As much as I love my job...

I adore being a facilitator. There's always room for improvement as a person and employee, I'm with a lot of people who give feedback that is consistently coming from a caring and thoughtful place and given with love, and I can concentrate on the differences I make in the lives of young people instead of the horrors going on in the world. And then here is a big AND (because when you say "but" you are negating what you just said). And despite all those great things, I am dreading going to work a little this morning. I know I'm getting a Memo of Concern on finishing my degree, which just sounds terrifying. Though I was told last week that I am qualified for my job, I still am always worried that I'm about to be sacked. The recent hardship is that I need another Art History class to finish my degree at MICA, and with another one of my co-workers starting grad school, this is not what my employer needed from me; Unlike C's classes, that MICA class is not in the evening or on a weekend, it's smack in the middle of the day and amounts to 12 hours a week just commuting and sitting in Bunting, much less homework or field trips. So, as I prepare to brave the snowy world outside my door, I am sharing my resolution with you all: I resolve to be like the farmer in my understanding of Karma, that I will create good Karma for being thankful for whatever happens to me, as that is the only thing that could have happened in that space and time. And I know that I need to get my degree, and that PBC wants me to do that but, flatteringly, still needs me. Now you all know what that Damn. image was about last month. I made a mistake on my degree plan, I need an art history class, but I am still happy and healthy at my current job, where I intend to be for the next few years.

Beginning of the end.

There's something my friend Blue said during the last few weeks of camp last year, and it holds true. It's important, whether it's your first week of counseling or the very last, that for someone it's their first; Finishing strong is so important. It seems like I didn't really do that at MICA. Did I grow as an artist, finish and bring unity to my work in the last year? Not really. If anything, the stuff is more all-over the place, divergent, sprawling and meandering (in a bad way). I'm starting to get the final set of critiques from my instructors, and I've got to say we're both dissapointed. As much studying of Zen I've done in the past year, I have not lived in the moment--with my feet tucked under comforters and my eyes cast off into the distance, I've stumbled through this last year. Today I have the first interview for a full-time job, and I am thankful for the opportunity.

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.

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?

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.

Crazyness!

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

Oh, freshmen.

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

Kind of mind-boggling.

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

Nine PM is my bedtime.

I've been pretty exhausted most of the day for no good reason, but I've been plugging along all the same on all of these ridiculous theory readings for my Body Discourses class. I really have to start in on my papers, but my dad's visiting, and we ate a big dinner, and all I really want to do right now is go to bed (but I won't because I'm letting him stay in mine.) So, for all that I'm not super-present blogwise, know that it's because I'm working on final papers, reading body discourse and blog theory books and articles, reading the Critique Handbook, and figuring out what in the hell I'm doing for two of my three final projects. It's not Typography that evades me (I'm typesetting a haggadah), it's the simple freedoms of my independent study and Alison Smith's Fabric of Consciousness class. I've been working on my commemorative bedsheet, and I think I may quilt words upon it a la Tracey Emin, finish it as a quilt, maybe even keep working on it so it becomes, literally, a quilt of the loves in my life. Or not, I'm not sure. I'm also still working on my rag rug, and I'm working on this hot little piece that is pretty fun and funny, but I've really got to delve into the Critique Handbook and sketchbook illustrations of what this thing's going to look like, what it's going to communicate, and (you know) figure out what I want to say.