), so we will see how that goes. After that I'm going to my friends' place to make matzo ball soup. Note to self: borrow fifteen spoons for Way of Tea final. Then it's working on thesis/fashion/multi-media event homework, then a couple papers for Tea and History of Women in Art, then just more presenting of my own work till Friday at 3 pm. And, lo, how glorious that will be! Friday, on the up-side, in the wintery-mix of crummy weather we've been having, I went for the first time to H&H surplus, up on Eutaw Street here in Baltimore city, and I am deeply regretful it took me almost four years to go. If I needed to survive the zombie invasion, this is where I would barricade myself and my fellow survivors to outfit our party for the brain-eating apocalypse. And, finally, I must give a little shout-out to my new favorite litte faux bois blog, It's (K)not Wood. Part of me knows I have so much stuff I may as well start getting well-designed things I love, and part of me wants to put it all in storage and live out of a backpack. Finished chrismukkah shopping!

At fifteenminutesvideo.com viewers can watch the artist plie on a roof, puke the colors of the rainbow, glue m&m's to rubber duckies while hula hooping, awkwardly kiss a boy and even perform a sexy shadow strip tease and defecation. What compels the artist to perform such tasks? Why would any one subject themselves to these activities? The artist fulfills requests of internet users. "fifteen minutes" is an interactive web-based performance. Viewers choose an activity for the artist to perform for fifteen minutes. The artist videotapes herself performing the chosen activity. All videos are uploaded onto the project website for the public to view. At fifteenminutesvideo.com web surfers find themselves in a unique position of power, where they are given access to the artist's time and body. While participants dictate what activities the artist performs, the artist controls how the submitted text is interpreted into video. This action becomes radical, especially in the instances of demeaning or misogynist requests. Thirteen minutes of the video "vomit in a toilet" (which asks "the artist to eat loads of food then vomit into the toilet violently") is the artist enjoying a delicious meal. The purpose of fifteen minutes is not to fulfill the desires of participants, but rather to establish a relationship by which those desires are negotiated. This negotiation complicates the typical rendering of power relationships as absolute, and puts forth an alternative view of power as malleable. This project is ongoing. So please continue to submit activities and check the website for updates! -- REBECCA NAGLE rebeccanagle.com rebecca.nagle@gmail.com

I cannot wait to see I Am Legend. Nothin' like the post-apocalyptic world to bring out the masses.

Oh man Olga

What a fantastic evening.

Oh man Olga

What a fantastic evening.

Crazyness!

Oh my oh my the finals, they are here in full-force. I have 14 & 15 days till my last critiques. Fantastic. It's such a strange feeling to be on a cusp, to be running towards the cliffs' edge, and not knowing whether you will fly or fall. Pretty exciting time.

Zomg.

So, today I worked, then dressed up like a zombie and protested at the inner harbor with my friend Kate. I just gorged myself on tofurkey with extra dijon mustard, and I am about to slip into a tofurkey coma. My friend Sima and I cleaned and fell asleep to The Wizard of Oz last night. All-in-all, a lovely time had by all.

I hereby declare it, Pantsless Wednesday

The best part about sticking around Baltimore for Thanksgiving is getting my two-person apartment all to myself, catching up on cleaning and homework, cleaning out the refridgerator.  Gabriella, my seriously awesome roomie, has headed to Brooklyn to see her sisters and mother and father, and now that fashion show is over, I get a minute to BREATHE!  Today I am heading early early to Whole Foods, then Safeway, and I'll be starting to prepare some dishes for thanksgiving at my friend Chuck's place.  And as long as I am in this apartment without my roommate, I refuse to wear pants. No offense.

ROCK THAT!

So, I did most of the graphic design for ROCK THAT, which was the first fashion show put on by MICA's experimental fashion program. We had over 250 guests, and I put together this display for my work since I didn't really want to deal with having runway models. Instead I ran the lcd projector that rear-projected our logo and titles of designers. And then I slept for 12 hours.

Hello, My name is L, and I'm an adult.

Last Friday I had the opportunity to go to the Maryland College Personnel Association conference and graduate school fair and I had the pleasure of running into another Suitland Visual Arts grad who is getting his Masters' in Student Affairs. Joe is two years ahead of me and is a hall director at Shippensburg in Pennsylvania. What's pretty exciting right now is there is going to be a show of 20 years of art program graduates at Suitland next year, and I am really excited to see what everyone's up to. That being said, I'm not upset at all about going into Student Affairs, because I know know know that that's what I am meant to do. I can improve students' experiences at school and impact their development as college students and adults, and I can do it in an artists' community like MICA, RISD, SVA, Cooper, Savannah, Memphis, CCA, SAIC, or Parsons. It was fantastic to be with this highly-specialized group of individuals who work in student affairs, people at all stages in their careers, from graduate students to entry-level to shining stars in their professions, the future president of the ACPA. I made business cards, hobnobbed, won a pen set, ate cake, enjoyed myself thoroughly despite the strange business-casual appearances. And everyone was SO friendly, these are extroverts, amazing men and women who have dealt with crisis and care to their residents and students.

There's that dark part inside that likes to be scared.

Nothin' like A&E crime docudramathons to get you in the mood to surf missing and exploted children web sites.  Here's a little tip:  You're going to want to stay out of the "unknown" section, as it's drawn or photographed 3-d clay reconstruction of unidentified bodies they've found. Hooboy.  Dark curiosity, thy name is L.

Oh, adzuki beans.

I made adzuki bean paste.  It's beans and sugar and water.  What a delightful concoction!  And it's a very pretty purple color!

Damn you, Clorox.

All I wanted was to not be sleeping in my own germs.  I didn't realize my roommate had ultra bleach, and while I don't bleach my whites/colors regularly, I don't bleach them THAT much.  Suffice it to say my green cotton waffle blanket is yellow, G-d only knows about everything else.  Sigh.  Thank goodness I didn't put in my interview dress.

Ugh.

Wow. I can't even tell you how much it sucks to be sick this week. I have a fashion show display I'm doing at the end of the week and presenting on Sunday, a lot of things to do this week to get to the point where I can shoot my outfits out in nature, which includes a trip someplace as well as printing high-quality digital photos in a decent size of those pieces and mounting them. I'm just full of mucous to the point where I am queasy from the moment I wake up to that that I I go to bed, excepting when I drink lots of tea or eat soup. The roomie has taken to dumpster-diving for food, and consequently we have copious amounts of guilt-free food (guilt-free in the sense that I don't feel like I've got to hoard it). And yet somehow, I'm awake right now. Dear G-d, help me now.

I am a consumer whore!

I'm pretty much head-over-heels for these Vibram Five Fingers shoes. They cost less than a pair of Keen Newport or Venice!

Pleasures of Autumn.

The boy and I went out to the county yesterday to go to Steve & Barry's to pick up a couple pairs of jeans each, since my current jeans have holes in the crotch and knee. And are falling off of me. Thus, hooray jeans! I got Sarah Jessica Parker's "Bitten" boyfriend and straight leg jeans, less than $20 each. I also picked up a dress for interviews at Target since I'm going to the MCPA conference later this month since it's also a grad school fair. And while at Target I saw a massive number of socks and tights in every color and pattern imaginable. And I have quite an imagination when it comes to this. I was thrilled to get a pair of over-the-knee, knee-highs, and tights, again possibly for the conference. To me, one of the greatest joys of cool weather will always be thick, high socks. Along with soup and rough-cut piping-hot oatmeal in mornings, the socks can make my day. So it's with great joy that the weather has finally turned here in Baltimore.

Landmark takes Baltimore!

There's a theatre I'm very fond of back in L.A., a single-screen old-fashioned theatre missing only double-features (but there's always the New Beverly for that). Midnight revival shows and Rocky Horror are a couple highlights of the Los Angeles Landmark Nuart Theatre. Baltimore is a city of three theatres. The Charles, which is a great independent theatre, and two adult cinemas. Tomorrow, Baltimore gets a Landmark theatre in the posh and gentrified Harbor East neighborhood. Seven state-of-the-art screens, gourmet concessions and bar, and stadium seating are just a few of the amenities. It looks like it will show a combination of wide-release and independent cinema titles, and I gotta say, it's about time I didn't have to leave the city to see a movie in this town. Thank you, Landmark. Now please, try not to suck too much.

Talented SAD Girl!

Able to sleep vast hours in a finite amount of time! I think I spent twelve hours in bed yesterday, which is kind of nice but mostly horrible. It's funny because I'm never not tired. The weather here in Bodymore, Murdaland is misty, grey, cool and wet. What the heck? Ahh well. Hopefully I can wake up a little today and get in the studio.

Oh the idiocy

I cannot believe how long these guys are bantering in front of the vending machines. They either never went to bed and are still drunk, or they woke up and smoked up. Don't do drugs, kids. "Dude, do you smell that smell? It smells like smoke." "Man, I don't know, I can't smell anything anymore." "How can you not smell that? It's like pouporri and Meyerhoff smell, like food, over everything, over smoke." "If you could have anything in this machine, what would it be?" "M&M's, man." "Did you know the reason that bills have to be inserted face up is so that they don't have to arrange them when they count the money?" "No way?" "What kind of drink do you want" "I don't know, man" "Let's get out of this stinkpit." Today I'm heading up to Philly for a formal Japanese tea ceremony, should be fantastic, it's in an old-style samurai house. I really am not looking forward to being on my knees for an hour and a half, but I suppose it will be okay. I wonder if we are having thick tea or thin tea, and whether the tea is to be with wet sweets or dry sweets (wet with thick, dry with thin). Also I wonder how my tea bowls turned out from the kiln....

Homesickness is funny.

Well, not really funny. Kind of agonizing. They tell you when you're a camp counselor to help girls identify that they are not physically sick from missing home, that they're just missing home. But what about when home is all these associations, intangibles, people far far away. I'm watching Catch & Release (oh Kevin Smith, you sassy scene-stealer) and seeing all these Colorado trappings, missing Angie and Blue and all my co-counselors, Songbird and Zig-Zag. I also had an existential crisis in the yogurt aisle at the grocery store and called mah momma, which brings up how I'm all grown up yet still need some guidance. Also, longest graveyard shift ever. And I love chubby clever boys like Kevin Smith, my sweetheart, and Jack Black.

Ninety degrees what?

Popsicles and Joni Mitchell. Fantastic.

Note to self:

Sentences on Conceptual Art by Sol Lewitt Conceptual artists are mystics rather than rationalists. They leap to conclusions that logic cannot reach. Rational judgements repeat rational judgements. Irrational judgements lead to new experience. Formal art is essentially rational. Irrational thoughts should be followed absolutely and logically. If the artist changes his mind midway through the execution of the piece he compromises the result and repeats past results. The artist's will is secondary to the process he initiates from idea to completion. His wilfulness may only be ego. When words such as painting and sculpture are used, they connote a whole tradition and imply a consequent acceptance of this tradition, thus placing limitations on the artist who would be reluctant to make art that goes beyond the limitations. The concept and idea are different. The former implies a general direction while the latter is the component. Ideas implement the concept. Ideas can be works of art; they are in a chain of development that may eventually find some form. All ideas need not be made physical. Ideas do not necessarily proceed in logical order. They may set one off in unexpected directions, but an idea must necessarily be completed in the mind before the next one is formed. For each work of art that becomes physical there are many variations that do not. A work of art may be understood as a conductor from the artist's mind to the viewer's. But it may never reach the viewer, or it may never leave the artist's mind. The words of one artist to another may induce an idea chain, if they share the same concept. Since no form is intrinsically superior to another, the artist may use any form, from an expression of words (written or spoken) to physical reality, equally. If words are used, and they proceed from ideas about art, then they are art and not literature; numbers are not mathematics. All ideas are art if they are concerned with art and fall within the conventions of art. One usually understands the art of the past by applying the convention of the present, thus misunderstanding the art of the past. The conventions of art are altered by works of art. Successful art changes our understanding of the conventions by altering our perceptions. Perception of ideas leads to new ideas. The artist cannot imagine his art, and cannot perceive it until it is complete. The artist may misperceive (understand it differently from the artist) a work of art but still be set off in his own chain of thought by that misconstrual. Perception is subjective. The artist may not necessarily understand his own art. His perception is neither better nor worse than that of others. An artist may perceive the art of others better than his own. The concept of a work of art may involve the matter of the piece or the process in which it is made. Once the idea of the piece is established in the artist's mind and the final form is decided, the process is carried out blindly. There are many side effects that the artist cannot imagine. These may be used as ideas for new works. The process is mechanical and should not be tampered with. It should run its course. There are many elements involved in a work of art. The most important are the most obvious. If an artist uses the same form in a group of works, and changes the material, one would assume the artist's concept involved the material. Banal ideas cannot be rescued by beautiful execution. It is difficult to bungle a good idea. When an artist learns his craft too well he makes slick art. These sentences comment on art, but are not art. First published in 0-9 (New York), 1969, and Art-Language (England), May 1969

Oof.

After seeing the "Architecture of the Quilts of Gee's Bend" exhibit at the Baltimore Museum of Art recently, I was inspired by these beautiful work-clothes quilts. The women of Gee's Bend, isolated in a small town in Arkansas and several hours' from the nearest town, used the materials available to them as inspiration for the quilts that kept them and theirs warm. I'm using old jeans to make a rag-rug, onto which I will print cotton in bloom. The rag trade was integral (and is) to the lives of immigrants in America, a way where anyone, through hard work, could make a living and rise into the working class. Industry created workers, workers make money, producers become America's best consumers. But with the rise of outsourcing, the move of the source of our manufactured goods, well, anywhere but here, the rich history of mills and sewing machines, advent of jeans and sewing machines, immigrants camoflaging into American society, and thriftyness of the American households in lean times....these things are things lost to us. In building my school's sukkah today (yes it's late, don't ask), the topic came up and it occured to me that so few of us ever do without...without food, without music, without information, without something to do or somewhere to be. It's in that spirit that I'm making a rag rug from denim, sturdy and practical, hard-working and reflecting of the working class. That being said, the denim braid is much harder on the hands than anything else I've braided with, and I'm wondering how big a rug I can really make with the amount of tension I'm putting on my fingers. We'll see!

It sweeps in and looms...

Every year, varying in precise date, something happens to me. My productivity drops. My sleep patterns become anywhere, anytime, for as long as possible. I'm a morning person by nature, I like to be in bed and asleep between 10 and midnight, up with the sun-ish. And then, the SAD kicks in. Long ago, when my family still lived in Maryland, my dad got crankier in the fall and winter, and my mom figured that he had Seasonal Affective Disorder. The man that my father was when we were Marylanders is totally different than the man he is now in southern California. Ever since I made the move back to Maryland for school, I've suffered the symptoms of SAD every autumn. So, I'm starting back up on the generic Prozac. Every year I forget how tired and lethargic I can get until it's too late, but this year I think I'm starting the SSRI therapy early enough that it shouldn't be too bad. I think that a lot of people don't even realize that they may have mildly the effects of the changing weather and light at this time of year, that things like exercise, lots of sunlight, even light box therapy (even sitting over the light table in the Fibers department for an hour or two) can help. And the -worst- thing I can do is listen to my sleepy mind, stay in bed, get nothing done, which makes the depression worse. So hopefully this year will be better. Now, to do some homework. Maybe build a hut later.

Salvage time

Anyone up for some adventure in Upton? It looks like it's right off the Upton Metro station. No idea what they have there, but it's probably worth a gander. Modern Junk & Salvage Co. 1423 N. Fremont Ave., Baltimore, MD 21217 (410) 669-8290.

Elvis leg

Yesterday I went to Loyola to use their climbing facilities with a friend, and the trouble we nearly got in was ridiculous. Luckily, my companion had a friend at Loyola who came and signed us in as guests, we all climbed together for a while, it was nice. Except I definitely pulled something in my foot, and my studio is across the Howard Street bridge, and it definitely got worse overnight. RICE, anyone? I have this habit of watching Dharma and Greg in the mornings. Which is inconvenient because it ends at 9 am, when most of my classes and desk shifts start. Something about it's goofy characters and laugh track that makes me happy, wakes me up. Ahh, poor taste in sit-com's. Just a couple weeks till I get some crits in my classes, unfortunate I've had a lot of time out of the studio, and I need to get a lot of work done in the next couple weeks--maybe calling other desk assistants to cover my shifts so I can get into the studio.

I'm back!

Ahh, remember the good ol' days when people took "breaks" from el-jay land because of the high drama quotient? Luckily, there's not been much drama, other than I didn't apologize as much as I wanted to for yom kippur, and I got all kinds of sick and thus my apartment is a mess, etc., and I'm somewhat behind in classes AND super busy this week AND my studio-mate may be replaced by up to three fibers juniors (my studio! mine!), I wasn't able to fast fully, every week whizzes by and I can hardly even see what's going on it's such a blur. Luckily, workload's not killer this semester. I know my getting sick/being a wuss will generally catch up with me, that I will have to pay the piper for not jumping headfirst into some long-term projects, however, unlike last year where I was trying to do every single job on the planet and having loads of relationship-related anxiety, this year is calmer, easier. Lindsay is not quite Zen-master Lindsay, but with a little bit of tea ceremony and a summer in the mountains, she's pretty different than the Lindsay of sophomore year. At least in experience--YMMV. Where last year falling asleep for 4 hours mid-day may have meant missing the time to get the duty phone or not being able to print because of RCA programming and duty responsibilities, now it just means I fell asleep for a couple hours. It's okay, really. And somehow, I know whatever comes come graduation in May, I'll be game. So very game.

Sick day.

ugh.

I love my job (not)

Desk assistants at the dorms do more work than campus safety associates, who monitor desks at academic buildings, but we get paid less. In addition, campus safety officers don't really like DA's because they only ever see us when there's a problem. There are, of course, exceptions to this. For example, Officer Brown loves me because we did a bust together once where I spotted a piece after they'd arrived. We're colleagues. Anyway, on the way to the Commons I noted that the gate was still open to the parking lot, and you're paying for secure parking so if the gates are up past the first week of school, if I were paying, that's bull. This is a lot that backs North Ave., where cars get broken into on a semi-regular basis. I asked my boss why they were still open. "I don't know, they were supposed to be closed last week." I call our community safety dispatch desk. The following conversation occurs. L: Hi, this is Lindsay at the Commons desk. I was wondering why the gates to the parking lot are still up? CSO: Because "El Director" hasn't told us to put them down yet. L: Oh, I thought they were supposed to be down last week. Thanks. Five minutes later, on the radio: CSO: Dispatch to Unit 31, please put down the parking gates at Commons lot. Unit 31: Ten-four. Lindsay: one. Sassy CSO at Dispatch: zero. Obviously the director of reslife e-mailed them and that info got ignored or didn't get passed on to the officers on duty last week. I can't believe no students complained to the right people about the messed up fact that the gates were still up.

Increasing Workplace Productivity

Finally got in a decent 6 hours in the studio today, which was fantastic. There's a yoga class for upperclassmen and grad students only in the studio building on-campus that I think I'm going to hit tomorrow, considering I've made some decent headway for my class tomorrow, so not a lot more to do before class tomorrow evening. Last night I watched a special on Pepsi versus Coca-Cola and also one on MSNBC with corpses and autopsies. Made me miss the good ol' X-Files days. Going to do some laundry, pick up my room a bit, maybe do some dishes, and get ready for tomorrow. One bummer today: found out that my local light rail-accessible Wal-Mart is no longer carrying fabrics, and I am having a TOUGH time finding nylons and polyesters to my liking for my projects this semester.

Fascinating...

When I sleep the sleep of a dead woman, I have some strange dreams. Case in point: left the studio late last night (and it's horrible, horrible internet connection) after making a case for my ipod when I say hello and goodnight to the roomie, and I am off to bed. Cut to, alarm going off at 7:30 this morning, I wake up for a dream where I was expeditioning in the snow with Lone Wolf. Seriously? Seriously. With girls (campers). It was pretty fantastic, even though we missed the ski lift we were supposed to turn at (or we didn't go far enough) but that snow was driving. One hour down, two to go. Oh, desk shifts.

Full of tea

I have spent a lot of nights away from my own home, and thus the trash needs must go out, the sink and fridge need emptying, and an awful lot of laundry needs folding. So, after I am through with this class (which seems as if it will be soon), I'm going to head off to Wegman's and Wal-Mart, because I need some fabrics to make technical wear or something, and I need matzo ball soup mix and noodles and soy dogs and some sort of non-processed cheese...Sorry, studio, I suppose I will have to see you tomorrow afternoon.

Part 2: Barfing out ideas

So, where are influences coming from? What fashion products exist already? How is my line different? What market? What price? What materials? I want it to be well-designed. I'd rather come up short on pieces for the show to come up with truly amazing technical performance garments. Option 1: Make urban fashions with inspiration from high-performance technical gear that respond to questions of survival in urban and suburban environments. Examples are some form of urban bear-bag, a portable chair of some sort to wait for the bus on, and of course garments that are sensitive to connectivity and technology and the risk they bring. Downsides: Lots of competition in accessory department, clothing would be high-craft, high-cost, aimed at urbanites with disposable income (i.e. not myself). Option 2: Make high-tech and high-touch garments which are as appealing to non-outdoors-people as hardcore hikers. Each garment has a secondary or convertible aspect to it which intends to make hiking, climbing, camping, scrambling, more convenient and less stressful. It should also be easily customizable and versatile. Downsides: Will have to strike a fine balance, keep it simple where possible, to consider what I need to do for the customer, and what they may want to do themselves. These objects will be about home in the outdoors. Option 3: Using nature and landscape as a point of departure, make simple garments and accessories for an active lifestyle that use pattern to create rhythm whether worn in city life or weekend trips. These talk about the intersection of wild and tamed, and also includes the creation of home products that bring nature indoors. Downsides: Shallow, just not as exciting.

Tsumura and Orta

So, despite being a fake-hardcore outdoors-woman, there is a lot to think about and learn about outdoor gear. For class tomorrow I have to present three seperate "fashion line" ideas for my experimental fashion class on design & production of fashion shows. I am looking largely at the work of Lucy Orta, who uses high-tech textiles, trims, and silkscreening to talk about social issues (homelessness being a big one). The part I identify with in her work is that it's functional-looking (though the chief function is to illustrate an idea, not actual survival) and talks about transformation, shelter, personal space. I feel very much like a nomad in my existence, and despite that nomadicism I still have physical needs, desires, creature comforts... The piece on the left is a Lucy Orta piece, the one on the right is Kosuke Tsumura's "Final Home" jacket with 44 pockets which can be used for storage or stuffed with newspaper for insulation (comes with Final Home bear, which fits in one of said pockets).

It's the little things that make all the difference.

In design, life, room arrangements, way you slurp your tea, relationships. As a kid, I don't think I was alone a ton. I was a tagger-alonger, the pesky little sister (I think). I mean, with a twin sister, there's not a whole lot you do by yourself. I think until we were 11 or 12 we even had our doctor exams in the same room. My studio is becoming a haven, it feels like home and I do love it, love how it's got my re-finished table with the red edge, and my fabrics that I've made and my sculptures and my rag rug and all mine mine mine. I guess I'm just a social creator, I like to roll ideas around in a circle 'till it's gained mass and momentum. I'm at the crux, the starting, of a few projects, and would simply really love to roll some ideas around with my graphic designer significant other. But off he goes to a tea party and here I am, toes frigid, trying to understand what the hell I'm doing for these couple of (related) projects. And blogging about it. Ninety percent of the time I'm fantastic, I can work on things alone, but I hate making work in a bubble, you get this stuff that's great in your eyes but when you put it out on that severe white pedestal and under them fluorescent lights it just doesn't hold their attention (in a good way). Just had to get that out. I don't really imagine myself ending up in a relationship where we only exist together in rest. I need to be engaged and fight and argue (in a positive way)! Guess I'm just a little bit contrite. Ahh well, nose to the grindstone! I also think I'm just feelin' the end of the week, sipping my Italian semi-dri red and eating cold pizza and just thanking G-d that shabbat is nigh!

Studio!

W00t! I got my senior studio assignment, which is in MICA's "studio center" on North Avenue, quite a disapointment compared to being in the station last semester because of my independent study. But you know what? I'm happy to be in a building with massive amounts of space and people who are not fibers majors. People leave lockers, tables, stools in their studios at the end of the year, so I found an awesome table, except for how it was covered in paint. But, an hour or two of belt sanding and I had a table ready for re-finishing. I also re-arranged ad-infinitum, I must have moved the table seven times, but I just want everything in order for starting to work. My bedroom is much emptier, but I still have to put up my curtains, put my books up on shelves, etc. It It's truly strange to think that I don't know where I'll be living or what I'll be doing after MICA. I know I want to get my WFR, work outdoors, so do I plan for that or do I go the optimistic route and try straight for grad school? And do I do my WFR this January or do I wait to work for a place this summer who will pay for it? Oy.

Just the pictures

Recently uploaded Vedauwoo pictures. Enjoy! Double rainbow, Jyoti and Magpie as the pink and yellow rangers, me on belay at the crack on the rat brain, and the Ames Monument, which is an old railroad monument which was near the tracks till they got moved towards Laramie, and some intrepid climbers put some bolts on that thing (I hear people use it for bouldering horizontal routes). The stone is the local Sherman granite at Vedauwoo.

Busy living life, I suppose.

My friend Eric (from my year at Thousand Oaks High School) recently graduated from UC Irvine and interned this summer in Washington, D.C. . Eric and I were going to go to the Maryland State Fair, but it was like being inside someone's mouth outside, so instead we...okay, I can't really recall. Oh, right. Grabbed dinner in Fells' Point, had a beer at Bertha's, saw the new Hairspray at the Charles Theatre (it was pretty fantastic, but no longer a John Waters work.) The next day we caught the last day of the Quilts of Gee's Bend exhibit , which was pretty fantastic. I found out that I don't like margueritas or tequila, but I did enjoy some form of Baltimore brew, all I can recall is it's located off of Pratt Street. The best part of the 24 hours with Eric though was where we ate dinner: Arcos Restauraunt. Inside is nice enough, we got off the 13 just in time to get inside before the skies opened up, but when I asked if their outdoor seating had cover, they said yes, so we sat on their rustic patio. I cannot even describe how awesome it was for the winds to go through as we partook in fresh guacamole and tortilla chips. And the food was beautiful and affordable.

Chado = Way of Tea

I am sitting in my ryakubon chado course. We has sweets, we say "I will join you" then we ask "may I?" then we partake in the tea. We will learn to make of the bean paste sweets. Also we will work with clay and glaze to create ceramics. And then also we will make vases and learn to arrange flowers and write words in beautiful ways. I is happy.

Fruit in the city--not on Gay Street

While looking for weekend happenings in the highly-functioning Baltimore CityPaper online, the local weekly free liberal rag of the city, I espied an article about Baltimore city's arabbers, which I think are often misunderstood by MICAns. Wikipedia describes: An arabber is a street merchant who sells fruits and vegetables from a colorful, horse-drawn cart. Once a common sight in American East Coast cities, only a handful of arabbers still walk the streets of Baltimore. One of the stables is located off of Pennsylvania Avenue, an area riddled with pawn shops, loitering, empty store fronts and flashing blue lights. The stables were condemned and now the horses are at Pimlico racetrack temporarily. Arabbers provide a healthy snack to kids who's parents often have to choose highly-processed foods for longevity and price. Not only that, but kids who would never get to see, help take care of, or be around horses get the opportunity in the city. They have around 50 horses, multiple carts, that make loops from Fells' Point to Reservoir Hill, and everyplace in-between. And I gotta say, they're pretty cool, in a city where there's hardly any wild-life, and horses on the streets of Baltimore are part of the history of this place. It's strange, but any kind of living that can be made in this city in an honest way is valuable, especially that brings life to blighted areas of the city underserved by grocery stores and over-served by liquor markets. The article is called All The Pretty Horses by Charles Cohen and is in the Baltimore-specific Mobtown Beat column of the Baltimore CityPaper. Psst---CityPaper is also home to Anna Ditkoff's Murder Ink, a column detailing all murders each week and updating on murder investigations in the city (we hit 200 this week!). And a way-cool 2007 murder map. Thanks, CityPaper! If you like Baltimore crime, though (you know what I mean), you should really be reading the Baltimore Crime Blog. By BCB's count, we're at 207 deaths by the way.

Oh, freshmen.

For the past few days the normally-quiet job of desk assistant has been as hectic-seeming as anything. Freshmen move in herds, loud and bawdy, drunk on their newly-gotten freedom as art students here at MICA. Parents are high-strung, luckily most have skipped town and their children have been left to their own devices. All the time to teach hygeine, manners, social skills, recipes, healthy living, is largely over. So, of course the parents are nervous. If there's one thing I've learned at my time at MICA, at some point you gotta call that painting/sculpture/child 'finished,' as much as possible to the best of your ability, and let the critique come. Of course, I definitely took a long time to figure that one out, before I stopped pulling all-nighters and sacrificing sleep and health for last-ditch efforts. A last-ditch effort will rarely save a piece that wasn't worked thoughtfully and at length in-process. I suppose I'm thinking a lot about wht skills I feel like I need to work on, where I've come to, and take personal inventory before figuring out what kind of art I'm going to make of the various elements and principles at hand.

Nose to the grindstone.

Picked up lots of work hours at the desks at the dorms at the beginning of the semester, but it seems to me that my work hours, instead of lining up somewhat with J's Geek Squad schedule, are the opposite, meaning time with one another is limited. Which is of course something I knew would likely happen, it's just frustrating in actuality. That being said, hopefully I'll get to go to the Maryland State Fair this weekend before classes kick off, look at cows and things with Amanda. And all I really feel like doing is not unpacking or working on thesis or planning the high holidays for Oy!, but rock climbing and hanging out with the honey. Last night I made spinach quiche and gulab jamun with my friend Kate, which was adventuresome, as per usual. The roommate is supposed to be here this weekend, tomorrow or Sunday, I think, and that's pretty exciting, just because it will be one more person to chill out with. I'm also looking forward to choosing my studio in the Station building and getting that set up, simply because it will be an antidote to this restlessness that I'm feeling. Classes, assignments, and thesis promise to fill my time, distract me from all the thoughts of the tenuous future.

Just give me some Sugar

Lots of good things came out of camp. A whole summer of no cosmetics was great for my complexion and regimen, remembering I don't need half an hour to get ready. I got in the habit of both moisturizing (you know that 8,500 foot altitude isn't that humid) and wearing sunscreen, minimum, on my face, each and every day. I also got in the habit of not storing anything pleasant-smelling in my tabin, to prevent bear and chippy visits. Now that I'm back in "the civilized world" I get my spray a day of Fresh's Sugar eau de parfum, a light, sweet, citrus-y affair perfect for the end of summer and beginning of autumn.

Fetuses

Fetuses were one of my great obsessions as high school drew to a close. I was drawn to the idea of being birthed into the real world, going to college. Last night, for the first time in a long while, I dreamt of fetuses. But, unlike times past, I was no longer the unspecific clay-like zygote; I was birthing this parasite. Or, at least as I recall, I was trying to find a safe place, like any other mammal, to drop that which I was carrying. I don't remember who was there, why I was on the run, why I had no place safe and welcoming...so, somewhere along some dunes, on a beach, I dropped my offspring, red and bloody it slipped from me, painlessly (or maybe I only remember it that way), and looked like something alien. Something from another planet. Which many mammals look like before they are ready for the world as well. It was so bizarre, surreal. The day after, it looked human, pleasant, pink and soft and warm, but no longer something frightening like it was.

Kind of mind-boggling.

One of the big reasons I really want to work in Student Affairs is that as young adults, students evolve practically before your eyes. Students can go from naked mole rat freshman, who don't know how to get groceries or do their own laundry, to being able to be self-sufficient, world-traveling artists/individuals/adults, who pay taxes and have apartments and animals that they can take care of. I am not exempt from being in this age bracket, however. My mind boggles at where I was 6 months ago, a year ago, freshman year. So much has happened this year, and I can honestly say that I've grown from my experiences.

Charles Saatchi purchases Notion Nanny

I got an email from Brooklyn-based artist Allison Smith, who I took the course "Fabric of Consciousness" with in the fibers department here at MICA last spring with. Her primary interest in fibers is commemorative textiles--handkerchiefs, quilts, rugs, etc. Allison asked for a swatch of one of my printed fabrics, which I was rag-rugging, and along with some dyed skeins of yarn from other students in my class, it, too, was added to the Notion Nanny's wares. The "notion nanny" doll was a 19th-century tradition, a doll of a peddler woman originating in the south of France, with miniature handcrafts adorning her basket. Smith's notion nanny is part of an itinerant art project where she worked with many artisans to collect and create the objects in her basket. So, Charles Scaasi, one of the most famous art collectors in the world, recently purchased Smith's "Notion Nanny," which has some of my fabric in it. Was pretty exciting to hear about.

Home to humidity

Chilling out at an open mic (with ilyAIMY and company) in Owings Mills, MD, and in summary all I can say it is so good to be home. And I say this as a person who doesn't have a place to hang her hat and keep her dozen pair of shoes and her 300-thread-count sheets and arrange her pillows in a highly specific way. But, I've gotten back together with the old flame, and here in the humidity and my temporary residence in his domicile 'till I get keys to my own tomorrow...it feels like where we're meant to be, together, at this moment in time. And that is perfect right now. The predators are different back here in the city. Readers of this blog missed out on how one morning, while getting up at 5 am to shower before heading out to Wyoming, I laid in my Kelty 25* bag, it's worn-in nylon fabric and polyester batting, warm like toaster strudel filling. At around 5:12, I was just finishing disentangling my mind from my hazy mists of sleep, I hear, somewhere between Warm Toasty Magpie and Warm Fragrant Shower, the bear. And I kid not, it sounded like Chewbacca. And that cool Colorado morning shower became FAR less welcome than going back to bed. Here, I don't have to worry about bears (I read a whole book on Bear Attacks this summer). Instead I worry about muggers. But from the book I read, I learned that fighting back is what you do with bears, where with muggers you just give them what they want and leave. So, speaking of bears, the fuzzy one and I are going out again. Nobody's parents are pleased, and we, too, are feeling their apprehension, but the stakes are no greater than before. It's a risk we've elected worth taking. I think I've really grown over the summer, I think I keep becoming more and more of who I am destined to be (for a while). My path is becoming more clear cut, long term, and the little things that used to upset me don't really bug so much anymore. After all, I spent all summer climbing rocks, eating dirt and avoiding unpleasant bear encounters. Tomorrow is moving day. I've decided to hire movers, and I am thrilled. Senior year, here I come.

I call it "Twinshop"

Yay for new garments care of teh twin! Also, hooray for trips up the central coast, pina coladas care of the parents, and sage straight out of Wyoming for spiritually cleansing the new dorm room. Now, to fit clothes and neccessities in just one bag. I think I can, I think I can. Tomorrow I fly to Baltimore, and I couldn't be more thrilled. One more academic year in Maryland, my graduation is less than 22 hours from my twin sisters'. Good job, CSUF and MICA. Good job. Certainly this New Belgium Mothership Wit will aid my packing?

"Soon I will be Invincible"

I am currently reading a book which I'm enjoying very much, called "Soon I Will Be Invincible" by Austin Grossman which appears to play on the popularity of City of Heroes and the Incredibles, the need of people to believe in something greater than themselves, the world after losing faith in G-d, the idea that someone is watching out for you. It's about a failed super-villain, and it reminds me a lot of the animated series Justice League, the complex inter-personal relationships the characters developed by the author. It's nice and not super serious, that's enjoyable when I've got a lot of serious things on my mind. My dad is snoring and I am wondering, dear G-d, why am I on a family vacation at the age of 21?

Vacations

What is up with people who go on vacation only to fall asleep watching tv the same way they do at home? People who do the tours, spend the money, stay in their comfort zones? I hate it. I don't want to be near other tourists, I want to be near those I love doing something different than usual. That doesn't mean abandoning all I love, like internet in my hotel room, but it does mean actually taking a break. For me, that's catching up on blogging, thinking about thesis. I don't want to putter away vacation times in vacation towns, I want to take vacations centered around things I actually want to accomplish or experience before I die, and I feel really strongly about that.

On blogging post-summer

I don't know what's up with my blogging, whether I'm turned-off from my bad experiences from sharing through this blog (see my entries on dooced), or just out of the habit. I keep coming up with entries I want to make, and summarily they exit my brain, never to be made. The insightful entries I intend to make vanish into the ether of the business of daily life. Let it be known that I -will- work on my blogging, and try and make this a little more insightful and interesting for you folks.

Can never go back.

I appreciate the warnings, but I am, indeed, a grown up. I can take care of myself. Everyone's impressed with how tanned I am. Lately I've been obsessing over, well, not my weight, but instead my shape, which I like but I also saw one of my co-workers lose like 30 lbs over the last few weeks of camp, and I think to myself "why didn't I do that?" which is a silly question: I didn't do that because I'm not getting married at summer's end, and I like my body, and at 8,000 feet I need the food, damnit. Anyway, I've really got to make peace with that. Weekend will be spent in Big Sur with the fam, which will be lovely, and currently I'm enjoying expensive groceries and watching lots of tivo, with moderate interjections of physical activity.

Don't panic.

Nothin' like not knowing where your wallet is and having lost your keys in some field in Vedauwoo, WY in the past two weeks to drive home how much you do not have yourself together. I have 5 bags worth of stuff to take back to Southern California after an entire summer in Northern Colorado, somehow. I mean, the additional 7 litres of water-carrying vessels make sense. What doesn't make sense is the twenty-some books, the massive amounts of clothing I simply did not need. Amazing what free laudnry can do to the laundry-washing habit. So, in addition to losing the keys with the debit keychain-card, and not knowing where my wallet with over $150 bucks in it is, I also don't have any means of identifying myself as who I am, which is fine and dandy when I'm about to Greyhound to L.A. and then fly to Baltimore. Who the hell even knows at this point? I may have even thrown said wallet out with my paychecks in it. I hate this panic that comes with the excesses of stuff I seem to amass wherever I go. And I hate that once the cycle starts, the panic, the anxiety, little seems to ebb it's free-flow. I'm going to hop in the shower and see if that helps. Oy veigh, is all I have to say.

Strange storms

Oh man, Vedauwoo. How I love thee. To my momma: Thanks for the sweet homemade chalk bag. It's PERFECT.

Another week of Vedawoo, WY

I spent this past week with my co from the past 10-day camp, Olga/Angie, and am really sad that we won't be spending any more camps together this summer. Olga is really opinionated, and I really like that because so many co's I've had are completely ambivalent about almost everything (other than when they'd like their 2 hours off, please). That being said, there's nobody I'd rather have spent an hour in a van with at 1:40 AM during a torrential lightning storm. So we did two different climbs in Vedawoo, WY, on two different days, and unlike the last time all of our girls had a ton of water with them, so it was pretty fantastic all around. I did a 5.7 crack climb and a 5.4 blindfolded, and to round out my week, yesterday, on my day off, Olga and I went to the local rock climbing gym. Why, yes, I am pretty much in love (with climbing, not Olga). The next three weeks, I have trips every week, and we will be rock climbing, kayaking, and whitewater rafting with each group of girls. If my parents' cannot make reservations for the dates they want to go camping at Big Sur (after camp), I'm going to get my Wilderness First Responder training, since not only is that a great idea in terms of summer camp tripping jobs, but it's also probably a Really Good Thing rock-climbing-wise. Do not pass SoCal, do not collect time with the fam-style (training is from 7th to the 15th of August, right before dorms open, so it'll be straight to Baltimore for me). This has been a really fantastic break from the ordinary for me this summer, and I'm really enjoying the outdoors, but I cannot help but say that I am worried for when the school year comes back around. After all, my art is about the domestic and the fraught nature of being a woman in the kitchen, not about rock climbing and whitewater rafting and all that. I guess what I'd really love from you all at this point is references to some artists to look at. Also, I'm reading the history of conceptual art. Yes, finally.

Another trip to Vedauwoo, WY

As expected, I got the Junior rock-climbing camp, so tomorrow, in the bright morning, we will be leaving for Vedauwoo, WY, that magical place, to get close to nature through becoming one with the rock. Also, I will be breaking in the new rock-climbing shoes. Weather's lovely here, hope it holds out in Wyoming, can't imagine a drive prettier than the one I did a couple weeks ago.

Love the rock

Since I am probably doing the rock-climbing trips this week, I caved at Jax (the absolute most seductive and all-encompassing outdoor store I've ever been to) here in Ft. Collins and bought these Mammut rock climbing shoes. I'm slowly investing in my outdoor equipment, right now I'm borrowing a lot but I'm getting more Nalgene's, got hiking socks and liners which have proved invaluable, and basically I'm trying to get enough gear together that when I no longer work at camps, or my sister needs her gear back, I can continue to pursue outdoor sport on my own. As far as I can tell, I may very well need to get outdoors and be physical and do hiking to balance out a professional reslife career, which can become very sedentary. Also, in thinking about graduate schools for student affairs, top choices include University of Maryland - College Park and University of Colorado at Boulder. I'd love to be out here in Colorado, but there are a lot of things that I feel tuggin' at my heartstrings to keep me back east. So, I'm thinking about getting full climbing gear, but until I get a car or have a reliable group of friends who will go with me, there's not a huge point at this time. Can I also say that I have seen infant-size Teva mocs, and, lo, they are adorable.

Sometimes I find G-d out-of-doors, when I'm not looking for Him at all.

Colorado is beautiful and wild. If I were a pioneer girl (a fantasy harbored as a child by reading loads of Mary Ingalls Wilder Little House books that I continue to have today), I don't think I'd have made it all the way to California or Oregon, because every state I passed through, I'd be sure nothing come upon further down the dusty trail could be better. In leaving the "big city" of Baltimore, I now find myself past Illinois and Kansas, venturing once in a while down to the plains of Colorado, but living in the Rockies where Henry David and his family once settled on the same property camp is on. Indeed, that homestead, where the David (Davis?) family spent more than a few rough years far from civilization, electricity, and indoor plumbing still stands, is used at camp. Sure, there's a chicken coop in the bathroom, and the kitchen's not much to look at, and nothing, nothing is flush or level, but sturdily it stands. That being said, one of the most beautiful experiences, aside from hiking and viewing Mount Meeker, Meadow Mountain, and Long's Peak from 8,000+ feet, was my drive to Vedawoo, Wyoming, where we spent time on the open range where free-range cattle graze on the rolling prarie. G-d's land, they call it, some people. And how can you not see where wind, water, erosion took place to shape and mold the stone in unfathomable ways? I guess I'm remembering it sort of romantically, but I do miss it. Hopefully I get to do a camp with rock climbing this week, keep your fingers and toes crossed!

Give me a break.

I'm spending this break with a friend from Fort Collins from camp, and thus far her house is so much like mine and I feel so at home that being here is a real luxury. I'm catching up on sleep and junk food, showering almost daily with glorious water pressure, got some conceptual art theory books from the library (none of the books I looked up were in the system, which was a bummer.) Finished Shopgirl by Steve Martin, which was a little too wan and ironic for me, but enjoyable nonetheless (I wonder if the movie is any worse?). It's amazing how wonderful telephone reception and internet is. Also the ability to eat when I want. I got a hydration bladder for less than $10 at WalMart which adds another 2 litres carrying capacity for hikes, which is really really neccessary. I did laundry, and am washing my sisters' sleeping bag, got to do a little ironing too, which is always a pleasure. Hope for next week is that I get Girls ROCK! camp, which is all Girl Scout Juniors, 9 through eleven, and will include an awful lot of rock climbing and hiking , and will be a less gruesome 6 day camp, as opposed to ten days. Now if you excuse me, I've got books to read and feet to put up.

Time Traveler's Wife reminds me of John Titor. That is all.

All that I can say is that I am in dire need of this coming Tuesday night through Sunday morning off. I had a 10-day camp, and while I loved getting to know the girls, from scheduling to ratio to injuries up the wazoo, I can’t imagine a camp going worse. On the optimistic side (and despite a tendency towards bitterness and frustration at times, I do have one), I finished The Time Travelers’ Wife and figure that the next camp, whatever it may be, can’t go a whole lot worse. And I know at some point I’ve got to stop trying to shift blame or be defensive, but it’s not like I didn’t show the Asst. Director my schedule. It’s not like she couldn’t have seen the gaping holes in coverage during the weekend that there would be VERY limited staffing to fill. When your girls are starting to know that you need a break, and have showered more recently than you, that is when it really hits you: you are an inefficient, poorly-planning leader in the workplace, and your 9 to 11 year olds can see it. One other thing I learned about this age group is they hate not knowing the scheduling, the plan, what we’re doing, when we’re doing that, what goes after, etc. There were times that I was driven pretty darn crazy by the incessant questions, which is when you start making up games like you have to ask every other camper and only then can you ask a counselor, or say “it’s a surprise” “we’ll do that when we finish this” etc. What positive things can I say about the past week? My girls are amazing troopers, brave, repairable, patient, caring, kind, intelligent, clever, and funny. The coolest part about this summer is that I’ll literally have had dozens of girls by the end of it. And while I am not the most experienced, most patient, wackiest camp counselor, I am needed here, if only as a warm-body over-18 “child-care provider.” Last night we slept under the stars where the first girl scouts slept on the property here back in 1960 (Pan, who was one of those cadettes who camped in 1960, still helps out every Wednesday). Finishing books is always bittersweet. Last night we slept under the stars where the first girl scouts slept on the property here back in 1960 (Pan, who was one of those cadettes who camped in 1960, still helps out every Wednesday). The moon was full, and despite a little cloud cover, there were more stars out there than you can –ever- see in Baltimore. You know that one scene in Joe Versus the Volcano (Meg Ryan & Tom Hanks first rom-com together), where they’re on the trunk-raft, and the moon rises over the sea, and it looks like a dinner plate six inches from Joe’s face? It was like that. So, as I cried over the end of the happy parts of the book simultaneous to the beginning of the teary ending, the moon loomed over the pine and aspen with seeming concern. The adventure of last week was getting library cards at Estes Park library, and now that I’ve finished The Time Travelers Wife I can start on Geek Love, Shopgirl, and the Wicked Son. Geek Love is a little oddball for me (“Geek” in this title refers to the circus performers that eat glass, live chickens, etc.). A couple of my campers offered to take me home for the three day vacation, where I could do amazing things like going to outdoor sporting goods stores, replacing the sunglasses I lost on a hike (third pair for the summer, $20), watch cable, wear flip-flops, etc. I also am really very grateful for this camp because my co-worker was an international staff member that I wasn’t sure about, and I am so so so glad to have worked with her, and hope I get to be with her a few more times this summer.