Keep In Mind

"If you die, your loan obligation will be cancelled." -Loan Counseling, stage 5 of 6.

Blunt. I like that.

Did He Really Just Say That?

My "Drawing and Perspective" instructor is, how shall I say it? Pervy. 

Tonight, he was chatting with a girl in the front row while she was working on her exercise, "You are quite a beautiful girl. It's a curse I guess. Well, I admire you for that. I am not..." T-, the guy next to me, and I shared expressions of disbelief and started cracking up. What in the world?

During every class, "spanking" comes up. Once, when a student asked if we needed to rotate our pencils while drawing lines, he said, "No, don't do that...but that does sound kind of erotic." Last week we were drawing a room, and were allowed to add anything we wanted. I created something akin to a jail cell. Not sure why. My teacher decided to include a hot-tub, which excited many students, but went further and excited himself when he decided that it would be "kind of erotic to have a mirror over the hot-tub."

He was walking around later during that class session overlooking our grids. My grid dominated the paper. T- drew a grid much smaller. 

Instructor: "You need to make your grid bigger. Keep making those lines." 

T: "Yeah, I was just looking at her grid and noticed..."

Instructor:  "Well, I can see why you would have been distracted." He then looked at me, then back at T-. 

It has come to a point where it is so inappropriate that it is humorous. Maybe it is a bad thing that I have become somewhat immune to it and choose to laugh rather than be offended. At least this, as well as my other classes, is one of the most fun ways I spend my time.

As I was driving home tonight, I was comparing my experience at SPU to the Art Institute. Being in class this time around is much more fun. I love the freedom we have as students, the creative energy around me, the relaxed environment, the project-based work and the fact that talking and listening to music are not taboo in the classroom. It feels like we are hanging out and learning more about something we already love. No matter how tired I am throughout the day, my energy is revived when I enter the classroom. Going to school: a decision which I have not second guessed! I need this right now, pervy teachers and all.

Adventures in the Land of Pretend

Sometimes I forget that children, human and animal alike, learn through play. When I am at work, I play and it is a job. I jump down several rungs on my educational and maturity level, shed any sort of ego and play make-believe. I accept the fact that N-'s Playmobil horses can talk and fly and that sometimes so can her people.  There is no need for reason...most of the time.

My "people" (Playmobil people) were having a Halloween party in the park (which is located in the center of the cul-de-sac). G- decided that in order to enter the park, one must donate a plant of some sort for the landscaping. 

Today, G- was adamant that N- had to bring her plant or she would not be able to attend the party. G- and I had already made our plants yesterday so our admission was granted. While my people were setting up for the party, N-'s little boy brought over the plant and I reminded her, "Nora, don't forget to bring a dish of something to share. It's a potluck." 

At that she wrinkled her forehead and pounded her fists into her lap. "Why do I have to bring a plant and a dish? It's not fair!" Keep in mind that this is a game we are playing with inanimate plastic people. At these moments I have to hide the fact that I find the situation ridiculous and hilarious. Shrouding laughter has become one of my fortes. I mean, she was pissed that her pretend people would have to bring a tiny plate with imaginary food on it over to the park. 

For the girls, this stuff is its own reality. For me, it's a game. I can not completely comprehend what the big deal is in these situations (which arise often) because I do not attach emotion to them, but with the girls it is different. Even though they know that these people do not exist, they are able to contrive complex stories for each thereby giving life to each piece of plastic. It reminds me of how an author develops a connection with his or her character(s). J.K. Rowling outed Dumbledore after she ended the series. I should be embarrassed for referencing Harry Potter. 

Lessons of the day: 1.  The concept of fair is oftentimes obsolete.

                       2.  Attending a potluck comes with obligations. 

Madly In Love With either the Mad Hatter or the March Hare.

Tim Burton is a perfectionist. It is evident in the artistry of his films. There is an overflow of magic: unnumbered, precisely planned and angled shots-- some subtle, others blaring. It is a symphony! Oh, the colors! He is a magician! It is art! 

During his day to day, I imagine that he is either uncommonly tranquil or a whirlpool of creative chaos.

Every time I watch one of your films, I uncover something secret. I like you, sir. 

Samsung, Burton and I will be going to bed together tonight.

The sun was too bright today. It hurt my eyes, hurt my heart.

"You're beautiful, but you should smile more." 

He was a stranger at the gas station. 

Why do people say things like that to people whom they do not know? He had no idea what I was feeling and what I am going through. 

A few years ago I was driving back home from a visit with my dying grandmother. Coincidentally I was at a gas station. As I waited for my friend to come out of the bathroom a guy walked by, looked at me and said, "Oh, come on. It can't be that bad. Smile!"

Three areas of my life have drastically changed in the past couple months: relationships, home, work. On Saturday I thought that I saw the light. "Here comes the sun, and I say it's alright. Little darling, the smiles returning to the faces." Not so. Another problem--this one: enormous--more anxiety.

Frankly, sometimes it is that bad.

Fortune's Deal

They ended their show with a cover of "Love Hurts." I had to leave. I am so tired of hurting. 

Love hurts, love scars

Love wounds, and mars any heart

Not tough or stong enough

To take a lot of pain, take a lot of pain...

I'm young , I know, but even so

I know a thing or two, and I learned from you

I really learned a lot, really learned a lot...

Some fools think of happiness

Blissfulness, togetherness

Some fools fool themselves I guess

Theyre not foolin me

"Rise up With Fists" is one of my favorite songs and I usually feel empowered when I listen to it, but when she played it, it only highlighted my overwhelming weakness. Some days I feel strong, happy, content, successful. Others, I feel tired, defeated, lonely and hopeless. Is this life--this constant pendulum that swings from one extreme to the other? Fortune spun the wheel and I am out of luck. Happiness turned sadness. She will spin again, and I can only hope for joy.

I usually enjoy myself at concerts, but tonight was awful. Maybe it was because I was behind a tall dude who kept shifting his weight and thereby his head. Maybe it was because I have to work on a project. Maybe it is because I would be going home alone. Maybe it was because I had not spoken with a human being today. I don't even know why I am writing this. I am the only one who reads this blog.

Home. Family.

These boxes are full of more than glass, paper, and plastic things. I feel like I packed up a dream inside of these boxes.  When I unpack, one by one, the only thing that will be removed are things; the dream has been lost in transit. It drifted through the cardboard, out the window and into the wind. It wouldn't have been lost had I taped the boxes up tighter. The open spaces were intentional because I knew that I had to let it fly away. As much as it hurts to see it go, a secret future welcomes me. 

I can not handle one more change. Please tell me that I will find rest in this space.

One of the greatest changes in my life, and one which has sustained me in this challenging season, has been the addition of faithful, diverse, clever and fun friends. I could not have made it through this move without them. I felt like my provision of bagels was not thanks enough. Then, I realized that these seven people were helping because they simply wanted to, not because they were seeking wages. When I backed up into a truck, creating a lovely little dent in the side door, they were quick to calm me. When Maya dashed out of the car and began sprinting around the bustling street in-front of my apartment, they helped me capture her. In each instance I felt myself losing composure, but my friends-my friends-were my support.

Today had the potential to be a tremendously sad day of defeat, but with my new friends--whom I have quickly fallen in love with--it felt like a celebration. 

I have been blessed. 

For many months I have been crying out for the provision of deep camaraderie. Granted! The seeds have been planted and I can perceive the buds, the oaks. I know that I would not have survived neither today nor the past few months without them.

 

Bombs for Jesus.

He wrote "Watch 'Zeitgeist'" on the white board and strutted back to his seat.

"What is that?" someone asked

"It's a video on-line about everything."

"You mean like about the government and how they lie and stuff?"

"Yeah, it's just a really truthful, fair movie. If any of you are Christians you should watch it since all Christians want to blow the whole world up."

I turned around and smiled. "That's so true!" I cried. He laughed, and then realized that I wasn't serious and didn't say anything else for the remainder of the class. It was a pretty bitchy move on my part and I regret my snide remark. I opt to blame it on P.M.S.

"The more we get together, the happier we'll be."-The great philosopher, Raffi

I went back to work today after having two and half weeks off. Thank god. It was the perfect Autumn day to wake up early (or earlier than ten) and get ready to go to a place where I was expected to be. I like waking up early, but in order to do so I require incentive. 

The girls and I spent time playing with the dog in the backyard during the first part our day. The ground was covered with orange leaves and fallen apples. Autumn air is my favorite to take in. It was enchanting, in a way, to be spending time with the girls after being apart for so long and the lovely weather made the scene all but perfect. We had all missed each other. I was showered with admiration: "I like your new nose ring better than your old one. I like your skirt. I like your tights. I like your boots. I like your coat. I like your sweater. Your eyes are pretty." Now, at what other type of job would such comments be appropriate? Not many. In the afternoon as we left ballet, G- ran up to me, gave me a huge hug and said, "Marie, I love you love you love you!" It always moves me when either of the girls express such feelings for me because they are not the type of children who give it freely. I know they mean it when they say it.

As G- and I played Battleship at Veritas, where she had hot cocoa with "the best whipped cream in the world" and I indulged in "the best white mocha in the world," she mentioned that before I went home she needed to give me a copy of the "Yucky Chart."

Most people have a certain word or words that they can not stand to hear or speak. For me, words such as "puss" and "nugget" come to mind. G- and N- have (on their own accord) endeavored to compile a list and assign numbers to each word they consider to be repulsive. According to G-, it is my duty to learn the number system so that I will know what they are talking about when they refer to say "number five." Now you might immediately conclude that number one and two are, well you know. You are wrong. It is the revised and expanded edition, and in order to encourage my audience to embellish upon its current knowledge I shall share the list.

"Yucky Chart"

(officially engraved upon bright red construction paper)

1. Blood

2. Lice

3. Snakes

4. Pepe

5. Poopy

6. Dogy Warts

7. Cat skabs

8. Volmet

9. Sliva

I have been informed that if I "think of anything else to add to the list, write it down." Oh, the list is endless and full of so many inappropriate things. Let us keep it to nine, girls.  I love you love you love you too!

...a habit, like smokin' or takin' drugs.

I forgot how long lettering takes and so I spent an unanticipated five hours this afternoon hunched over my drawing board with crazy hair and pajamas. Come five o'clock, I jumped from my cozy chrome chair, straightened out my cramped back and dashed to the bathroom to slap on some beauty in a bag. I had fifteen minutes to get ready for the day, or night rather and somehow managed to pull it off, though my tights were not completely hiked up when I arrived to class (early might I add). 

The following four hours were spent hunched over the same graphite dusted drawing board. It was not a good way to begin class. I had just been doing homework for a class I was now sitting in. I did not have time to center myself before and it was as if my afternoon session never ended. Note to self (for the thousandth and sixty-seventh time): don't procrastinate. 

At this point in my life I am not sure that this is a lesson which will ever sink in. I have endured many panic attacks, and spent too many sleepless nights working on projects. The thing is, I always manage to pull it off. It is as if I subconsciously allot just enough time to push out a paper or painting or floor-plan. I drove past a sign yesterday which said something like: "A good scare is the best way to learn a lesson." So why won't I learn? 

No, actually I have learned, but this is a matter of will and of having a life filled with so many things I want to be doing at the same time. I can not say that I am irresponsible because I always turn my work in and do well. I am not lazy. I'm...just...not crazy about homework. Even if it is the kind of homework I consider to be fun. Fish is fish, homework is homework.

I spent the night next to a window, watching the sun sink down into the sound while I drafted doors: swinging doors, pocket doors, double-hinged doors, sliding doors, red doors, blue doors, me doors, you doors! As always, I enjoyed class and vowed to never again wait until the last minute to work on a project.

HA!

A Miniature Cohort

The human tendency to categorize is not one that deserves much positive recognition. For the most part it has caused trouble, but there are also instances when it can proliferate the human species: "Hi little girl, do ya want some candy?" There are reasons, good and bad, people tend to categorize. Here is a brief categorization of a few of my closest peers whom I have yet to get to know well. There will be room for revision within the next year. A rough draft describing the four of us:

The gorgeous, always slightly annoyed one.
The confident, way too talkative one whom you can never really trust.
The youngest, overworked complainer.
The sarcastic, depressed, but not too depressed to dress up one.

We are the loveable, traveling quadrant.

Making choices.

Sore calves, sore knees, sore me. My feet are throbbing. Blisters line the outside of each foot. Tired soles hum with dull pain and my toes have not regained their natural fan-like distribution. It was a good night.

I never went to prom. My decision not to go has never been one which I have regretted. Pro-Choice Prom was my first and it was perfect (and much cheaper than actual prom). Who says you can not attend prom at 23? Perhaps it was because everyone there was old enough to shed insecurities and dance their pants off to the flawless 80s/90s cover band. It seems like many people my age just do not care as much about what others think of them as they did in high-school. Or, perhaps it was because everyone there was old enough to consume the provided alcohol.

Whatever the reason, it was a great time. I loved "Dancing with Myself" and with my friends. I loved the fact that my hair was wet with the evidence that I had been moving in heels for two hours. There were moments throughout the night during which I would have to regain myself and fight to continue having fun. Watching couples still hurts. I won.

As I stood by the snack table, a guy walked up and asked, 

"So, any suggestions?"

 

The table consisted of chips, pretzels and cupcakes.

 "Oh, I don't know. I haven't eaten any of it. Um, you might want to go for the fake bagels. Don't eat these. I hear that they make for bad breath." 

He reached into his pocket and proudly presented me with a can of Starbucks mints: "Don't worry. I came prepared." 

"Ah." 

Thank god he didn't pull out a condom from the table at the door. 

With a raised his eyebrow he boasted, "You know, they're discontinuing these so I went to Starbucks and bought about ten tins!" He guffawed at himself for being so silly to do such an outrageous thing. 

"Oh, like the Forever stamps," I replied. 

"What?" 

"Oh, well the Forever stamps last forever. Gotta load up before they're all gone." 

He thought that was hil-A-rious. Or maybe he was just hoping that he might be able to use the condom he did not pull from his pocket during the first part of our lame conversation. Apparently he came alone. I noticed him looming and from time to time he would playfully kick a balloon into our small dancing group. He hovered about all the women in the room; his balloons were being passed around. Starbucks mints. Oh, I'm not worried.

This prom was neither awkward nor embarrassing. It was as fun as a prom ought to be. Thank you Planned Parenthood for a fabulous Saturday night. Regretfully, I will not be in need any of the provided condoms tonight.

Mirror Image

Dear Mr. Lower Queen Anne bar-hopper,

I saw you a month ago at infamous Ozzie's. You sang your heart out to Muse's "Starlight." I noticed your deep-set drunk eyes on me. I thought about how you would be going home with a blurry stranger whom you may or not wake up with in the morning. A world with which I can not identify.

I have not been to a bar since then, well, not until tonight.

I saw you at infamous Chopstix. Since karaoke was not an option, you had to listen to the pianists sing their hearts out. Even you have to admit that they rocked "Friends in Low Places" and "Fat Bottomed Girls." I thought, "Wow, he must hit hetero-alley every single night! Is he incapable of not making an appearance?"

Then it occurred to me: what if you too have not been to a bar since Ozzie's? Maybe you saw me tonight and had the same thought. Who am I to think I am above you? Although...I'm at home now, with no one but my dog and cheap (but not so cheap) cable and you were still at the bar when I left.

...maybe you have a dog too.

We all have our stories, our reasons for doing what we do. Why do I internally criticize people? It is not as if my life is any more important that his or hers. I waste time on trivial activities. I am never bored, but it does not mean that everything I do is significant. I spend time doing meaningful as well as meaningless things.

Life is a combination of trivial and profound.

Sometimes we need to check out whether that means reading a book, praying, going on a walk, watching crap T.V., or having fun at a tacky bar. We need different things at different times. It is all of value when we are honoring what we need and where we are in the moment. The tacky bar did not help me. Who knows what is most helpful? I certainly do not. So deep-set eyed dude can have his fun. If I see him again, I will think nothing of it. Unless he has herpes lips; that is a different story.

There is no such thing as a stupid question (?)

The best quote of the night:

"I don't know what some of these words mean. How am I supposed to present on them if I don't know what they mean?"

Read. The. Book.

It's. Called. Learning.

Sad and lonely, and I wonder...

The mindless trilling of my bird's song.
The tic-tock breathing of a sleeping puppy; twitching legs, vibrating eyelids.
The clicking sound of soil breathing in liquid strength.
Every so often, the jingling keys of a stranger living above me; his laugh, her laugh, their love.
A siren gone to save.
Alien laughs floating through my window.
Snapping heels of singletons skipping past my den.

Sounds beyond myself.
Private worlds continue despite my sorrow.
I like to listen in...