Bad timing on my Kenmore.

Rainbow sunrise reflected in MICA's new Gateway building. Whenever I go to the Sears repair center at 41st and Chestnut, I know I will get two things: slow service and the urge to buy discount power tools and TV's. Don't get me wrong, I trust the Sears name, my mom taught me to sew on a 1970's Kenmore and I had that same one till I got tired of lugging a machine that weighed 30 lbs so often. I know that they service everything, pretty quickly, and there is a guarantee on labor for 12 months. I think it cost me less than $60 last time to get my sewing machine serviced (last year). And I'm hard on my machine, I sew harnesses and belting and nylon and paper and other things you're not supposed to sew, I think. I biked to Hampden this afternoon to bring my Kenmore sewing machine in for repair. I biked the scenic Jones Falls Trail then took a detour through Stone Hill before hitting the Avenue and recalling where I was. My chest is still tight, I didn't take my inhaler with me so I took a nap when I got back and am doing some cooking-cleaning tasks, downloading of podcasts, and working on classwork this evening. It was about 3 miles. I'm growing increasingly aware that if I don't replace my little Schwinn, I don't have the kind of gears I need to bike around Baltimore. It's too small for me and I wonder if I could get $100 for it--after all, it's got personality and streamers! I digress. This is not the time for my machine to be broken, but I put off taking it in for too long, when itn too temper mental then it is indeed time. It should be ready in a week, so I'm going to be printing and cutting things out all week. I should be around Baltimore through the 6th of June, after some more cleaning and GD I'll be filling out more applications, and that's all I can do. For now, though, I am indeed looking forward to my little Kenmore purring like a kitten when I get back. The 3 mile bike ride? Not so much. Can I say that the Jones Falls makes me want to make a four-hour kayak and a PFD. Though I gotta say, the new portable commercial-grade Singers are really pretty.

I hereby forbid myself to do any job hunting tomorrow.

My life is consumed with the paltry task of sending out Cover Letters and Resumes with the vague idea that I want some school to like me so much they want to talk to me, make love to me, and have me for an on-campus interview. I did, however, discover a site today that's called SimplyHired and gets jobs from multiple student affairs (and other?) job site, in a searchable database. Hopefully it can let me decrease the time I spend looking at a bazillion different student affairs job sites and instead I can write great letters and get them off. Two more letters done this morning. Please, I beg of you, shoot me now? Elle

Nothing makes me happier than fresh sheets and a well-made bed.

It's finals and I'm overwhelmed but it did have time to wash sheets and make my bed and here is a gratuitous image post of the wisteria I stole from someones fence with my pocketknife while eating a matzo and cherry blossom ice cream sandwich (it was awesome). I also cleared out the space under my Murphy bed so I could take before and after pictures. I finished listening to one of those cliche chick-lit-cover break up books on CD and I wish I'd had it like a year and a a half ago. Also I am working on job applications (what's new?) and I may have to say no to this counseling job in Colorado and that sucks because I love love love it there. I have to note that 2008 is not a fun time to be graduating from school, it's not that there aren't tons of ResLife positions (comparatively, you must understand student affairs is a very small field which sounds like something entirely different than what it actually is), it's just that people aren't really vacating low-level openings in an economy as crappy as this one, or perhaps they are waiting to say they are leaving and there will be more jobs open later in the summer for unexpected openings. Either way, I'm not putting all my eggs' in the MICA basket, and I hope I at least get an interview for experience's sake.

Sink or swim: Elle Sinks

I just got my second terrible critique from my performance garment instructor this semester. This was supposed to be my final critique, my presentation of the pancake manifesto. I silk-screened it a half hour before class. I made pancakes. I broke down under my professors' scathing critique (which I don't think I deserved in front of my peers or before the work was responded to), had to take a moment, got passed over and instead got no critique, lost any lingering interest I had in performance-garment work, and am seriously considering saying "fuck it" and going back to bed. Clearly, performance art is not for me. I suck at it, and I would have been better off spending the past three weeks figuring out how to visually display my travels as blogger and comment on, well, anything, instead of hemming and hawing over something that got me nothing.

Six down, ten to go. Job hunt rant ahead.

Three more applications out the door! I wish I had more of a handle on how many more people are still looking for reslife jobs and how many more there will be, because it feels like there's not a whole lot of new jobs going up at the moment (I'm searching at the Chronicle of Higher Ed and Higher Ed Jobs). Of course, people are also snagging jobs at their colleges which will soon be their alma maters, so for me it looks like taking a summer job is getting to be a better and better solution. Still haven't applied to outward bound baltimore, I suppose I'll get on that and be done in the next hour on that. Maybe there is still a chance I can be a assistant instructor for the summer and maybe even into the fall. I could always apply for Semester At Sea, but I don't know that I want to be on a boat for that long. Even I draw the line someplace. Few greater are the buzz-kills to graduation than actually having to move and find a job, decide where to settle or how the heck I'm going to make my way. In addition, the job I'm applying to at my own school has gotten no response to me. I've seen the heads of reslife and student affairs more than a few times but have no idea where I stand, if I stand at all as a candidate. I would really love to know whether or not I'm even in the running, considering in the past my performance has been less than perfect as an employee of residence life (I've learned! I swear!). But I tell a lot of my friends and acquaintances that I applied, and they are excited about me potentially being around. It doesn't hurt that my love Megan, my own RA from my freshman year, has decided not to compete with me for the position, a huge sigh of relief, though word on the street is the position is not free of competitors. But I know that I want what's best for the residents. Recently MICA ResLife redid it's goals, and I have to say that if this is how Scott's running the joint now, then I want in! We will offer the best housing program in the country for students specializing in the education of visual artists. (okay, the grammar could use some work)) We will become experts on our students. We will appreciate the gifts that they bring to our community and educate ourselves on perennial challenge areas within this distinctive population. We will share what we have learned with our colleagues through both publications and presentations. We will keep an open mind, promote inclusiveness, and challenge expressions of intolerance. We will educate the whole student. We will provide an atmosphere, augmented by structured activities, that encourages introspective exploration and personal growth. We will promote personal and community accountability, model effective communication, and stress the importance of responsible citizenship. We will be teachers, students, advocates, and allies. We will dedicate ourselves to issues of accessibility and excel in serving students of all abilities. (One I'd personally like to see in student affairs and academic affairs here at MICA). What did you/do you like about your on-campus college experience?

State of the Artistic Union

Anyone who is an artist or works in the traditons of art and design in our contemporary world needs to read this article in ArtForum called "State of the Union" about artists and labor and the evolution thereof. The article is by Gregory Sholette and can be read here.. As artists in a post-9/11 world, we find ourselves to be subjects of suspicion. We act strange, and strange is bad in the world we live in today. In other places artists are supported by the state. They are supported by insurance, healthcare, and it's pretty amazing. I think it's frustrating for contemporary artists, so often we're seen as nuisances of contemporary society, getting in the way of people trying to make money or maintain o their bourgie lifestyles. . And I have lost steam, let me know what you think.

Elle is officially a space cadet.

So, as if my life isn't hectic enough, this past week in addition to weaning down my dose of fluoxetine/prozac that I take for Seasonal Affective Disorder during the dark part of the year, I took a break from my Adderall XR. Adderall is a Schedule I controlled substance and a common medication used to tread children, adolescents, and adults with Attention Deficit Disorder and ADD with Hyperactivity (ADHD). I've had symptoms of ADD since I was a kid, and been medicated almost as long. In classrooms and colleges students with learning disabilities either keep up or get put in special education classrooms where college is never even talked about as an option. The fact is that I would never have made it through my three high schools without some help to concentrate and stay on-task, and it turns out that even now I am still not very good at that. When I take my meds, I can prioritize, make lists, accomplish tasks without getting completely sidetracked. Without it, like this week, I am easily overwhelmed by the many things I have to balance in my life, lack tenacity and have a hard time building up steam to accomplish large, complex tasks. I don't know that many people who've never been affected by ADD or ADHD can understand that it's pretty hard for us to function in highly-productive highly-organized environments. When I'm outdoors with my girls in the summers, it's okay for me to lose focus quickly, , they do too! Summer camp is a place that empowers lots of children who may not do well academically or who experience a huge boost in confidence because these kids are gregarious, impulsive, adventurous, and think outside the box in problem solving. But in most contexts I am much disadvantaaged not to be on medications. So, we come up with ways to cope. These ways include: Physiological - Exercise can help disperse energy and wake up the brain, get you going in the morning. Stimulant medications can do the same thing. Some people even wake up early, take their meds, and get up an hour later once it's kicked in to make their mornings run smoother. Psychological - Coping techniques such as yoga, deep breathing exercises, and eating foods that power your mind and body for long periods of time can increase productivity and reduce stress reactions and hormones. Behavioral modification - List-making, setting timers if you tend to lose track of time (ADDers hyper-focus as well as lose focus easily), prioritizing the least pleasant work for the time when you have the greatest chutzpah and energy. It can also include hiring an ADD coach, relying on a significant other or room-mate to help you stay in line. Unfortunately, this week has sort of proven to me that I can still really use medication as a n accommodation. At $3 a dose, I can't afford the brand-name Adderall XR that's a time-released capsule. So I'm meeting with my doc here at school to decide what's going to be the cheapest way to manage my ADD symptoms post-graduation. Still, though, at least I'm getting my ducks in a row.

decor8: Emily Barletta

There is a fibers "look" at MICA. First of all, we wear things we make sometimes. We all have a scarf that we wove in our first weaving class. In fact, we wear lots of scarves, draped close to our necks and out of the way of working. We replace buttons and edit clothing bought and found at will with little respect to the person who initially designed or made it. Yesterday on the design blog decor8 (which I warn posts in large volume and is not necessarily easy or fun to follow, sometimes it feels like work!) was featured a post on an artist /blogger named Emily Barletta. The work looks suspiciously like other works made in my department, so I did a little sleuthing and found that Emily graduated from MICA in 2003, a year after I went to pre-college there when the Fibers department was just a little twinkle in my eye. Emily is currently living in Brooklyn (of course) and making art, no doubt this plug from decor8 will give her a new audience to market her art to, and I was really excited to see someone from my school getting some great ink. Go, Emily! decor8: Emily Barletta

Fibers @ MICA

T minus four weeks. So ready for graduation!

Hair in my eyeballs (before). Gonna look super-cute with a beret in 4 weeks (after). I got my hair cut today at Zena's salon at 1014 N. Charles St. by Sarah Cathcart, who won Best of Baltimore Women's Hair Cut 8 years ago from the Baltimore Citypaper. She was great, very sweet and I showed her a picture I cut out of a short hair mag (narrowed down to by my good friend Alexandra) and she said "I'll be able to get pretty darn close" when I said that it was just a point of inspiration. Also, my Vibram fivefingers distracted the receptionist to the point that that was the FIRST thing I was asked about when I entered the salon.

Humans, too, hard-wired leverage sex

There's a really interesting Scientific Blogging article on how no matter how wealthy young subjects of the study were (college students aged 18-27), the men and women both attempted to trade "sex" (term undefined but I believe it was broad, meaning any sexual act) for resources. Even those not lacking for resources tended to negotate these "nuptual currencies," and these findings are a preliminary suggestion that just as in hummingbirds, penguins, elk, trade sex for investment or access or protection, humans are hard-wired to do the same. Study was by Daniel Kruger at University of Michigan School of Public Health.

The 7 unexpected things grown-ups do at sleepovers

I have had more sleep-overs this year than I may have had the entirety of my time in high school. My dear friend Sima and I have some very good habits. Our riveting sleepovers include: Creative pillow distribution (this is the first priority for a good sleepover). Reading. Setting of alarms (sleepovers are a way to bond when weekends and work schedules aren't aligning well. Careful coordination of pajamas based on current inventory and how they complement the o other person's pajamas. Watching old VHS tapes of horribly wonderful movies such as Undercover Blues and Spaceballs. Eating strawberries and drinking cheap champagne. Falling asleep less than half an hour into a VHS of The Wizard of Oz. Eating as much candy as we damn well please and not brushing our teeth...until we realize how much money we have to spend on cavities where we get up promptly to do the right thing. Making whole wheat pancakes in the morning.

Clearly, I am becoming a Baltimore hipster.

I've spent two of the past two nights eating rosemary garlic fries and drinking beer at The Brewers Art, a restaurant/gallery/bar in the Mount Vernon neighborhood of B-more city proper. Also, my roommate and I are winning the most-adorable-roomies award. That is all.

Zero to jam in twelve minutes.

Baltimore has been drop-dead sexy this week. Everything is in bloom, everyone's shed their ugly clunky boots for sexy strappy sandals and peep-toes. The weather has been great for the dumpster collective and my room-mate, Gabriella, brought home a bunch of blackberries. I added a pouch of cherry vegetarian gel mix, some bueberries, strawberries, pomegranite juice, and some domino organic sugar (my roommate and I are addicted to the stuff), seived those blackberries and threw it in a jar, this morning I woke up and I gotta say Gab and I are pretty damn excited about the stuff. If you've never tried Domino organic sugar, you should give it a go. It's pretty, a pale parchment color, and tastes not like chemical sweeteners but instead like something that did come from a sugar cane (amazing!). It's not that much more costly than regular sugar, and I find that I can use less of it since it adds a little flavor of its own, you don't want to make things sickeningly sweet with it, you want to find a balance. Anyway, that's my product recommendation of the day: Organic Domino Unbleached Sugar. I finally am starting to feel optimistic--I really think that it will all work out, that if I keep applying to these jobs, I'll get enough call-backs and interviews to really find a place for myself for the next year. And I gotta say that I am really looking forward to working some place other than MICA, to learn about a new campus culture and group of students. Not to mention to find a new city to spread my wings in.

Another WFR dream.

I dreamt that my mom and sister and I were visiting a house in Chicago that was turn-of-the-century yet got moved in 1951 and had beautiful gardens and somehow stone and stained glass worked into the foundation. Suddenly, the current owner began having a "heart attack," IE he was doing a scenario and testing me, and I remember doing chest compressions and asking if we had an epi pen since he was losing his airway and I needed to delay death which is what you use epinephrine for, and we had epi, so I pretended to give that to him....it's always strange to do scenarios because there are huge differences between what you do when you're pretending and what you do when someone is actually hurt. I still think that maxi pads make great trauma dressings. Did you know that a disposable scalpel is just over $1? Needless to say, I'm putting together my first responder kit and having a pretty good time of it browsing the Moore Medical site. Oh! I have an uber-cool date lined up today with this guy Jacob! Let's hope the weather holds out so we can do something outside!

Do you not communicate well with your plants?

Allogagan, I'm looking at you. Perhaps you need to follow the Botanicalls instructions which allow your plant to send a tweet when it needs care! Right now I feel like I care more about my dear Twitter buddy pothos than whoever actually has this plant in their office.

Oh to be a Pro Blogger

It takes a lot of hard work to make a lot of money. This is the case whether you make money in mid-town Manhattan wearing a suit and tie or you commute from a recumbent to semi-recumbent position in your bed (my personal office of choice). Those of us who heeded not the wise, wise words of Dooce "My advice to you is BE YE NOT SO STUPID. Never write about work on the internet unless your boss knows and sanctions the fact that YOU ARE WRITING ABOUT WORK ON THE INTERNET." Us idiots, we know the massive negative effect blogging can have on your life. You have a lack of freedom, can't publish what you are thinking for fear of being connected to those thoughts that you do, in fact, think in your heart. You have to keep in mind your audience, i.e. am I a summer camp counselor or do I work in Residence Life with minors during the summer and would it be bad for them to know that I could potentially be a sexual human being due to sharing of posts from sex blogs? And sometimes you have to resign from your job because you make a dumb youthful mistake without the benefit of the time afforded by the leisurely past-time of letter-writing, including (but not limited to): uncapping the pen finding the notepad summoning up an envelope and the saliva white-outing and waiting for the white out to dry re-folding to fit it into the envelope looking up the address a 20-yard walk a 36 cent stamp putting on of pants BUT, that's not what this post is about. Earlier this week I replied to a pro-blogging post asking what the biggest mistake people made regarding blogging...most people it was not doing it soon enough, or often enough, not having faith in their own integrity and interest as bloggers (writers+people) that someone wants to hear what they had to say, even if it is your own mom (Happy birthday Mom!) Now that I have truly adopted the life of a blogger in the past 18 months at this here blog as Elle, now that I am part of the dialogs going on at my favorite sites and articles and am becoming part of the second-lowest faction of internet blogging elite, the technorati if you will, an avid Twitter-er and aggregator of information: my hits are up. Quantitatively, a more regular blogging schedule and a tiny bit of authority that I've earned from length of time and variety of topics has accumulated a healthy readership (for a personal blog). But qualitiatively, I am an active participant in the online conversations, a subject of posts every once in a while, and have even gotten the attention of a favorite author who I 'blogged about. I've also met some professionals who I would never have gotten in touch with otherwise: case in point is Susan at Hug The Monkey). I'm pleased that I've been able to be as much of an open book as I have on this blog for the past year. And while I got myself in trouble and learned the hard and dumb way, I find that I'm liberated in so far as I don't want to work for companies who can't handle me being who I am. I have strong opinions that I can't always camouflage into the apathy so endemic to fellow members of my generation. Am I the person I seem to be on this 'blog? What do you think? A blog entry, just like a photo, is just one moment of one angle of a person. Occasionally it's an insightful art student with her finger on the pulse of the zeitgeist. Sometimes it's an angry bitter ex-girlfriend. Often it's an overwhelmed adolescent who just misses her mom and dad and wants people to know what she's up to. And those it's that combination that makes this blog what it is. Could it be more "targeted" towards a "niche"? I know you guys--my loyal and exclusive following--are only getting glimpses and flashes of memory and experience, and that this blog seems to be just as much about the person I am as the world I live in, but I have grown to truly value the attention you pay me with your time and comments. I value the blank space that this blag has become to me, a place to empty my brain so I can move on. And even if you stop reading, I know my mom, dad, and twin sister will still remember to check up on me every once in a while. I don't get paid to 'blog, and that's not because my 'blog isn't interesting. It's because that's not the goal of it. If money was all I cared about, you know I would not be at art school, would not be reading blogs all day. But that's the luxury of being in school, that working part-time and going to class full-time allows just enough time to explore the interwebs and find my place in that realm, as this identity, and to some extent to my identity as a whole. I'm not relying on that right now to make me a living, but one day blagging via satellite phone in the wilderness and posting images or selling evidential sculptures could make me a living, too. Where do you stand on the subject of blogging as occupation? It's relation to citizen journalism, user-created content, and on-demand media?

Fake wood is a girls best friend!

I'm not the kind of girl who likes diamonds. In case you didn't know (and I'm pretty sure you all do), the diamond industry is not the most humane industry in our global world, and I can see the need for diamonds due to their being harder than everything else criteria, but as far as for a wedding or engagement ring? I don't need it. Unless it's a hot heirloom number. ANYWAY, you all know how I covet all things faux bois (a disorder only made worse by the reading of It's (k)not Wood's blog). Etsy seller RobandLean offers a pretty titanium ring with a faux wood finish in copper inlaid. It's pretty damn hot. Mokume is the a Japanese word meaning wood-eye-metal, which talks about the way that metal is layered and pierced and layered s'more till it gets all beautifully moire-d.

I am cross-website photogenic

I just woke up from a dream in which I was Ariel on ice (in disneyland where I suddenly became very proficient at toe loops and single lutzes). Also there was meringue making. Not real life, in the dream. Oooh, which reminds me, I have key limes. Yes, I am still sick. I know, it's pitiful. But at least I have bizarre dreams where I get critiqued for my swimming ability and imperfect body and nothing fits me, hooray! And who profits from said dreams? All of you fine readers who don't remember your own fever-addled dreams, which I have impeccable memory of. Now since I'm already missing arts in Japan I am going back to nap.

So many ideas...

Pancake Manifesto followed by savory sequel Love & Garlic Fibers Majors Do It With Process... Printmaking majors do it with ink everywhere... Painting majors do it over the summer... Graphic designers do it in Brown... IS majors theorize about the concept of it and never really get around to actually doing it. Photo majors do it in the crib....in the darkroom.... Animation majors do it in the tech center.... Animation majors do it sequentially in individual frames.... Drawing majors would have to exist to do it.... Experimental fashion majors do it wearing flamboyant scarves. Photo majors do it in plaid.... Eric Goldschmidt does it in green, red, and blue plaid. Isaac Linder does it on LiveJournal MICA students do it in Baltimore.

For all my fellow clutzy homies

This Sunday I found a live outlet near Load Of Fun gallery and made pancakes from 11:30 AM to 3 PM. Pancake Manifesto, the project was called. It was bitterly cold out, and by bitterly I mean I was bitter about the fact. Let's face it, after Minnesota during spring break I've been forced to reevaluate my homeostatic needs. Anyway, I burnt my arm on the pan and am writing to tell y'all about Ching Wan Hung, a oil-based burn ointment that you can find in Chinatown anyplace and can be used on any and all burns. It also smells like Mu Shu, so that's a bonus. More of it's fascinating history can be found here, including the fact that it can stain clothes and that it contains frankincense and myrhh! Look for the packaging above, gold with red accents, it comes in two sizes of tubs and also a tube, and let me tell you don't even try to pronounce it to find it more quickly, you will only be laughed at. Note that for sunburns during the summer I have a dedicated long-sleeve shirt to wear with this burn ointment. Sad yet true.

Google Reader's my religion.

There is no better way to aggregate the many sources of Really Simply Syndicated information than Google Reader. It's a web-based RSS feed aggregator that can be used to put all of your blogs in one place and will "pull" new data as entries are published. I can even share my favorite items with my friends and see their shared items (if they use Google Reader and I've got their e-mail in my address book). Until yesterday, though, I could only share entries from within my Reader, meaning blogs I am subscribed to. Luckily, I found a sweet little javascript workaround here that lets you share any blog entry, even if it's not on one of your regular haunts. Enjoy! And let me know if you use Google Reader so I can check out your shared items!

Applications just may be the death of me

I can't even imagine applying for jobs before the internet, as young as that makes me sound. Even so, of my 12+ schools I'm applying for full-time positions for this fall, only a few are accepting online applications without any supplements. Seriously? Well, anyway, here's my cover letter-- April 3, 2008 To the House Director search committee: I am seeking a position that will allow me to continue to work with a diverse population of college students and employment as a house director at Hampshire College would be an important step on my journey as a student affairs professional. My skills and experiences coincide with the description of responsibilities of a house director. Attached are my application materials, including my resume and a list of professional references. Highly-visible, friendly and compassionate student affairs professionals help provide students with an education that is well-rounded and not just academic in nature. It is my personal commitment to the development and support of the whole student that would make me a strong asset to your residence life team and coincides with the goals of Hampshire College. Of particular interest will be my varied experiences in leadership, residence life, and programming in the context of a small private institution. My passion for working with college students stems from my time at the Maryland Institute College of Art as an involved undergraduate student and residential community advisor. Four years at MICA have given me a dynamic education as both a fibers artist and creative problem-solver, but I knew when I was putting off hitting the studio for planning programs or spending time with my residents, that I had a greater desire and energy to serve full-time in the field of student affairs than pursue a career as a fine artist. In addition to my art and residence life background, I also have experiential education, team-building, crisis management and conflict resolution skills from my work in the outdoors and camp environments. Given the diverse skill-sets outlined in my resume, I am well-prepared to embrace a broad range of roles that would likely be required of me at a small liberal arts school like Hampshire College. Many thanks to the committee in advance considering my application. I would be delighted to further discuss my skills and qualifications, and I look forward to the possibility of serving your institution and students this upcoming year. Respectfully yours, Elle I really hope I get some call-backs for these applications. I'm going to spend the rest of the evening working on them, I spent the entire day working on the cover letter, but now that cover letter has to be re-written for every single school with the appropriate things changed, most hall director letters will be very similar but the more student-activities type positions will need a decent overhaul. I feel like I'm applying for so many positions, but I have no idea what the competition is like. All I know is that I have three summer job offers, and I probably can't take any of them (all outdoor jobs) because for student affairs jobs you start in the summer and help put training together for the fall RA's. I have simply got to be just the person SOMEONE is looking for, and if fate is kind, hopefully I'll get in touch with them or didn't throw out the application already. PS: I made Boinkable links again today with my Kevin Smith-Chasing Amy entry. I am feeling the love from Richard Blakeley at the cute/dirty/smart sex-positive blog these days, and y'all know the quickest way to a girls' heart is to link to a post of hers on a highly trafficked site.

I totally forgot I took this picture and sent it to my sister.

Clearly, Will and I are very charming people when enjoying the weekend and some Grey Goose.

Big ups for my homies

Who let me do for them and myself at the same time (you're welcome, Sima!). Who know you're independent enough to go it alone but keep you company on the way home just the same. For friends who transport you to a younger time in your life--even if it's sometimes just to the morning when you just got up and still had optimism regarding your day. For people who you make soup with (Bagriella!) For friends who eat your pancakes and smoked mozzerella. To homies like my former resident, Alexandra, who has said more than a couple times "you always know the right thing to say." I've just been feeling the raging hormones and the stress of being over 75% done with my senior year, and I'm getting a little anxious, a little sad, a little excited, all at once. It always amazed me how many emotions, ones that you might normally think to be diametrically opposed, can occur in one person at the same time. Clearly, I need to stop blogging when sleep deprived and having my period.

Chasing rainbows & Kevin Smith

BOB You're chasing Amy. (to Holden) So there's me an' Amy, and we're all inseparable, right? Just big time in love. And then about four months in, I ask about the ex-boyfriend. Dumb move, I know, but you know how it is - you don't really want to know, but you just have to... stupid guy bullshit. Anyway she starts telling me all about him - how they dated for years, lived together, her mother likes me better, blah, blah, blah - and I'm okay. But then she tells me that a couple times, he brought other people to bed with them - menage a tois, I believe it's called. Now this just blows my mind. I mean, I'm not used to that sort of thing, right? I was raised Catholic. So I get weirded out, and just start blasting her, right? This is the only way I can deal with it - by calling her a slut, and telling her that she was used - I mean, I'm out for blood I want to hurt her - because I don't know how to deal with what I'm feeling. And I'm like "What the fuck is wrong with you?" and she's telling me that it was that time, in that place, and she didn't do anything wrong, so she's not gonna apologize. So I tell her it's over, and I walk. JAY Fucking a. BOB No, idiot. It was a mistake. I wasn't disgusted with her, I was afraid. At that moment, I felt small - like I'd lacked experience, like I'd never be on her level or never be enough for her or something. And what I didn't get was that she didn't care. She wasn't looking for that guy anymore. She was looking for me. But by the time I realized this, it was too late, you know. She'd moved on, and all I had to show for it was some foolish pride, which then gave way to regret. She was the girl, I know that now. But I pushed her away... [Everyone's silent Silent Bob lights a cigarette.] BOB So I've spent every day since then chasing Amy... (takes a drag from his smoke) So to speak. Kevin Smith, despite the dick and fart jokes, never ceases to amaze with his earnest Frank Capra-esque (thanks, Karen) dialogs which can really cut to the quick of the imperfect human experience. Things are messy, messed-up, complicated and represent the shades of gray that make decisions difficult to make. Silent Bob is the voice of the zen master, wise but never preachy. But, just because you realize the mistake, you think you have a solution, doesn't mean things are going to work out in a fairy-tale ending. People fall short, forget birthdays for business meetings, and can't make the decision that seems so obvious to someone else. Thanks Kevin, for keeping it real. For showing that people can grow and change, but some things will always be the same (like Jay and Bob leaning against the walls of buildings.) Thanks for having earnest characters in an era where sarcasm and irony reign. Oh, and your Smodcast kicks ass, too. (And I liked Jersey Girl.)

Yay Chasing Amy!

Goodnight world! L

Shades of brown hair

Ignoring the fact that it's terribly cooler and windier than I wish it to be in Maryland (though no-where near as ridiculous as Minnesota and Wisconsin were a few days ago), spring is not only bringing near-daily fits of graduation-related panic. It brings, too, the need for change, in so many ways. So, I'm purging my closets, which will in several weeks need to end up in storage or on a moving van--who knows where? So, I'm getting rid of the running shoes I never wear, thinking about re-painting my english dancing shoes which are freshman-year second-hand vintage. Plans for today are finishing my resume and outward bound Baltimore-Philly application, donating blood, a trip to Enoch Pratt Free Library, and the opening of the contraversial Beyond the Compass, Beyond the Square exhibition.

Nostalgic sweaters

I had a dream that someone called my phone and someone else answered it and it was a random dude from OKCupid who was professing his love with the persona conveyed in my personals ad on the dating site. I also dreamt that I went on a night-time canoe trip, which seems to me to be a horrible horrible idea for all sorts of safety reasons. I recall being very frustrated with the members of my family also coming on the canoe trip because they took forever to get ready to go! I just want to be a stern, darn it! My prescription showed up for my doc's appointment on Monday, and I'm nervous but excited, I'm going to be really bummed if my body isn't big enough for the non-hormonal IUD I'm supposed to get fitted with on Monday. I uncovered my tacky navy blue velour sweatshirt that was my Papa Sam's, and it's funny how fabric is conducive to not only the capturing of history but also the re-experiencing of it. By wearing this shirt, I am Sam. I'm not actually Sam, but I can remember my Papa eating my arm like an ear of corn, I remember how warm and funny he was, how he took us fishing and bowling. Anyway, I know one day when I have kids my dad and mom will be great grandparents. And hopefully, that day is far, far away.

Woodgrain resume

What do you think of the most recent iteration of my resume? All I can say is I am so sick of lookin' at this thing that if I never saw it again I'd be a happy woman.

Farewell Minnesota!

Off on some planes to get back to Baltimore, I'll be home soon!

Least break-like spring break ever

I am officially a Wilderness First Responder! Go me! This was my first and only spring break spent outside of Baltimore, and I took a 90-hour Wilderness Medical Institute course during it. I learned a whole lot of skills that are applicable in hour+ from-definitive-care situations. I'm dead tired, seriously, but I'm so glad I did it. Full report when I get back from St. Paul tomorrow, stay tuned, intrepid readers!

From the Fundakowski household of St. Paul, MN

How I remember the patient assessment triangle from scene survey to life threats to patient exam and the focused spinal exam criteria. I was writing it all on my arm until I ran out of the space. I'm looking for a summer job and I really want to not have to worry about it, so if you know someone who will hire a Wilderness First Responder with a BFA in Fibers and give them some benefits for the summer, let a girl know, okay? Magpie out (of energy and clean socks, enough said.)

Oh, adorable jailbait.

<- My fake bruise. Let me first say that the ratio of men to women is 2 to 1, and I must say, I likes them odds. Also, individuals getting wilderness first responder trainings are awesome. They are extreme athletes, ice climbers, whitewater kayakers, camp counselors, an lab technicians. They are high-schoolers, college students, guys that remind you of your dad. Every day is exhausting, and these two days are almost all teaching things I know already, CPR, the initial assesment, ABCDE's, SAMPLE history, et cetera. Consent and legal issues were fun. Yesterday I stayed pretty quiet, and I didn't feel a connection to any of the other females in the course until Amy, a lab tech in her 20's, came on a big walk with me around the camp wherein I jumped in crusty snow and trampled through puddles of mud. I saw three wild turkeys, a few bald eagles, and stepped on one dead bunny (which is covered by snow, but that is a bunny fo sho.) It's been beautiful, I didn't know how I felt at first but now I know that I am gonna be fine, people were joking around a lot more and I got a lot more names down than I did yesterday. There's also talk of capture the flag. I can only hope. From just outside Hudson, WI, fourty minutes from the Fundakowski fam in St. Paul, Magpie out (of fake bruises).

Who's the artist who...?

Does anyone know the artist who has a web site where he always says he is? One that stemmed from being followed by the government? I'm trying to reference him in explaining Twitter to my cousin Anne but it's hard without knowing specifics.

Two guys, one girl.

No, not an allusion to a blue film. Yesterday was the practical exam for the R.A.D. class I just took at MICA, and I got to do two scenarios. The first was a simple walk-by, my aggressor grabbed my wrist and I had to get away from him. The second scenario was one in which I was confronted by one attacker and an accomplice tried to get me from the back, it was a surprise and I didn't realize they would actually send both guys after me. Needless to say, I thoroughly trounced them, there was much knee-ing in the groin and that sort of thing, a punch in the face and one was down, a couple more kicks to the groin and some elbows and the other guy was stunned enough for me to get to my "safe" zone. I was really excited to see myself and one of my co-RCA's from last year do more advanced scenarios and really kick ass at them. What I lacked mostly was verbal warnings with every strike, which is an important thing to do to get attention from witnesses. Sunny used to be quiet, meek, and now she's a pretty scary woman who reminds me of Lucy Liu and isn't afrad to use spear-fingers to gouge a dude's eye out.

Rough times Junior year

After I got back from winter vacation two years ago, my parents were frustrated they weren't around to support me. It frustrated me, too. My mom, though, in her sensitivity, sent a care package full of protein bars and new socks and tights. She even included a little chai she found at a thrift store. I wore that chai every day for the past couple years, pretty much. I think it was her way of giving me a reminder that life goes on, a gift that told me every day that my parents and G-d will always support and love me. It's easy to forget that after a bad critique, or when you've lost your friends, but I really did appreciate it. I noticed this morning that it wasn't anywhere to be found, not in my sheets or in my sweater pocket from when I took it off for RAD. There's a conspicuous absence to me, but I know that I would not have lost it if I still needed that reminder every day, and maybe it's a blessing in disguise. Sorry, mom :(.

This may or may not be an emergency.

Approximately 1/5th of the housing complex I live in slash work grave in on Sunday night/Monday morning is vibrating vigorously. It has taken two and a half hours to get "them" (the powers that be at my school) to call emergency facilities management. Oh, bureaucracy. A couple nights ago I dreamed that I flew to London. The other night I slept and encountered an end-of-the-world sort of situation, wherein I just could not get away. I think I'm probably well-prepared for the real thing should it happen in our lifetime, I've dreamed of it so many times. Yesterday was a big rock climbing trip that I belayed for, and I did two climbs. Now my forearms are throbbing and the two ligaments on either side of my crotch are bruised from all the falling into my harness I did. It was great to get some energy out, to get physical and challenge myself. Back to the typography, let's hope the building doesn't fall to the ground tonight.

I am desperately avoiding heading to the studio.

I am going to work on my bedsheet dress and make pancakes in the morning as well as displaying the printed fabrics I made this past week. Maybe if I work on my proposal and artists statement...crap, I really am going to have to go to my studio. Sigh.

First 'blogs were written

I'd like to propose that Sei Shonagon, the Heian-era Japanese female court lady, was as a blogger. In the book of her collected works, The Pillow Book, she lists insights and goings-on in no order more thoughtful than that in which they came to mind. How like Carrie Bradshaw, or any contemporary young 3rd-gen feminist woman is Shonagon in her book! This is an example that I think is lovely, the 10th-century equivalent of "and he woke me up looking for his car keys, how annoying!" Hateful Things, Sei Shonagon A lover who is leaving at dawn announces that he has to find his fan and his paper. "I know I put them somewhere last night," he says. Since it is pitch-dark, he gropes about the room, bumping into the furniture and muttering, "Strange! Where can they be?" Finally he discovers the objects. He thrusts the paper into the breast of his robe with a great rustling sound; then he snaps open his fan and busily fans away with it. Only now is he ready to take his leave. What charmless behavior! "Hateful" is an understatement. Equally disagreeable is the man who, when leaving in the middle of the night, takes care to fasten the cord of his headdress. This is quite unnecessary; he could perfectly well put it gently on his head without tying the cord. And why must he spend time adjusting his cloak or hunting costume? Does he really think that someone may see him at this time of night and criticize him for not being impeccably dressed? A good lover will behave as elegantly at dawn as at any other time. He drags himself out of bed with a look of dismay on his face. The lady urges him on: "Come, my friend, it's getting light. You don't want anyone to find you here." He gives a deep sigh, as if to say that the night has not been nearly long enough and that it is agony to leave. Once up, he does not instantly pull on his trousers. Instead, he comes close to the lady and whispers whatever was left unsaid during the night. Even when he is dressed, he still lingers, vaguely pretending to be fastening his sash. Presently he raises the lattice, and the two lovers stand together by the side door while he tells her how he dreads the coming day, which will keep them apart; then he slips away. The lady watches him go, and this moment of parting will remain among her most charming memories. Indeed, one's attachment to a man depends largely onthe elegance of his leave-taking. When he jumps out of bed, scurries about the room, tightly fastens his trouser-sash, rolls up the sleeves of his Court cloak, over-robe, or hunting costume, stuffs his belongings into the breast of his robe and then briskly secures the outer sash -- one really begins to hate him.

Update for the new homies

Boinkology (one of my favorite sex blogs) linked to an entry of mine today in it's BOINKABLE LINKS section! That post is here (it's the one on musicians), and I'd like to heartily welcome any of the newcomers via Boinkology, if you like my interests but not my 'blog persay, check out my shared posts via my google reader sidebar. This semester I've been taking RAD, which is Rape Agression Defense Systems self-defense class for women. First of all, it's weird that rape is the first word in their company/system name. I'm not like Heather MacDonald, who recently wrote a Los Angeles Times op-ed piece "What campus rape crisis?" I know not a lot of women self-report, and that the scum that does commit rape and assault has done it 16 times by the time they're caught by law enforcement. I'd like to believe that the number one fear of women should not be to be raped. And I'd like to think that that's not the worst thing that could happen to me, but I guess not much else could top that. Either way, I'm super pumped about my RAD simulation next Tuesday, and I think that every person should have these basic self-defense techniques in their belt. I was never petrified of walking around Baltimore at night, but now I know that I'm a force to be reckoned with. Unless that person has a gun or knife, in which case I don't know as well how to confront that situation. Oh well. The hair is finally starting to grow out, I overdyed it pink because it was looking a little ashy/mousy, and every time I sweat or sleep there's pink everywhere. D'oh. And now, for excessive quotation marks, care of Parkhurst at MICA.

Pictures are more descriptive than words.

My friend Christine and I went to this place in a seedy part of SoWeBo which used to belong to a gas company that became part of BG&E. In that era, the gas houses were in competition with one another and were designed to instill confidence and imply luxury in the way that banks of that time did. This building sat unused for six years, falling into disrepair, until these fine folks bought it and filled it with magical things. A 19th century 20-foot-high circus banner, an electric perm machine, a wheel of fortune, CPR dummies, an old Austin replica/toy car, film on reels still containing the "Coming soon" 1970's technicolor intro to the trailers, anatomical charts and models, lead type, signage, tons of stained glass, and my favorite, the bright blue completely refurbished 1915 Oriole gas stove & oven unit, ready to be hooked up to gas lines! Old stoves are one of my favorite dreamy things to think of, when I think about having a house one day. Just a beautiful old enameled thing with chrome instead of brushed stainless and speed lines instead of corners, these are the things I dream of. Enjoy! The woman who owns Housewerks even gave she and I a lift back to the light rail (to avoid the drunks & meth addicts who frequent the area, she said.) Did I mention they had a real live fire going when we came in, too? Few greater are the olfactory joys to me. Oh, and that big silver thing? It's a "parlor stove," no idea what that is though.

I can has cuteness

Tink is very protective of her foster piggy Pink (Tink+Pig=Pink). My mom sent this to me and

Free books? Not at Baltimore's THE BOOK THING?

The Future of Reputation, a book by Daniel J. Solove, is (each chapter as a PDF file). For anyone interested in thehttp://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gif phenomena of being Dooced, here are the chapters in the book: THE FUTURE OF REPUTATION: GOSSIP, RUMOR, AND PRIVACY ON THE INTERNET by Daniel J. Solove Yale University Press (2007) Chapter 1. Introduction: When Poop Goes Primetime PART I RUMOR AND REPUTATION IN A DIGITAL WORLD Chapter 2. How the Free Flow of Information Liberates and Constrains Us Chapter 3. Gossip and the Virtues of Knowing Less Chapter 4. Shaming and the Digital Scarlet Letter PART II PRIVACY, FREE SPEECH, AND THE LAW Chapter 5. The Role of Law Chapter 6. Free Speech, Anonymity, and Accountability Chapter 7. Privacy in an Overexposed World Chapter 8. Conclusion: The Future of Reputation Notes & Index Once again, I wish I could put all of this filtering of information and research into an art piece, but I have no idea where to begin, or where I would end on such a project. Part of me is very into high-touch art, physical constructions that are strong, purposeful, durable, and full of meaningful matter. The other part is into hypertext, interconnected dynamic flow of information, vast fonts of knowledge. Anyway, let me know what you think of the book if you read it!

What is it about a guy who writes songs?

Somethin' that almost insists upon swooning, the offhanded poetry seems to be easy easy easy to them. The words fall from their lips, their voices cut through the sounds of their acoustic guitar and you know, you just know from the way those words escape their lips that they can only be such good singers from being good listeners. These are the boys who listen intently as addled and oxytocin-fueled words drizzle sleepily from your lips in hours that don't belong to night or day. Blue-eyed curly-haired boyish men that your mother can't help but love and approve of. Not to say they didn't approve of the last one, just that this one, they'd love, sometimes greeting him before you as they come home from work. Of course, that's the fantasy of the sweet poetic singer-songwriter boy rolling around in my head. The reality I'm sure includes burps and forgetting anniversaries and losing shopping lists and forgetting milk, but the nice thing about speculation is that the spectacles can be as rosy as I please. And of late, I am pleased to order those glasses tinted near-magenta. I like to know, I like to plan, but I am not what one would call a "planner." I'm a "Oh this is what I'd like to do yeah I'll make that work I think..." kind of girl. I like to know where I'll be, but I'm fairly flexible, and fairly pleased to try and be happy in every situation, take them all as learning experiences (painful and bloody as they may be). You never know what will lead to the next step, the next big thing, the next love of your life or life's work. And that sort of open-ended-ness is the scary thing, but it's also the most exciting bit of moving on. And who knows, maybe I'll fall in love with a musician? [edit 3.4.08 @ 7:18pm EST] I guess I should note that the boy who inspired this post was playing in front of me at the time at Baltimore Hostel--he's a Maryland-area acoustic folk singer-songwriter-guitarist named Michael Berkowitz, who just released A Song For Every Station and sold me a copy of the CD that night (his site here).

If you are what you self-publish, then this is me.

This is the Yahoo! Pipes diagram of the content-filtered SuperFeed that I created. This "pipe" aggregates my Blogger entries, my Pandora bookmarked song feed, and my Google Reader Shared Items. I'm pretty pleased with myself. Certainly there must be some way to turn this pipe's output into an art project.

Things I am in love with (right now)

Pie for breakfast from Dangerously Delicious Pies (3 berry). Kola Champagne "Ginseng UP" carbonated beverage. XM Radio. Marla, who put the entirety of the X-Files on my external hard drive (yes, Kate M., you can get in on that action). My new cordless mouse care of the ex, who got it for half retail at his place of employment. And it's orange. These new artists that I am going to get more of as soon as I figure what is taking up so much darn space on my computers' hard drive. I'm sure there's an application that has some sort of beautiful graphs and things but I'm too lazy to go looking right now.

Good morning, neighbors **puts on sweater**

It's helpful to get this pep-talk from Mr. Rogers in the morning, as I did (initially from NPR's "most e-mailed stories" podcast, so to all my friends who are going through tough times, missing their loved ones, feeling lost and alone, or just feeling like underachievers, it's going to be okay. We all do the best we can at any given time, and that's all you can do. So many of my friends in so many ways are heroes of mine...I think you all are some of the most compassionate, creative, level-headed, and brave individuals that live on this planet. I mean, I'm a little partial to you all, but you all really are amazing. Now, if you excuse me I really have to get dressed.

Testing

I've played a little with Yahoo! Pipes beta which is some sort of visual programming console. I like it a lot, but I don't know if it's aggregating my shared item and blog rss feeds in order of date and time posted, which is what I would like. [[Edit: think I fixed it]] Anyone who can help me troubleshoot it, please comment. The pipe is meant to put my blog and shared google reader items together and edit out any entries having to do with carnal relations so that there's nothing inappropriate flowing into Facebook, which is where I want to link to the pipe's feed from and where I know lots of girls from camp who just aren't "of age" to view adult material. [[Edit:Not sure why it's truncating the entries from the RSS XML of my blog though, only first couple hundred words instead of entire entries...)

Serendipity

I just ran into the director of development here at MICA at my open studio today (part of parents weekend) who had dinner last night with someone on the board of Outward Bound Baltimore. While I love working at camps, Outward Bound or Educo are the types of companies and jobs I'd love to have come graduation, so I'm getting the hookup. Her last name is Hopkins. Read: blue Baltimore blood. Jawsome! Back to the homework.

Oh, Baltimore, cops. Haven't you something better to do?

Eric Vs. Officer Riveri of Baltimore Downtown (read: Inner Harbor) police. Eric Bush and his friends (14-year-olds and thereabouts) get chewed out for skating at the inner harbor (which has, by the way, the best ever smooth pavement and concrete for biking and skating and probably even 'boarding on), and the officer is a big jerk-face and assaults the kid. Then he steals his skateboard. I'm not sayin' the kids was in the right, but I am gonna say that guy has got some serious anger management issues. He also doesn't like conceptual art: here's a video shot of Salvatore last summer getting angry at an art student with an RC car (original source is ABC) Oh, I'm sorry, did you want the link to the February 12th article in the laugh of a paper that is the Baltimore Sun? I'm not the quickest on the wires with this one, but no doubt it will make expat Baltimoreans teary-eyed for their fair biggest little city. For those who don't know Bodymore, Murdaland, I just have to say that for as many awesome people there are in the city it doesn't take a whole lot to make a poor impression. That goes for the cops AND the robbers.

Onward and upward?

I'm not sure what my summer holds. I'm thinking of doing applications to work pre-college. I'm thinking of applying to work as a residence director at Interlochen which is a school for the arts in Michigan (or someplace like that). Basically, I could work my job that I worked last summer, or I can move on and try for greater things than being a unit director at a little girl scout camp in northern Colorado. Anyway, tonight I tailored my interview dress and took the hem up, I've got to extend the side-slits, but it looks pretty fantastic now, and the sleeves no longer fall down past where the flesh of my palms started. I look almost like a grown-up. The twin pig-tails don't make sense, the jeans underneath the striped dress, but somewhere under there is the young woman I'm supposed to be come May, and I really hope I can figure her out soon. The pins are 1940's lapel pins that belonged to my great aunt (I think), on a jacket I got at the thrift store that I'm thinking of using for interviews paired with a great trouser and a nice button-up.

IFC

On IFC I have seen a ton of great shows lately. I couldn't stop watching Darkon, which is about Live-Action Role-Playing (LARP-ing), and this afternoon while slaving away at my typography homework I saw Loves Labour Lost, which is a 2000 version of the early Shakespeare play set in the 1940's and inspired by Fred-and-Ginger Ethel Merman musicals (Karen, are you reading this?)

Did you know...

that a machete costs just $5.95 at the local H&H Surplus Store? Including holster for your belt.

Mmm, global warming

A moment ago I stepped outside of my building and was struck at the warm, humid air. Here I am, leg-warmers, scarf, and tights, and yet it is most certainly no cooler than 70* F outside. Warm, muggy, with a pervasive dampness, this global warming thing is not really working for me. I keep waking up sweaty and clammy it's so temperate in my room. If this is what is in store for the future, I'm going to have to ditch the layered, artsy look so characteristic of a MICA fibers major. The other day we got our senior packets with our applications for graduation from MICA, details about ordering class rings, beret and gowns, graduation announcements, et cetera. I modeled the gown and beret on stage, and it was so bizarre to be in the same place we all were three-and-a-half years ago, shiny-faced and innocent. Little did we know then what wonders awaited, what trials were ahead of us. I mean, to be fair, we're still not aware. I'm still worried about insurance, where I will live, where my stuff will be. In other news, I continue to suck at the internet. The quickness with which one can post, twitter, comment, e-mail, is far shorter than the amount of time it takes to fully consider what one is doing. Luckily, no jobs to lose or money at stake, but feelings and people are not to be belittled. At the same time, one of my former campers just came out as being gay using a Facebook post, and I have got to say that of all the people who continue to closet themselves and hide their true identities, I know that the true powers of the interweb can be used for "good" as well as "evil." So many older people are less honest with themselves and their families and friends, for so long, and I hope she has escaped much of that unhappiness, even as she is choosing a life path that is still somewhat unconventional and will no doubt not always be easy. Plans for the day are contacting my Performance Garment partner (blog here) to talk about going to take photos of us playing around in a clothes shop.

so sleepy....

I worked out hardcore weight training this morning and I'm pretty exhausted. I'm sorry this is just an update of a photo of a little dead wet mouse.

No primary for you!

Despite having been very careful to re-register to vote in the demo primary in California, I called my county elections office and they said that I was not registered to vote-by-mail, and could vote at my regular polling place. Except I'm in Maryland. So, really, County of Ventura, that is not something I can do. Lame. And registering for November won't help me because I don't know where I'll be in November. Needless to say, I'm pretty damn ticked off. It's only my constitutional right. Whatevs. I'm sure I'll get over it soon.