Anger!

I'm super ticked off right now. I got a new flip ultra hd for xmas, and today, I tried to record some art journal stuff so I could post my first video after the new year. Unfortunately, my camera was low on batteries. So, I plugged it in to my laptop to charge. (like my other camera, when you plug it in, it auto opens it's software). So about an hour and a half later, I push the little eject icon like I would for my ipod, then unplug it. When I then tried to turn it on, nothing happened. So I plugged it back into my laptop, which no longer recognizes it at all. Well, fmylife. So I go hunting through the flip website for something helpful, only to learn that the eject icon is not actually enough. Just because the software no longer sees your camera, it's not safe to remove it. You must close the software and "safely remove hardware" in my computer. Otherwise, you risk permanently corrupting the camera. Good to know, now that I've done it. Why the fuck would you put in an eject button if it doesn't eject the camera? Just so I'll be fucked? I've emailed their tech support and supposedly they'll get back to me within 24 hours. Which is dandy, except I'd kinda like the camera to work on New Years Eve. And oh yeah, now, when I was trying to use it. Sometimes, I hate technology.

Wow

No, seriously. This is epic. And brilliant. And perfectly executed. I'm in love. Go. Now. Why are you still reading this, and not downloading Blame it on the Pop?

thnks fr th mmrs

Do you remember when we went out in any weather, pretended to be wizards and stayed up all night. When glitter and top hats and tutus were worn without reason, or concern for what anyone else might say? When pajamas were selected for snugglyness and excellent patterns, not for how sexy someone else would think you looked in them? And everything else was to? What happened to that? Where did those people go? Who stole my magic? I keep trying to blame it on external forces, but the truth is, I did it to myself. Slowly, I let other people tell me who to be and where to go and what to do and what to want. I bet you did too. I ignored myself long enough, hoping I'd just go away and be left with who I was "supposed" to be. But that is so not happening. Normally, when I realize that this is what I've done to myself, and why I'm so unhappy, I get angry and decide to basically tell everyone to go fuck themselves, but in the morning, I can't actually tell my mom to bug off, so I slip back into my old pattern. This time, I'm going to try a different approach. Slower. I'm going to buy a video camera and make art and try to work on writing a book. We'll see.

First Snow

Outside my window, soft, not as cold as it seems it should be. The world is subsumed, hard edges of reality softened and melted into white rounds. Wind defeats gravity and retrieves deposited powder, lifts it into swirls and billows that obscure the streetlight. The day was darkly grey, but the night is bright, refracting, reflecting, amplifying ambient light to create a silvered illumination to rival the sun and dwarf the hidden moon. If only everything could be this beautiful forever, empty chill world drawing me to walk forever, rediscover the infinite in the landscape I trudge through daily. But in the morning, modernity will eclipse beauty, and society will choose convenience over magic. My shrill alarm will wake me to a world ravaged by plows, footprints, salt, and noise. The grey asphalt will be uncovered, and noises of life will resume. The neighbor's angry dog will warn the snow away, cars will burst through the slush in their hurry to resume normalcy. Tonight's perfect hush and blissful white will be muddied, muddled and shoveled aside. And I will worry about waterproofing and warmth and productivity, forgetting what is revealed every first snow, leaving this serenity for the comforting weight of the expected. Tonight's joy will be erased in the necessary tasks of the day, and I will bundle and grouse about the inconvenience and cold with everyone else. But for now, the snow is a miracle. Glory and magic and possibilities. If the world can bring this, anything must be possible, even probable.
And if I had snowboots and my mom wouldn't be difficult, I'd go explore. Alas, there is no traying party to create, no golf course to disappear into. So I guess I'll just dream and sleep and wish.

Enough is enough

Ok, look. I love Snape. I think he's hilarious and awesome, and frankly, Alan Rickman could read the telephone book and make it sexy. But some people are taking this shit a bit too far, this was on today's texts from last night:
(201): My friend is getting herself a tramp stamp that says "property of the half blood prince".
Unlike the girl a few weeks ago getting tattooed with the Boondock Saints' prayer, this is just sad. No awesomeness. 1st off, the saints' prayer is awesome in and of itself, (So we shall flow a river forth to thee, and teeming with souls shall it ever be - a thousand times better than hail Mary full of grace) and secondly, it does not say you are property of a fictional character. Unlike books, people are not property. I get the reference. It's not like I don't understand. Unfortunately, this is one of those things where the more you get it, the more pathetic your tattoo becomes. Well, I suppose, there's a moment of improvement when someone realizes that the half-blood prince is Snape and not Potter, but many people won't even get that far. So you're getting a tramp stamp which announces you as property of a fictional character and where many people will incorrectly assume said character is an annoying 17 yr old emo boy. One day, when you are 50 (actually, probably long before then) you will massively regret this.

Plauge sucks

I am sick. My nose is stuffed and I feel icky. I want to be able to either give in and just collapse or tell the cold to go to hell and just get up and paint. But I really have too much to do for either of those to be viable options. Instead, I slept late, and my plan for the day revolves around bed, tea, knitting, and painting cards. Why must I still make at least another half dozen cards? I feel like I've been doing this forever. I'm suddenly so glad that only about 15 of my friends responded(well, ok, so some of them live together, so they only get one card for multiple people). Time for another card background and maybe a shower. Then more knitting while I watch serenity (finally). I live such an exciting life, here in my world of pjs and tissues. Why are we out of the tea I like? And out of honey? I am not pleased.

Excellence and amazement

Making good progress on the holiday cards I'm painting- 7 almost finished, plus completed backgrounds for 6 more- this means only details and stamping remain for those, and 8 more backgrounds. Also, a couple of really good paintings finished or in the works...
I saw a really inspirational exhibit of Georgia O'Keefe's abstract work at the Whitney on Saturday, which was good. Makes me excited about color and watercolors all over again, so I'm playing a bunch with those.
My knitting projects are going well, still have to do David's hat, plus the one for the grab bag, and I got this amazingly beautiful yarn for a scarf for me once that's all done.
Today, I went to the Tuba Christmas at Rockefeller Center. It was fun, albeit very wet. And I was slightly disappointed to discover that Tubas on Ice doesn't mean they skate while they play, rather that they stand on mats which have been rolled onto the ice and the stage behind the rink. But still, an army of tubas playing Christmas carols is win.
But mostly, I'm in a really good mood because today I got a job! Yes, that's right, gainful employment, where they pay me. $20 an hour, about 15 hours a week, mostly from home, managing the yoga studio my mom and I go to. And I'm probably going to take a couple of classes next semester, psych and art, at Hunter in the city, so that I can think about going to grad school for art therapy at some point.
So basically, I'm feeling really good about all that. Money and classes and art. A good direction for my life. Now if only I had a circus to play with and a way to live somewhere other than with my mom, everything would be pretty much perfect, but still, can't complain.

I think I'm in love

So, a couple of weeks ago I went to the Met to hang out in the Greek/Roman wing and do some sketches. It was disappointing, and very full of people. It had lost the magical old-world "British Library feeling".
Yesterday, I decided to go to the Cloisters (which is the Met's medieval building, in Fort Tyron Park). I'd never been before. It had the "British Library feeling" 100%. It was amazing. Where has this place been all my life? I don't even find the medieval art particularly interesting in general, but the cloisters are made of old stone and magic. I had a great time. And the park is lovely.
Then I went on a failed quest for a few knitting things I needed, met up with Jove (spent way too long in St. Mark's comics, but they had the end of the Joss Whedon Astonishing x-men run, which I'd been on a quest for for like a year and a half). Then we found Jon and Robin, had really cheap, but good, Indian and saw The Blind Side, which was good.
Today, I am going back into the city to meet Jove for some sort of free "NYC Jedi" show (sounds weird, but might be fun) and then Jon and Robing and some people they know to go to a bar. It will be a good weekend.
Except that everyone else has snow, and I just have yucky rain. Who ordered this weather?

Acrophobia

As more and more aspects of my life spiral out of control, and more and more people I care about decide they don't want me in their lives, I don't know what to do.
I don't understand why this is happening.
Unfortunately, or fortunately, the drugs seem to be working, and I am not falling into depression. I'm sleeping, and functioning, but it seems to be worse than the depression. At least that dulled all my feelings, so I didn't end up feeling quite so awful about things I couldn't control. I was so focused on my own pain and my internal issues that I didn't even notice when others had problems with me. And now that I do, I don't know how to cope with it, or what to do to fix anything.
I've screwed things up with Danielle, and Friedman, and Elias, and Jason, and I've massively neglected pretty much everyone else. And I'm just left with fear. If I do nothing, it'll just keep getting worse, but I don't know what to do to fix anything, and I don't even have anyone left to ask, so I am just waiting, hoping for a thought that will tell me how to proceed so I don't make things worse.
Halfway up a sheer cliff, I looked down. And I saw how far the ground was, how cold and hard and unforgiving it will be when I plummet. Suddenly, every muscle is frozen, and tired, and threatening to cramp. My calves are burning, as are my icy fingers, and my feet are twitching. My mind shrieks for me to keep climbing. But there are no more hand holds I can see, and the ones I cling to are crumbling. I press my face to the rock and try to remember how to breathe through the feeling that the bottom has dropped out of my stomach, my feet, my life. And above me I hear calls of encouragement, tinted with impatience. And I know that if they all reached the top successfully, there must be grooves for my fingers, jutting pieces of rock that will support my toes, but I still don't see them. I breathe and wish for solid ground, or at least a belay line. I am not meant to climb cliffs. And I am equally sure that if I remain paralyzed here, my body will fail me and I will fall, and that if I try to climb, I will miss my grip and fall. So falling seems to be the only option. I press closer to the rocks and pray to a deity I didn't believe in at the base of the cliff.
I can't help but wonder, as the wind tugs my fingers and buffets hair into my eyes, if there is a third option. The toe holds I climbed up from have vanished also, so I cannot go down, and try to get around. If my life were a novel, I could just push off from the cliff and soar, and the wind would support me. But even if I could, those at the top wouldn't accept it. And I don't think it's an option. I'd have to do it fully, completely trusting that I'd miss the ground, but I don't have that kind of faith. I'm much too aware of how far the ground is, and of my own frailty. If the cliff is some sort of metaphor for recovery, shouldn't it get easier as I get higher? It doesn't. I cling to the sheer wall, wondering how many of them actually climbed the cliff unaided, and wait as the blood drains from icy fingers clenched into sharp stone, wait for the inevitable fall.

Remember the Alamo?

An unfocused and unproductive week.
Well, except that I finished the hat I was knitting and started a new one.
But enough about that- today, I am reminded that the internet is a magical place.
Two things to share:
1. I want an LED tattoo. So fucking awesome. I really think step two would be to make it touch sensitive, so you could draw on your body with your finger and have it show the strokes (or on someone else's body, even better).  Like the best body paint EVER. I want. Make this. Make it cheap, and make it safe and make it now.
2. Glen Beck is a rodeo clown. But a rodeo clown with a good point:  "Will anyone look at these issues instead of looking at my past? We will continue to fight this, you and me together, you and me and quite frankly, Fox News, the Alamo for truth!"
Yes. Fox News is the Alamo for truth. Where it is brutally massacred, so people with no sense of history can use it incorrectly later. Well put. 
In other news, I will never understand men. Anyone with an explanation is more than welcome to try, but I really think they're all just either completely mad or incurably stupid. Or maybe I am. Because more and more of them keep being added to the "he's being weird and I don't know why" pile. 

Doctor Feliciagrim

http://makememighty.ca/?n=5dddedc5

I Will

Will is the best word. Almost as good as Hat. Which is my word.
I am a moose. A Moose in a Hat....
Anyway. Will. Will is both the word that says, yes, I'm going to do or be or achieve whatever it might be, and the way you do that. I Will, because I Will it to be so, Through Will (the force) I will (the action).
Such a good word.
I will be bold. I WILL.
I will be me. I will stop being afraid of what others might think. I will wear what I want, I will make the art I want, and if you don't like it, that is not my problem. It is not my fault.
This would be easier to accomplish if I weren't going to see my grandparents tomorrow. My mom's reactions are likely to be difficult enough. I know they're not going to stop loving me if I wear a tutu, but they want explanations. Why did you dye your hair purple? Why are you wearing that? Why don't you get a job and be normal?
Because I want to. Because I can. Because I have tried to be the person you want me to be for long enough, and that isn't who I am. And it's not making me happy.
Perhaps because I have been letting them get their way for so long, it is harder to break free. Most off my friends stopped doing things because they were "supposed to" gradually, over years, starting in middle and high school. I am doing it more abruptly, and later. And it's hard. But I have to. For me. I Will.
If everyone did this, we would all stop trying to make other people who we think they should be, and let them be who they are.

Worse Things have happened

Today I went to the Met. Which I was too ansty for, I couldn't focus on the art and when I tried to sketch in the Greek and Roman galeries, I discovered 2 things that prevented me from doing much. 1) the benches are all facing the backs of the pieces or at awkward angles and 2) there are an awful lot of people in the Met at 2:30 on a Tuesday afternoon. Doesn't anyone work? In the right art mindset neither of these would be a problem. In the Louve, I crouched on the floor in corners until my legs gave out and I fell over because I'd gone numb from too many sketches of too many pieces. Today, I managed a very brief 10 minute sketch of a marble statue of Venus. And that was it.
I did, however, discover the "study room" above the gallery which is filled with crowded glass cases roughly sorted of pottery, statues, jewelery and whatever other bits and pieces they had. And I do mean roughly sorted: each case contains probably a hundred various objects, and is simply marked "Crete: Bronze Age" or "Horses in Imperial Rome". I'm making the specific titles up, but you get the idea. This room was mostly empty, and had what I think of as that "Brittish Museum feeling". Now, I have never been to the Brittish Museum, so I have no clue why I think this, but it's when you're in a space that feels amazing, holy almost, in that you can feel the palpable energy of the history or art or whatever. Most spaces that should have this feeling (such as the Acropolis) have been trampled and filled with tourists, so the eons of emotion and worship have been crushed and can no longer be felt.
This is one of the saddest things in our world.
Mostly, I tell myself that worse things have happened, which Danielle wrote a beautiful post about today, quoting from The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy, on (amongst other things) the idea that Worse Things Have Happened. This is an idea that both saves me and gets me into trouble. No matter what is happening, I might reply "worse things have happened" - which could mean "I've survived worse, so I'm not afraid" but could equally be -not sarcastic exactly- but somewhat tounge in cheek "Is that supposed to worry me? It actually sounds kinda good."
I use the first way much more. To remind myself that nothing thus far has proven stronger than I am, so while this might suck, it too is temporary and I can survive it too. Because I'm quite durable. I'm tired, but who isn't?
However, when it comes to a few things, like the way our world has become so comercial and fake, I lose perspective. Worse things have happened, like genocide. But its all so tangle together at this point. When I sit on the subway, and some guy panhandles by singing the song he wrote for Jesus and everyone carefully ignores him, I turn up my ipod too. And I watch as no one looks at him or each other, at a city full of people pretending to be alone in crowded cars where every lurch presses you against a stranger. And I know why we can distroy so much for "comfort" and the all-important "convenience". Because it is a culture of self-absorption. Of loud voices and disregard for history and beauty. And I am certainly an offender. And I wish I could stop. But I know tomorrow, I'll be back to my desire to consume. Hell, I spent too much money today (art supplies and candles) and we all know I'm not going to undergo a radical personality shift and give up the soda and chocolate and junk food or the loud, sarcastic commentary or my ipod or cell phone or laptop. But as a society, we must do something. Because how can this culture leave anything but hollowed-out, brittle, self-absorbed shells where people are supposed to be?
And now I'm thouroughly depressed.

Moving

No, not where I live. As previously mentioned, I have no money or job or prospects for either, and until those things materialize I will continue to live with my mom, who is very kindly supporting my foray into insanity. Which is very kind of her, and also crucially important both to my financial situation so I can have time to make art and to my emotional health so that I can feel ok about doing so (it's really important for me to feel supported by someone, that this isn't a completely insane thing for me to be doing, even if that person is my mom, and the love and support is more or less unconditional and not based solely on artistic merit).
I am, however, thinking of moving to a new blog address and (having now just signed up for accounts on etsy and youtube) trying my hand at making some videos and selling my art. Because I need to stop sitting around, thinking I'm just as good as these other people, and why do they have huge followings and I don't, and get out there and try. Trying is, at least for the moment, just as important (if not more important) than succeeding.
Unfortunately, this plan is slightly more challenging due to the fact that I don't really have the necessary technology. Sure, I have a digital camera, and it takes video, but it's quite crappy, and so my pictures of my art don't really do them any justice. Also, I only have a 1gb card, so who knows how much video I can capture? Probably not much... well, t says 12 minutes, but I have about 30 pics on it at the moment. Maybe my brother will let my borrow his nice camera or Friedman will, or something, and I'm thinking about asking for a video camera for Christmas or something. We'll see.

Process Story

In politics, the last thing you want is for the press to write a process story. You want them to write about the issue, not about how the government is working.
But I like process, it fascinates me.
I always want to know what people are thinking. how they're doing stuff, and why.
So my art process is all about stopping that.
Stop thinking, just do.
I try to stop worrying about how each piece is going to end up, and focus on making it.
And if I don't think about what I'm doing, that is, I shut off the nasty voice inside my head that paralyzes me with a thousand questions (what is this piece going to say about me? how will it make the viewer feel? what does it mean? will anyone like it? is it worth doing?). Sometimes then I make art that is "good" whatever that means. Mostly I tell myself that all that "good" means is that I like it, either because its beautiful, or it makes me feel something or it effectively communicates my point of view. But I still don't know if anyone else will feel that way, and the only way I can know that is to show it to other people. Which is terrifying.
I have to get over that. I tell myself that if just one person buys just one piece of my art, then it'll feel better. I won't have to be afraid anymore. But I'm sure that that isn't true, that no matter how many other people like my art, or even buy it, I'll still be afraid that every piece isn't good enough. In fact it'll only add more pressure. Because every piece is a risk, each time I make art I am putting myself out there, letting people into my brain, and if they don't like it, then I must not be any good, and I should stop now.
Which is why I don't try to sell my art. But that's silly.
Everyone doesn't have to like your art for it to be worthwhile. And as long as I learned something, or enjoyed making it, or like the result, then it is "good", and I should keep doing it.
And you should too. When did we decide that all that mattered was results, measured solely in other people's opinions and willingness to spend money? What messed up cultural idea made us think that was how we should measure the "value" of our art, and of ourselves?
I refuse to play that game anymore. I will create what I want to create, and I will try to sell it. And maybe someone will like it too, and buy some. And maybe they won't. But how can I know unless I try?

Artists too

You know how if I was paranoid, I'd think that someone is watching me? Otherwise, this is yet another sign that I'm not alone. Today's QC is sort of the description of my whole life. And this why I don't have job.
So I'm off to paint, so I can roughly pretend I've been doing something with my life.

Owl City - Tidal Wave

Sometimes it worries me. Really, itunes, you shouldn't know me this well. Someone somewhere is watching me, and sending me the perfect album for my current state of mind. And this is it. Seriously, I highly recommend getting this. Even if they do use Pachabel's Canon in D aka the damn 4 chords you can't escape. Alot. Fine, it's not the most brilliant pop music ever (and the fact that itunes says its electronica is more or less a huge lie. using a synth does not autmatically make it electronic). But its highly enjoyable. And how can you go wrong with lyrics like these?

I wish I could cross my arms, and cross your mind
Cause I believe you'd unfold your paper heart and wear it on your sleeve
All my life I wish I broke mirrors, instead of promises
Cause all I see, is a shattered conscience staring right back at me
I wish I had covered all my tracks completely cause I'm so afraid
Is that the light at the far end of the tunnel or just the train?
Lift your arms only heaven knows, where the danger grows
And it's safe to say there's a bright light up ahead and help is on the way
(Help is on the way, Help is on the way, Help is on the way...)

Help is on the way
I forget the last time I felt brave, I just recall insecurity
Cause it came down like a tidal wave, and sorrow swept over me

Depression, please cut to the chase and cut a long story short
Oh please be done. How much longer can this drama afford to run?
Fate looks sharp, severs all my ties and breaks whatever doesn't bend
But sadly then, all my heavy hopes just pull me back down again
(Back down again, back down again, back down again...)

I forget the last time I felt brave, I just recall insecurity
Cause it came down like a tidal wave, and sorrow swept over me
Then I was given grace and love, I was blind but now I can see
Cause I found a new hope from above, and courage swept over me

It hurts just to wake up, whenever you're wearing thin
Alone on the outside, so tired of looking in
The end is uncertain and I've never been so afraid
But I don't need a telescope to see that there's hope
And that makes me feel brave

Also, the new DJ Hero game. I saw the ad today for the first time. And I am saddened by the whole concept. It tells you what to do and when to do it? Yes, I understand that thats how Guitar Hero works, but when you play an instrument, you usually play the song as its written, at least at the beginning. If I wanted to play the song the way they wrote it, I'd hit play in itunes and walk away. Or if I wanted to play a straight-up remix, I'd do that. Yes, I understand this is not the point. But I find the whole idea of a DJ game where my goal is to follow instructions somewhat offensive. As far as I'm concerned, the whole idea of DJing is to respond to the crowd and get them to respond to you. I reaslize the game has no way to simulate that. Do you know what I could do with that $200? Much less the $200 for the system I'd need? I could practically buy Live 8! Or a really sweet mixer. Or speakers. And thats just DJ equipment. $400 is a hell of a lot of art supplies. Or even fire toys. And those are expensive.
Anyway: Owl City = Good. DJ Hero < Good. Crazy friends ? Good

I think you think I am leaving,
That it is I who has parted ways-
But I am still standing here.

And if you walk away,
I am not going to walk behind you.
I will not follow you mindlessly,
But I will walk with you if you want me to.

Or I will wait here,
Until there is a reason to walk,
An invitation to share a path
Or maybe just a desire to move.

I may go in the same direction as you,
Or perhaps a different one.
Even if I walk the same path,
I will not follow you down it.

I have offered to walk with you,
And I am offering again
But when I try I find that that I follow you...

All I want is to walk side by side.
If you are only looking for someone to follow you
She isn't me

But I am still standing here.

Halloween and other insanity

It has been a truly crazy weekend.
Friday was mostly spent trying to cope with Drama that came up out of nowhere and sucker-punched me. After hours of trying to respond like a rational person, I finally sent the people who had sprung the drama (which bore no relation to my life or even people I am friends with, and came with ultimatums- do this or we will not be friends with you, but all these other people we'll stay friends with no matter what because they're important), an email saying that I couldn't hear from them for a while if they couldn't treat me like our relationships and my feelings matter. And after 6 hours of that, I spent about 3 cranking out a highly mediocre and shoddily made Rouge costume. And one of the friends who instigated the drama replied to say how sorry she was to have upset me. So she's now off the shit list.
Saturday- Went into the city with my friends (quite a few people correctly identified all of us, even Jove who was Sebastian Shaw - an excellent costume for a highly unknown character). There was much carousing and marching through the rain in the parade, which was amazing. We rejoined our dry and lame friends at the bar, which was super crowded, and decided to relocate. Then we were delayed because my epileptic friend had too much to drink and had a seizure- so we waited for an hour for the ambulance. Then tried another chiller bar for about an hour or so, before heading back to Jove's to watch Maniac Nurses Find Ecstasy an awful "horror" movie dub we desperately hoped would become porn but never did. Truly, an hour and 15 minutes of my life I can never have back. Crashed on the bean-bag couch - which is amazingly comfortable- for the not-most-comfy night of sleep ever between Friedman and George because Allie stole my spot in the bed.
Sunday, today, we had a lazy day -donuts, then hours of youtube clips and a seriously detour and traffic ridden trip back to New Ro, followed by dinner at Epstien's, which I thought was overpriced and not very good. But still conversation was fun, and it was a really good halloween once the I decided to tell the drama to fuck off. Unfortunately, this evening I returned home to an email - completely not about me, but rather about how all women have screwed men emotionally, and how that relate's to second drama-inducer's relationship with another girl who I don't care about. Intro'd with: "This is what I've been working on, and why I've been treating you and everyone with neglect. " Nothing else to me. I'm really sorry I even read it, that alone should have been enough to let me know it was not an email that would in any way consider my emotions or address anything I had said to him. So fuck him. I am not responding. As I said, I will not communicate until he indicates that he cares about me even a tiny bit. And now, after a lovely Halloween, I am depressed and pissed off. Again. So, bed is my next plan. Sleep. Yes please. God, I'm tired.

secrets

A few weeks ago, someone told me that secrets were the source of power.
I've been mulling that, because while my response was that I don't keep secrets, and I tell everyone everything, or everything I know and therefore can tell, that was true but somehow inaccurate?
Anyway, today I realized that by telling people everything, I am saying I don't want to play power games. "Here, look, now you know. And so does everyone else" thus, no secrets. No power. And this bothers them, but they won't admit it. Which gives me power. Which is passive-aggressive. Except that I'm not doing it to get power- I just think if we didn't have to lie and hide things, we'd all be happier and more secure in our relationships. And like all of my other decent-human initiatives, I am trying to lead by example and succeeding only in making everyone else pissed off, and myself miserable. Fmylife.
On a less somber note, Friedman and I had a discussion of secrets today.
David: !

infernally delicious cupcakes!

sooooooo you may have to come in my car and bring your cupcakes

your delicious delicious cupcakes

and you may or may not have cupcakes upon arrival

me: I don't know if they're delicious. I have been virtuous and not eaten them, merely decorated. for hours

David: i don't understand

how do you not eat cupcakes?

also, what is this 'virtue' you speak of?

me: well, i mostly do it by eating something super filling before I start decorating. with a taste that wouldn't combine well with cupcake

David: wow

that is incredibly smart
me: and then when I think cupcake! Nom time! I remember, but there are exactly enough to make an even number of each design, and I'm full of eggs, and my mouth tastes like eggs...

I am a genius

David: lol

me: and remember that on Saturday, I'm planning to run around manhattan in a skin-tight outfit, and that I'm already sort of a giant fatty

David: this is why the things i cook never last more than 30-45 minutes

oh right

estrogen

that's your secret

that, and society's backhand to feminine self-esteem

i'm so less confused now

me: I really don't think that it is secret that 1) i have estrogen or 2) society is hell on the self-esteem of those who have estrogen

David: it's secret because it didn't occur to me before i asked.

shh.

me: ok maybe the secret is that you are a fatty with no self-control
David: 1) not a secret

to either of us

2) not a problem, either

me: because you lack estrogen?

David: well

yes

actually

me: or because your costume allows for pants?

David: also, gambit wears a not-narrowly-tailored full-length coat

oh, and pants

And then a segue into costumes, followed by an even more amusing conversation about how next year we should go as "twisted" product mascots - Tony the Tigger (like winnie the pooh) Toucan uncle sam Pillsbury "dough" boy (made of $$$), sit-stay puffed marshmellow man (dressed as a dog), Ulysses S Grant Jemima etc.

Are You Out There?

"Perhaps I am a miscreation
No one knows the truth, there is no future here
And you're the DJ speaks to my insomnia
And laughs at all I have to fear
Laughs at all I have to fear
You always play the madmen poets
Vinyl vision grungy bands
You never know who's still awake
You never know who understands and

Are you out there, can you hear this?
Jimmy Olsen, Johnny Memphis,
I was out here listening all the time
And though the static walls surround me
You were out there and you found me
I was out here listening all the time

Last night we drank in parking lots
And why do we drink? I guess we do it 'cause
And when I turned your station on
You sounded more familiar than that party was
You were more familiar than that party
It's the first time I stayed up all night
It's getting light, I hear the birds
I'm driving home on empty streets
I think I put my shirt on backwards

Are you out there, can you hear this
Jimmy Olsen, Johnny Memphis
I was out here listening all the time
And though the static walls surround me
You were out there and you found me
I was out here listening all the time

And what's the future, who will choose it?
Politics of love and music
Underdogs who turn the tables
Indie versus major labels
There's so much to see through
Like our parents do more drugs than we do
Oh...

Corporate parents, corporate towns
I know every TV set that has them lit
They preach that I should save the world
They pray that I won't do a better job of it
Pray that I won't do a better job
So tonight I turned your station on just so I'd be understood
Instead another voice said I was just too late
And just no good...

Calling Olsen, calling Memphis
I am calling, can you hear this?
I was out here listening all the time
And I will write this down
and then I will not be alone again, yeah
I was out here listening
Oh yeah, I was out here listening
Oh yeah, I am out here listening all the time"

-Dar Williams


No one is out there. I'm pretty damn sure. And yet, like the search for Aliens or God, we all keep believing, hoping, rationalizing that we can't be as alone as we feel. On a purely statistical level, it seems unlikely. But even if some one else is listening, as long as we still feel alone, does it matter?

Truth

When did I stop
Keeping secrets
And start
telling Lies

Don't be offended

I think they're true
Or I did when I spoke
At least I wanted them to be
Now I'm not so sure

What is truth anyway?

If history is only lies
agreed upon
Why can't we write the present?
Write it, and in so doing,
Right it.




Blaise Pascal:

We know the truth, not only by the reason, but by the heart.

Brad Holland:

Postmodernists believe that truth is myth, and myth, truth. This equation has its roots in pop psychology. The same people also believe that emotions are a form of reality. There used to be another name for this state of mind. It used to be called psychosis.

Demosthenes:

Nothing is easier than self-deceit. For what each man wishes, that he also believes to be true.

Galileo:

All truths are easy to understand once they are discovered; the point is to discover them.

George Eliot:

Falsehood is easy, truth so difficult.

George Eliot:

[I]t is very hard to say the exact truth, even about your own immediate feelings – much harder than to say something fine about them which is not the exact truth.

Michael Friedlander:

There are many more wrong answers than right ones, and they are easier to find.

Plato:

Poetry is nearer to vital truth than history.

History is made by stupid people.

Apologies

I don't seem to make enough of them.
Gibbs says "never apologize, it's a sign of weakness".
But I'm not convinced. So, just a quick post to say I'm sorry.
Sorry that I never post. Sorrier that I never act on the impulse to call or write or let you know that I'm alive, and that I wonder how you are and I miss you. Sorry that I don't do the things you want me to do, that I can't be the person you want me to be. Sorry that I'm so selfish and whiny and that I keep making you put up with it. I only hope that the sarcastic commentary is occasionally funny enough to make up for it. And not just annoying, as I suspect it is.
And I want to say thank you for being my friend anyway.
The reason: I realized that I've been trying to make myself this woman, which means I have to make one of you this man. Which isn't very fair. And I've been doing a lousy job of it, so I keep making us these people instead. At least it's music I like, even if it does mean I keep ending up with fucked up relationships with my guy friends.
Or maybe you all think we're fine, and it's all in my head because I'm completely egomaniacal. Which is apparently not a word. But the only word I know that's similar is vainglorious. And obviously, I can't use that. Not only because that would mean I was saying the problem is that I'm Christopher-esque, which I am distinctly not, but because vainglorious doesn't convey the right level of self-absorption. Its more boastful and is about pride rather than general self obsession. And I'm pretty sure egomaniacal is a word, and that time it didn't underline it, so what the fuck? As Robin would say, dwonky.
In other news: since I've been home, I have accomplished very little. A couple hours "cleaning" mostly so I'd have space to take out my cold-weather clothes. I've been biting my nails, which I completely stopped in Canada. And last night and today, I've done a little art. Maybe I'll eventually have some to show. And I'll sort out my costume for Halloween. Votes on if I should be Psyloche or Rouge?
And see, again, in a post that was meant to just be an appology for being a shitty, self-absorbed friend, I've gone completely off into talking about myself. Seriously though, I need to learn to shut up about myself. Danielle thinks it would make me less offensive. Friedman says he doesn't get offended, and that I shouldn't worry about people who do. I dunno, I'm trying to be a decent human. I'm just failing spectacularly. But really, I do love you all and I miss you. Call me or email me or something, because I'm clearly never going to manage to contact you. But I'll keep trying.

Strange dreams and Sad songs
Float between my ears
Occasionally one escapes
And trickles into my heart
Flights of fancy and remembered lyrics
Are the only fuel I have left
Without them I am hollow
A zombie spreading the plagues
Of emptiness and indifference

It's not the end of the world, in fact it's not even the end of the summer

But thank god the TV is on,
'cause there's no way we could know
Anything that’s goin' down
Or how we're supposed to be feeling about it
I can't tell you how much I wish we could shut up and smile, yeah
-Bowling for Soup- Shut up and Smile

Actually, it is the end of the summer. The end of that period where life is in limbo, just waiting for a decision and it'll all work out if I just give it time. The heat hasn't broken, in fact the rain only recently stopped. School is starting, but I am not invited- I was so desperate to be done with it, but now, I have nothing to fill my days. My mom is going to come home for good soon, and then, the (until now) intermittent nagging to get a job or go to classes or Something, to figure out my life, will become constant. The more I think about reality, the more I want to curl up and never ever do anything.
I feel isolated. Not lonely, because I see people and go out, and I'm happy not to do so all the time, and because when my mother is home, I feel more alone. Just- I love my friends here, but the relationships are different. They aren't touchy-feely. At Vassar, my sarcasm and loudness work because it has contrast. People like Dierdre and Danielle who are happy and bouncy, people like Katie and Devin who are quiet or sweet or immature. Here, there are two choices, loud and sarcastic or quiet and acerbic. The others got scared off or overpowered, or indocrinated or something. Some of them come back and visit, but the group is shrinking, shriveling as it ages into a sour fruit. Leave us long enough, we'll ferment into vinegar. We love each other, but like my family, my friends show it by playfully (for the most part, although less so in my family) torturing eachother. There is no snuggling. No sharing of intimate fears, hopes or thoughts. I mean, I do, master of the overshare that I am, but no one else does. In some cases I know exactly why. I mean, if Friedman started to tell me about his deepest thoughts I would probably try to take his temperature (and certainly ask if he was feeling alright/ make a joke about not wanting to know his innermost thoughts because tenatcle porn gives me nightmares or something). And, I probably have more deep, honest talks with him than with everyone else combined. Maybe they share important stuff with eachother, and the problem is me. I joined this band of misfits much later than almost everyone else, I talk about myself too much, I'm certainly not likely to be a prime target for sharing of secrets. After all, I tell everyone so much, I must not be able to hide anything. Not true. I keep my actual secrets very well. And other people's even better. My standards for what qualifies as a secret are just very high.
I don't know what I want from them. I don't know what I want from myself. I don't know what I want from life. I do know that I need a hug and I am tired of sleeping alone and not having anything to DO. I don't function well when I have no one to take care of/ no crisis to solve.

I haven't gotten out of my PJs all day. I've done the usual: looked all over craigslist for a job, looked up pieces for a halloween costume (we're doing Xmen, I'll probably be Rouge. Maybe Psylocke, if I decided I want to be very naked. Why are the individual xmen- especially the women- so lame?). I'm trying to be a productive human - for me that means:

philosophical thoughts: How can you explain why you care to someone who doesn't? Is caring a good thing? Elias is trying very hard not to care about others, and not to act on any caring he feels, in order to be able to take care of himself. He thinks that's fine as long as you allow people to leave and make it clear that that is your plan. He points out that I'm much better at that than he is. Yes, I am very good at making it clear that I am a selfish bitch. But then I go and try to take care of others and get upset that no one spends nearly as much (sometimes it feels like no one spends any) time or energy on trying to help me/worrying about my needs. Certainly that plan isn't working out very well for me. And I don't know why I keep doing it. Or how to stop if I decide I want to. But I think not caring about how you affect others makes you a sociopath. So I'm skeptical at best about his plan. I dunno. Going to see him in Toronto may be a terrible plan. We had what I expected/intended to be a fight about it, but as always, he was calm and logical, and so I have a lot of trouble being pissed off because he's so calm and just wants me to explain better so he can understand. Unfortunately, much of it is emotional, so just as I cannot explain why I care so much about other people, I cannot explain why him not caring upsets me. It's just how I feel. When I get tired of philosophy,

I watch bad TV and try to paint:
Today, watercolors. a gunfight, and then flowers. And a tree. With leaves, much less skeletal and depressing than I usually make. Someone who found my art would really think I was fucked up. Bloody wounds, immediately followed by pansies and snowdrops.

And more lyrics, this time, a departure from the Weakerthans. Gary Jules's "Pills"
I've taken all my pills
But I'm still not sleepy
Tried to trick myself into thinking
That I'm not awake
That it's only a dream
Put that cigarette out
Don't ask me no questions
Salome dancing on my wall
And the shadows on the floor
Look so warm from here
I've seen it all before
Just one little lie
But the difference is this
It meant the world to me
Don't ask me no questions
"Take the wheel" she said "as I wander"
We could leave this town
I've got all I need: spirit, hope and joy
But no one knows me
I think I lost my pills
Guess I'll take my chances
I'm looking at the telephone
But nothing happens
I am well aware
That the morning is near
Put the radio down
Don't ask me no questions

More honest than I should be

adrift
in a sea of Tears without Reason
I can't make any art
and my poetry attempts are cliched and Awful
I need a cigarette
and a New life.

Aside

Measure me in metered lines
And one decisive stare
The time it takes to get from here to there
My ribs that show through t-shirts
And these shoes I got for free
I'm unconsoled
I'm lonely
I am so much better than I used to be
Terrified of telephones
And shopping malls and knives
Drowning in the pools of other lives
Rely a bit too heavily
On alcohol and irony
Get clobbered on by courtesy
In love with love and lousy poetry
And I'm leaning on this broken fence
Between past and present tense
And I'm losing all those stupid games
That I swore I'd never play
But it almost feels okay

I'm taking a bartending class. I'm sure they all think I'm an alcoholic. Also, that I was one of those freaky spelling-bee kids. I'm doing a good job on the memorization, and the basic math. What can I say? There are only 3 of us, which means lots of practice. One of them (Cindy) is nervous as hell and the other (Jose?) is just bland. I, of course, cannot seem to shut up.
Because the universe thinks it's funny to taunt me Jose (I think that's his name- shows what a strong impression he's made) wants me to go out for a drink with him. He's not a bad looking guy, seems perfectly nice, but not interesting in any way.
Ok universe, I've stopped saying the problem was that no one is interested in me. But still you persist. That makes what, 6? Fmylife. I should ask Nina what she does with things like this or something.
At least the class is interesting. I feel like I could o this- you know get a JOB (gasp).

On a completely different note, I've finished the purse I was knitting. Once it's sewn up and lined, I'll post pics. I've started a hat.

I could tell you what my life consists of

but I wouldn't know how. It probably wouldn't be terribly sensical or interesting, anyway.
Suffice it to say, GI Joe is a silly movie, hookahs are good shit, and interesting things are talked about at 3:30 in the morning.
Last night, or rather today, I dreamed that I was swimming in my lake with Beyonce and there was a storm and some woman swimming along with a propane torch dropped it and it lit one of the 3 red underwater ladders and lit it on fire. WHAT THE FUCK?

Watching bad TV
Eating ice cream straight out of the carton
Taking breaks to
Listen to the Weakerthans and
Make dip pen ink sketches
What has my life come to?

We're the middle children of history....
We have no Great War, no Great Depression.
Our great war is a spiritual war.
Our great depression is our lives.

i need a job

or at least a plan. Or something. maybe I'll run away and teach english in Greece or Italy or France or Spain for a while....

rushed back from the ass end of nowhere

which is full of hippies who are condescending while trying to be inclusive. Elias had a minor freak when it came time to set up tents, so he decided to peace and I joined him. I'm sorry not to have been there for Christopher, but we had an excellent time.
We went on a completely aimless drive to who knows where through Vermont. Waded in an excellent mountain stream (cold and lovely), then drove more. Pretty pretty countryside. Ended up camping in a very nice state park. Two fire spinners+ wet wood does not= cooked hot dogs. We got the fire going, but not for long. In the end, we bummed fire from neighbors with a propane torch and got delicious dinner. Hot dogs and wine and uncooked s'mores and card games and glow poi. Also, much snuggling in tents and avoiding the rain. Glorious sleep to make up for what we missed in the FORCED MARCH ART PARTY where I made 50 3"x3" paintings in about 12 hours over the course of a day and a half (in addition to other things, like packing, driving to Vermont, watching Firefly and dramatic reading aloud of the rules for the weekend- which basically said Felicia is not welcome, leading to my own freak out. le sigh). So hard. But I recommend forced march art to everyone, it was a brilliant creative excercise.
Ended up racing home because I had to be at bartending class tomorrow, only to find that it was resceduled for next week. Fmylife.
Net net: Forced march art= good. Aimless, technologyless life with Elias= good. I may go to Canada with him in a few weeks, which would be nice, but I don't want to miss the Shiva Rave and I don't want to keep chaging our plan. Even if the plan is no plan, let just do it already.

70+ gifts

Which I will bake/paint/create tomorrow.
Much jumping in lakes, trying to stand up on inner tubes.
Time with friends, delicious food, insufficient sleep.
A club that played the Spring Break Fuck Yeah Bitches song.
Planning the future, then scrapping the plans.

Well, that was awkward

Just had to explain to yet another person that NO, I AM NOT SLEEPING WITH ELIAS. I'm going to make a T shirt.
Seriously, even my mom thinks I'm hooking up with him. This is getting ridiculous.

Why I don't sleep

It's 1:25. I was tired at 8:00, but managed to stave the urge to collapse off until I'd finished eating dinner with my mom, then I had a bath and by 10pm was in bed.
I tried to fall asleep. Really, I did. I have a doctors appointment at 10 am, and I'm going to have a busy weekend, so sleep is really a good idea. I had PT and walked a couple miles, plus the usual poi etc so I should be tired. I am tired.
But I can't sleep. I'm fidgity. I lie in bed and close my eyes and can't get comfortable. I get up, read my book, try again to sleep. No luck. I listen to meditation tapes, mere minutes in I'm literally twitching. I can't relax. My head is starting to hurt. Normally, I'd get out of bed, go downstairs, get a drink (I know it sounds crazy, but a coke would really help). Maybe do my belly dance or some yoga, see if I can get my body to relax. But that would wake my mom. So 3 1/2 hours after getting into bed, I am still in it, awake and *itchy* and increasingly concerned that the weekend will suck if I only sleep 7 hours (which is about the most I could get, even if I fall asleep right now.
F my life

Feeling patriotic... ish

everyone remember the llama llama duck song (if not, go find it)... then: obama llama
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oqXX6kuk_XQ

Also entertaining:
http://sendables.jibjab.com/originals/hes_barack_obama

So good I had to share it... What is it with me and lists today?

The Cult of Done Manifesto

1. There are three states of being. Not knowing, action and completion.
2. Accept that everything is a draft. It helps to get it done.
3. There is no editing stage.
4. Pretending you know what you're doing is almost the same as knowing what you are doing, so just accept that you know what you're doing even if you don't and do it.
5. Banish procrastination. If you wait more than a week to get an idea done, abandon it.
6. The point of being done is not to finish but to get other things done.
7. Once you're done you can throw it away.
8. Laugh at perfection. It's boring and keeps you from being done.
9. People without dirty hands are wrong. Doing something makes you right.
10. Failure counts as done. So do mistakes.
11. Destruction is a variant of done.
12. If you have an idea and publish it on the internet, that counts as a ghost of done.
13. Done is the engine of more

The original post
http://www.brepettis.com/blog/2009/3/3/the-cult-of-done-manifesto.html

Of brilliant ideas and body aches

So, this weekend, my friends and I went camping. You know, strap 50 pounds to your back and hike a couple miles through the woods so you can sit on damp ground and get mosquito bites and smoke in your eyes. It was surprisingly excellent. There was only one point where I actually thought "If Kyle (who organized the trip) were next to me, I'd cheerfully push him off this cliff). I'm very afraid of heights and had a minor paralysis/panic attack on a bit of fairly sheer rock face. But now my quads hate me.

Which is why today I went to tumbling class at the Lava studio in Brooklyn. 105 minutes of stretching, conditioning, handstands, rolls and cartwheels. Now my back, shoulders and arms hate me too. I must be a genius. I'm going again next week. But I may not make it to the trapeze class there tomorrow. First, I may be too sore, second, it takes almost 2 hours each way to get there.

For your amusement: last week, on the way to visit my CT house (where we will hopefully be living starting in September) Elias and I came up with DA RULES. 10 important commandments for being a decent and happy human.

1) Try not to kill.
2) Love yourself (but not too much).
3) Some things are your fault (but not everything).
4) Learn from your mistakes.
5) Be nice.
6) Use your body.
7) Use your brain.
8) Relax. Have fun.
9) Contribute.
10) F the Cookie, and the Rules.

I'm feeling unproductive. Tomorrow, more laundry, sewing, art, job apps, etc. Less TV. I swear. I'm doing a bad job on my health kick. I'll spare you the emo-ness that is the "reason" why.

Wildfire

An excellent weekend.
I learned to eat fire, practiced tracing (no new techniques in the advanced class, but still good), learned some new drills to work on my poi and fans.
I read Nick Woolsey's book, Emails from Over the Edge, which is highly excellent and I recommend it.
I suffered some bad-head space the first couple of days, but pulled out of it enough to enjoy most of the weekend, even if I mostly spun the last night and didn't go to terribly many classes.
Danielle and I Kicked Some Ass. I mananged not to freak out, so the act went well. The Q&A after was pretty harsh, but later people came up to me and told me they loved it and one girl said I was "a poi rock star"!
Elias and I may move to Asheville, NC in January to preform/make costumes/sell toys/link people in the community. We'll see how serious he actually is about this tomorrow.

Graduated like a measuring cup

And not enjoying it at all.

Every time I listen to the music that used to make me happy, that held so many memories of everything from painting the Shiva, to spinning fire, to just hanging out, I feel like I've been punched in the stomach. Tracking Treasure Down is the worst.

Still not employed. This is a problem, as I am rapidly running out of money.

I don't like living at home. I don't like not being able to go wherever I want, whenever I want. My mom never says no precisely, just guilt trips me. Yes, I know Mike has been out til 4 every night all week, so you haven't slept, and this is the one night hes in the house. But this is the night MY friends are going out, and I haven't been out all week. F my life.

I need to get some serious art done, and finish cleaning, write more thank you notes, send more resumes, etc. But to hell with productivity. I'm going to walk to the lake and spin some poi and maybe draw for a bit.

Tomorrow I'm going up to Vassar to see Danielle and work out an act for Wildfire's performance class.

Graduation is a bad idea.

I hope I'm just tired. I've been home 8 hours. I already want to kill my mom, my grandparents and my older brother. Also, I miss everyone desperately. I managed not to cry all week, but I think I might now. The real world is not my friend. I cannot live at home again and I have no job or plans or money or transportation or anything. Fuck I'm miserable. And crying. F my life.

My hero

Batman, D&D, humor and chocolate. The world cannot get better. Seriously. I think I'm in love.
http://punxter.com/pics/G/RPL.jpg

So the drama!

Over the last week, there has been far, far too much drama in my life. And not the kind with tech crews and auditions. And I have run out of patience for it. In the next day or so, I'll be sending out the following email to, well, more or less everyone. I realize this may make things worse, but I refuse to keep pretending everything is ok, and hopefully, direct acknowledgment of the issues may make things better. The email:
Apparently, people have a lot of issues with me. I'm running out of time/energy/stationary to send everyone personalized engraved invitations to talk to me about it, so this is a general note to everyone:
1) I know I can be a bitch. It is usually intended kindly, but much of it can be based in a desire to make other people confront stuff they aren't ready for and to move in the direction of my idea of being a better person. This may be unreasonable, and if so, I apologize.
2) One of the things that apparently people have issues with is me calling other people on their BS, which they think is unfair. I don't think there is much I can do about this, I am going to call people out and talk to them about it if I disagree with them. I work stuff out by talking about it, both to figure out what I'm thinking and what I want, and to actually resolve issues. And I don't say things when you aren't around that I don't say to your face, because I think it's tacky. If I call you on stuff, it doesn't mean I don't like you, or that I am a hypocrite. If you think something I'm doing or saying is BS, please, please, call me on it.
3) If I am offending you personally, please let me know when I am saying something that bothers you. I want to stop that. But I don't know if when I'm making a joke, you say nothing because it doesn't bother you, or because you are afraid to call me on it. If you tell me, I can stop saying whatever it was. Otherwise I don't know that it is a problem.
In summation, it is easier to just deal with it when issues come up. Please, if you have problems, lets just sort it out now rather than waiting until it piles up any further. There isn't enough time before graduation (or even in my life) for this nonsense. I don't like passive-aggressive BS where everyone pretends its ok, but things are fucked up. I realize that some of you might be comfortable with that, and it might be selfish for me to try to move it to direct resolution, because I might be more comfortable with that than other people. But I legitimately believe that is the best and possibly only way to solve things. Feel free to try to convince me otherwise. I have issues, but fragility is not one of them. I will not break if you tell be I'm being loud and annoying, or that you don't like when I do x other thing.
Hugs and kisses,
Felicia
PS Commencement is Wednesday, which means that Freshmen officially become Sophmores etc. Thus, in 3 days, the gold star system will change as follows: you may earn gold stars by doing things which 1) are excellent and 2) you might not normally do. Note: 1 is crucial. You might not normally kill someone, but doing so will not earn you a star. Probably. I will try to carry the stars around, so when you earn one, you can recieve it right away.
/> email
Other than dealing with drama, I am mostly trying to deal with mountains of schoolwork. This week: 2 presentations. Next week: a paper, a portfolio, and a final, also DJing the Farm Rave. Week after that: a paper and a final. Week after that, graduation, and collapse. Also, I must clean my room, pack etc before graduation.
Not to mention the large chunks of my life that are being eaten by the indoor Tarot Card monkey show.
I'm also trying to make more art. Friday I started a painting I've been planning for a while, and a necklace I've been planning longer (buttons!). I also started a new art journal.
Also, I love the heat, but this is getting absurd. 93 degrees on Tuesday? Really? I'm running out of clothes that are decent enough to wear in public, and cool enough not to melt.
Leaving Ferry after the Yoshitoshi show Friday night, I had the distinct realization of what Matt Wise must feel like all the time. I am not at all a sweaty person, but 2 1/2 hours of hardcore dancing in 85 degree heat makes you a sweaty person. Ew.

No I will not play cotton eyed joe.

Note: This post written last Sunday night.
I had an odd weekend. Elias came on Friday. He and I hung out some, did the monkey thing, and then went on a quest for an epic night. We found it. It started with lying over the bridge at the lake so the reflection looks right side up and the real world looks like a reflection, and I felt we'd fallen into a parallel universe. If that was true, the rest of the night made good sense. If not, well, I hallucinated it or something. Went to bed around 9am on the futon in the TH.
Got up at 1 and went back to my house, slept til 7, ate and went to spin at the bonfire. Then I rushed home for my stuff and went to play the Masquerave. It was fine, my computer was being glitchy and odd (kept cutting the sound), but whatever. The Masquerave was very empty. I was asked to play cotton eyed joe, which was just weird. As always, I cannot get dressed up in a corset, black satin elbow gloves, and a top hat, and not want to make out with someone. But as there was no one appropriate/acceptable at the party, I restrained myself admirably.
Today, I ran errands and lay on Sunset hill reading, then went to work and continued reading, and basically did nothing productive all day. I have so much work. I'm totally screwed.

Leaving town

So I've been pretty depressed for a while. (gasp, shock, I know.) I basically can't remember what its like not to be either depressed or fighting depression. I admitted last night to Stacey and Danielle that I've been thinking about killing myself. It felt- not better precisely, but less? - to tell other people and not have to pretend it was ok.
So today I went to the counseling center and told them. Which I hadn't been doing because if you tell them you're suicidal you can't stay on campus. But what the hell, its not like anything here matters anyway. And now, I'm off to Four Winds Hospital. Fun. Maybe it'll help.

Shallow and Pathetic

I have lots of stuff to say, and tons of pictures to post. I haven't updated in ages, but I've been hording plenty of goodies.
But today, All I can say is:
I Hate My Hair!
Its purple, which has always fixed everything in the past. But yesterday Stacey cut it for me, and instead of "I dunno, my chin or a little shorter" Its the return of the mushroom cut only marginally more punk rock. Everyone else says its excellent. I hate the way it looks and feels and it keeps falling in my eyes. It is too short to tuck behind my ears, so while I no longer have bits on the back of my neck, the irritation has simply moved to my field of vision.
So I thought ok, I'll put it up. But no. Turns out when Stacey and Kate dyed it, they totally missed the underneath sections especially around my ears. So there are still several chunks that are my natural color. I can't put it up because I'd look like a spotted lunatic. Furthermore, it probably wouldn't stay up.
Ok. A real post later. As soon as I stop crying I'll go get dressed and try to put enough product in that it doesn't just sit in my face. I hate putting stuff in my hair, it always ends up feeling sticky and slimy and awful.

Circus

For the Spring Fire Show Finale, we're using Circus (yeah, I know it's Britney. Bite me). Anyway, I've been reworking the original and the Diplo mix (better drum loops, breakdown, etc) into something we can use. I think I'm good with the way that it sounds, but there are a coupel spots where I'm not sure if its I've been listening too long, it sounds fine when there is a huge problem or I've been listening too long, it sounds slightly off when there is no problem.
Also, I still can't sleep so, yeah, fuck if I know if it sounds right. And oh god, as I'm listening, now I hear (having taken an hour or so off from it) several places that sound awful... fuck me, I've already sent it off to Matt and Christopher and Connor and Stacey. Maybe they'll be kind. Ha. I don't have the energy to reopen live and fight it more tonight.
https://vspace.vassar.edu/feminchin/public/
Let me know what you think?

Still nothing to say

I'm 22! My birthday was Monday. Unsurprisingly, I was stressed and tired and emo and ran out of family birthday dinner crying. That happy birthday shit is a giant lie. Like the cake. No actually, my birthday cake did turn out to be a lie. Twice. Long story.
I'm having a party on Saturday night, which I have no idea how many people are attending. Also, I must talk to my housemates about it.
Monkey madness continues, with at least 2 rehearsals a day this week. nothing I'm in is ready, and acts are due Sunday. Yeah.
Happily the Masquerave has been moved and will no loner be the same night as the fire show. Hallelujah.
My art is coming along. I finished the painting I was working on, it looks awesome, even if the pictures I took of it don't. I can't post them now, because I have to go to Women in Antiquity. I skipped Ballet this morning, tired and headachey and not wearing tights today. It just wasn't happening.

In which there is too much to do

Oh god... today, 2 classes, which were boring and I couldn't focus, but actually participated well and got shit done, then race to work, also boring, where I had to race home and then back so I could remix a song for the poi act.. it sounded crappy, we scrapped it. Then an unproductive meeting for the fans/double staff section of the mixed toy act, followed by a race to an unproductive meeting of the poi act. Twat chat, and a shower, wrote my part of the mixed toy act and sent it out... Now bed. Yay sleep.

Good art = Happy Felicia

Sometimes, it just all work. I don't know what else to say. I was tired and had no plan to paint, but I spent an hour on it. First I did what I'd been planning, that looked fine, then I added some more stuff, looked fine too. Then I didn't feel like stopping, even though the plan required this layer to dry before I added the next. So I added more, which was ok... and then I ruined it. I was very very upset, as I'd really liked the piece and invested several hours and quite a bit of materials on it. So I thought, fuck it, I should go to bed, and I'll cope with it later, but instead I kept adding and smushing and now, it is wonderful. So much acrylic and gel medium and magazines and tissue paper and cigarettes, and layers and colors and texture and I'm so happy. Ok so clearly then it is bed time, right, but no. I turn to get into bed and see my new bag of Dr Ph Martin Bombay India Inks... hmm... those might be interesting.... so I splattered some of those on top. I don't know how well those will dry over acrylic or how well they'll hold up under the next layer, but right now it looks amazing. But I can't be bothered for a camera hunt. Eventually, there will be pictures. I swear.
In other news, this is further proof I can only make art while depressed. Hmm... I wonder if having just finished my color theory hw made it better? Very precise cutting and measuring and gluing bares little relation to this piece, but I had already spent an hour making art, using that portion of my brain....
I'm planning an ink and watercolor piece of "real" me (actual appearance) and "shadow" me (how I think I should look in my head/would look in the matrix) reversed so the shadow is standing and the real me spreads along the floor. the problem in with the perspective and compensating for the distortion you normally have with shadows. Also, my poor realism skills.

i'm so sane, its driving me crazy

no really
http://www.damninteresting.com/?p=864#more-864

on another note, after serious snowboarding adventures, i can report that:
Improvement has been made.
Everything hurts.
I still really need better gloves.

I had a realization

After the stroke, the first few months were all about making it not matter- going back to everything that made me me, doing the things I used to do and doing them just as well.
But while a few of those things made me happy, many of them did not. I think I knew that before the stroke, which is why, upon coming to college, I changed much of the focus of my life (I continued to be deeply involved in a few things, but they were different, circus rather than politics for example).
Even those changes didn't solve the problem, but they did allow me to put it off for a while. Now, I realize that its still there.
Since the stroke, I've been uninterested, mostly just slogging through with the minimum possible amount of work to make it to graduation. One of the nice things this semester is that I'm actually interested in my classes, and not spending the last 1/2 staring at my watch thinking "hurry up and let me leave".
Today in behavioral Econ we did a thought experiment about discounting and wages where you got hired for about $40,000 a year. On the one hand, that sounds like nothing. Not enough to have a decent standard of living. But that's because I'm used to life in an NYC suburb. Most places, rent on an ok apartment is more like $600 a month than $2000 a month (even if you rent without a room mate), and food is about $350, so $40,000 a year works out to almost $3500 a month- enough to live on, certainly, and have some spending money.
Which gives me hope. It must be possible for me to get a decent job after graduation that will pay me enough to live on so that I can have some time to do what makes me happy: make art, do circus, watch movies, hang out with friends. And then I can figure out the next step towards a life where I love my work, have a support system, and enought money/time for leasure activities after that.
Which reminds me, oh god I have to talk to the CDO and start sending out my resume. now I'm depressed again. Graduation is both exciting and terrifying.

Goofy and sore

Super busy weekend AHHH!
Friday- Thrift store (fail), race to monkeys, speed fire, fastest attempt to get 3 women drunk and dressed up ever (found Friedman), sound check, Shiva Rave! My set was ok... the 1st half kinda sucked, then I found my stride and got rocking, only to be told far too soon that it was Connor and Christopher's turn, so I should stop. Then we went back to my house for another drink, danced a bit (not enough), returned the speakers and went to the Acrop where I finally got dinner. It was good, not as good as the fall, but awesome none the less.
Saturday- Not enough sleep. Chilled with Friedman. Tried to repaint the Shiva black, but all the rollers were dead. VT football instead. Then Friedman and I got dinner. Fire, at which I was too cold and tired to spin. Also, I learned on Friday that I don't like spinning in deep snow. My toes are cold and my balance is off, and when I try to move I end up tripping/sliding so my flow gets ruined because I have to remain rooted on the ground. Then I went home, was amused by best of creigslist and passive agressive notes, and went to bed.
Today- up at 6 am for a Snowboard trip. Stacey is a really good teacher and I made lots of progress. ie I suck less now. Here is what I learned: 1) I must board goofy (right foot front) or t all goes to hell. 2) Toe turns, better heel turns, and how to do both intentionally. 3)How to stop (mostly) and how to get up without doing the stupid flip onto your belly like a whale bit. 4) How to ride the chair lift, often without falling over on the way off. 5) That the bit where you eat it -ie crash, sucks, but not as bad as expected. The first time I had a major fall, about an hour in, I "caught edge" - too much snow in front of the lip of the board, and you flip, in my case backwards and my head goes boing boing boing. Stacey was all "Are you ok?!" I gave her a thumbs up, lay there a second and then made it to the bottom of the run. She was very impressed. Apparently, she'd been thinking that either I'd be like 'Ouch. Done for the day' or I'd man up. I maned up. As long as nothings broken, I figure its like a horse. You lay there until you remember how to breathe, then you get up, get back on, and go again. Otherwise, by the time you're ready to try again, the fear will be much worse than the fall. 6) I have adrenaline. I like it. I was going down the run, feeling great, finally realized why this sport is awesome, then I had too much speed, not enough control, and literally flipped. I swear, if I'd put my hands down, I could've done a cartwheel. I flipped completely over myself. Anyway, after, I kind of wanted to do it again. I lived, and it was awesome. Before the stroke, I'd've been terrified, but now, well, its about having fun. And It didn't end badly, which means it was awesome. 7) Mom was right. The helmet is crucial. 8) I need better equipment. Ie snow pants with pockets and long enough to cover the boot tops, more waterproof gloves (preferably which don't let the snow in my wrists) and goggles. Definitely goggles.
Now I've come to work and done my reading for tomorrow. I need dinner, a hot shower and bed and lots of icy hot. Lots of icy hot. My feet, calves, neck and abs all always hurt post Shiva. Feet, back, hips, butt, calves, thighs, shoulders and neck got further abused today. Everything will be sore in the morning.

Back again

Getting back to school has been majorly busy
There has been all sorts of drama with my friends - break ups, fights, people moving, getting back from JYA, all sorts of nonsense. But mostly, its been good, and I'm glad to be with them for one last semester!
Monkeys are going well, we're about to embark on the Spring Fire show, which I'm running. It will be glorious. We're also doing the Wicked Winter fest- Charlie and the Condom Factory. Don't ask. Look, its an adult Ren faire. What do you want? Raunchy humor earns tips. We're poor.
I'm still working on the purse I've been knitting, although I've finished the part that will be sewn into the actual bag, now I'm just knitting the strap. Then lining and sewing, then DONE. Finally.
I decorated a notebook for Kate Tracy, and she thinks, and I agree, that I should sell them. Perhaps this can be a way for making some money after graduation.
OMFG the Shiva Rave is this weekend! I'm playing the 11pm slot! Everyone but me is tag-teaming, so I'm kinda paranoid. But, I have tons of music prepped and it should be awesome, even if said prep is eating my life. Now if only I knew what to wear... I'm such a girl.
Classes should be good. I'm taking Advanced beginning ballet, which is fine. I'm also taking Women in Antiquity, which has a metric butt-ton of reading, but seems interesting. Also, Barbra Olsen rocks. Then I have Color Theory, which is basically collage and playing with color, yay. And Behavioral Econ, which seems really cool, and is taught by Sean Flynn, who despite being slighty wierd (hey, it's Vassar), is awesome-sauce and really fun.
Graduation is coming way to soon and while I am ready to be done with the academic nonsense here, I'm not done with Monkeys and VT and my friends. Also, in the real world one needs a plan and income and a place to live, so I have to sort that out ASAP. I'm freaking out a little.
As if that weren't enough, I'm taking belly dance and yoga and going home for PT and working 8 hours a week at the ROC. My room is already a huge mess. And going to the gym 3 mornings a week, and trying to have a life and some downtime and make some art. Sleep what?

I've been distressingly unproductive this break, which is why I haven't posted. I've slept, hung out with friends, tried to snowboard (ouch) and lazed about. Also, fought with my mom.

Yesterday, Robin, Jon, Allie, Friedman and I went to MoMA- I am super inspired right now.
We saw: a huge Miro exhibit, which the boys hated and after a while, I started to be rather sick of. Some of his work is really interesting, but mostly, I just find it too minimal, neither pretty nor especially interesting. And there was just too much of it, about 8 rooms.
Then we saw an equally large Marlene Dumas exhibit, which I really liked, even if they thought it was creepy. Best parts: use of shadow and color, painting of a drowning woman (couldn't find my notebook to write down the name, or the amusing quotes outside the exhibit) which I want to hang opposite a bathtub, and the room with about a hundred ink paintings -quick sketches, really- of faces, which we walked into, and Friedman goes "This is creepy" and turns around and walks back into the room we'd dubbed the porn room. Also, the erotic babies were massively improved by Friedman noticing how much one looked like McCain.
This was one of the quotes: "My best works are erotic displays of mental confusions.. with intrusions of irrelevant information." ... me likey.
Then we saw the permanent collection. As always, water lilies was beautiful. I ogled some Pollack and decided to make a piece with cigarette butts in it and glitter. We all enjoyed the Jasper Johns, and I also have a plan for a Clyford Still inspired piece.
Then Friedman and I went to the Van Gogh at Night exhibit. Having seen the major exhibit at the Met a couple of years ago, this was a disappointment, because I'd seen all the pieces, and it was quite small- 4 little rooms- and mostly paintings, not as much of the ink work I love. But really, its hard to go wrong with Van Gogh, and the concept of looking only at his night work was cool. His use of light to represent dark is very individual, and while I don't love it the same way I love his line work, it was interesting to think about. Plus there were quite a few early works, so you really saw him evolving as an artist. Maybe I'll do some night work of my own, and I was planning to experiment with ink and line on my new vellum anyway.

I've started knitting a hat, although I'm not quite done with the bag yet. I'm using a much finer (worsted weight) yarn, in a striated purple-green mix. Also, I've learned to purl.

I'm going to make art, rather than talk about it now.