Saturday, March 31, 2007
Rag-rugged this morning, looked at design web sites (oh wait still doing that), and am watching Goldmember, which I've never seen. My ex introduced me to the Connery-era Bond films, and Austin Powers only thrils me more than it ever did. So, very exciting here. Tomorrow is MICA's Open House for potential incoming students, so I've been asked to be working in the fibers' department studios tomorrow, which will probably be some printing, and then some more printing (I'm thinking of making commemorative matzo bags for the afikomen for Oy!'s Paschal Seder next friday.)
Thursday, March 29, 2007
So, now that this blog has a substantial number of entries (75), I've got to consider whether or not the current 'list everything you talked about in that entry' sort of tagging is going to work in the long-term. (Do you like how I start paragraphs with 'so?' Why or why not? Effectively make you feel like we've just picked back up in the middle of a conversation, or trite and lame?)
So, a year ago I was working on my post-apocalyptic fashion collection, Dystopolis. A friend recently asked about my AIM name, emagatonsi, and it comes from IsNotAGame backwards.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Monday, March 26, 2007
I think that the ease of communication between people that occurs naturally, that the two learn to cultivate, is the real basis for long-term partnership. In retrospect, I see that J and I had our differences, and there were certainly times when I could have been more communicative and understanding of my own needs. Instead, I sort of lost myself in him, lost focus on myself.
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Friday, March 23, 2007
Here in PA and northern MD, we have this chain of high-end supermarkets called Wegman's. Wegman's has a huge eat-in section for the yuppies to take lunch breaks in, a large organics section, and, most importantly, a choo-choo train that circulates around the store and entertains the yuppies Montessori-educated children. Where a typical ghetto grocery store trip to Sav-A-Lot will run me about $20, Wegman's is a guaranteed $50.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
For the most part, I love my new roommates. But, I woke up this morning to have some leftover egg-drop soup from ordering in last night, and turns out one of them threw out my orange tofu, a huge thing of white rice, a half-full quart of soup, and my un-opened and un-eaten avocado roll. I went to Wegmanns this morning to get milk, eggs, matzo ball soup mix, but those aren't what I want. I want my Asian Taste delivery leftovers. G.d fucking damnit.
Posted by Lindsay at 12:48 PM
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
I'm really bad about being sick. I don't want to be alone, but I don't want to be social. I want to groan and complain in bed, I want to tough things out. Part of me wants to watch TV, movies, and Wii, and I want to sit alone and read. The more contageous I am, the more I want someone with me, or less likely I will sit by myself and be quiet. My body is unbelievably stiff and achy. I need another popsicle. I need to go to sleep.
"I don't know where it comes from, but I just have the feeding gene." -Nigela Lawson
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
One year ago today, I wrote the following:
I can't believe J and I have been going out since Monday night....so, as of tonight we'll be starting our sixth day together. Our first date was Monday, I took Justin out for sushi. We watched movies till we fell asleep together when we got back to MICA.
Sort of adorable. So twitterpated, you know?
My throat's SORE, I can't fall asleep (again), and I'm reminiscing. These are dangerous grounds, Elle. All the cable in the world, the reading, sewing, and even studying--can't let me go to sleep.
Looking back on where I was a year ago, and where I am today, I can't help but think I like me better now (sans bitterness). And a year from today, I'll probably think the same. So glad the work's not all about the end of the world anymore, aren't you?
Sometime after four this morning, I wake up, blue. Like, real blue. Like, Blind Willie Johnson blue. In passing, people say "how are you?" as a greeting, not a question. I reply "good," or "fine." What would I say to people if I didn't have those two write-off words to turn to? "Why, actually, I have a terrible headache and my boogers are black and every time I see a happy couple in love I want to shoot them." Or something like that. Some days and moments are better than others, but for three hours I channel-surfed, ate gingersnaps in bed, smoked one of my roommates' cigarettes, flossed (twice), folded laundry, and otherwise puttered my sleep-time away. Sleep would not come.
Monday, March 19, 2007
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Internet is mildly horrible at best at the station building where my personal art studio is on-campus. And, since I did a ton of prep-work on Thursday-Saturday on my two latest pieces, I'm able to stay in bed with my sunday New York Times.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Yesterday would have been a year with J. It wasn't an easy day. One of my roommates is utterly one-month-in in-love with her boyfriend, and I miss that. I miss him. And I still don't regret being with him, and every relationship leads to a better one, and everything, everything, happens for a reason.
Monday, March 12, 2007
I've decided to list awesome things.
Posted by Lindsay at 1:36 AM
Saturday, March 10, 2007
By the time I get the whole way through the Sunday New York Times (which I get delivered so as to keep tabs on what is going on in the world, or at least read the latest Modern Love column), I usually have the next Sunday's paper in hand. It's not an intentional way to savor three dollars spent over a week. It's just what happens.
Considering that a smorgasbord of Internet porn is but a mouse click away for most college students, there’s something valiant, even quaint, about the attempt to organize and consider sex in a printed magazine. It’s as if, though curious to exphttp://www2.blogger.com/img/gl.link.giflore the possibly frightening boundlessness of adult eroticism, they also wish to keep it at arm’s length, contained within the safety of the campus. The students involved display a host of contradictory qualities: cheekiness and earnestness, progressive politics and retro sensibilities, salacity and sensitivity. They aren’t so much answering the question of what is and what isn’t porn — or what those categories might even mean today — as artfully, disarmingly and sometimes deliberately skirting it.
I generally agree that there are certain levels of success and failure in this sort of publication, but I think when it comes down to it, my generation grew up with the Lewinski scandal and pornography a click away. For every sensitive and insightful MTV documentary or public service campaign (Rock The Vote, anyone?), there's a new episode of Jackass to placate the glamourized ignorant male masses. There's a real sense of people just trying to find common ground and comfort in a society that's so fast-paced and complex that one can easily feel divorced or alienated from those around them. I think that's a reason sub-cultures exist, that there are very specific fashions, styles, rules. In the end, it may be harder to try to be an individual, at the same time as someone of mass media and culture, than it is to sort of characterize one's self in the guise of a clique or group.
Friday, March 9, 2007
I'm writing this entry as positive reinforcement for continuing to not read the journals of people with whom learning that information is either unneccessary or would be not good for me to read.
Last night on a late-night adventure to the Wal-Mart in Port Covington, Baltimore, the roomies and I got some neccessities, food, etc., and I went ahead and purchased the lovely Meg Ryan and Tim Robbins rom-com I.Q. (1994). I started watching it last night, fell asleep, and finished it this morning with freshly made dried-cherry chocolate-chip popular muffins (variation on the typical Betty Crocker 1969 popular muffins recipe, of my own creation). Once I finally got rolling, some scrambled eggs and another muffin later, and got the roommates up and running, we took a long-awaited trip to Fells Point, in Baltimore.
Thursday, March 8, 2007
I'm probably not the only individual frustrated at the fact that the Opera browser for the Wii doesn't fully support streaming audio like Pandora or XM Sattelite Radio. After all, if one can do non-keyboard intensive internet browsing or watch YouTube on their telly, then who's to say that we even need computers if Nintendo releases some sort of keyboard for the Wii? That being said, FineTune has a Wii-friendly player at www.finetune.com/wii . I'm not particularly familiar with FineTune, but it reminds me a lot of Pandora in that it matches related songs and artist to create a playlist that you'll enjoy, even if you're not a music connesour, per se. The player is very Wii-mote friendly, looks great on-screen, and I'm really excited to have found a solution to my music-listening quandary. You can check out my playlist and profile for FineTune, or add me if you have it (I don't know that I know anyone who does right now), by clicking here.
The other night I was officially initiated as a member of apartment 401. Then Kate and I made magnolia cupcakes (again). Last night, I fell asleep between two of my three room-mates, and I gotta say that falling asleep with other people is one of the nicest feelings the human body can experience. Like little baby cats, full of soothing oxytocin and comfortable, non-sexual intimacy. Cuddling for the win, ladies and gents.
Tuesday, March 6, 2007
1) This post is not intended to imply that ResLife at MICA isn't good at dealing with the human nature of students and sensitive nature of artists, I just think sometimes they could do better.
Posted by Lindsay at 4:01 PM
A recent e-mail from my aunt:
Life is full of disappointments, sorry to say, and hopefully this will be your worst. You know what "they" say, it's better to have loved and lost...then never to have loved at all! Life is a risk...we all have to be brave enough to take them and learn from them. Some day, we will talk about Jeff and you will learn how many times he has loved and lost, but never gives up the quest to find the person he can make a life with.
It's funny, because at this point I'm getting over the loss of romantic love, I'm starting to get over the ideal/idol complex of that person (J) being The One, moving on in some pretty significant strides.
But, from where I sit right now, I would have made a damn fine RA next year, and I continue to be stunned in the turn of events. If Residence Life defends itself from me by asking me to resign as a course of action, if they choose to do that as opposed to defending all the good I've done in this job, and that I still have a ton to offer residents, then ResLife isn't making the right decisions. ResLife needs to be about students first, and not about keeping it's pristine reputation. The one thing this job truly lacked for me was a feeling of understanding and humanity on a regular basis...sometimes I feel like it's more of a business (business of making parents of under-classmen at MICA happy with their students' living situations) than an art (the art of helping students develop as individuals by advising on conflict resolution, educating, programming effectively, and enforcing policies).
I screwed up, in more ways than one, but it's not my fault if a resident makes a poor decision for the last time. When does bureaucray and appearances take a back seat to doing the -real- work, the kind that cannot be measured or administered like disciplinary actions? When does a resident have to defend making the same mistake over and over, and everyone knowing about it? As a department, when does Residence Life genuinely choose care of students over care of the department? I know the two are intertwined hopelessly, but people make mistakes. Residents do, residents get second, third, fourth chances. When does Residence Life realize that RA's are just as much works-in-progress as our residents?
The thing that frustrates me the most is that I've worked so hard on building personal relationships with my residents in the past two months, in really understanding them, opening up for them a little and recieving the same sort of opening up from them. Whatever blog posts I made that may have tarnished reputations, my own and those of others, appear to be long gone. Not a single resident of mine has guessed accurately why I was asked to resign, not by a long shot. In the course of thirty hours, where the public at large had access to various and sundry entries for which I would later be dooced, 18 people TOTAL spent more than 0:09 (nine seconds) on my blog's site.
I just find it hard to believe that if a resident points out a poor decision made by an RA (that didn't threaten lives and was an honest mis-take) while being met with over something that they did wrong (incense, drinking, pot, throwing things off of balconies, whatever), that Residence Life can't take the position of "That's his/her poor decision, and they have to answer for it just like you have to; Now, let's talk about the better choice(s) you coul have made."
Maybe if Residence Life at MICA allowed my mistake, allowed me to own up to it to my residents, say what I did and what I should have done, maybe ResLife at MICA wouldn't be seen as the sort of "police force" it's construed as on a whole. RCA's here are trained not to ignore situations or not report incidents, but it shouldn't be because of being threatened into doing it, it should be for genuine care of well-being of the residents.
Eighteen people read my blog after I posted the link on my Facebook profile, and before I un-published some unsavory entries. I know the names of at least six or seven of those. That's 12-13 (consider they each found it so fascinating they told a room-mate: 24-26) residents who "read" my screw-up(s). Out of a few hundred freshmen, at least 45 of whom are my residents and know me well, and another couple dozen who I know well even though they aren't in my community, which really makes the bigger impact? Why can't we be human as RA's, so that our faults and successes are both paid attention to, as opposed to being beacons of light, on which one speck of dirt is an abomination of a distraction?
What would happen if ResLife had a blog? What would happen if the list of the incidents, minus names, was posted each week for all to see? I'm just questioning some of the lack of open-ness that's going on here, because 1) It's not like residents are completely imperceptive as to staff dynamics/conflict on staff when it's not brought up to them, and 2) Maybe if Residence Life operated in a thoroughly resident-centered manner, in ALL things, we wouldn't have a whole lot to hide. They'd always do what was best for the residents. A little overly simple, perhaps, as there are certainly cases where it's student versus student(s), but, again, what's so bad about transparency?
The reason blogging is so worthwhile to people of my generation is that by giving information openly, there are a lot of gains to be made. Attention, better understanding, releasing feelings. Pretty soon, there will be no un-tarnished MySpace or Facebook for potential employers to look at; this sort of over-sharing instantly is something so characteristic of this generation, and pretty much everyone will screw up eventually.
It seems to me that in Student Affairs (in general, not just MICA) rules and procedures are put into place to protect the physical and mental health of residents/the student body and encourage healthy growth and development. But should it be at the cost of the physical and mental health of student-staff? Considering my role as a student leader, doesn't MICA have just as much invested in my well-being as that of a acting-out/misbehaving resident?
I guess I just wish someone had told me that by becoming an RA, I would have to cope with everything really well, and that chances given to other members of the student body would no longer be available to me as a member of student staff. I still woulda done it, I still may have even fucked up, but at least I'd have been a little better prepared for being asked to resign.
Or maybe not. Maybe it's similar to love in that nobody can warn you how much it's going to hurt, or how you couldn't even have helped screwing up, so full of passion were you ('omg! I did a good job at policy enforcement! I'm not a failure!'). Everyone can try and warn you, but it'll blindside you just the same. And you won't be the same person in love as you were before it. And you won't be the same person after losing something so precious as you were when you "had it all."
Whew. And, I'm spent. I'm sure I'll feel very differently while at grad school for these things, and maybe I'll understand my superiors better, but I'm still sort of in shock, truth be told.
Sunday, March 4, 2007
I'm doing some more packing, then heading back to the new place for a coffee-doughnut-Scrabble-Top Gun date. Moving sucks, but the new Sonic, playing Zelda, all these things pretty much rock my socks. I'm going to be okay. Of course, the more time that passes, the less consequence my actions have, the less it makes sense me resigning, the more bizarre and surreal my situation becomes. Which is, generally, where I stop thinking, defrost some butter, and make cupcakes.
I finally downloaded Opera for my Wii and am never leaving my bed again. Life is amazing. If you need me, just swing by the Meyerhoff room 401, go to the room at the end of the hall with a big L On the door, and be prepared for me not wearing pants.
Saturday, March 3, 2007
The only major moving I did today was my small metal tables, my television, my step-stool, and my folding chairs. I worked six hours straight doing my Desk Assistant thing, and have off the next three days, which I will use to finish moving and maybe go to DC on Monday (can you say "painting cherry blossoms like woah?"). I've still got loads of kitchen packing, clothing folding, and, finally, cleaning to do.
It's so pretty out that it makes me want to go all the way and crop my hair REALLY close, like, 1/2" shorter. Except maybe for the little sideburns. I want to hook up the television and cable today and get all my clothes and furniture and my printer over to the new place. Also, I would like to go to bed when this desk shift is over. Just two more hours. **eyeroll**
It's official: Whilst the tulips and crocuses made their first appearance on Martin Luther King Day in Bolton Hill, they have returned full-force, with a vengeance. The snow all melted yesterday, I'm up for a 6 am to 12 noon shift at the Meyerhoff, my home for the rest of the semester, and the birds are singin', the sun is shinin', and it's otherwise quite goregous out.
Friday, March 2, 2007
To apply for peer-career advisor--or not to apply for peer career advisor? That is the question. Hmm. Sammy was in my dream, and there was another girl with a Chippewa "Tradition" shirt only hers was blue on yellow and mine is yellow on blue. Such weird dreams.
Posted by Lindsay at 10:55 AM
Posted by Lindsay at 9:10 AM
I definitley just slept for fourteen hours. I got out of class at 3, made Skylar dinner before she caught her taxi to the airport, ended up in bed around 4. Then, at about 7, Alexandra wakes me up, we putter around for two hours. I have lots of dreams about lots of different little boys and girls and summer camps and countries (you can, of course, see where my head is at). Ed had to wake me up for my 6-9 am shift at the commons desk.
Posted by Lindsay at 6:49 AM
Thursday, March 1, 2007
Despite my not making it through my year as an RCA at MICA, I'm pretty convinced that I love student affairs, and that I want to get an assistantship and be a Hall Director/GA while persuing my masters in Student Affairs, which includes everything from ResLife to Disability Services to Student Activities and International Student Affairs. And, then I can be an artist, after I do that for a while and am sick of college students. Which might take a while. But, that's the tenative post-MICA plan.