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20 April 2010 @ 11:55 am

This link, marijuana and I are going to have a really good night. 
18 April 2010 @ 08:00 pm
Man, why don't I own a gosh durn pencil? WTF, artist self...

So, I hesitate to do this, but I'm going to make it internet official; I'm going to art school in San Fransisco starting in June.  Woooaaaah. 

I'm afraid that now I've said that an asteroid will strike all my loans, or the school will burn down, or something more ordinary will happen to stop it from happening.  I'm not a pessimist, that's just the way that stuff goes sometimes.  I don't really think it'll happen this time.  But in any case I haven't told facebook yet. 
31 March 2010 @ 02:53 pm
Hi kids, I have a favor to ask of behalf of a friend, takemychance.  She's working on her Masters in Sociology and she's looking to do some interviews (like, a BUNCH of interviews) to test the plausibility of her thesis.  It has to do with internet identity, specifically within fandoms. From her blog:

"I'm mostly interested in how fandom activities create a separate space for the expression of identity and how relationships form from those bonds. It would probably be through PM or email, and there'd be all the proper confidentiality stuff involved. And I wouldn't start doing it till the summer."

If this sounds like you, or like something you can help with go to takemychance.livejournal.com/622515.html and leave a comment for her.  Or you can email her at: takemychance AT livejournal DOT com. 

Please hit her up, it'll only take a moment and you're not obligated to go through with it if its not up your alley.  And if you can, please post this to your personal blog as well to help spread the word. 

You guys are the best, thanks in advance.
24 March 2010 @ 01:52 pm
Wow, the pieces fell together so well that I want to laugh. 

Recap from yesterday's post: lost my sketchbook, dreaming about San Fransisco, melancholy feelings of uselessness and no-direction

What happened after: found my sketchbook, randomly showed it to a woman who is getting her masters degree in fine arts in San Fransisco, she is impressed, I am going to visit her in a few weeks - she is making appointments for me to meet advisers, professors, financial aid folks, and get inside tours of the campus. 

I am glad.  I've spent the last few hours poring over student work (here: www.academyart.edu/student_galleries/index.html).  I've heard of the Academy of Art University, but I wrote it off because they didn't require a portfolio to get in.  I figured that that made them less legitimate somehow.  But this lady graduated from there 25 years ago and has been working in the industry ever since (I thing she majored in commercial communications or something), and after a very satisfying career decided that she wanted to take her art to the next level and is working towards her Masters.  

The student work is, for the most part, solid and in many cases very, very impressive.  Its obvious that it comes down to how much effort each student put in.  I think because they don't require a full portfolio there is certainly a broader range of work/talent, but they have a good program.  In some cases it can be a little cookie-cutter, but its obvious to me which students took the tools and ran with them to make  original, creative work. 

And its really a bonus for me that they don't require a portfolio, because I've been trying (unsuccessfully) for four years to put one together without success.  I'm confident that I'm a good enough artist to succeed at art school though.  (The lack of portfolio is due to me drawing only in my sketchbooks, of which I have piles and piles). 

Funny how it all falls together though.  Its best not to ignore serendipity.

I can't find my sketchbook.  I haven't been drawing at all lately, but I've been feeling the pull again and now I don't know where the fucking thing has gotten too.  I've been moving so much, and now I'm kicked out of my room because my parents rented it out for the week.  Humph. 

I wish I had a workspace.  A place I can sit down and all my supplies are ready and I can just go.  I'm such a lazy fuck that it would help me to have that kind of space.  I almost had it in my old apartment, but I let Ryan and Co. walk all over me.  Every attempt I made was thwarted by littering and cockroaches.  I got so fucking sick of cleaning up their messes that I gave up.  I gave up my sanity too. 

I'm searching for meditation classes in my area, I found one on Monday nights that looks promising.  I need to get my head ripped open. 

I wish that my computer wasn't seven years old and would hold a charge for more than thirty seconds so that I could sit outside in the sun and smoke cigarettes while I type stories.  I miss my MacBook pro.  It was stolen two years ago, and that stings more and more all the time.  What a fucking setback.  Not only was it a beautiful piece of machinery, but it had all the adobe software and my entire music collection.  And writing.  That's the most irreplaceable.  Consider my lesson about backing up learned. 

At least I still have my Wacom tablet, but without software/a computer fast enough to run the software even if I had it, its just a $250 mousepad. 

Enough of that, there must be something positive for me to talk about. 

I spent last weekend in San Fransisco.  Man, what a fucking city.  I'd love to live there some day, just for a few months.  Its such an expensive city, and I don't see it ever being a permanent home for me, but I'd love to really be able to get a feel for it.  Portland as well. 

I made all of the Bar Friends on Saturday night.  I can be so friendly and outgoing if I want too.  Free drinks galore! Made friends with a leather bound sub and his German lady-dom.  I really love meeting people.  I really love people.  I love talking to people.  I re-acquainted myself with a girl who I used to be close with, but we stopped speaking after she and Ryan had a falling out.  That was totally stupid.  She's cool! I adore her new boyfriend too, and I'm happy she found someone to be happy with. 

I'm starting to get restless here.  I better move on soon, after I save some money and get some life-issues sorted out.  Four weeks, maybe more.  I look around sometimes and I'm so startled by where I am, and even by how happy I am. 
07 March 2010 @ 09:18 pm
Cranky and sober. 
01 March 2010 @ 10:18 am
I woke up in the middle of the night, and I knew that everything was alright between Ryan and I.  I was with him in a dream, and when we parted he sent me a message saying "I'll keep our apartment clean until you get back."  We haven't been speaking over some bullshit thing, but I woke up in the middle of the night and I felt full of peace and love.  Still felt it in the morning, still feel it now.

In the morning I had a message in my inbox from him that he had sent about 12:45am that morning, saying that he wondered why I hadn't talked to him in days.  He said he had composed a really nice message to me "all full of peace and love," and he couldn't figure out why I never responded and then he checked his sent folder on his cell phone and it never went through.  He apologized, and told me he loves me.
25 February 2010 @ 03:33 pm
I want my books to be here now, dammit.  I hate waiting. 

Okay. Going to actually go ride some horses now.  Here I go...

Whats the female equivalent of a man-child? I guess I woman-child, but that doesn't have quite the right cadence.  Anyway, I'm being the worst female-equivalent-man-child ever.  Who doesn't want to ride a horse? Nobody!

Me, riding a horse, in 2005. Not that much snow on the ground right now, thankfully.
24 February 2010 @ 02:39 pm
I seem to be allowing myself to fall into one of those days of self-loathing.  I haven't really accomplished anything.  I re-read Candide this morning, and ordered some moleskines online.  I'm trying to keep better track of books that I've read, as well as my analysis of them.  I'm also trying to paint and draw more.  Mostly paint, as I've never been much of a painter, but I found myself with no good paper to paint on, and some extra birthday money, so I managed to justify a purchase of another new moleskine. (Actually three new moleskines)  I think I have a problem.  At least I didn't spring for the $40 12"X16.5" folio, although I did get my drool on over it. 

Now I feel restless and overcaffinated.  I should go ride some horses or help in the barn or take the dogs for a walk, but I think in the spirit of my day of self-loathing I'm going to smoke some weed and watch the olympics at my neighbors house instead.  Maybe if I sit there and look out the window at her horses long enough I'll get my ass up and ride them for her. 

Probably not though.

See, I'd really like to riding, but that means seeing people and probably having a conversation with them, which I don't really want to do.  I'm getting more and more hermit-y, and then feel sad when I don't have anyone to go out with.  I don't think it has to be one or the other.  I wish that talking to people didn't seem like such a chore right now.  Going to the neighbors is okay, because she's at work.  Her sister is there, but she does most of the talking so I guess that seems better somehow?

I'm also not dressed.  I have to get dressed to ride horses.  I haven't even gone outside all day.  Laaaaame, self.  Lame. 

EDIT: Just bought some cheap Chris Ware books from Amazon.com.  If you've never heard of him, his work is described as "a mosaic of despair, loneliness and pathos, of hurtful memories and risible daydreams." 

But, he's pretty much the best thing to happen to literature in the last 20 years.  And, oh yeah, he writes comic books.
19 February 2010 @ 10:12 am
Last night, I dreamed I was in a coffee shop, it felt like I was in east LA somewhere, maybe downtown.  It felt east though, away from the ocean deep in the city.  Tall buildings and Disney hall.  I was sitting in bed in this shop, drinking coffee, or maybe just drinking.  Everyone else at tables and chairs, and me in bed.  The place was packed.  Clustered groups of people talking loudly.  Boys kept coming up to me and giving me roses, trying to win my favor but I rejected all of them, took their roses and sent them away.  I got three roses, kept two in a jar by my bed, and lay the third on the stand.  Discarded them, really.  I was mean to the boys, asking them what the hell they were wearing.  They looked like they had just come there from a prom.  Slacks and vests, and all of them in some sort of plaid, mackintosh patterns in pink and blue and purple and red.  Most of them had dates to match, but these girls hung away from me on the other side of the shop.  Talking loudly and glancing over at me from time to time. 
Sophia came and sat in bed with me, and we mocked the boys, laughing at them to their faces.  My parents came in and ordered coffee at the bar, watching me in my bed.  I nodded to them, and they acknowledged me but we didn't speak.  I knew they we're watching me, judging me in my natural habitat.  I felt comfortable and confident, fingering my flowers.  My parents stepped out onto the patio to have their drinks. 
Sophia left too, and I sat in bed watching a group of people, sort of bored.  One of them turned and looked me in the eyes.  She was wearing plaid too, red plaid, heavy makeup, boots, well placed facial piercings.  A punkish dark skinned girl, attractive, important somehow.  I held her eyes, and she sent one of the boys over to ask me if I wanted to have a smoke with them.  I considered laying in bed and smoking, that prospect was appealing, but I got up and followed them out.  This girl and maybe seven or eight other boys.  They moved away from me, snubbing me as I got nearer.  I called out to them and they turned around, the girl motioned to one of the boys and he gave me a cigarette, lit it for me.  The girl and I looked at each other.  Sizing each other up.
I'm not sure how it happened, but soon I was chasing each other around the shop.  I would get close to her, collect her in my arms and kiss her, then would pull away, giggling, and the chase would begin again.  She was teasing me, I was teasing her, I was in love.  That feeling love-the-one-you're-with love of one-night stands.  That predatory I've-got-her-and-you-don't love when you know everyone else at the party is watching with burning jealousy, hatred, admiration.  I felt confident and asked her for her number, and it all fell to pieces.  She turned cold in an instant.  "I hate you now for the same reason you hated those boys who brought you flowers." I felt shame and misery and dropped her from my arms, watched her walk away without a glance back.  I turned away too.  Looking down I found that I was now wearing the plaid outfits of her gang, plus a huge green mohawk and a nose ring.  As I walked out, I felt everyone watching me.  Girls who ignored me before now wanted me desperately because they thought that I had stunted her, they didn't know my shame though and I let them believe I was better than them somehow.  Held my head high and walked out, shame still heavy in my heart. 
I pounded the sidewalk in heavy black boots, but before I got more than a few blocks I realized I was walking lopsided.  The boots were wearing out quickly and unevenly.  One foot was much heavier than the other, the sole of the lighter shoe wearing down almost to nothing, so that one boot was inches higher than the other.  I considered what to do, decided to keep going, but it became too difficult.  I turned around and headed back to the coffeeshop, where my parents we're still waiting outside and my vans were waiting for me under the bed. 
I figured I'd keep the mohawk.