Facebook Stats To Blow Your Mind:

Facebook is the 6th most trafficked US Site. 1% of time spent on the Internet is spent on Facebook. If you were the representative Facebook user, how many hours a week would you spend on Facebook? Is it more or less than the amount of time you use as "me time"?

There is little more disheartening...

...than a well-formed fully-formatted 'blog entry being lost in the ether of the internet (or Opera bugs, or Blogger-not-Beta bugs). Yesterday, I spent a lot of money on my mouth. Like, a lot. And not for feeding it, which is what I -usually- spend a lot of money on. I got a permanent crown, and another filling, and spent six and a half hours on a journey that is generally about three, due to a huge-ass accident that closed down the beltway up near Reisterstown Road in Pikesville. That being said, Dunkin' Donuts coffee is the beesknees, and I got to reconnect with some people I haven't talked to in a while, so yesterday was "a solid win," in the words of J. I've finally gotten keys to the new place (not that they ever lock it anyway, **facepalm**), and will start moving stuff this weekend, hopefully. What am I most excited about? Can you say cable? Can you say, "Daily Show"? Can you say, "Bravo"? Of course you can. Crappy thing is going to be taking down all of my shelves, lights, clocks, etc. and re-erecting (haha, erect) them in the Hoff. Also, my book collection grows larger each year, and this is no exception, so that's just a few more super-heavy boxes that need moving. In other news, my butt has finally fully recovered from snowboarding, which was pretty awesome, other than I am not great at it and my butt got bruised to high hell. Doing the job-application thing for the summer. I know my parents would love to see me home for the summer, but I really want to do camp again, because I am SO much less depresesd when I'm out-of-doors all day. For reals. Here's hoping I hear back from the camp in Ottawa, or, you know, any of the camps I sent info to via camp-staff.com I'd like to apologise to the readership for how not-well-crafted this entry is. My bad. Promise something a little better soon.

Ban Comic Sans!

Typography, you drive me crazy but I love you all the same. Also, I love mid-century modern sans-serif fonts. Like Futura. Mmm, Futura. I think I'm going to coat some screens and perhaps make some cupcakes tonight. Can't wait to get out of this class. Critiques here are very frustratingly quiet, painful. I was also WAY blown out of the water by the typesetting of my peers. I was not very creative in mine, so it's back to the drawing board, for now.

February 12, 2007

Kids, the Internet, and the End of Privacy: The Greatest Generation Gap Since Rock and Roll -- New York Magazine an article by Emily Nussbaum was my most recent assigned reading for the purposes of this blog and the independent study I have begun it for. To summarize, the article establishes that Generation Y and Z are growing up comfortable with their every thought and image as public domain. That is, the positives of sharing your status, relationship status, images of you at the last party (tagged by your friends), interests, conversations...outweigh the potential negatives of the situations. Yes, it's possible to be politically incorrect, to make social faux pas at the speed of information, but through MySpace, Facebook, Xanga, and Blogger, tens (hundreds?) of thousands of young people are becoming politicians--that is, they understand the power and consequences of words, but are also prepared to use them for their advantage. And most of the time, the social advantages are greater than the potential harm. There are, of course, risks to this sort of open-ness. The idea that a future employer or college may be able to see every early-teenage blunder, immortalized in one's and zeroes. The risk that comes with sharing so much contact information freely-stalking, being called by the un-popular kids, whatever. So, why does this freak our parents out? They just don't get it. They don't get that we were born writing bad adolescent poetry on a keyboard. Real journals don't hold the same interest to us as they did to generations before them. And, in crafting identity both in person and online, we are able, to some degree, to transcend youthful impulse and vacillation. We can be whomever we want to be online. To a certain degree. There are, of course, also costs to being a different person in-person (or "IRL," in real life) than online. But, social networking sites are here to stay, and as painful as it may be to look back on one's internet history/footprints that exist on Geocities or the Way Back Machine, in a few years a whole new generation will be able to gain insight to their forebears, sans the messy hand-writing. I can't say that I'm not looking forward to seeing what they think of us.

The post in which she gets a care package.

I'm a utility knife elitist. I was one way before 9/11, and I've had my utility knife that has gotten me through art school since pre-college in 2003. We're pretty attached to one another. In all the work I did on the stained class sun-catcher I made for the ex (and gave him right before he broke up with me), I guess I lost track of the thing, and had to leave SoCal without it. But, this week I recieved a care package containing the following: knee high socks! my utility knife (which was lost in my room!) two new belts (I lost mine somewhere at home) new blades for said knife So, that was nice. And then I picked up the OTHER package I got, which I thought might have been one of my many new books. Oh, and it was. Mind you, not a book I would have purchased myself. A book my mom got me. I knew it would probably be a self-help book, given all the tough things I'm going through, but I was pretty surprised to see Dr. Phil staring back at me. Apparently, gentle readers, I am so far gone that we've brought out the Big Guns: Dr. Phil's Love Smart. Never mind it's typeset with a trio of sweet little heart outlines around the numbers at the bottom of each page. Instead of little black holes for bullets, like the rest of the world uses, Dr. Phil's press saw fit to create another heart icon. It's not just the typesetting that bothers me about this book. Nor the clever use of a photo of Dr. Phil's back on the back dustjacket (Wow! The book is see-through!). It's that love isn't simple, relationships aren't, and I am not very keen on looking to Dr. Phil for advice on how to get on with my life. I don't need a man to tell me how to net a man, and I don't want one. I want to fumble around in the dark for a switch like everyone else, because I'm learning better with the risk of bruising. Also, Dr. Phil aggrivates me a great deal. I've got some other things to read right now, regarding the mind-body split, which are far more interesting. Will I peruse it? Sure. Will I let residents borrow it? Of course. Will I learn anything from Dr. Phil and will I be able to transcend my loathing for the man and the typesetting to mend my broken heart? We will find out, I suppose.

New Template!

For those of you getting the RSS version of my blog, you'll not have noticed that I've changed my template in the last few days. Of course, I also forgot that I needed to save my Facebook profile badge and Sitemeter javascript applets, so I haven't been getting site reports for the past few days, and people visiting my site don't know what I'm up to, which is tragic, I'm certain. Anyway, I've fixed those things, and changed the colors to some snazzy soft blue-green with teal and brown accents that always seem to remind me of Robin's Eggs, those delightful easter candies which I always suck on and sandpaper my tongue with. So, go take a look at http://elleasinswell.blogspot.com and check out the new layout. One day, I'll learn to use CSS style sheets, and then I'll be able to make all kinds of crazy beautiful layouts which better express my state of mind and the lens of my blog. But until then, this will have to do!

Here is where I blame someone:

I blame myself for not posting regularly. In my exhaustion in the evenings, I forget to make my journal posts while I still have energy or something interesting to blog about. I've been taking lots of photos with my mobile's camera, and writing a TON in my sketchbook, but I haven't had a lot of time or need to get my thoughts down on paper. Or in 1's and 0's. I think it's because I've been trying really hard to get out problems to my friends, as opposed to myself. Anyway, I'll try and do a few in the next day or so to make up for it. I've also read about three articles that I need to go ahead and blog about for purposes of my coursework.

I <3 Package Tracking

There's something really wonderful about the fact that I know that my books right now are somewhere between here and Capitol Heights. In our constantly-updated high-speed world, I'm always hungry for more information, more specifics, more more more! That being said, I had senior thesis today and had my mind blown by some people's pieces. I'm constantly amazed and proud about how wonderful my fellow fibers majors are. Anyway, went on an adventure to Lexington Market, where I purchased a gyro, and it was amazing. My life is amazingly free of drama right now, though it won't be in the morning, I'm sure. I had a partial interview to be a canoe trip leader in Ottawa, Canada this summer, but the pay is only $2100 Canadian, so that's not very much worth it. Continuing to look at campstaff.com for wilderness trip positions in the US, preferably the northwoods, but adirondacks would be okay, too, I suppose.

And then, we made cupcakes!

As promised to Lisa of Pittsburgh Needs Eated fame, my latest cooking exploit was the other night making Magnolia Vanilla Vanilla  cupcakes from the recipes posted on recipelink.com.  We halved everything due to my only having one muffin tin instead of two, (it being college and all)  but here it goes: Magnolia Vanilla Vanilla Cupcakes Makes about 2 dozen cupcakes (depending on the size of your cupcake papers and muffin tins) CUPCAKES: 1 1/2 cups self-rising flour 1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour 1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened 2 cups sugar 4 large eggs, at room temperature 1 cup milk 1 teaspoon vanilla extract Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line two 12-cup muffin tins with cupcake papers. In a small bowl, combine the flours. Set aside. In a large bowl, on the medium speed of an electric mixer, cream the butter until smooth. Add the sugar gradually and beat until fluffy, about 3 minutes. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. Add the dry ingredients in three parts, alternating with the milk and vanilla. With each addition, beat until the ingredients are incorporated but do not overbeat. Using a rubber spatula, scrape down the batter in the bowl to make sure the ingredients are well blended. Carefully spoon the batter into the cupcake liners, filling them about three-quarters full. Bake for 20–25 minutes, or until a cake tester inserted in the center of the cupcake comes out clean. Cool the cupcakes in the tins for 15 minutes. Remove from the tins and cool completely on a wire rack before icing. At the bakery we ice the cupcakes with either Vanilla Buttercream or Chocolate Buttercream. And then the frosting: The vanilla buttercream we use at the bakery is technically not a buttercream but actually an old-fashioned confectioners’ sugar and butter frosting. Be sure to beat the icing for the amount of time called for in the recipe to achieve the desired creamy texture. Makes enough for one 2-layer 9-inch cake or 2 dozen cupcakes* 1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened 6 to 8 cups confectioners’ sugar 1/2 cup milk 2 teaspoons vanilla extract Place the butter in a large mixing bowl. Add 4 cups of the sugar and then the milk and vanilla. On the medium speed of an electric mixer, beat until smooth and creamy, about 3-5 minutes. Gradually add the remaining sugar, 1 cup at a time, beating well after each addition (about 2 minutes), until the icing is thick enough to be of good spreading consistency. You may not need to add all of the sugar. If desired, add a few drops of food coloring and mix thoroughly. (Use and store the icing at room temperature because icing will set if chilled.) Icing can be stored in an airtight container for up to 3 days. The result was a frosting that was a little on the sweet side for someone like me who generally makes a cream cheese icing, but the cake was not overly sweet, the organic sugar was a well-made substitution for the much-cheaper Sav-A-Lot white sugar and gave a less chemicall-y aftertaste than the Sav-A-Lot variety as well. Anyway, the cake was pretty transcendent, though the batter is a little thick, and I had to buy 5 lbs of self-rising flour for the less than a cup that I ended up using. But, for someone who has never baked cupcakes from scratch (gasp! horror!), this was relatively painless and pretty rewarding. How rewarding, you might ask? Better than going all the way to NYC and standing in line for hours for the same thing! I don't know if I'll go free-range on the eggs next time, as it hurt my wallet pretty bad.

Ladies and Gents, I was Dooced!

Today, I found out that an amateur artist/teacher in Brooklyn online acquaintence of mine is having a baby with his girlfriend, to which I say "HOLY CRAP!" But, it's reassuring that even as my life as I know it has fallen apart in the last two weeks, people are still having babies, meeting future in-laws, and otherwise getting on with existence. Which brings me to the bomb-dropping section of this blog. I was asked to resign from my position as a Residential Community Advisor in the freshman dorms at MICA in not-a-small-part because of this blog. I know what computers accessed the entries I probably should have left unpublished, I know how many were residents and how many were staff members and how many were friends outside of the MICA bubble, but ResLife is covering themselves, and I don't really blame them. Which means come spring break, once all the residents are off to the airport and Greyhound stations, I will be moving into the Meyerhoff house residence hall, and I have allready lost my keys to the ResCoordinator's office, any duties and programs I had scheduled, and the free meal plan and housing. For those who are counting, ResLife 1, Lindsay 0. Breaking up with my boyfriend was the best thing that could happen for my performance with my residents, but things on staff didn't work out as well. It's really frustrating that my love of this work is not enough to let me keep my job. But, on the plus side, now I only have two jobs, will get a full-size loft bed and an apartment I can smoke cloves in, have tons of free time, and get cable channels on my sweet 27" Samsung. But not being an RA is a big minus, and that sucks. Still, if it worked for Dooce, it could work for me, right? Dooced: To lose one's job because of one's web site. (Of course, it's more complex than that, but this is kind of what it comes down to.)

The one where she gets some light reading.

I'm expanding on my personal lending library on all topics lewd and lascivious with the addition of three books, most notably Em & Lo's impeccably-designed charming little tome Rec Sex, and the Paul Jonnides textbook (literally three inches thick and covering what Em and Lo pose, and answering any subsequent questions that may arise from reading The Big Bang) The Guide To Getting It On. Where The Big Bang is the hipster's guide to all things sex with a fabulous sense of humor, The Guide To Getting It On is it's MFA from Boston College big brother. So, you all know what is all up on my mind.

You know you are a GD groupie when...

You know you are a GD groupie when...you recieve the new Veer Fancy stock photo catalogue, then check the feed for Sunday Secrets from PostSecret, and recognize one of them as originating from Fancy. Which reminds me, I need to work on my graphic design homework. I'm working on a typeface called Lovebytes. Commence laughing now, please.

Sleepless nights

I tossed and turned. Shuttered the blinds, throw the curtains closed. Maybe it was the kona blend coffee I drank while watching Employee of the Month with W. Every crumb and particle that sandwiched between my skin and the sheets was a pea under my mattress, rendering it impossible for me to sleep. I brushed away the detritus, made and re-made my bed, tried to reach some sort of equilibrium of temperature where my nose was cool but not cold and my body was warm but not quite beginning to sweat. I went to bed at 11:40. At midnight I was up. I woke up and puttered around for a few minutes around two, when I finally unplugged my night-light. I covered the ambient blue light shining from the spine of my laptop. I wrote, re-wrote, deleted text messages, unsent, to lots of different people. From experience, I know late-night text-messaging is a risky business. At 8 o'clock, I was up. By half past I was waiting at the desk of the Commons for my New York Times to come so I could read Modern Love, maybe walk to City Cafe and get some coffee. As the paper arrived, he and I crossed paths. Twice, since I realized I needed more appropriate footwear for the grungy, icy walk to the supermarket. Today I'm making Magnolia cupcakes with my friend, I splurged on organic butter, eggs, and sugar. I have never made cupcakes from scratch. Instead of going to the cafe, I stopped at Dunkin' Donuts for coffee and a french cruller doughnut on the way to Safeway. I vaccilate between my head being cold and enjoying the breeze tracing paths across my shorn head and neck. And now I'm back in PJ's, avoiding the winter fund drive and guilt that comes along with it on WYPR, listening to Pandora, contemplating the days ahead. And, G-d, is there a lot to be contemplated.

My Mistake

And then I chopped off all of my hair. And by "I", I mean W. And by "all" I mean "most." In a bizarre turn of events, the ex just started a Blogger-powered weblog. We are not certain as to how we feel about this right now, but time will tell. Tonight I get to own up to about 40 people that I made some mistakes, and because of that I've got to do something that I truly don't want to do. I've forgiven myself, at this point. I made mistakes, I've learned from them, and I'm never going to make those same mistakes again. But, as an RCA I'm not allowed to make so many mistakes as all of that.

Wherein the breeze is felt

Tonight, W is coming over and we are going to watch The Prestige and shave my head. That is all.

Recap of last night

Last night was amaaaaaaaaaaaazing. I had the closing reception for my community's show at 6 pm and we hooked up the Wii and played some Wii Sports. We also made peppermint hot chocolate, which was, studies show, delicious. Then, AP and Unnoficial Resident Boy and Waffleface came over to my place, where we talked about Jewish boys and Elebits and I lent The Big Bang out to yet another person. After that, AP and I changed into PJ's and watched the ever-popular Garden State, and then at the end we got all dressed up and ran amok and "ice skated" wearing boots and pj's and a couple layers of sweatshirts. Having copious amounts of energy, we then wandered all the way to the Belvedere to the skyline lounge, checked out the view, looked in windows, slipped around on black ice, felt bad for two women in a VW, and wandered until we ended up at XS. But, being that we were too good for XS and prefered pizza, we got a pie. Then we brought it back to the commons, put some fresh parmesean on it, and ate that sucker. Plans for tonight include movie with W, and blogging some more. I love my residents so much!

Mystery flowers

SNOW DAY! I recieved a bouquet of tulips today, and a box of chocolates. It's too bad flowers and candy can't cure the feeling of heartbreak. There's no note or name or anything on the tulips. Today is sort of bizzare, Two hours later: I feel like my heart is breaking. It's the same sort of pain and hurt that has not a whole lot to do with anger or blame, just regret and sadness for things changing. I also feel like my face and ears are on fire; The fire of victory. The fire and burn of oil and gold and natural gas. Rather, I took 6-7 residents sledding at the station building. And, lo, was it glorious. I used the same sled I made freshman year once I learned to use the impulse sealer. A new set of freshmen using an old sled. My residents bring out the proud mama in me (even though I know they are not kids, babies, children), and I know they'll be just fine as they finish off the year. It'll be a little different, and there will be some changes, but they will be for the better, really. Everything still feels so bizarre and I feel like I may be in a perpetual state of shock still, but things are starting to sink in a little. Everyone's being really supportive, and that means a lot to me. They're adults, they will be fine, and I'm going to re-learn caring about myself. I'm thankful for all the people who care about me and all the people I have cared for, and the experience I've gained. Just wish I hadn't learned things the hard way.

Aww, isn't that precious

The Lovers of Valdaro are a 5,000 year old set of remains of a young man and woman intertwined in an eternal hug. Kind of romantic, if you think romance is sweet and all. I'm not looking very much forward to valentine's day, but I'm sort of working with what I've got, and will be printing some love letters on fabric to make into some commemorative textiles. Also, this week Texas became the first state to require girls to get Merck's HPV vaccine. Yes, Texas.

W

W W & I K T W L sparks. I H V day. Since the most recent lesson is that there is such thing as sharing too much, I've decided to start doing mad-lib entries at some point...invent myself a form(ula) for recapping the day in a witty way. Maybe think a little bit about Ira Glass.

The Art Of Tracy Emin

Aside from generally thinking a lot about typography for my homework, and that sort of thing, I've learned of a yBa (young British artist, of the young British artists movement) called Tracey Emin who incorporates notes and words and frustrations and heartaches in fabric and performance and other sexy things like this. I can't believe I didn't know about her before, and I'm really thankful to Rex for turning me on to her. I have her memoir and a book of essays on her, and it will be a long and glorious night as I learn of the methods of a mad, awesome woman. Tomorrow, we'll see what happens tomorrow. Tomorrow, I'm going to go to the studio and make impulsive work and maybe shoot some silkscreens and maybe coat some silkscreens. I'd like to put all these love letters I have onto cloth, maybe to go into a blanket, then they'll sort of be like whispers under the covers, backed with my mom's blanket from college that I love to death. The studio is my home, I am truly loving it right now, check out my mobile blog linked to from my main page to see a couple (sideways) shots. Senior thesis a semester early was the best decision I ever made.

Amazing.

It's kind of amazing what one little orange button can do in the world. Really, quite amazing.

The post in which the hummus is room-temperature

I woke up at six. Then hit snooze till seven. Then set another alarm for seven fifteen as I laid in bed and listened to WYPR. And at some point between 7:06 and 7:12 I realized they were listing school closings. Begrudgingly, I put toasty toes to frosty floor and looked through my blinds to see a blanket of snow. Which made me feel like this. Well, that and all of the crying last night. I really have to talk to W on Saturday, because I am not over this past relationship, and it's so clear to me that he's at a point where he's ready to date again, and take those risks, and I am simply not. Of course, nothing is simple at this point, and maybe that's my own doing, yet I don't think this ever could have been simple. I'd like to let the readers know that I'm excited to have you along for the ride, poorly-written, self-centered, and overly analytical it may be.

The Entry Wherein The Shit Hits The Fan

After spending an hour and a half crying pretty much straight through, I am ready to say Fuck Tuesday, February 6th and I will see you on the 7th. There is nothing I regret more right now than the fact that people change, and they have to, and they are meant to, and they will be miserable forever if they don't.  People should not have to defend their action ad inifitum.  People do what they are capable of at any given moment.   G-d, my heart hurts.  Fuck this, I am fucking going to bed.  Fuck.

Bonding

So, I'm playing hookey from my TA position to work on my application for being an RA again. One of my residents had questions for me about it, so I tried to answer them, and we're working together right now on our applications.  Hers is much more intensive than mine, but I want mine to be golden, so there is much work to do in general.  Keep your fingers and toes crossed for me!

Wise words

From Mikita this morning: Your heart is in it, your head is in it, now you just need to get your fingers in it. Agenda for the week is the following: Typography I homework due at 4 pm - design one more lettering/typeface Staff meeting Tuesday at 10:15, after crit for Sansone's Sculptural Forms course Wednesday 9 am to noon @ Commons desk noon doris with Liz Yoga - 2:30 Wednesday night - essay and readings done for Brottman's class Thursday - Senior thesis from 9-3 4:00 meeting with Rex to finalize grade for Painterly Drawing Friday - RCA returner application due, 5 pm. Also, I should work on designing a new template for my blog and re-host it at my domain name. This weekend, I really have to figure out my homework for "what are you fighting for?" crit with Alison Smith.  I should probably just give up any and all hope for sleeping this week till Thursday, if then.  My lazing about is caught up to me, and if I can rock this week, I'll be on-track to be okay.

On "Finding Voice"

Regarding finding my voice... and the blog Blog Core Values. So, the blogging "voice" doesn't exist.  Or rather, we write, we read, or "see" words, instead of hearing them.  The author uses the word "telephonic," the longing for something that is as ephemeral as the powerful feelings we have sometimes.  But, text, html, blog survives voice, body, phase.   I'm failing at blogging every day.  I wait till night, when I've got a whole day to blog about, but do I really want to write about the day I just spent?  How I didn't finish the dishes, how I read and read but couldn't put fingers to keyboard.  I've committed myself to this independent study, but I've got to admit that I've comitted myself to this for me, not for my instructor.  This is a selfish desire to be introspective for myself, and put it out there for all to read. It is actually the loss of selfishness, I think, that led to the end of my relationship with Justin.  I became obsessed with HIS life, HIS existence, HIS work, not my own.  This isn't a tendency far from my lineage.  My mom is a Sacrificer.  She Sacrifices.  And that's noble and good but at some point there's nobody else there but you, and you've got to be happy with yourself when you are on your own. Right, so, back to "finding my voice."  Stop looking for instant identity.  It will take a little while for my personality to come out in this space, and that's to be expected.  Everything I've read in "You've Got Blog" has taught me that.  So, tonight I'm going to keep writing till I'm near-empty.

Blogging for winners

So, I've been reading Rebecca Blood's book on blogging, and also "We've Got Blog" (2001), a critical reader on blogging and how blog culture is changing the internet and our world. And I'm very excited because I'm ahead of SO many bloggers, in that I've been weblogging for public eyes since I was about 13-14 on the popular site LiveJournal as the user lenablair.  But, now that I've been reading all of this theory and criticism and am sort of experiencing the subtle yet numerous differences between LiveJournal and Blogger, I'm experiencing anxiety over writing.  Others apparently get bloggorhea with the ease that entries are posted, but I've been constipated more and more as I've gotten older, spent less and less time in front of a computer. Thus, I've grown to understand that I am an experienced weblogger, but have not, historically been conscientious.  I wrote to get ideas out in this unique forum, my friends' "Friends pages."  In a friends' page one is given a glimpse into the thoughts, feelings, and happenings of one's friends/acquaintences/"friends."  But, I still haven't quite figured out how Atom, RSS feeds, and XML fit into this all, that is, I'm so used to having all the most recent entries of ALL of my friends blogs show up sorted by time and date posted, that I'm not sure how to really delve into reading non-LiveJournal blogs and becoming a part of that community, since it seems to be more based on this earlier idea of the weblog, which was more of a filter for cool new sites on the web or news stories, as opposed to this sort of common public diary. So, I need to tackle these technical aspects:  I need to keep writing entries, write seeds of entries, even if I keep them private till I feel like (or never) develop them.  I've got to read other blogs.  I've got to find other artists that aren't computer-based in media and figure out how they work out blogging.  This is actually a foremost concern because I find myself having less and less time in front of my laptop, and it's not as easy to post impulsively. Then, I must work to find my voice.  What is the tone, content, and personality people will associate with my blog?  How can I reveal more of the more interesting aspects of my life while still using Blogger like LiveJournal to catalogue banalities of daily existence? But, if anyone knows anything about how I can make a friends page with my LiveJournal friends and RSS and Atom feeds on it, I'd be super-super excited to know.