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.