Sunday, November 8, 2009
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Monday, June 29, 2009
Thursday, May 21, 2009
worried.
I'm going to have to find a second job. Working at Blick for 2 years, I'm still making less than 9 dollars an hour, and my hours have officially dropped to about 20 for an indefinite amount of time. There are no more hours they can give out. They can't promote me to manager. They've already cut some of the full-time benefits from the current managers.
So I'll get my second job doing who knows what, try desperately to get the $1400 I need to put down on my new apartment for September, all while raising the other $1500 I need to pay the next two months of rent. I have less than $200 in my bank account.
How am I going to have two jobs and finish all of my work for the Space 242 show? And after that, how am I going to find time for my artwork at all? I'm going to need to work about 45 - 50 hours a week in order to pretty much break even with rent and the bills. What about groceries?
Who are the people who are supposed to help you when everything is impossible? My parents are in debt, my loans are about to kick in, and I just don't see any ends meeting any time soon. I have no one to borrow money from besides a bank, but I have no credit to my name. I have no family to borrow money from. No one.
Andy kept saying, "Just wait for Surtex, just wait for Surtex." Surtex was a bust. I got asked for 2 business cards. There were over 20,000 attendees, and I gave out 2 business cards.
At this point, I need to sell every single piece in the Space 242 show in order to make July's rent. But I also have to pay to have the pieces printed and framed. I don't know how any of this is going to work. I've been applying for art jobs left and right, and I'm getting no responses. I'm applying for grants. I'm going to apply to a frozen yogurt place down the street and hoping they'll start me off as a manager. This is the only plan I have right now, as of one day before I graduate from college.
I don't know how to make this all work.
So I'll get my second job doing who knows what, try desperately to get the $1400 I need to put down on my new apartment for September, all while raising the other $1500 I need to pay the next two months of rent. I have less than $200 in my bank account.
How am I going to have two jobs and finish all of my work for the Space 242 show? And after that, how am I going to find time for my artwork at all? I'm going to need to work about 45 - 50 hours a week in order to pretty much break even with rent and the bills. What about groceries?
Who are the people who are supposed to help you when everything is impossible? My parents are in debt, my loans are about to kick in, and I just don't see any ends meeting any time soon. I have no one to borrow money from besides a bank, but I have no credit to my name. I have no family to borrow money from. No one.
Andy kept saying, "Just wait for Surtex, just wait for Surtex." Surtex was a bust. I got asked for 2 business cards. There were over 20,000 attendees, and I gave out 2 business cards.
At this point, I need to sell every single piece in the Space 242 show in order to make July's rent. But I also have to pay to have the pieces printed and framed. I don't know how any of this is going to work. I've been applying for art jobs left and right, and I'm getting no responses. I'm applying for grants. I'm going to apply to a frozen yogurt place down the street and hoping they'll start me off as a manager. This is the only plan I have right now, as of one day before I graduate from college.
I don't know how to make this all work.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Good things.
I've been laughing and smiling so much more lately.
I have the greatest of friends and family, and boyfriend, and I'm feeling more comfortable with myself.
I finished my last college senior thing ever, and then I went out for dinner with some of the greatest people I know. It was awesome. I laughed until I cried so many times, haha.
<3
ALSO I NEED TO BORROW THIS WEBSPACE REAL QUICK
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Things to learn:
I need to stop comparing myself to other people.
I need to stop being jealous of other people.
I need to stop looking for attention.
I need to stop complaining and just do shit.
And I need to not be so hard on other people because they're more accomplished than I am.
I need to stop being jealous of other people.
I need to stop looking for attention.
I need to stop complaining and just do shit.
And I need to not be so hard on other people because they're more accomplished than I am.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Dream
I had a dream last night that I was going with a test class of students to live on the space station.
I remember being in a space suit, taking my seat and getting strapped in. I was surrounded by other strangers in suits, everyone waiting to go (which took forever). I remember calling my mum and crying, knowing I'd probably never see her again.
Sometimes I'm afraid that everyone's too far away. Everyone's leaving. Everyone's going off to explore the rest of the world, and I might be the last one left, here. Lindsay's going to CA, Alex wants to go to CA, Kate McElroy will probably end up in Toronto, Andy Fish is moving to Oregon, and Jared's in Maine.
I'm afraid of leaving my family, I guess, and I'm afraid of being alone and confused.
But there are so many adventures I may be missing out on, but I'm too afraid to take any leaps.
Gotta go, my ship's leaving.
I remember being in a space suit, taking my seat and getting strapped in. I was surrounded by other strangers in suits, everyone waiting to go (which took forever). I remember calling my mum and crying, knowing I'd probably never see her again.
Sometimes I'm afraid that everyone's too far away. Everyone's leaving. Everyone's going off to explore the rest of the world, and I might be the last one left, here. Lindsay's going to CA, Alex wants to go to CA, Kate McElroy will probably end up in Toronto, Andy Fish is moving to Oregon, and Jared's in Maine.
I'm afraid of leaving my family, I guess, and I'm afraid of being alone and confused.
But there are so many adventures I may be missing out on, but I'm too afraid to take any leaps.
Gotta go, my ship's leaving.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Cranky.
Pretty cranky right now. Not so psyched with the faculty at MassArt. I feel like there's so much riding on Stephen's and my shoulders for SGA. So far, we've gotten no thanks for putting together the All School Show from ANY faculty besides Andy Fish. In fact, he was the only one who even asked me how it was going throughout the month-long process it took to put together. The only thing any other faculty asked was when the show was.
Maybe they'll thank us when they see how great everything turned out. Either way, I've seen no gratitude for ANYTHING else Stephen and I have done.
For the two field trips last year, I made flyers. I couldn't even go on either of the field trips because I had to work. But I still made them and gave people plenty of time to prepare. I was responsible.
And for the t-shirt contest, due to the amount of time and energy Stephen and I spend on our school work, it just couldn't happen last semester. Things were too hectic, and I feel like we made a lot of people sad. But we had no help! I don't even know how to silkscreen on fabric.
For the most recent field trip coming up to the Society of Illustrators in New York, we got so little money from the budget that in order to get there, we'd have to take the Fung Wah bus. "The faculty" told Stephen that was no good, and that we should get a real bus instead. He told her that we didn't have the money to, and "the faculty" suggested that they might maybe help with the cost then. But I haven't seen a dime from the department since I've been at MassArt.
Regarding the Surtex trip in May, the same thing happened. We were asked to cut our t-shirt contest budget to account for the trip, when the department had already told us they were paying for the whole thing. It pisses me off - you can't ask us at the last minute. SGA money is for student run activities, not department field trips.
Also, just the fact that students are expected each year to participate in SGA and support the department is ludicrous. Students have work to be doing. The faculty should be at least HELPING run things, working out the budgets with SGA reps or even just showing them how to fill out the freaking paperwork.
What I'm getting at is that, for the amount of work that Stephen and I put in to support the students in our department (as well as the faculty), we get no love. No pat on the back. No "Thanks for putting the time in to run all of our events while maintaining perfect attendance and producing professional-quality artwork." Nada.
So fuck Illustration. I can't wait to graduate. If it weren't for people like Andy and Mister Roosh working there, I'd go fucking insane.
Blah.
Maybe they'll thank us when they see how great everything turned out. Either way, I've seen no gratitude for ANYTHING else Stephen and I have done.
For the two field trips last year, I made flyers. I couldn't even go on either of the field trips because I had to work. But I still made them and gave people plenty of time to prepare. I was responsible.
And for the t-shirt contest, due to the amount of time and energy Stephen and I spend on our school work, it just couldn't happen last semester. Things were too hectic, and I feel like we made a lot of people sad. But we had no help! I don't even know how to silkscreen on fabric.
For the most recent field trip coming up to the Society of Illustrators in New York, we got so little money from the budget that in order to get there, we'd have to take the Fung Wah bus. "The faculty" told Stephen that was no good, and that we should get a real bus instead. He told her that we didn't have the money to, and "the faculty" suggested that they might maybe help with the cost then. But I haven't seen a dime from the department since I've been at MassArt.
Regarding the Surtex trip in May, the same thing happened. We were asked to cut our t-shirt contest budget to account for the trip, when the department had already told us they were paying for the whole thing. It pisses me off - you can't ask us at the last minute. SGA money is for student run activities, not department field trips.
Also, just the fact that students are expected each year to participate in SGA and support the department is ludicrous. Students have work to be doing. The faculty should be at least HELPING run things, working out the budgets with SGA reps or even just showing them how to fill out the freaking paperwork.
What I'm getting at is that, for the amount of work that Stephen and I put in to support the students in our department (as well as the faculty), we get no love. No pat on the back. No "Thanks for putting the time in to run all of our events while maintaining perfect attendance and producing professional-quality artwork." Nada.
So fuck Illustration. I can't wait to graduate. If it weren't for people like Andy and Mister Roosh working there, I'd go fucking insane.
Blah.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
So very, very stressed out.
I'm not sure why, but since the fire, my head hasn't been on quite so straight. I think it was probably my fear of a terrible disaster that has stayed with me since then. I'm so stressed with school - I can hardly bear it. I have so much responsibility on my shoulders, and deadlines keep popping up everywhere. Along with this, I'm broke. Absolutely broke, this time. No paycheck until next Thursday, and I have $30. I felt bad today buying lunch at the caf, but this weird pizza thing was only $2, which wasn't too bad.
But either way, I guess I'm just feeling really anxious. I don't have much work in my final portfolio, but I feel like I'm creating artwork constantly. Nothing's good enough, I guess, to me. I stress myself about it too much. It bothers me a lot. I just feel like I'm really behind, though I'm younger. I feel like more is expected of me because of all the work I take on. I'm pretty much digging my own grave by saying "yes" to everything that comes up, but I need work to put in my portfolio and to put on my resume. No one will hire me otherwise. So in the meantime I'm wearing myself to the bone making tons and tons of free art, just to promote myself and actually look like an artist.
I feel like I don't have as many friends as I should, at my age. I'm 20, I should be out going to parties every night, not building my final college portfolio. I have Lindsay and Alex, and I feel really close to them, but I don't get to see Lindsay that often. And even Alex is busy leading her own life while I'm stuck in front of my computer every night. I feel unappealing, like not-good friend material. I feel like I'm lacking so much, and I don't know how to improve.
Linda Bond and I had a long talk about me. I tend to hate everyone initially so that I don't feel hurt when I find they don't like me either. I put up big barriers between myself and everyone else, and it has a lot to do with my ego. While I prefer to be a listener and an empathizer, I'm very prided and tend to put myself on a pedestal. I think it's because I'm so defensive, and I think it's because I've let myself be abused in the past. All I have is my art, and my talent, and I have to be someone who makes it. I don't care how hard I have to work to get there - I just need it. It's the only thing I like about myself, sometimes.
So when I see people who aren't so driven and focused and motivated towards impossible goals like I am, I tend to look down on them. I feel like there's a level we as artists should be by this age, and I feel like I'm trying harder than everyone else. Perhaps I'm overcompensating because of my age and because of my other insecurities.
Either way, it's too exhausting to feel this way all the time, but it's how it is. My birth control keeps getting fucked up halfway through the month (not like I see Jared enough to risk getting pregnant), and it's screwing with my hormones. I feel like crying a lot of the time. I have trouble looking people in the eyes sometimes.
I just want this to get easier. I need it to. Things are too hard to stay like this.
My heart hurts.
But either way, I guess I'm just feeling really anxious. I don't have much work in my final portfolio, but I feel like I'm creating artwork constantly. Nothing's good enough, I guess, to me. I stress myself about it too much. It bothers me a lot. I just feel like I'm really behind, though I'm younger. I feel like more is expected of me because of all the work I take on. I'm pretty much digging my own grave by saying "yes" to everything that comes up, but I need work to put in my portfolio and to put on my resume. No one will hire me otherwise. So in the meantime I'm wearing myself to the bone making tons and tons of free art, just to promote myself and actually look like an artist.
I feel like I don't have as many friends as I should, at my age. I'm 20, I should be out going to parties every night, not building my final college portfolio. I have Lindsay and Alex, and I feel really close to them, but I don't get to see Lindsay that often. And even Alex is busy leading her own life while I'm stuck in front of my computer every night. I feel unappealing, like not-good friend material. I feel like I'm lacking so much, and I don't know how to improve.
Linda Bond and I had a long talk about me. I tend to hate everyone initially so that I don't feel hurt when I find they don't like me either. I put up big barriers between myself and everyone else, and it has a lot to do with my ego. While I prefer to be a listener and an empathizer, I'm very prided and tend to put myself on a pedestal. I think it's because I'm so defensive, and I think it's because I've let myself be abused in the past. All I have is my art, and my talent, and I have to be someone who makes it. I don't care how hard I have to work to get there - I just need it. It's the only thing I like about myself, sometimes.
So when I see people who aren't so driven and focused and motivated towards impossible goals like I am, I tend to look down on them. I feel like there's a level we as artists should be by this age, and I feel like I'm trying harder than everyone else. Perhaps I'm overcompensating because of my age and because of my other insecurities.
Either way, it's too exhausting to feel this way all the time, but it's how it is. My birth control keeps getting fucked up halfway through the month (not like I see Jared enough to risk getting pregnant), and it's screwing with my hormones. I feel like crying a lot of the time. I have trouble looking people in the eyes sometimes.
I just want this to get easier. I need it to. Things are too hard to stay like this.
My heart hurts.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Just because...
Just because you woke up on the right side of the bed doesn't mean you won't have a nervous breakdown in the middle of critique for no reason.
My head hurts. My brain hurts. I'm tired of always worrying about what people think of me. It's too exhausting.
It wasn't 'til I woke up
That I could hold down a joke
Or a job
Or a dream
But then, all three are one in the same
Yeah, all three are one in the same
My Morning Jacket - One In The Same
My head hurts. My brain hurts. I'm tired of always worrying about what people think of me. It's too exhausting.
It wasn't 'til I woke up
That I could hold down a joke
Or a job
Or a dream
But then, all three are one in the same
Yeah, all three are one in the same
My Morning Jacket - One In The Same
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
ANIME ANIME ANIME
I'm too unsure as to whether or not I should post this on my real blog.
So here's Asuka from Evangelion!
Monday, February 16, 2009
Frustrated.
Frustrated, angry. Exasperated.
I have SO MANY ASSIGNMENTS right now, and the whole back-and-forth thing is driving me crazy right now. One of my clients refuses to email me, even after 5 or 6 emails, while the other is just right except for my teacher butting in and giving as making the client reconsider my progress.
However, in real life, I have a tattoo commission, which is working out fine. I just did a window painting for a business, and it went fine. So why is all my FAKE commission work more complicated than the real shit?
Either way, I just need to figure this out.
And I found out I'm highly allergic to Rives BFK paper, about halfway into a 3-foot drawing. My arms won't stop itching. Blah.
TIME FOR PRODUCTIVITY.
I have SO MANY ASSIGNMENTS right now, and the whole back-and-forth thing is driving me crazy right now. One of my clients refuses to email me, even after 5 or 6 emails, while the other is just right except for my teacher butting in and giving as making the client reconsider my progress.
However, in real life, I have a tattoo commission, which is working out fine. I just did a window painting for a business, and it went fine. So why is all my FAKE commission work more complicated than the real shit?
Either way, I just need to figure this out.
And I found out I'm highly allergic to Rives BFK paper, about halfway into a 3-foot drawing. My arms won't stop itching. Blah.
TIME FOR PRODUCTIVITY.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
It's the end of the world.
Well, no. It's not.
But I miss Jared a lot. It's hard to have your heart filled up to burst and then deflated once someone's gone. He makes everything so bright and colorful when he's around, which makes me world look dark and ugly when he leaves.
He hand-made me a Valentine that said "I love you" in like, 12 different languages (including binary). He put a LOT of effort into it, and it's beautiful.
My heart hurts, I think. If it were a color, it would be blue.
Time to go on with life the way it is until I can see him again. I hate to be such a downer, but sometimes you have to be sad to appreciate the happy times.
Jared did eat a (mostly) whole squid though when we went out to dinner. That was pretty excellent. And we bought lots of asian candy and foods and things. We went on long walks and had dates and did everything I've always wanted to do in a relationship. He bought me a rose in downtown crossing.
He makes me feel so special, precious. It's difficult to not want to feel that way all the time.
But I'll just work hard for now and make him proud. I love him.
But I miss Jared a lot. It's hard to have your heart filled up to burst and then deflated once someone's gone. He makes everything so bright and colorful when he's around, which makes me world look dark and ugly when he leaves.
He hand-made me a Valentine that said "I love you" in like, 12 different languages (including binary). He put a LOT of effort into it, and it's beautiful.
My heart hurts, I think. If it were a color, it would be blue.
Time to go on with life the way it is until I can see him again. I hate to be such a downer, but sometimes you have to be sad to appreciate the happy times.
Jared did eat a (mostly) whole squid though when we went out to dinner. That was pretty excellent. And we bought lots of asian candy and foods and things. We went on long walks and had dates and did everything I've always wanted to do in a relationship. He bought me a rose in downtown crossing.
He makes me feel so special, precious. It's difficult to not want to feel that way all the time.
But I'll just work hard for now and make him proud. I love him.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Cranky post so I'm not cranky at everything else.
I have educated myself better on the whole student government, and I'm not cranky anymore.
Everything has been figured out.
So all is well. <3
/hissyfit
Everything has been figured out.
So all is well. <3
/hissyfit
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Today my Dad came by.
He couldn't stay long - he had to meet his new accountant.
But he came right up to my front door like a gentleman and asked to see my apartment. He didn't care that we'd had a party the night before - he didn't care that I had an empty beer can on my desk. He was excited to see Sarah and gave her a hug; he met Harley, Sarah's boyfriend, too.
We got in his brand new used truck and we went to Panera for lunch. He'd already eaten, but he bought me a little egg souffle thing (which was awesome). He unloaded his stresses about the bills and the house and his job, and I nodded and smiled and joked with him while he described the boat he wants (a $1250 fixer-upper). He listened to me talk about my stresses, but I tried to mention as many accomplishments as I could, to reassure him that I'm doing well and that I'm sorry college is so expensive but I need money for the rent and I'm going to be on the cover of a book, so please be proud of me.
He told me I'm doing great, and he told me to sit when I got up asked him if he wanted to leave. He wanted to talk more, which meant a lot to me. I don't get to see my Dad much.
He came into Blick with me and met my manager Ben. He asked me a lot of questions about things in the store, so I felt special knowing all the answers and being able to teach him something.
He dropped me off at my studio so I could work, and he headed off. I went upstairs to work. A minute later, he called me on the phone - I assumed I had forgotten my wallet or something and that he'd have to drive all the way back.
But instead, he said, "I just wanted to tell you that I think you're the most beautiful girl in the world. Whatever you decide to do, I just want you to know that I think you're fantastic just the way you are, and that I don't tell you how pretty you are often enough. I love you, and you're my beautiful girl."
I joked with him in defense of how sweet and honest that was, and when he hung up, I started bawling my eyes out in my studio. My Dad is so tough and so goal-oriented that he forgets to stop and think about simpler things, sometimes. I get a lot of my fire from him.
You're right Dad, you never tell me enough.
But thank you for telling me today.
But he came right up to my front door like a gentleman and asked to see my apartment. He didn't care that we'd had a party the night before - he didn't care that I had an empty beer can on my desk. He was excited to see Sarah and gave her a hug; he met Harley, Sarah's boyfriend, too.
We got in his brand new used truck and we went to Panera for lunch. He'd already eaten, but he bought me a little egg souffle thing (which was awesome). He unloaded his stresses about the bills and the house and his job, and I nodded and smiled and joked with him while he described the boat he wants (a $1250 fixer-upper). He listened to me talk about my stresses, but I tried to mention as many accomplishments as I could, to reassure him that I'm doing well and that I'm sorry college is so expensive but I need money for the rent and I'm going to be on the cover of a book, so please be proud of me.
He told me I'm doing great, and he told me to sit when I got up asked him if he wanted to leave. He wanted to talk more, which meant a lot to me. I don't get to see my Dad much.
He came into Blick with me and met my manager Ben. He asked me a lot of questions about things in the store, so I felt special knowing all the answers and being able to teach him something.
He dropped me off at my studio so I could work, and he headed off. I went upstairs to work. A minute later, he called me on the phone - I assumed I had forgotten my wallet or something and that he'd have to drive all the way back.
But instead, he said, "I just wanted to tell you that I think you're the most beautiful girl in the world. Whatever you decide to do, I just want you to know that I think you're fantastic just the way you are, and that I don't tell you how pretty you are often enough. I love you, and you're my beautiful girl."
I joked with him in defense of how sweet and honest that was, and when he hung up, I started bawling my eyes out in my studio. My Dad is so tough and so goal-oriented that he forgets to stop and think about simpler things, sometimes. I get a lot of my fire from him.
You're right Dad, you never tell me enough.
But thank you for telling me today.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Thursday, January 29, 2009
I'm fucked.
I might not graduate because I'm missing 3 credits.
I'm doing everything I can, emailing ANYONE who might put me in their class. I'm really scared.
I'm doing everything I can, emailing ANYONE who might put me in their class. I'm really scared.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Fight Test.
Feeling sick today, mostly because I've been sitting in front of a screen since I woke up. When I wasn't in front of the screen, I was making art to put up online which would require editing and posting, which requires staring at said screen. But I made a lot of funny comics today with Lindsay, so that was great. :D Andy Fish told me to work on sequential art, so I think that was at least a good start. My Degree Project teacher mentioned to me that I make interesting characters, but I never draw them more than once, so I think comic-ing will help me with that.
It's not that I can't draw the same character more than once - I just find beauty in still images and using paintings to create worlds that can't exist. Maybe it's my background in portraiture crying out.
But I'm REALLY REALLY REALLY excited about making comics now. I read a lot of comics as a preteen/teenager, but not anything big name. I read every Roman Dirge/Jhonen Vasquez comic that came out because I liked the weird, twisted, horrifically violent stories. I liked the happy happy faces versus the horribly gored ones.
I read a lot of manga too, but nothing that anyone EVER should read. Too many cutesy stories. I'm still obsessed with CLAMP - I just don't tell anyone. It fits in with my aesthetic of well drawn characters with interesting costumes and cuuuuuute faces. <3
School's been cancelled both times I would have had Andy Fish so far. I bet he's pissed. But I would have liked to talk to him about my comic progress so far - there's only so much I can post on my blog, and there's only so much you can explain outside of physical human contact. So hopefully he'll have time sometime to listen to me. Also I'm his company's intern now! I wonder what I'll be able to help with. I'd pretty much do anything for Undercover Fish - everyone I've met from there has been absolutely fantastic, and I'd love to get their feedback on my comic, too.
Too much to talk about! I'm wasting time! I need some advil!
It's not that I can't draw the same character more than once - I just find beauty in still images and using paintings to create worlds that can't exist. Maybe it's my background in portraiture crying out.
But I'm REALLY REALLY REALLY excited about making comics now. I read a lot of comics as a preteen/teenager, but not anything big name. I read every Roman Dirge/Jhonen Vasquez comic that came out because I liked the weird, twisted, horrifically violent stories. I liked the happy happy faces versus the horribly gored ones.
I read a lot of manga too, but nothing that anyone EVER should read. Too many cutesy stories. I'm still obsessed with CLAMP - I just don't tell anyone. It fits in with my aesthetic of well drawn characters with interesting costumes and cuuuuuute faces. <3
School's been cancelled both times I would have had Andy Fish so far. I bet he's pissed. But I would have liked to talk to him about my comic progress so far - there's only so much I can post on my blog, and there's only so much you can explain outside of physical human contact. So hopefully he'll have time sometime to listen to me. Also I'm his company's intern now! I wonder what I'll be able to help with. I'd pretty much do anything for Undercover Fish - everyone I've met from there has been absolutely fantastic, and I'd love to get their feedback on my comic, too.
Too much to talk about! I'm wasting time! I need some advil!
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
More boring crap.
Sorry.
I just would rather send links of images to people instead of the file.
Yay for using webspace!
Monday, January 26, 2009
Sunday, January 25, 2009
A Sorta Fairytale
and i'm so sad
like a good book
i can't put this
day back
a sorta fairytale
with you
a sorta fairytale
with you
like a good book
i can't put this
day back
a sorta fairytale
with you
a sorta fairytale
with you
I left Maine today. I cried on the walk back to Jared's apartment because I didn't want to leave him. I don't remember the last time I cried over a boy because I didn't want to leave them. Jared's different. I'm allowed to be a girl around him. I'm not a mom, or a wife, or a wallet. I'm a beautiful girl who he thinks is really talented and worth being loved for being just what I am and nothing more. He doesn't mind that I draw my eyebrows on, or that I can't accept my height, or that my head is always buzzing and can't stop.
We can see each other every 3 weeks. Money and time and school don't permit much more. I don't mind the distance - it gives me time to work out my life without piling my stress on top of him. Things will be easier after I graduate. Maybe he'll move here.
I feel lost, a little. It's easy to focus on work and not think about things and get by and worry about my diet and clean the house, but it's so much harder to miss someone.
He really is fantastic. I can't wait for you to meet him. I love him with everything I have.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
TRJIGHDFKJGDFHLGUR
Tonight was Midnight Madness at Blick, which turned out to be closer to Midnight Sadness because nobody really showed up. Such is life. It doesn't affect my paycheck. The economy sucks. What can you do?
Around 11:00 pm the store gets a call - I pick it up to relive the person at the front. The guy on the phone asks, "Do you have a Caucasian flesh tint oil paint by Winsor Newton?" That would be a peachy-ish oil paint color. I reply, "I'm not sure, but I can go check. Were you looking for the student grade paint or the artist's grade?" He says he wants the artist grade, very politely, so I put him on hold and head to the shelf to check.
I find the color I'm looking for, and I tell him we have that in stock. He says, "Wonderful. Do you have an African American flesh tint?" Very awkward question, but I say, "I'm sorry, we don't. I know that the Caucasian flesh tints are really politically incorrect, and many different lines of paint have discontinued them in an effort to be more PC." He says, "I think that's ridiculous. We just got a new President." I said, "I agree, it's something that should have been done away with fifty years ago. "
To which he replies, "Well, you can take your company and shove it up your ass!"
To which I reply, "FUCK YOU" and slam down the phone.
*deep breath*
To have someone swear at me is not something I deal with very well - I feel I dealt with this pretty well at the time. I ranted to a manager and asked if I'd get fired for saying "Fuck you" to a customer, and they told me I had the right and whatever.
What truly bothers me is that for someone to know the difference between artist grade and student grade paint (they never hesitated), to know a particular brand that would carry such color (when that company is one of maybe 2 that still consider it a "flesh tint"), and to be so patient as to wait on hold while I actually gathered all that information. You'd assume that someone who could think that far ahead would realize that I have nothing to do with Winsor Newton, or making paint, or naming paint for that matter. Fuck, if we had an "Obama Umber" it would sell out in a flash. We even had Obama merchandise when it came out.
But to call and swear at me just to push my buttons when that person was so well educated in fine oils, it pisses me off. Waste of my time. Especially on a night we're open late.
I could end the rant there, but it hit me a little harder than I had planned. I grew up as one of 3 white families on my entire block, going to schools where the white population was fewer than 10%, and finding myself at the back of the classroom with no one to talk to because I didn't belong. I know what it's like to be harassed because of your skin color. I've had people follow me home and throw rocks and tomatoes at me because I'm white.
I just don't like that someone wouldn't expect me to sympathize with racial bullshit just because I'm white. Racism is something I grew up with, and it just makes me so sad to know that some people haven't evolved beyond it yet.
So fuck that guy. He can stick his flesh tint up his ass.
Around 11:00 pm the store gets a call - I pick it up to relive the person at the front. The guy on the phone asks, "Do you have a Caucasian flesh tint oil paint by Winsor Newton?" That would be a peachy-ish oil paint color. I reply, "I'm not sure, but I can go check. Were you looking for the student grade paint or the artist's grade?" He says he wants the artist grade, very politely, so I put him on hold and head to the shelf to check.
I find the color I'm looking for, and I tell him we have that in stock. He says, "Wonderful. Do you have an African American flesh tint?" Very awkward question, but I say, "I'm sorry, we don't. I know that the Caucasian flesh tints are really politically incorrect, and many different lines of paint have discontinued them in an effort to be more PC." He says, "I think that's ridiculous. We just got a new President." I said, "I agree, it's something that should have been done away with fifty years ago. "
To which he replies, "Well, you can take your company and shove it up your ass!"
To which I reply, "FUCK YOU" and slam down the phone.
*deep breath*
To have someone swear at me is not something I deal with very well - I feel I dealt with this pretty well at the time. I ranted to a manager and asked if I'd get fired for saying "Fuck you" to a customer, and they told me I had the right and whatever.
What truly bothers me is that for someone to know the difference between artist grade and student grade paint (they never hesitated), to know a particular brand that would carry such color (when that company is one of maybe 2 that still consider it a "flesh tint"), and to be so patient as to wait on hold while I actually gathered all that information. You'd assume that someone who could think that far ahead would realize that I have nothing to do with Winsor Newton, or making paint, or naming paint for that matter. Fuck, if we had an "Obama Umber" it would sell out in a flash. We even had Obama merchandise when it came out.
But to call and swear at me just to push my buttons when that person was so well educated in fine oils, it pisses me off. Waste of my time. Especially on a night we're open late.
I could end the rant there, but it hit me a little harder than I had planned. I grew up as one of 3 white families on my entire block, going to schools where the white population was fewer than 10%, and finding myself at the back of the classroom with no one to talk to because I didn't belong. I know what it's like to be harassed because of your skin color. I've had people follow me home and throw rocks and tomatoes at me because I'm white.
I just don't like that someone wouldn't expect me to sympathize with racial bullshit just because I'm white. Racism is something I grew up with, and it just makes me so sad to know that some people haven't evolved beyond it yet.
So fuck that guy. He can stick his flesh tint up his ass.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
The Ice Cream Man.
I've decided that when I grow up and have a big pretty house of my own, I want an adult-sized swingset in the backyard. Somewhere I can think and enjoy the trees. Somewhere I can go barefoot, with maybe gravel underneath so I could walk around barefoot.
Until I moved to MA, I wasn't allowed to leave my driveway, really. Except once a day. I don't know how I got the money, but every day, I would listen and wait for the ice cream man. It was always 80 degrees, so it was always ice cream weather. And I would always get two scoops of Oreo ice cream on a double cone, not that prepackaged crap with frozen bubble gum eyes.
The ice cream man was an asshole. He would often pass my driveway after seeing me standing there, not wanting to stop for just one kid. So I would book it down the street after him barefoot, the pavement well hotter than 110°, rocks, broken glass, it didn't matter as long as I flagged that fucker down and got my ice cream. Because of that, I had the thickest callouses on my feet as a child.
So I wouldn't mind walking over the gravel in my swingset.
Better than getting sand stuck in between your toes.
(That's a picture I found of the house across from mine in CA. That was where the foster family lived who robbed us. They were 13751 Sproule Ave, and my family was 13748.)
First post.
I wanted to make something separate from my regular blog so that I can be moody or excited without worrying about what the rest of the reader of my blog think.
Today, I'm slightly moody. I worked my ass off all semester, and I got little to no credit for it during my review. Given the people who reviewed me haven't said more than one thing to me in years - one person I didn't even know. I make a point of reading my written review over about 8 times, then set it down and read it again in a few months. That way, all the important things stick out as opposed to the "Well what did they mean by that?"s and "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"S that I'd normally obsess over.
I don't want to say that I was looking for compliments so much as recognition. I've never taken on so much work in my life as I did this semester, and I'd like to think I held the weight pretty well. I feel empowered by my successes this last semester, and to have my reviewers not share these victories with me is a little disheartening, but they weren't there, so they couldn't know. I honestly can't blame them for not seeing all the good things, and, in my eyes, when someone points out only the bad about something in a piece, it's because all of the good is speaking for itself.
So I'll take what I can and try to improve, but I'm only going to do it for myself. I'm listening to my own advice and my own aesthetic for once, and that's been working well for me. I like the way I've been working and so do all of the important people in my life. I'm not opposed to learning new things, but when are they going to see my pieces as finishes instead of practice? This is how it will be, and whatever changes is my choice.
I don't want anyone to think I need a pat on the back every 5 minutes to stay sane. What I draw may not be everyone's cup of tea - that's all.
Yet I can't help feeling I have something to prove.
And maybe that's the motivation I need to get better.
Today, I'm slightly moody. I worked my ass off all semester, and I got little to no credit for it during my review. Given the people who reviewed me haven't said more than one thing to me in years - one person I didn't even know. I make a point of reading my written review over about 8 times, then set it down and read it again in a few months. That way, all the important things stick out as opposed to the "Well what did they mean by that?"s and "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"S that I'd normally obsess over.
I don't want to say that I was looking for compliments so much as recognition. I've never taken on so much work in my life as I did this semester, and I'd like to think I held the weight pretty well. I feel empowered by my successes this last semester, and to have my reviewers not share these victories with me is a little disheartening, but they weren't there, so they couldn't know. I honestly can't blame them for not seeing all the good things, and, in my eyes, when someone points out only the bad about something in a piece, it's because all of the good is speaking for itself.
So I'll take what I can and try to improve, but I'm only going to do it for myself. I'm listening to my own advice and my own aesthetic for once, and that's been working well for me. I like the way I've been working and so do all of the important people in my life. I'm not opposed to learning new things, but when are they going to see my pieces as finishes instead of practice? This is how it will be, and whatever changes is my choice.
I don't want anyone to think I need a pat on the back every 5 minutes to stay sane. What I draw may not be everyone's cup of tea - that's all.
Yet I can't help feeling I have something to prove.
And maybe that's the motivation I need to get better.
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