To Cure a Restless Mind

The dog next door has taken to barking nonstop at different points of the day. His name is Lucas. He's a tiny little thing, light brown curly fur, with so much of it his eyes are hidden most of the time I've seen him. He has a blue cast on one leg, and you can tell when he's outside because amongst the cute little pitter patter of his feet, there's the occasional thunk of plaster on wood. He's a sweetheart, and whenever I see him with his owner when I'm out and about, I stop to give him a scratch behind the ear.

Sometimes he whines, sometimes he barks. We can hear him from the other side of the kitchen wall. His owner has apologized profusely for the sound. I told her it's okay; dogs will be dogs.

We live on the second floor of our tiny complex. Our neighbors below us are Korean (I used to work with one of them), and I often hear him singing, mostly in the morning just after I step out of the shower  or in the afternoon right before dinner. He has a clear voice that's quite soothing to listen to.

There's a married couple on the ground level that like playing a downsized version of badminton in the tiny parking lot. I've seen them most often at dusk, as the atmosphere makes everything glow orange and red, and when things have calmed from the day. They stand about twelve feet apart, batting the birdie back and forth. The woman is beautiful. She has long black hair that she wears pulled back or in a long braid that reaches to the backs of her knees. Both she and her husband came over to meet Emma's dog once as we were chatting in the parking lot. They are very nice people. Everyone we've met here is.

We hear conversations in Chinese next door on the other side, late into the night. It's those times I wonder how much they can hear from our apartment.

I play music sometimes around midday when I'm making lunch or doing the dishes. My roommate has a laugh that could easily carry through walls. I tend to yell a bit when I get excited about something, as does my roommate. I watch a lot of movies on the DVD player, and I often wonder if the volume is too loud.

In those moments when I sit in our living room, thinking too much about all the things that are happening, the things that are worrying me, I notice these little things. I keep thinking about Harriet the Spy and how Ole Golly was always encouraging Harriet to write down everything she saw if she wanted to be a writer. And yes, Harriet was spying on people. But what she came to realize was that as a writer, she was less of a spy and more of an observer. It's the little things that you notice, how everyone has their own way of eating tacos, for instance, or the strange things people put into their shopping carts at the grocery store.* The way light comes through the window in the early morning, how people talk to one another in church as opposed to how they interact at a party or in intimate conversation. It's anything and everything about growing up and living in a new town or in your own hometown. The smell of your grandparents house, or the memories that float in the back of your mind without explanation. It's making sense of how crazy life seems at two in the morning or when your emotions are so overwrought and wrung out you're not sure where to go. As writers, as artists, as people, we are always noticing things. It's proof of the complexity of life, how things are continuously changing, and how it goes on.

We are observers of the world, of the unique life experiences we have. All we need to do is notice them. It's one reason we're compelled to create. We're always on the search for some kind of understanding.


*A few weeks ago, I saw a man pushing a cart entirely full of chicken. I think they might have been leg/thigh combinations.

Baby Pink Platforms

A few days ago, my mother asked me--or rather, reminded me--to go through dresses and artwork for a garage sale our church back home is doing later this fall. It was something she'd mentioned to me before, but I hadn't done so the last time I was home and the deadline for having things ready was coming up fast. Another very brief trip home was in order.

I started going through artwork in the basement after I arrived earlier this afternoon, and that was...interesting. Some of it was stuff I'd forgotten I'd done, and the majority of the work was pretty weak from what I remembered. I joked to Mom that one of the pieces I'd chosen was from my "Blue Period," except that the drawing was horrible, and it happened to have been done during a really bad time in high school. At least Picasso's Blue Period produced beautiful, thoughtful work; I went through a period where I didn't care about what I was doing, and it is clear by looking at each and every piece.

The dress search was its own trip. I found one dress that I couldn't bear to part with; it is a deep mulberry color, one my mother made for me for my senior Winter Formal, that has a beautiful cut-out at the base of the skirt and lace stretching across the neckline. I told her I'd take it later, once I have room in my closet to keep it. I found the dress I wore to my high school graduation; it was never very comfortable and it poofed out strangely in front. The ball gown I'd worn to my senior prom, I finally decided, would be donated to the garage sale along with the graduation dress, a skirt I wore once or twice, and a couple of dance costumes.

When I was poking around my bedroom, I found a ton of things that brought back memory after memory. But then I found the platforms.

I'd gotten them at Wal-Mart when I was in junior high. They're baby pink--my favorite color at the time--and I wore them maybe once or twice. In fact, I don't even remember really wearing them--just admiring them, considering whether to wear them or not. Like, perhaps people would think I was trendy if I wore them.

The strangest thing about it all was the fact I'd found them the same weekend I repurchased the second Britney Spears' album, one that I have a love/hate relationship with. I listened to it again in its entirety yesterday, and it brought back memories of a group of friends I spent a lot of my time with in junior high, making up dances to each of the songs and listening to it for hours on end. Two of these friendships were especially toxic; one girl continuously brought me down, reminding me at every chance she could how much better she was at everything, and the other was close to the same, but she lived in my neighborhood and so we saw each other a lot until she decided to ignore me. And then, I entered high school and decided to spend more time in my room reading than socializing.  

One of the girls wore shoes much like this on a regular basis. It was her style, and I wanted to wear the same kind of stuff she did. I bought them hoping that she would approve, and that others at school would consider me trendy enough to spend time with. But I never really wore them.

This kind of nostalgia is something I'm not sure how to handle. At times it's great, because I can tap into the emotions easily when writing. I remember the good things about being that age, about wanting to wear makeup and nailpolish and getting prettied up, feeling as beautiful as Britney or Beyonce or the girls from B*Witched. I've talked a little bit about this before. I was reminded of it again earlier this week when I put in Hocus Pocus and my roommate and I were reminiscing about how different it was watching it as much later. There was something really exciting about growing up at the turn of the century. Listening to that music, watching those movies I loved as a kid--they all bring back the good things. Before the internet was something I depended on, when Disney Channel showed good movies and began airing shows that would stick with me for years to come. Every once and awhile, that mental journey is wonderful. I remember where I was, and how far I've come. 

Other times, however, it's somewhat depressing. At thirteen, I wasn't able to see how those friendships would break down my self-esteem, nor how I would think back on that experience often, understanding what it meant in my life. It puts me in a weird headspace, much like that when I read an old journal. 

But it keeps me thinking, wondering, discovering and rediscovering. I sang along to the album as I've listened to it this weekend, remember the things I love about it, as well as the things I don't. I even tried the baby pink platforms on, just to see how well they fit. And they did. I felt like a Spice Girl as soon as I buckled them. Baby Spice. She's the one who wore the platform shoes most often. 

I walked into the kitchen to show Mom. "Well, what do you think? How do I look?" I asked, striking a pose. 

Mom turned, glancing down at my feet. "Oh, yeah. Clunky."

I laughed, glancing down as well. My mulberry nail polish clashed with the pink in a strange way. "You're right. I gotta take these off."

Parallels

I like to believe that things tend to come full circle. Or, at least, most of the way around.

During my first week of college classes, I was trying to adjust to the work load. I spent my first day of my history class nodding and nodding and nodding at everything the teacher said when talking through the syllabus. I was devastated that by that Friday, I hadn't finished reading Pride and Prejudice for my first English class (entitled "The Novel"). I did eventually finish the book, about three weeks later, and loved it.* Everything was bright and strange and weird. I'd also fooled myself into thinking that riding my bike to class and getting up at 6:30 every morning was how I was going to spend my time every day of every semester.

This past week was my last official week of classes as an undergraduate. On Monday, I spent a good three hours working on my final illustration project (an illustration of Emma Watson that turned out a lot better than I thought it would), fighting exhaustion from only a few hours of sleep the night before. On Tuesday, I finished up the drawings for my final drawing series as well as the illustration project, and made it home early enough to watch the new Glee episode with Alisha. On Wednesday, I tried to focus my attention on the rough draft of my drawing thesis paper, and wrote late into the night, as has been my tendency with papers. Thursday was a blur of a critique in drawing, which promptly turned into a nightmare when I got frazzled trying to navigate Photoshop and InDesign while working on my portfolio in BFA studio. I called my dad to wish him a happy birthday, angry at myself for not being as talkative as I would have liked.

Friday was my last official day of class. Work was work. Someone brought up Scooter Girl before Advanced Fiction and a thousand memories of my first years in the dorms came rushing back to me. We ate cookies (beautiful, delicious, non-alcoholic confections called 'cookie shots') while singing loudly to the tune of the graduation march while my Creative Writing professor handed out congratulatory cards from the English department to those who were graduating. And then she said her goodbyes, we did TEVALS, and it was done.

As I was walking through the quad on my way back to my car, I witnessed, finally, a group of the tight-rope walkers. And I wanted to cry.

I went to Hunter's and Vicky's BFA reception. Their work in the gallery was INCREDIBLE. The English banquet later that night was beautiful and the finality of the semester really started to hit me. I was simultaneously lamenting the end of everything I'd grown to love over the last few years and eager to dive right into the next step: writing, reading, working, prep for grad school, the freedom from stress. Bittersweet, and understandably so. Being surrounded by friends and teachers and people who loved many of the same things I loved was the perfect way to end the semester. I'll miss it.

The more I think about everything I've experienced over the last six years, the more overwhelmed I become. I feel like I've been experiencing emotions I don't even have names for. But enough sentimentality.**

And then there was this afternoon, when I got a call from one of my oldest college friends, Jenna, as she was in town for the day and wanted to get together with Prairie and I. I met them at ColdStone, our favorite place to go together. We used to go there regularly the first few years of college before we got busy (nearly every Tuesday, when you could get a second Like It for $.25 with a student I.D.). Jenna gave me my graduation present, a gift card for ColdStone, and I ordered my usual, as was the tradition: Cookie Doughn't You Want Some, with extra napkins because it gets messy.


*I'm a slow reader. And that week I was really, really overwhelmed.

**I'm terribly sorry about the sap. I'm working on it.

Things

Life during the last month, some instances of which are in bullet points. 

• Our BFA reception was a few weeks ago, and it was lovely. I think I might have some kind of social anxiety, though, as there were a lot of people and I was very nervous and overwhelmed because it. We had a good turnout, and I was so happy that people were able to come see the show. 

• I'm very glad the show is over, but senioritis has hit me hard in the last week, and I still have a few things to finish up. I'm trying to stay motivated by not thinking about how in two and a half weeks, I will be graduating. 

• Today is one of those days in which music sounds really good. Which is nice, of course, because on Monday and Tuesday all I wanted to do was skip every song that came up on my shuffle. 

• As graduation approaches, I am feeling two different emotions: first, a sense of relief after what I've been able to accomplish and excitement at what is to come. I've never not been a student before in my life. This next year off (as I apply for graduate programs) should be interesting. Second, an oddly muted sense of sadness and nostalgia, because I fucking love this campus.  The people I've met and the faculty I've been able to learn from and the things that I've discovered about myself and my interests and life in general in addition to everything I've learned....That little part of me looks at things like how beautiful campus looks at this time of year and the experiences I've had in English and Art classes and Sigma Tau Delta and the place I've been to because of K-State and the sidewalk chalking and things like that, and suddenly all I want to do is curl into a little ball in the middle of the Quad and cry. Six years. I can't believe it. 

• I love thunderstorms, but not when the chance of tornadoes are involved. For about eight hours on the Saturday before last, I was convinced we were going to get hit, and hard. I went through my things, pulling things I wanted to ensure wouldn't get lost/damaged in the worst-case scenario and put them all into bags and toted them down to the basement. (My problem is that I over-worry. I tend to get carried away sometimes.) Luckily, we didn't have much worse than wind and other severe thunderstorm conditions. 

• I feel like I've experienced nearly every emotion known to man in the last four weeks. That's spring semester for you. 

• I had the urge to draw for kicks last night as I was looking for reference for my last illustration project, and it made me so incredibly happy, because that means I haven't learned to hate drawing. THE LAST TWO YEARS IN DRAWING HAVE NOT MADE ME HATE IT. I think this calls for a celebration!

• Last night's Glee was especially good, but it made my heart hurt, like, a lot. Before, of course, things got better in the end (I was really head-over-heels in love with the episode). So many feelings as of late....

• Two things I have been (somewhat) silently obsessing over: My So-Called Life and One Direction. MSCL is wonderful. Seriously: a teen drama that features realistic, subtle drama, lovable characters, and the main character of Angela, who is insightful and wonderfully imperfect. The only show that I feel justified in comparing it to is what I've seen of Degrassi, but even then the two seem different to me. It's completely unlike anything I've seen, and so, so much more interesting and wonderful than a lot of the stuff I've seen on TV lately. As for One Direction...I can't seem to quit them. 

• This is the grooviest song/video I've ever heard/seen. In fact, Gotye's "Making Mirrors" album is beautiful. 

• Last year around this time I wrote about the tight-rope walkers. I haven't seen many ropes this spring, but I have seen tons of hammocks strung between the trees. I imagine it's quite peaceful. 

• I am really, really going to miss my creative writing class. 

Another Quick Word...

Once again I am here, and have much I'd like to talk about. But I have much to do and not a lot of time to spare while trying to fight the urge to procrastinate (which I have already failed at doing at least three times this morning). One of these days I'll get around to talking about Spring Break* and Beatle cover bands and talks with my sister and how much I loved and want to gush about the Hunger Games film and, finally, Mockingjay (both of which I will address soon...)

But...my show hangs in two weeks and I am trying not to loose my head in trying to balance readings and artist statement drafts and ways to hang my work and InDesign things and maybe drawing if there's time to spare. I can't believe it's almost here...

In the meantime, though, I leave you with one of the grooviest, coolest songs the Beatles ever did. Happy Tuesday. 

*Edit: Also The Fault in Our Stars, which I finally had the chance to read last week during break, and ultimately loved and cried my eyes out over and really, really want/need to do a thoughtbox over. Did you know that Peter Van Houten is not a real person? I googled him, and he and his book, are not real. Mind = blown. 

The Worst Block of All

Drawing and I have always had a strange relationship. It's rare for me to be completely satisfied with a drawing, and I get discouraged easily. If something isn't looking right, or if I'm not connecting to the process, or even when I feel like all I'm doing is slapping media on to the paper, I shut down. And when that happens, I get really discouraged.

It started the week leading up to my birthday. I knew I wasn't making enough work (something that tends to come up a lot in talking with my drawing professor), but I was still waiting to hear word on a studio space. Thus, I hadn't had a lot of time (or, frankly, motivation) to make as much work as she had wanted me to. The weekend of my birthday, I made five drawings in addition to the two I'd started earlier that week, and I got so frustrated with myself and the unresolved status of a studio space and my upcoming show to be in the mood for any sort of discussion about my work. But, of course, on Valentine's Day, my professor wanted the class to have a critique of the eight drawings I'd done. I wanted to cry. I crossed my arms a lot and didn't pay much attention to what was being said, responding with a resounding "I honestly don't know" to every question asked of me. That same day I found out that because there wasn't a particular space for me to use, I'd be able to use the watercolor studio, a fairly public space for art students, as a studio space. That made me want to cry more, though I understood that the circumstances were beyond anyone's control. Everything combined together made me feel the worst I've ever felt as an art major. What was the point of drawing if all I could contribute was poorly-executed mixed media drawings that failed to connect with my artist statement? Where could I go?

I didn't draw anything for a week. This past week, however, was a little better, though the procrastination has seemed to worsen. I started two drawings that I have yet to finish but haven't had the energy or desire to do so. I started using the watercolor studio, but froze up when other students came in to work on their watercolor assignments or other homework as they waited for their next studio or art history class. I get nervous with other people in the room when I'm drawing. I hate the feeling of someone "looking over my shoulder" and my arm stiffens up and I'm uber conscious of my mark-making. I feel like I can't focus nor let everything go and just draw. It's horrible.

One guy in particular came in on Tuesday, and literally walked up to where I'd taped up the drawing across two drafting tables and was waiting for the gesso I'd applied to dry. He started asking me questions: "What are you using on this?" "Why did you choose to use the gesso with the charcoal?" "How do you like working this big?" And as nice as this guy was, I couldn't help getting secretly annoyed that he was asking me so many questions I wasn't prepared to answer. As far as my bad drawing side was concerned, he was a gawker and I would have given my drawing hand to be anywhere other than in the watercolor room at that very moment.

I feel like I've been drifting in every direction in the last few weeks. Graduation, unresolved studio space issues, the BFA show, preparations for the Sigma Tau Delta Convention, my unwanted but unrelenting senioritis, and the upcoming drawing portfolio all BFA seniors are required to turn in upon completing their BFA show...I've been so distraught I even entertained the idea that I was regretting becoming a drawing major. The other day I tweeted* about how annoyed with myself I'd been because I'd left some of my drawing materials at home, and ultimately that I felt my BFA show (which goes up on Easter Sunday) will suck. Almost immediately after I tweeted this, my friend Hunter, a painting major and fellow graduating senior, responded with:

STOP IT Stop complaining, stop doubting, and#GetYourShitDone If I, THE KING OF PESSIMISM, am telling you to stop, do it #believe

It was quite a wake-up call, and I told him so later that day when I saw him.

I don't think I'll ever be able to shake my low drawing self-esteem. I've toted it along with me against my will for a long time, managing to overcome it once and awhile (those are the good drawing days). I just want to be making drawings that I'm satisfied with, and thus far, it hasn't worked out that way. And frankly, of all the times for me to experience such a terrible bout of artist's block, this is the worst possible time for it. I cannot afford to be lost this close to the culminating event of my pursuit of a BFA degree.

Last spring, Heidi sent me the link to this song, hoping that it would help me find the understanding I needed.

Have I mentioned how incredible my sister is?


*I hate emotional tweeting, but I realized I've been doing it unconsciously as of late. Alas.

The Terrible Thursdays

My sister, Heidi, has received multiple texts and phone calls from me this week as things have happened, both good and bad. So earlier today, she posted this video, "Somebody That I Used To Know (feat. Kimbra)" by Gotye, on my wall as a break from painting flowers.* 

And I was moved. It was the exact thing I needed to hear, and so beautiful. It's not just creative inspiration (for lack of a less possibly cliche way to say it), but also an example of how wonderful Heidi is. She always knows the right thing to say, the perfect advice to give, the right song to hear when your day is the worst of all. I am so very blessed to have the best sister in the world.** I don't know how I'd be able to get through each day without her. She's my best friend. 

*The subject of my rendering project for my illustration class.

The Terrible Tuesdays

I actually really like Tuesdays this semester; I have my drawing and BFA exhibition classes, and I have time to work on stuff without having to worry about waking up at the crack of dawn to get ready for work.

But today is not a good day. After a weekend of work combined with meetings combined with fitting in drawing whenever I could and trying to finish a slow moving first draft of the first of three short stories for my writing class this semester, I woke up with a bad feeling. It was doom, or some sense of it.

I don't know if it's the prospect of Valentine's Day next week, or the fact I won't be able to visit my parents over the weekend like I'd hoped (my birthday is Saturday). It might be both these things plus my stressing over waiting for a studio space plus the paper I should have gotten about four weeks ago. And the fact that I set up my BFA show on Easter Sunday. I try not to look at it in the sense that everything is working against me this semester, but it's really hard not to.

All I know is that when this song came on my iPod, closely followed by this one, I really had to try not to start bawling my eyes out. I hate getting overly emotional about stuff; I can hardly stand being around myself. It's like my rational side puts up with the comforting one for only so long, and then all I want to do is tell myself to get a grip and then just walk away and get a cup of Earl Grey to calm my nerves.

Perhaps I should try doing just that. Hmm.

P.S. - "Slow Me Down" by Emmy Rossum, for your Tuesday.

Keats and Various Drawing Things

The last two weeks have been really interesting. Classes are going well so far; I am taking my last advanced drawing class, intro to illustration, a BFA exhibition class, and Advanced Creative Writing fiction. I'm really excited for what this semester is going to bring, but the stresses of the incoming BFA show have really started to creep into my system and suddenly everything seems so much more daunting than I thought they would be. 

This uncertainty and (since we're being honest here) absolute terror aside, I've been trying to gather my thoughts for my drawing thesis. One of the inspirations that I will be studying/looking to in my research is John Keats,* one of my favorite poets. Thus, I went looking for a collection of his poetry so I could read a little more not only for my own interests, but also for the research for my thesis and artist statement.

Look at that cover....so gorgeous! I think it's a still from the movie about Fanny Brawne, Bright Star.** 

This is a collection of letters Keats wrote to Fanny Brawne. I might have to wait to read it around Valentine's Day--appropriate, I think. 

There's just something so intricate and beautiful about the way Keats uses words. I can't get over it. But, more another time. Tonight's goal is to get some serious drawing done. 

 

*I'm also really interested in the things W.B. Yeats explores in his poetry. I won't go into too much detail now. I'm still trying to gather my thoughts. Perhaps another time.

**I highly recommend it. It's such a beautiful story, and the movie is wonderful. 

Resolutions Revisited

So, as soon as I posted my resolutions the other day, I realize that I forgot a couple that I had wanted to add. Anyway, the addendum:

15. I want to cook more, and get more creative with it. Mostly my dinners consist of Kraft dinner or a serving of pasta topped with Alfredo sauce and mozzarella cheese. I need to allow more room for creativity and healthy eating.

16. I have a lot of books on my bookshelf that I haven't yet read. I need to have read--or at least attempt to read--every book I own by the end of the year. I need to allow myself the time to read as well, because I'm really bad about that.

17. Write more ideas down, regardless of whether they're drawing- or writing-related. I used to be really good with this, but somehow my little notebook wasn't always with me last year...and the few ideas that I was really excited about disappeared into the void.

I know I probably have forgotten a couple more. If and when they come back to me, I'll write them down. Anyhoo.

Also, I will post about Mockingjay in the next couple of days. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to post it; I needed time for it to sink in before I could really write about it. I'm thinking the thoughtbox will be a little different than the ones I've done before because I just have so many feelings about the book... But it will be up soon. I promise.

Resolutions for 2012

When I sit down to write out my resolutions, I tend to look over the previous year's to construct the new list, adding things here and there. Thus.

1. Control the amount of money I spend on music. Last year I resolved to not buy any more music until I had every Beatles album, and I failed miserably. I think it might be a good idea to stick to that same resolution again. No other music until I have completed my Beatles discography. 
2. By the end of 2012, I have to have gone through everything I own--both at home and in the Tiny Blue Room--and gotten rid of all that I don't need any more. Clothes should be taken to Goodwill or Habitat for Humanity, books should be taken to The Dusty Bookshelf, and music and movies should be taken to somewhere that will take them and sell them again. I've been too lax in the control of my hoarding, and I need to buckle down. A massive "spring cleaning" is needed. 
3. Better scheduling and following of deadlines. This is one of the things I have the most trouble with. 
4. Journal/freewrite/write everyday, even if it's only 15 minutes. 
5. Finish writing the novel I started for Nanowrimo 2011. 
6. Complete Nanowrimo 2012 in November.
7. Budget better so that I can start saving a little money. 
8. Try to cut down on the amount of pointless internet surfing that I do. 
9. Get applications for grad school sent out. Take the time to go through picking schools to apply to. 
10. Organize my music, books, and artwork.
11. Make more work, and try to work through any artistic block that may arise. 
12. Try not to get so angry with my roommates...because that was another huge problem for me last year.
13. Professionalize my wardrobe so that I'm ready for the upcoming changes that will accompany my upcoming graduation. 
14. As my sister pointed out to me, I need to allow myself more time to relax and de-stress. 

One of Those Cliche End of 2011 Posts...

I think this year was one of the only years that I slept soundly Christmas Eve. I woke up once during the night when I heard the ringing of a bell, and though I knew it was not what I thought it was, there was a brief moment in which I wondered if, after all those years, I'd finally had some kind of evidence of Santa Claus. The semi-concious mind is a fascinating thing.

A lot has happened in the last year. I became a proud godmother. I have settled into the Tiny Blue Room. I read some of my poetry in Pittsburgh, PA, where Jessica, Kelsey, Laura and I hung out with other English majors, basked in all things English-y, and ate sandwiches topped with french fries. I discovered a lot about drawing and what it means to me personally and in my work. I've thought a lot about the future, and in the process learned a lot about myself and how I want to live my life. I went to see the final HP movie with my sister and my best friends. I was sorted into Ravenclaw on Pottermore. I tried my hand at nonfiction and found another mode of expression that I connected to, learning many things about myself in the process. I completed the requirements for both my French minor and English major. I am three art classes away from graduation. And I started this blog.

I have a lot of thoughts. But now is not the time.

Favorite Books Read in 2011

• Anna and the French Kiss by Stephanie Perkins
• The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky
• The Sky Is Everywhere by Jandy Nelson
• The Invention of Hugo Cabret by Brian Selznick

The Jury Is Still Out Award 2011

• Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins (Thoughtbox coming soon...)
• I Kissed A Girl, 3x07 of Glee

Favorite Glee Episodes Aired in 2011

• Silly Love Songs 2x12
• Born This Way 2x18
• Prom Queen 2x20
• I Am Unicorn 3x02
• Asian F 3x03
• The First Time 3x05

The Television Cool Point Award 2011

• Every single episode of Modern Family, one of my favorite shows ever. 
• The First Time, for many reasons.

Favorite Movies 

• Super 8
• Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2
• Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows

Music (does not mean it has to have been released this year...)

• Florence + The Machine, "Ceremonials"
• Alanis Morissette, "Jagged Little Pill"
• Madonna, "Madonna"
• Lady Gaga, "Born This Way"
• Coldplay, "A Rush of Blood to the Head"
• Panic! At The Disco, "Vices and Virtues"
• Freelance Whales, "Weathervanes"
• Jessie J, "Who You Are"
• Adele, both "19" and "21"

See you in 2012. I'm off to knit and continue with my Glee marathon to ring in the New Year.

The Weekend Before Dead Week

I'm tired. I'm annoyed that I feel like I've learned very little in my art history class because of the online lectures--a structure I don't do well with. I want to write more nonfiction but I have to wait until I have other things finished first. I feel like my French Lit teacher thinks I'm an idiot because I have a hard time speaking in French (I don't have time to think it out in my head), even though he probably doesn't. I have a lot of drawing stuff to do before Wednesday and because I don't have any kind of studio space in which to work, I'm having a hard time motivating myself to do anything at the house because I have to work in the dining room and there's TV and my roommates are usually here...

I've discovered as time goes on that I feel very uncomfortable with other people in the room when I'm drawing. It's like someone reading over your shoulder. I can feel the eyes on the drawing.

I've always had that discomfort, though. I'm fine in studio classes when we're drawing as a group until someone comes to walk around to see what everyone else is doing--that's when I get nervous and I feel my arm--and the mark-making--become really stiff. When I make rounds, I can't stand in one place too long because I don't want to do that to anyone else.

Perhaps all the time I spent holed up at home in my room in high school turned me off to any sort of ability to handle any normal social interaction. My extreme lack of confidence with drawing doesn't help, either.

But enough worrying and stressing. Linkage of interest:

First, this beautiful, wonderful ad.

Second, this video celebrating the awesomeness of free speech with quite a few awesome authors (including Sarah Dessen and John Green *cue major fangirling*).

Things I Need to Do Before Christmas:

• finish my Christmas shopping
• make serious headway in my Nano novel, considering I haven't touched it in a month
• clean the Tiny Blue Room, because everything's pell mell at this point
• reread The Outsiders (which I've been meaning to do for a long time)
• finish the last few things of schoolwork I need to do before the end of the semester on the 16th
• do some hardcore studying for my French final
• get my hair cut (or something...)

Two more weeks. I have to keep reminding myself that there's only two weeks left. 

Gratitude

This may be a little cliche to do, but I think there's something really special (and important) in celebrating the things that make us happy, healthy, and safe. It is Thanksgiving, after all. (Though, as my friend Melissa pointed out on Facebook this morning, we should be thankful everyday rather than saving it for one day a year.) Thus.

I'm thankful for my family. They mean so much to me, and I am truly blessed. When I am home, it is for them.

I am thankful for my sister's sense of humor. She knows exactly what to say to make things not so bad. She and I have the same kind of sense of humor. I am also thankful that she laughs at my jokes, because I know I'm not that funny.

I am thankful for God's love in many ways.

I am thankful for books and art. What kind of a person would I be without them?

I am thankful that my health has been good.

I am thankful for my open-mindedness.

I am thankful for Coca-Cola, Milky Way bars, Arby's/Hardees curly fries, and Cranberry Limeades.

I am thankful for the opportunities I've had in my life to travel. They have been few, but worthwhile all the same.

I am thankful for The Westing Game, Harriet the Spy, and the many Nancy Drew mysteries I read in elementary school, because they helped me to appreciate a good mystery.

I am thankful for the ability to drive around the Little Apple without being too nervous. I haven't quite overcome my fear of driving completely, but I'm getting there.

I am thankful for Oldies and 60s British Invasion rock 'n' roll. But mostly I'm thankful for my dad's excellent taste in music. I couldn't have asked for a better kind of music to grow up with.

Though it has been hard, and not to mention emotionally taxing, I am thankful that the drought of any romance in my life has allowed me to seriously consider what I'd like in a relationship and understand my stance on many things.

I am thankful for my mother and her perseverance, creativity, and compassion. I learn more and more from her everyday.

I am thankful for the things I have learned from our trips to Michigan, and most especially the memories they left with me. It has been a long time since my grandparents (my dad's parents) passed away, but I think of them almost every single day.

I am thankful for the tradition and love from my mom's side of the family. My grandparents have been married 60 years, and they are the heart of my mom's large family. I feel very blessed to be a part of it.

I am thankful that I decided to pick up and read Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone in sixth grade.

I am thankful for writing and the joy I get from it. The power of the story is kind of awesome. And, in a way, it kind of saved my life.

I'm thankful for college. It is one of the best things that have happened to me. I have learned so much and in so many different ways, and I have changed so much from the person I was five years ago. I feel like I'm finally me.

I'm thankful for authentic Mexican food and authentic Indian food. I am also thankful for my grandmother's spaghetti, my mom's pasty, and cheesecake.

I am thankful for Glee, Star Wars, and the Georgia Nicolson series.

I am thankful that John Keats (and all related British Romantic poets), W.B. Yeats, William Shakespeare, Emily Dickinson, Walt Whitman, Jane Austen, Sarah Dessen, John Green, Maureen Johnson, and J.K. Rowling all decided to write stuff down.

I am thankful for movies. I am also thankful for movie theaters (though not the raising ticket prices). I am especially thankful for Steven Spielberg and Focus Features.

I am thankful for 80s music and 80s movies.

I am thankful for music and concerts. Especially the trip I took with Brandi and Cassie last year to Kansas City, where we went to Warped Tour and then Lady Gaga's Monster Ball within the course of 48 hours. It was incredible.

I am thankful for my friends. My friendships have, and always will be, extremely important to me. I love my friends dearly. I'm very blessed.

There will always be things to be thankful for, and this list certainly doesn't cover everything. Happy Thanksgiving.

Points of Interest for 22 November, 2011

So. Have you seen the new made-of-awesome Hunger Games trailer? I have soooooo much love for it. Effie! The Capitol! Peeta! Gale! Katniss volunteering! Cinna! Caesar Flickerman! Rue! My heart! And March seems like such a long ways away....

The Leaky Cauldron has posted links to part one and part two of a documentary called "When Harry Left Hogwarts" (from one of the special Blu-rays of DHp2...I think). It's beautiful, and I have few words.

Finally, I highly recommend the Loudspeaker podcast, which is also made of awesome. (It's amazing. It really is.)

Have I mentioned how much I love having a break from things for a bit? I am currently watching Chamber of Secrets (Harry and Ron are just about to change back into themselves after taking Polyjuice potion), taking a quick breather from planning a drawing strategy for my final drawing project. This morning, Mom and I made a quick trip to Lincoln to do a little Christmas shopping, and I found a little something for Heidi and my goddaughter Emilyn. I also now own my very first pair of Birkenstocks. I feel like I've achieved some sort of right-of-passage wearing them. Is that weird?

When I have time to really think through things...I'm just really thankful for this week off. I really needed it.

Imogen Heap, "Lifeline"

I've been poking around, looking for options for a project we're working on for Drawing III, which involves us compiling a list of our various formal and conceptual influences as artists. I came across this amazing, beautiful song and the accompanying video in my search for "new" non-artist influences. 

I absolutely adore Imogen Heap. She is an incredible, all-around poet, artist, and musician, and I can't help myself but get caught up in each of her songs. This song is no different. I cannot wait until this album comes out. Goodness me, is it good....I just wish I'd known about it before today. 

*adds it to list of inspirations for any kind of creative block*

First Week Thoughts

Right now my thoughts are pretty foggy.

My art history class is going to have a different format than I'm used to. I've had the professor for two other art history classes, and the way he's structured the class in the past is with lecture from which we will take notes in class. I've been pretty happy with that format. I'm an incessant note-taker, and it gave me a chance to take a lot of notes and therefore keep up with what he was saying. This semester, however, he has split the class in half. One group will meet on Tuesdays, the other on Thursdays. On class days, we will be doing in-class activities/presentations based on the lectures and activities we had to do online throughout the week.

Part of me is excited about this format; the professor talked through some of the goals of the in-class activities, including some practice with writing criticism/analyses and artist statements in relation to what we're talking about. The other part is worried. I'm not yet sure what that worry is in response to (though I have a feeling it's not just about one thing). I'm giving it two weeks before I have an opinion about it.

Drawing 3 does not seem as scary as it was last fall. We're starting with a focus on observational drawing. I did a drawing of my cell phone yesterday in class--unfinished, because we only had an hour and the instruction was to make the object we chose as observed as possible. I'm also waiting to have an opinion until I've attended more sessions, but right now I'm feeling good about it. This is good news considering how close I am to developing and putting up my BFA show. I know it will be challenging--incredibly so--but I feel positive.

I know I'm going to love my Intro to French Lit 2 class. We're reading a great variety of literature from the Middle Ages (Le Moyen Age en francais) to the 1700s. I'm stoked; I haven't read a lot of literature from the time period yet, so it will be something different and exciting. The best and also the most nerve-wracking part of it is that because it is a language course, the class is entirely in French. We're reading these classic French works in French (some of which has been translated into the modern French from the original Old French). Mind = blown. My worry, however, is that it's going to become overwhelming. My French vocabulary is not very good at the moment (I'm working on it), and it might take me awhile to get into the swing of reading in addition to our class discussion. I'm so excited for it, but I know it's going to take a lot of work.

Finally, there is Advanced Creative Non-Fiction, a class that will also be a challenge. I have a lot of feelings about this class, and they are all good. I can't wait to be back in the swing of writing again, especially because I haven't done a lot of non-fiction writing. I write fiction and poetry, so this is definitely going to be a different kind of experience and will give me the chance to expand on my knowledge in and of creative writing. I want to do it justice, though. I don't want to fall into a pattern of embellishment and exaggeration. I was so worried about not being able to remember everything--something I'm convinced is impossible to achieve. What if I couldn't produce anything that is able to capture what I want to say? One can't "make stuff up." We had to read a couple of short essays discussing the genre itself--which is much more varied than I ever imagined: essay, travel writing, literary journalism, memoir, cultural criticism, food writing, and so on. Mind = Blown. In that chunk of reading, I gained more enthusiasm and excitement for trying out the genre then I'd ever thought I'd have. There was something, too, that my professor said yesterday in class that soothed my concerns. I don't remember her exact words, but it was something along the lines of: "be truthful to the memory as you remember it." I think I wrote it down in my notes from yesterday; I'll look it up and post it, because it really struck me.

Perhaps I worry too much.


Edit 25 Aug: I have written in my notes (probably not word-for-word): "be true to the memory as you have it." Another thing I wrote down that struck me as interesting is "silence is a power in literature." Also, "verity."

Little Bits of Happiness

This week flew by much too quickly, leaving me thinking that today was Saturday and not Friday. My last year of undergrad starts in about two days, and with everything that I've been thinking about--so much thinking--in addition to everything that has happened in the last few months, I'm starting to feel a pressure building within my chest. I have this crazy feeling that I'm forgetting something important; my dreams have started reflecting this and other various school-related insecurities. This is how it usually starts.

And so, to quell the stress that is sure to set in, I'm making an extended pick-me-up list. I am determined to avoid what happened last year when I nearly lost my mind with everything that happened in and out of school. It's one attempt to keep my sanity, assuming things will be just as crazy. Below is the beginning of this list. I'll add to it as the year wears on.


1. Reading. Lots and lots of it, especially considering I've only had the chance to read a book and a half this summer.

2. "Uncharted" by Sara Bareilles. When I was pouring my heart out to my sister one night over the phone a few months ago, she suggested I listen to this song in hopes that I would find some sort of creative inspiration/comfort from everything that was going on. Since then it's been my go-to song for when things seem beyond overwhelming.

3. The Literary Snob. Indescribable beauty in so many respects. LOVE.

4. Drawing. Always.

5. Kurt doing "Single Ladies" in the "Preggers" episode of Glee. I will never, ever tire of it. (Sidenote: As good as the Glee 3D movie was, I was severely disappointed that "Single Ladies" didn't make the cut. Alas.)

6. The "Laryngitis" episode of Glee. It is my favorite episode from Season 1. Few words can accurately explain my adoration for this episode. It is incredible.

7. Any news concerning The Perks of Being a Wallflower, Struck By Lightning, and The Hunger Games. All three are pretty much guaranteed to be amazing.

8. Waiting patiently for The Woman In Black. I'm not much for scary movies, but I will definitely be there to see this one.

9. Pottermore. I'm still waiting for my Welcome email. It will be worth the wait.

10. Harry Potter. As one last hurrah of summer before Monday, I'm going to see Deathly Hallows Part 2 again tomorrow night. A perfect end to an imperfect summer vacation.

11. Earl Grey tea. I am fairly sure we were made for one another.

Rainy Friday

It's currently raining. Such a calming thing. There's a little bit of thunder, too. As much as I don't want it to be raining as we're loading stuff tomorrow, I do love it, especially now.

Just an observation. I leave you with "Rain" by Mika.*

*Also "Rain" by The Beatles, which is another great song appropriate to the beauty of this moment. Well, for the most part. 

Inspiration Can Come In the Simplest of Forms

Last year in Drawing 3 and Advanced Drawing, the drawing majors decided to dub ourselves "The Drawing Rangers" because we started out as five (and then grew to eight and then six, if I'm counting correctly) and we had grown really close from having spent so much time together in studio. Naturally, we all tended to hold each other up when things got rough or when any one of us faced some bit of an artist block (or, as was often the case, more of a crisis). It was through these moments when we grew even closer and were able to pull through the darkness and find our way back.

Anyway, Brianna, who is so sweet and super awesome, tagged myself, Whitney, Caitlin, and Nicole in a post of FB earlier today. The link was to this gorgeous strip, which provides a kind of pick-me-up for the artistic soul (be sure to click to enlarge). When I read it, I teared up, because sometimes when the frustrations get too much, and the discouragement in self and abilities skyrockets, it is so important to be reminded of what got me into art in the first place. The possibilities are endless, and each beautiful in their own way. (Plus, it's what the Drawing Rangers do.)

Thank you, Brianna, for reminding me of that. It's exactly what I needed to hear. <3