so that question pretty much has been my life lately. and i think it defines all of our lives though.
Aj--are you going to Houston fo sho next semester?
Al--what's your poa? The invite to come hur is still open...but, as the question suggests, i don't know what the fuck i'm doing either or what's my next move.
I still have yet to hear back from Code and Fusion in New York about whether they want me or not. David Bosman from Boss had replied to me last week (and I wrote back last night) saying he had talked to Sarah Doukas from Storm (a London agency--Sarah is the one who discovered Kate Moss) about photos of me from a shoot in New York he talked to me about setting up. Things look up, but everything always seems to fall apart. If I don't hear back by Wednesday, I'm going to call them all up and find out where I stand...I hope I don't have to though!
This question was also floating around last night with Aaron. I haven't posted anything about him, but I ran into him last Sunday night and have seen him every day since. He dated Annie in high school long distance for a little over a year, but I don't know. Basically, we just clicked. It was shockingly easy, refreshing, and comfortable with him. We have the same ideas and logic about relationships and, simply put, wanted to spend all the time we had together because we don't know if everything will ever line up again.
But last night we got to the '...so what's next?' question. The answer we pretty much settled on was 'lets see.' I fell asleep numerous times during the conversation. I did that thing I do where I fall asleep while talking. x5. haha. I think I will always be happy to hear from him regardless of who else I may be with or what happens next. It's been fun and magic and cutesy and sexy and utterly what I needed after Logan and Cory. Someone that shamelessly adored me but didn't cling one bit.
Other than Aaron, hostessing and work drama has been dominating my life. Philbert is too much to handle (my dramatic black gay co-host dating a confused, desperate, hot bisexual waiter at the restaurant).My other friends came back in town so I saw Chessie a lot which was fun. Alex Detrano and I bonded quite a bit, still absolutely adore him.
I volunteered at the garden yesterday which was nice. It's weird because the restaurant I work at is going to start buying from the Garden, so the guys in charge of the garden were eating with the Chef the other day and I chatted with them. So now the Chef definitely knows who I am and is super excited to go to the garden 'open house' Saturday with me and talked about this and that. It's like I'm on board and his mascot for the Jolly Cricket (the restaurant) but my interest and efforts were completely independent of the place. The owners also now know exactly who I am and met my sister. It's a small, small world here in Naples. Somehow, against all odds though, I continue to meet new people. It blows my mind that I don't know them all already. haha.
I think I'm going to run out to B&N and snuggle up with Omnivores Dilemma. I lost it, so I'll be reading in-store till closing :)
Love you BOTH! it feels crazy good to feel like i'm talking to 2 of you.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Hi.
I love you both so much.
I have a lengthy draft of word vomit saved for this blog in response to all the harsh (yes harsh, whether true or not) words sent my way, but I haven't been able to say anything that I wanted to post and I'm just tired of not saying anything on here.
So -
Why I haven't posted yet:
I feel like the only thing going on in my life is some struggle to figure out whats going on between me and a BOY. And while I allow this to consume my energy, I still believe its lame. So I haven't wanted to talk about it. I didn't want that pitifulness immortalized in words.
So here are some short updates.
I said fuck you to Jeff, which is apparently a BIG no-no. (oops.) I was angry. To him this means - i don't care about and totally disrespect you - I don't feel that way, but ever since then he's been incredibly distant. Sometimes I don't know how I genuinely do not realize or think about the things I'm saying or doing, and their potential to be hurtful. I still live in my own little bubble.
I have a crush on Andrei. (who saw that coming? I didn't.)
I am graduating this weekend. (Sat. the 5th) before exams. fuck you UT. I can't even be excited about graduating. thanks.
I still work at manju's and need to find something else.
I showed you (Sabrina) off to my family who was asking about you this Thanksgiving. They loved your photos and hope you are doing well.
This Thanksgiving marks the day that I realized I not only like Guiness, but it also shot to the top of the list of my favorite beers.
Mary Jane and I are on good terms again.
Chris found Lily-Pod in our couch. Send me your address so she can play beautiful music in your ears? Oh and its full, can I perhaps delete some things and put some music on there for ya?
Sabrina I am sorry you haven't felt my eyes on your words. For a while I was reading this blog every day and I was quite up to date on everything that had been posted.
I love that you love food. Not enough people appreciate food. You are not a hippo. Hippo's don't love and admire food, they just eat. When was the last time you had some nasty fast food burger from some corporate "restaurant" and thought it was delicious? You are a gem.
You are proof that women can be slender and beautiful and normal; they can have a love affair with food. They can take fat pictures of themselves and share them with the world because people are not what we eat, or what we look like, the things we say- we are so much more than that. You are a girl (a woman), who I have no doubt in my mind will be successful in everything that you aspire to.
Show the world that our fucked up and sick stereotypes don't have to exist. The world needs strong spirited people to share a spirit with. When did everyone start hating themselves so much? When did we decide that everyone else's opinion matters so much that we forget our own, that we hide it in shame? Bring back the healthy model. The model who loves her body, her mind and soul and wont disrespect those things for fame. -ohgod now i'm ranting.
Its raining outside. Its cold. I have a paper to revise. I have a room to clean. I have a mind to sweep. I have a soul to shape, a place to take, a city to shake, a life to make. Please (alana) let me be.
Friday, November 27, 2009
Hippo-in-disguise Caught Red Handed
From a true Hippo to a Hippo-in-disguise:
I forbid you to costume yourself as a Hippo!
I must say, it is quite unfair to a true Hippo.
A true Hippo, as myself, has a little love on her tummy.
A little sweetness that the button on her pants tries its absolute best to contain.
A little cushion when her chins have kids!
From a true Hippo to a Hippo-in-disguise:
Rip off your costume for my sake and yours!
Stop parading around like a Hippo you fool!
For, if I remember correctly, you were a model – not a Hippo!
Start acting like one.
From a true Hippo to a Hippo-in-disguise:
Food is the love of your life.
Kiss its feet and wave good-bye.
For sometimes the hardest thing to do is understand when lovers need to separate.
Separation does not equal forever.
Tell Food, “I love you, and will see you soon, when I am a Hippo!”
From a true Hippo to a Hippo-in-disguise:
My fat Hippo heart hurts to know a Tape Measure has become your new love.
The Camera is your new love,
A Tape Measures is only good for sex.
From a true Hippo to a Hippo-in-disguise:
Truth be told my dearest masquerading Hippo –
You are either a Hippo or a Model.
Rock it.
I forbid you to costume yourself as a Hippo!
I must say, it is quite unfair to a true Hippo.
A true Hippo, as myself, has a little love on her tummy.
A little sweetness that the button on her pants tries its absolute best to contain.
A little cushion when her chins have kids!
From a true Hippo to a Hippo-in-disguise:
Rip off your costume for my sake and yours!
Stop parading around like a Hippo you fool!
For, if I remember correctly, you were a model – not a Hippo!
Start acting like one.
From a true Hippo to a Hippo-in-disguise:
Food is the love of your life.
Kiss its feet and wave good-bye.
For sometimes the hardest thing to do is understand when lovers need to separate.
Separation does not equal forever.
Tell Food, “I love you, and will see you soon, when I am a Hippo!”
From a true Hippo to a Hippo-in-disguise:
My fat Hippo heart hurts to know a Tape Measure has become your new love.
The Camera is your new love,
A Tape Measures is only good for sex.
From a true Hippo to a Hippo-in-disguise:
Truth be told my dearest masquerading Hippo –
You are either a Hippo or a Model.
Rock it.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
blue cheese crumbles
i made coconut macaroons and tried to dip them in white chocolate but, somehow, burnt the white chocolate so it was chocolate colored. twice. i don't know how i missed the melting phase. the problem was that the burnt crispy white and brown chocolate was discerningly delicious. i dumped it in the compost and kept picking it back out. i ate too much white chocolate. and with the 2nd batch, i just sprinkled it on and around the macaroons like crumbled blue cheese.
this entire post was z- and eph- less.
this entire post was z- and eph- less.
Ajna I Want You
.
baby, sweetie, hun, hottie, babycakes, cutie, cutiepie, pumpkin, sexy, darling, love.
baby, sweetie, hun, hottie, babycakes, cutie, cutiepie, pumpkin, sexy, darling, love.
Hippo goes to IHOP
I was going to Paddy Murphy's last night to face the music. People are in town so I was going to meet them. I drank half a bottle of wine and had a sleepover with Ms. Chessie before I had work in the morning yesterday. I was going out again yesterday night.
Mom told me that she didn't want me drinking much. I assumed it was because she didn't want me to drink and drive. No mom, I'm not, obviously. I stayed at Chessie's yesterday precisely because I didn't want to drive.
No Brie, that wasn't Mom's concern. She didn't want me to put on five pounds, so to speak. Because then New York would change her mind on me. She would look the other way and scoff at my fat ass. My hips are still teetering the fine line between acceptable-tall model and hippopotamus.
But I think it is all in our heads. My weight was not an issue to anyone. My 35 inch hips (which magically measured at 35" with the NY's measuring tapes to 1129ShadyRestLn's honest measurement of 36"!)
It's a fine line. Mom cares enough to pull out her sharpy and make it into a fat line. I have to trust my own ability and self control to keep hippo out. Not Mom's paranoia. It's a scary fixation.
This morning Mom asked me to join her at IHOP because she was craving the pumpkin pancakes with caramel and whipped cream. We shared an order. Hm.
I've had better pancakes. These were not the pancakes she remembers and didn't shut up about. The International House of Pancakes, Naples, Florida is not on par with the one in Tampa I suppose.
Mom told me that she didn't want me drinking much. I assumed it was because she didn't want me to drink and drive. No mom, I'm not, obviously. I stayed at Chessie's yesterday precisely because I didn't want to drive.
No Brie, that wasn't Mom's concern. She didn't want me to put on five pounds, so to speak. Because then New York would change her mind on me. She would look the other way and scoff at my fat ass. My hips are still teetering the fine line between acceptable-tall model and hippopotamus.
But I think it is all in our heads. My weight was not an issue to anyone. My 35 inch hips (which magically measured at 35" with the NY's measuring tapes to 1129ShadyRestLn's honest measurement of 36"!)
It's a fine line. Mom cares enough to pull out her sharpy and make it into a fat line. I have to trust my own ability and self control to keep hippo out. Not Mom's paranoia. It's a scary fixation.
This morning Mom asked me to join her at IHOP because she was craving the pumpkin pancakes with caramel and whipped cream. We shared an order. Hm.
I've had better pancakes. These were not the pancakes she remembers and didn't shut up about. The International House of Pancakes, Naples, Florida is not on par with the one in Tampa I suppose.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Spotlights being Flooded in Darkness
OH I want to bite my mother-fucking family in the ASS.
My mother and I went to pick up my brother from the airport. She had been driving all day so I decided to drive – also, I know she has trouble seeing at night, and she had a glass of wine – and truth be told, I did not get my tolerance from her.
I asked her to watch the signs for me because One – I am driving the Beamer and Two – I don’t know where the hell I am going. The day I remember the way to the airport will be a miracle not only for me, but everyone who has to deal with me on the road.
Anyways, she can be so sweet sometimes, she chatted the whole way while all I was trying to do was hold my tears – why? Why did I want to cry? I don’t fucking know, but that most definitely did not help the whole driving an expensive vehicle late at night thing.
We circle and circle until we can finally pick up my brother – go figure, day before Thanksgiving – apparently ALL Houstonians decide to fly in the night before. I’m so excited to be reunited with my family – talking and chatting – missing the exit. UGH. So my mom and brother tell me to take the other one.
Long Story Short – we all got Lost. Automatically, my mom calls her young lover for directions, while stealing the spotlight from her son who for only a moment had the chance to be the man of the family.
She steals his spotlight.
He is in the dark pretending he can see.
I am trying not to cry – again. God Ajna.
Then we FIGHT. Fight. FIGHT. Fight. FIGHT. Fight.
Result: Spotlight Stealer and Darkness Boy decided to blame the whole fiasco on Water Works.
Result of Result: Water Works goes full throttle. Eyes, nose, mouth - all three.
Tears, Snot, and FUCK YOU.
My mother asked me if I am manic-depressant.
Why yes Mother, I am.
My mother and I went to pick up my brother from the airport. She had been driving all day so I decided to drive – also, I know she has trouble seeing at night, and she had a glass of wine – and truth be told, I did not get my tolerance from her.
I asked her to watch the signs for me because One – I am driving the Beamer and Two – I don’t know where the hell I am going. The day I remember the way to the airport will be a miracle not only for me, but everyone who has to deal with me on the road.
Anyways, she can be so sweet sometimes, she chatted the whole way while all I was trying to do was hold my tears – why? Why did I want to cry? I don’t fucking know, but that most definitely did not help the whole driving an expensive vehicle late at night thing.
We circle and circle until we can finally pick up my brother – go figure, day before Thanksgiving – apparently ALL Houstonians decide to fly in the night before. I’m so excited to be reunited with my family – talking and chatting – missing the exit. UGH. So my mom and brother tell me to take the other one.
Long Story Short – we all got Lost. Automatically, my mom calls her young lover for directions, while stealing the spotlight from her son who for only a moment had the chance to be the man of the family.
She steals his spotlight.
He is in the dark pretending he can see.
I am trying not to cry – again. God Ajna.
Then we FIGHT. Fight. FIGHT. Fight. FIGHT. Fight.
Result: Spotlight Stealer and Darkness Boy decided to blame the whole fiasco on Water Works.
Result of Result: Water Works goes full throttle. Eyes, nose, mouth - all three.
Tears, Snot, and FUCK YOU.
My mother asked me if I am manic-depressant.
Why yes Mother, I am.
Help. FLW's taken my mind Captive!
I do not know how to craft this paper.
I have read five years worth of Frank Lloyd Wright and I am writing in circles. Basically, all five years have to do with Organic Architecture. In every single writing he manages to find a way to talk about the Organic. Only, it is way different than in his buildings. Since he is writings, he talks about how an Organic Architecture is of life - how if people start to understand themselves as Individuals and use their heart and Mind - Organic lifestyle can come to life.
He talks about how bringing the idea of the Organic to the scale of a person is the way to begin. That way if everyone lived an organic life - democracy would not be Mobocracy - and we would not be push-button machine loving Homo Sapiens. He is basically trying to restructure civilization through his beliefs of the Organic.
I agree with all of it. I agree we are all robots - go to school - learn too much for own capacity - then live in cookie cutters. He is saying that if we learn to learn ourselves and use our intellect and heart, we can learn creativity. Learning from within as opposed to learning from everyone around us.
I don't know how to structure this damn paper. I am an advocate of all his beliefs - regardless of how harsh, I am on his side. I don't want to summarize these five years worth of writings- I was thinking of giving an overview of the Organic and then dividing the paper into six parts - one part per year. And showing how in every way possible he has managed to connect parts of our life to the Organic way it could be...is that lame? ahhh i need you.
I have read five years worth of Frank Lloyd Wright and I am writing in circles. Basically, all five years have to do with Organic Architecture. In every single writing he manages to find a way to talk about the Organic. Only, it is way different than in his buildings. Since he is writings, he talks about how an Organic Architecture is of life - how if people start to understand themselves as Individuals and use their heart and Mind - Organic lifestyle can come to life.
He talks about how bringing the idea of the Organic to the scale of a person is the way to begin. That way if everyone lived an organic life - democracy would not be Mobocracy - and we would not be push-button machine loving Homo Sapiens. He is basically trying to restructure civilization through his beliefs of the Organic.
I agree with all of it. I agree we are all robots - go to school - learn too much for own capacity - then live in cookie cutters. He is saying that if we learn to learn ourselves and use our intellect and heart, we can learn creativity. Learning from within as opposed to learning from everyone around us.
I don't know how to structure this damn paper. I am an advocate of all his beliefs - regardless of how harsh, I am on his side. I don't want to summarize these five years worth of writings- I was thinking of giving an overview of the Organic and then dividing the paper into six parts - one part per year. And showing how in every way possible he has managed to connect parts of our life to the Organic way it could be...is that lame? ahhh i need you.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Chai Tea
ahh..
i went to hostess at 10:30 and got off at 6. from there i was immediately going to drive 30 minutes across town to babysit till 11. yesterday i asked my manager to get me the evening off to go babysit because i've made plans to babysit for them the past 4 nights consecutively and then had to cancel because they were keeping me hostessing. but my babysitting got cancelled, so i have the evening free.
it's a wonderful feeling. i got to eat dinner with my mom and brother for the first time in a while and ate too much because i only had 3 meals today, 2 of them being smaller because they were eaten with the plan that they were each 1 out of 4 or 5, not 3. so i compensated at dinner. and now, to tide my extending lush for consuming...tea.
home made chai tea. i've been doing it quite a bit lately, but this one is slightly more simple and all the more enjoyable.
so here is how it went down: i put hot water in my kettle and then heated up some a little milk in the mug in the microwave. Added the water, pg tea bag, peppercorns, whole cloves, a spoonful of splenda, almonds, and a couple shakes of cardamom.
i particularly enjoy this tea because usually i put all this good stuff (except the tea bag) in the kettle + cinnamon, ground nutmeg, honey, and dried orange peel flakes. what usually happens is that the kettle gets this nasty layer of grime that i dread cleaning (even when i rinse, it's not enough!)
the honey we have is distinctively not a lovely honey, and all the stuff ground up just gets messy and grimy and annoying.
i just reached the almonds in the bottom of the mug. i'm going to repeat the process and resteep.
i also need to discover what makes some chai tea green cause i want to do that to mine to solely make it seem more like a real chai tea / latte.
my spice rack christmas list:
1. vanilla beans
2. whole nutmeg
3. whole cardamom
4. cinnamon sticks
yum. yum. yum.
i might throw some pumpkin into the resteeped tea just to taste that twist. love you love you dearly. and can't wait to hear your voice.
i went to hostess at 10:30 and got off at 6. from there i was immediately going to drive 30 minutes across town to babysit till 11. yesterday i asked my manager to get me the evening off to go babysit because i've made plans to babysit for them the past 4 nights consecutively and then had to cancel because they were keeping me hostessing. but my babysitting got cancelled, so i have the evening free.
it's a wonderful feeling. i got to eat dinner with my mom and brother for the first time in a while and ate too much because i only had 3 meals today, 2 of them being smaller because they were eaten with the plan that they were each 1 out of 4 or 5, not 3. so i compensated at dinner. and now, to tide my extending lush for consuming...tea.
home made chai tea. i've been doing it quite a bit lately, but this one is slightly more simple and all the more enjoyable.
so here is how it went down: i put hot water in my kettle and then heated up some a little milk in the mug in the microwave. Added the water, pg tea bag, peppercorns, whole cloves, a spoonful of splenda, almonds, and a couple shakes of cardamom.
i particularly enjoy this tea because usually i put all this good stuff (except the tea bag) in the kettle + cinnamon, ground nutmeg, honey, and dried orange peel flakes. what usually happens is that the kettle gets this nasty layer of grime that i dread cleaning (even when i rinse, it's not enough!)
the honey we have is distinctively not a lovely honey, and all the stuff ground up just gets messy and grimy and annoying.
i just reached the almonds in the bottom of the mug. i'm going to repeat the process and resteep.
i also need to discover what makes some chai tea green cause i want to do that to mine to solely make it seem more like a real chai tea / latte.
my spice rack christmas list:
1. vanilla beans
2. whole nutmeg
3. whole cardamom
4. cinnamon sticks
yum. yum. yum.
i might throw some pumpkin into the resteeped tea just to taste that twist. love you love you dearly. and can't wait to hear your voice.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Personal Effects
I was going to post about NY but I'm too lazy and distracted. I want to hear your voice anyway. So call me and it will gush out of me in a mess of word vomit. Right now, I'm craving something. Sweet Treats seems to far so I'm thinking I'll settle on Rice Pudding in the fridge. I capitalized rice pudding, it must be important to me (God!).
To tell you the truth, I'm wholly distracted, like i said, by personal effects. the new lifetime movie with Ashton and Michelle.
Tomorrow I'm baking cookies for my neighbor (white chocolate with craisins, oats, coconut, and pumpkins spice) and flourless chocolate cake with diego. tonight i'm hanging out (?) with Dana, the boy who slipped me his number last saturday.
Can't wait to hear your voice.
To tell you the truth, I'm wholly distracted, like i said, by personal effects. the new lifetime movie with Ashton and Michelle.
Tomorrow I'm baking cookies for my neighbor (white chocolate with craisins, oats, coconut, and pumpkins spice) and flourless chocolate cake with diego. tonight i'm hanging out (?) with Dana, the boy who slipped me his number last saturday.
Can't wait to hear your voice.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Oh my.
Sabrina Darling,
Tell me tell me all about New York City!
I hope with all my wishes that an agency has chosen my beautiful mistress to be theirs!
Work has drowned me! How rude, I tell it - but of course, I'm drowning so it can't hear me.
I have been reading so much FLW that I swear I was his wife in my past life.
His words sound too familiar to be true.
Sorry for playing phone tag - sometimes my phone plays it without me knowing - sneaky little I-phone.
Love you oh so MUCH.
Back to FLW - he's talking about Mobocracy - I'm hooked - I manifest myself into his words.
It is spectacular - I time travel to 1940's - and become words.
Sometimes I refuse to become certain words and battle them with my words!
Scandalous Word Wars!
It is the affair I have always craved.
-------
Speaking of craving, I am Penny Lane from Almost Famous!
My cravings are being satisfied left and right.
Kevin and I are doing a scene from Almost Famous - we performed it in front of a RTF Class.
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh. I'm in love with acting. I am set so free it scares the living Ajna out of me.
It was wonderful Sabrina.
The power of a fellow actor who cares as much as you do - just makes the typeface of a script lift off the page.
I became the words once again!
Tell me tell me all about New York City!
I hope with all my wishes that an agency has chosen my beautiful mistress to be theirs!
Work has drowned me! How rude, I tell it - but of course, I'm drowning so it can't hear me.
I have been reading so much FLW that I swear I was his wife in my past life.
His words sound too familiar to be true.
Sorry for playing phone tag - sometimes my phone plays it without me knowing - sneaky little I-phone.
Love you oh so MUCH.
Back to FLW - he's talking about Mobocracy - I'm hooked - I manifest myself into his words.
It is spectacular - I time travel to 1940's - and become words.
Sometimes I refuse to become certain words and battle them with my words!
Scandalous Word Wars!
It is the affair I have always craved.
-------
Speaking of craving, I am Penny Lane from Almost Famous!
My cravings are being satisfied left and right.
Kevin and I are doing a scene from Almost Famous - we performed it in front of a RTF Class.
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh. I'm in love with acting. I am set so free it scares the living Ajna out of me.
It was wonderful Sabrina.
The power of a fellow actor who cares as much as you do - just makes the typeface of a script lift off the page.
I became the words once again!
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Practice Theory: Hammer Hammer Chirp Chirp
We watched this film called Manufactured Landscapes and it was all about China and India and how they basically deal with our trash - how all our waste is someone else's life. There are all these images that this man takes of people and their back ground is basically trash. Their whole life is based on our banana peels!! It drove me crazy to think about, basically here is my post about it:
“You know this stuff comes from somewhere, you are just disconnected from where.”
I feel as if this film is the story behind the crusts to the sandwiches we cut off. I do not know what this “stuff” is, nor do I know where “where” is, nor do I understand that I am blindly balancing on the very extent of being “disconnected.”
It is threshold anxiety come to life via film.
I did feel guilty looking at the images and thinking they were beautiful. However, I felt even more guilty when I looked at the images and all I could see was:
Trash = corpses
Rust = blood
Color = flowers
It is as if I was painting this holocaust version of the trash images – so that I could feel better about finding it intriguing.
I am also in absolute awe of the people. In the opening scene where the screen moves from worker to worker – I couldn’t help but think: Ants! Ants! Yellow Ants of the Homo Sapien Family! I never knew such a species existed.
Hats = brains
Masks = faces
Gloves = hands
It is as if I was making these people into robots – so once again, I could feel less guilty about finding it awesome to watch.
The idea that there is so much unknown on the ground that we stand that it is understatedly mind-boggling. It also has me wondering about what these people in the film consider to be the backdrop of their life:
Children pose in front of trash. Smiling bigger than I have in a while.
Women sit cross-legged in cranes. As I sit cross-legged in a materials lab watching them through a screen.
Old women pose with e-waste. I never even knew the word “waste” had siblings.
Hammering sounds like birds chirping.
Everything that I take out of my day becomes someone else’s day. I guess I always had this fantasy-like notion that all the trash in the world was “trash.” And everyone would take trash to the same place – until we as a planet made an Everest out of Waste – and would the have the biggest bonfire the world has yet to see!
But, once again those are just my words disguising themselves from reality. I enjoyed this movie and am glad that I got to see past my peripheral vision – even though I morphed metal into bones. It made me think of Dirt and how I never even acknowledged the fact that the Earth had a skin.
Well, now I have acknowledged that trash has an after life and the Earth has a skin, for Logan says: “We spend our lives hurrying away from the real, as though it were the deadly to us. It must be somewhere up there on the horizon, we think. And all the time it is in the soil right beneath our feet.”
William Bryant Logan talked about digging a hole to China. He talked about how he never understood, “Why was I so positive that when you feel through the Earth feet-first you would come out to the other side head-first?”
Now I know why.
“You know this stuff comes from somewhere, you are just disconnected from where.”
I feel as if this film is the story behind the crusts to the sandwiches we cut off. I do not know what this “stuff” is, nor do I know where “where” is, nor do I understand that I am blindly balancing on the very extent of being “disconnected.”
It is threshold anxiety come to life via film.
I did feel guilty looking at the images and thinking they were beautiful. However, I felt even more guilty when I looked at the images and all I could see was:
Trash = corpses
Rust = blood
Color = flowers
It is as if I was painting this holocaust version of the trash images – so that I could feel better about finding it intriguing.
I am also in absolute awe of the people. In the opening scene where the screen moves from worker to worker – I couldn’t help but think: Ants! Ants! Yellow Ants of the Homo Sapien Family! I never knew such a species existed.
Hats = brains
Masks = faces
Gloves = hands
It is as if I was making these people into robots – so once again, I could feel less guilty about finding it awesome to watch.
The idea that there is so much unknown on the ground that we stand that it is understatedly mind-boggling. It also has me wondering about what these people in the film consider to be the backdrop of their life:
Children pose in front of trash. Smiling bigger than I have in a while.
Women sit cross-legged in cranes. As I sit cross-legged in a materials lab watching them through a screen.
Old women pose with e-waste. I never even knew the word “waste” had siblings.
Hammering sounds like birds chirping.
Everything that I take out of my day becomes someone else’s day. I guess I always had this fantasy-like notion that all the trash in the world was “trash.” And everyone would take trash to the same place – until we as a planet made an Everest out of Waste – and would the have the biggest bonfire the world has yet to see!
But, once again those are just my words disguising themselves from reality. I enjoyed this movie and am glad that I got to see past my peripheral vision – even though I morphed metal into bones. It made me think of Dirt and how I never even acknowledged the fact that the Earth had a skin.
Well, now I have acknowledged that trash has an after life and the Earth has a skin, for Logan says: “We spend our lives hurrying away from the real, as though it were the deadly to us. It must be somewhere up there on the horizon, we think. And all the time it is in the soil right beneath our feet.”
William Bryant Logan talked about digging a hole to China. He talked about how he never understood, “Why was I so positive that when you feel through the Earth feet-first you would come out to the other side head-first?”
Now I know why.
MOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
my mother just made the most perfect frosting. time stopped when i scraped the bowl and licked my finger.
India and Water II
Thoughts about India and Water.
Ajna, you're jealous to not have been born in India. I'm jealous to not have any valid physical or emotional connection to India. It's not apart my identity but it is a part of me. I think I've told you that I think I should have been born Indian, or maybe I was in a past life. There is something that pulls me in to her that I can't define or understand or explain, and I quit trying. I'm in love with her and she is a foreigner.
I think we both romanticize India. I don't know how far you take it...but I know that I sometimes get carried away and have to snap back into some sort of reality. In my mind, I haven't just put India on a pedestal...I've put her in the clouds...I don't know...the top of the beanstock or up a thousand rungs on a ladder, as if she is so intrinsically perfect. Untouchable. and then i remember untouchables, and other fatally beautiful flaws, and something falls down. me or her. i think it's interchangable.
but the romance is still there. she makes me swoon and seeing her scars and bruises seduces me and turns me on. the ganga is something like that. to any observer, a blemish or something undesired, that needs to be fixed or covered up or something. to a lover, something that is utterly right.
you talked about it being clean and dirty and full of life and death. yes, it is super dirty. the water is brown. but i can't help but think how it is just simply dirty because of an accumulating, long history of love. that dirtiness is something that people have adapted to and have been living with and will continue living with. they will continue to be born perfectly, healthily, in the water. i can't help but juxtapose that with water that looks clean and clear, but is completely poisoned from a short, careless, loveless last half century. those places you read about where frogs have two heads or an extra leg on their faces. Where people and animals alike are sick with tumors. all the hidden, extracted chemicals, additives, fertilizers that go somewhere are so much more extraordinarily harmful, and we pretend like it wasn't us or turn our heads, ignoring the damage, and simply exploiting a different source of water to purify for our bodies. India is aware and open about the dirtiness of the ganga, understanding and accepting that a long history of love is simply wearing her out. she is getting old, wrinkled from smiling and sunshine.
the other thing with the ganga is it is a river and i couldn't stop thinking about it's one-way nature while i showered. the water was coming out of the shower head, on me, and down through the drain. the river flows one way and constantly is washing away. remember when we talked about rivers in heymann's class? The river is associated with loss or release. A means of letting go and starting again, because nothing remains...it is all carried away downstream. i guess my mind wanders to the everglades...it's tons of grasses and trees and mucky...but the entire system is basically one slow moving river, and all that stuff is just filtered. So I can't help but think of how the ganga works as a filter, how it, above all else, has an extraordinary capacity to clean because it has been harboring human life and death for thousands of years, and the dirt, the proof it is working, is what it has to show for this.
Isn't the ganga a god? (The passage from the epic talked about it being god cum too.)ahh...the possibilities, potential, reality, will always flow.
She has carried me away! I'm floating downstream and laughing at myself for not realizing when I let go or if I was ever holding on in the first place. I can't escape the romance! I remember reading your post and thinking about how we gloss over reality. I'm worse than you.
The fact is that India is loveable. California needs to discover where his love for her is--because he has an undeniable capacity to do so--and his project will pour out.
Ajna, you're jealous to not have been born in India. I'm jealous to not have any valid physical or emotional connection to India. It's not apart my identity but it is a part of me. I think I've told you that I think I should have been born Indian, or maybe I was in a past life. There is something that pulls me in to her that I can't define or understand or explain, and I quit trying. I'm in love with her and she is a foreigner.
I think we both romanticize India. I don't know how far you take it...but I know that I sometimes get carried away and have to snap back into some sort of reality. In my mind, I haven't just put India on a pedestal...I've put her in the clouds...I don't know...the top of the beanstock or up a thousand rungs on a ladder, as if she is so intrinsically perfect. Untouchable. and then i remember untouchables, and other fatally beautiful flaws, and something falls down. me or her. i think it's interchangable.
but the romance is still there. she makes me swoon and seeing her scars and bruises seduces me and turns me on. the ganga is something like that. to any observer, a blemish or something undesired, that needs to be fixed or covered up or something. to a lover, something that is utterly right.
you talked about it being clean and dirty and full of life and death. yes, it is super dirty. the water is brown. but i can't help but think how it is just simply dirty because of an accumulating, long history of love. that dirtiness is something that people have adapted to and have been living with and will continue living with. they will continue to be born perfectly, healthily, in the water. i can't help but juxtapose that with water that looks clean and clear, but is completely poisoned from a short, careless, loveless last half century. those places you read about where frogs have two heads or an extra leg on their faces. Where people and animals alike are sick with tumors. all the hidden, extracted chemicals, additives, fertilizers that go somewhere are so much more extraordinarily harmful, and we pretend like it wasn't us or turn our heads, ignoring the damage, and simply exploiting a different source of water to purify for our bodies. India is aware and open about the dirtiness of the ganga, understanding and accepting that a long history of love is simply wearing her out. she is getting old, wrinkled from smiling and sunshine.
the other thing with the ganga is it is a river and i couldn't stop thinking about it's one-way nature while i showered. the water was coming out of the shower head, on me, and down through the drain. the river flows one way and constantly is washing away. remember when we talked about rivers in heymann's class? The river is associated with loss or release. A means of letting go and starting again, because nothing remains...it is all carried away downstream. i guess my mind wanders to the everglades...it's tons of grasses and trees and mucky...but the entire system is basically one slow moving river, and all that stuff is just filtered. So I can't help but think of how the ganga works as a filter, how it, above all else, has an extraordinary capacity to clean because it has been harboring human life and death for thousands of years, and the dirt, the proof it is working, is what it has to show for this.
Isn't the ganga a god? (The passage from the epic talked about it being god cum too.)ahh...the possibilities, potential, reality, will always flow.
She has carried me away! I'm floating downstream and laughing at myself for not realizing when I let go or if I was ever holding on in the first place. I can't escape the romance! I remember reading your post and thinking about how we gloss over reality. I'm worse than you.
The fact is that India is loveable. California needs to discover where his love for her is--because he has an undeniable capacity to do so--and his project will pour out.
Sebastian's Belated Birthday Dinner Day
i couldn't get my mind to stop while i showered yesterday, so obviously i ran out oZ time to post and go to pizza night, so the post waited. anyway, i need a mind to post. i've spent most oZ today churning ideas in my mind Zor dinner tonight. and snacking/picking at the bread i made the other day and these Zlourless sugarless muZZins and kettle corn i bought at the Zarmers market yesterday. and then i went to whole Zoods and sampled away. i think i'm kicking my metabolism into gear between yesterday's pizza night and today's nonstop bread (and cheese, so much cheese at wholeZoods! and tonight...)ahh. tomorrow will have to cleanse me Zor new york.
my ticket's booked. we leave tuesday morning and come back thursday night. i'm excited. i have to get my photos printed too. i want to do that today as well, so tomorrow iZ Zree to plan our routes and schedule Zor wednesday and thursday, cause those are going to be hectic! I have most oZ the pictures but Liang still hasn't sent me the ones Zrom the shoot i did with Agustin, and there is one in particular i really want Zrom that group!
So tonight I'm making a pasta tossed with butternut squash, asparagus, sweet pototoes, Zresh smoked mozzarella, and raw crunchy apples. I'm making a marinara sauce and alZredo sauce and garlic bread and i think a very small, light Zruit salad because we have blackberries, cucumber, pomegranate, banana, blueberries, and raspberries. Oh, and grilled chicken. And mom's handling the cake. I want to time dinner out right so everything is done at the right time and i'm not going insane or anything. so i'll Zigure that out in a bit :)
i think, beZore it gets pushed aside again, i'm going to re-read india and water and write about that.
my ticket's booked. we leave tuesday morning and come back thursday night. i'm excited. i have to get my photos printed too. i want to do that today as well, so tomorrow iZ Zree to plan our routes and schedule Zor wednesday and thursday, cause those are going to be hectic! I have most oZ the pictures but Liang still hasn't sent me the ones Zrom the shoot i did with Agustin, and there is one in particular i really want Zrom that group!
So tonight I'm making a pasta tossed with butternut squash, asparagus, sweet pototoes, Zresh smoked mozzarella, and raw crunchy apples. I'm making a marinara sauce and alZredo sauce and garlic bread and i think a very small, light Zruit salad because we have blackberries, cucumber, pomegranate, banana, blueberries, and raspberries. Oh, and grilled chicken. And mom's handling the cake. I want to time dinner out right so everything is done at the right time and i'm not going insane or anything. so i'll Zigure that out in a bit :)
i think, beZore it gets pushed aside again, i'm going to re-read india and water and write about that.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
compost day 1
my first day to use our compost bins. they are sitting in the back corner of our little deck. between yesterday and today between the bins and the sliding glass doors, spiderwebs exploded everywhere. i don't know why every spider in our backyard decided to congregate and fill every space between me and the bins, but they did.
Last break, in an effort to make home with my mom feel more like home with you at david, i took string and extra christmas lights and hung them up over our back deck making a nifty little canopy. it lasted 2 days before the rain pulled it down into a tangled, dangling mess. a hodgepodge web. one that i've been too lazy to clean up. i just pass the tangled mess everyday, never choosing a time to take it down. as if the initial effort and the attempt last year means something and that one day it will neatly tighten and fix itself back up.
little beautiful horny spiders took over my ugly oversized web and made little beautiful webs everywhere. between the wonder of the morning and all the gentle dew shimmering (corny but perfectly descriptive) on all the webs, i couldn't get myself to move the strings and lights over to get to the bins. it would have destroyed too many webs for me to handle. i would have felt guilty.
so i took on the challenge. bag of organic matter in hand, i tiptoed, ducked, stepped over, swung, balance-beamed (along the railing) my way to the bins and back. i think i fucked up a baby web. i can handle that.
it took me around 10 minutes to decompose to decomposable. my tea, in my absence, was screeching and spitting at me in the kitchen. the teapot threw up half the tea on the stovetop. that burned, smoked, smelled. lovely.
there's a big spiderweb over our front door. it's been there for at least a week now. if i see it in the light, i carefully walk under. at night, i duck into our door where i think it might be. she says bye to me when i leave and welcomes me home when i come back. i know i'll be disappointed the day i get up and charlotte isn't there. this particular gal i think is the reason i so painstakingly avoided the webs out back.
there are more webs in my everyday life than before. that's all.
Friday, November 13, 2009
A-lala II
Not one post?
Seriously Alana?
That is just rude.
I can sugar-coat and I can express how much I love you, but truthfully you haven't had the courage to post once?
Haven't i given and expressed enough love towards you to know that your mere presence makes me smile?
I understand that words may not be your ideal means of communication, but let us know that you fucking care.
Cause truthfully, it hurts to know that the person that Bri and I love and are desperately waiting for is too nervous to write something.
Get the fuck over it and write. Because whether you write one word or a hundred, I am starving for your voice.
This is why i don't call you every time I go out - because the thought of you coming out or hanging out with me gets me so excited that I can't stand to know that you actually will bail on me.
I'm truly sorry if that comes off as harsh Alana, but the truth is that I enjoy you too much. So stop it. Stop not being with me!
Seriously Alana?
That is just rude.
I can sugar-coat and I can express how much I love you, but truthfully you haven't had the courage to post once?
Haven't i given and expressed enough love towards you to know that your mere presence makes me smile?
I understand that words may not be your ideal means of communication, but let us know that you fucking care.
Cause truthfully, it hurts to know that the person that Bri and I love and are desperately waiting for is too nervous to write something.
Get the fuck over it and write. Because whether you write one word or a hundred, I am starving for your voice.
This is why i don't call you every time I go out - because the thought of you coming out or hanging out with me gets me so excited that I can't stand to know that you actually will bail on me.
I'm truly sorry if that comes off as harsh Alana, but the truth is that I enjoy you too much. So stop it. Stop not being with me!
I have no teeth. Or so my dream says So.
Ok, so please don’t freak out by this, but I’ve been having crazy insane dreams and don’t know what to do with myself. Most of the time I don’t have the luxury of remembering what my dreams are, but lately I’ve been having random flashes of them during the day. Then I can’t seem to remember if that is something that actually happened or something I dreamt.
Yesterday is the only day I actually remembered. God, my dreams have become morbid:
I lived in a massive brick house – bigger than Indika – twice its size. I lived there by myself. I walked up the stairs, it was a complete dump. Oh and by the way, this whole dream was in third person – that is how I think and imagine, I Never see myself in the first person. I went up to the bathroom and looked through a small rectangular mirror with a big crack across the middle of it – my front tooth had bee knocked out. I don’t know how – but it was not there.
The sight of my tooth not being there made my mind go crazy. I started ripping out all my teeth. I could not stop. The pain felt good. I loved the feeling of ripping out my teeth and tasting the blood. It was as if I was hungry for all this painful blood. Every time I ripped out another tooth I’d get this insane rush throughout my body. Blood was drowning my face and my neck. It was trickling down my body and felt better than water ever has.
Once I was done – all my teeth were out except for one stubborn molar that I decided to give up on – I took a rag and wiped my mouth with it. I dabbed my mouth like a rich person does at the dinner table then grabbed my purse and walked out. I was on my way to breakfast with California and I couldn’t’ be late.
The reason why this is a bit weird for me is because when I was dreaming, ripping out my teeth felt as natural as brushing my hair.
Yesterday is the only day I actually remembered. God, my dreams have become morbid:
I lived in a massive brick house – bigger than Indika – twice its size. I lived there by myself. I walked up the stairs, it was a complete dump. Oh and by the way, this whole dream was in third person – that is how I think and imagine, I Never see myself in the first person. I went up to the bathroom and looked through a small rectangular mirror with a big crack across the middle of it – my front tooth had bee knocked out. I don’t know how – but it was not there.
The sight of my tooth not being there made my mind go crazy. I started ripping out all my teeth. I could not stop. The pain felt good. I loved the feeling of ripping out my teeth and tasting the blood. It was as if I was hungry for all this painful blood. Every time I ripped out another tooth I’d get this insane rush throughout my body. Blood was drowning my face and my neck. It was trickling down my body and felt better than water ever has.
Once I was done – all my teeth were out except for one stubborn molar that I decided to give up on – I took a rag and wiped my mouth with it. I dabbed my mouth like a rich person does at the dinner table then grabbed my purse and walked out. I was on my way to breakfast with California and I couldn’t’ be late.
The reason why this is a bit weird for me is because when I was dreaming, ripping out my teeth felt as natural as brushing my hair.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
India and Water - my email to California in London
His project has to do with India and water - he wanted to know my thoughts, so I e-mailed him this:
Truthfully California, I do not know where or how you want your project to go – I’m afraid that I might have a very clouded perception of what is the Ganges and what others might see. However, keeping that in mind along with my idealistic views here is what I see:
Before I can even begin speaking of spirituality and Hinduism, I will have to bow to science and logic: The Ganges is dirty. I don’t allow myself to think of how incredibly dirty that river truly is, I’m scared that if I do – I will ruin it. I’m scared that by counting the pieces of trash and pollution in the river, I’ll be turning my back on India. As much of a foreigner and American that I am – even though I deny it – the fact is that I will never know what it feels like to have been born in the Ganges, to drink from the Ganges, to bathe in the Ganges, and to die in the Ganges.
It is a life source.
The way I try to see it is as if I was an Indian born on the banks of the Ganges. I would know no other wonder in the world, especially if everyone around me told me how holy and lucky it was for me to be born in the waters of Ganga. I would be enlightened and allow the spirituality of the river’s symbol and significance become my everyday. Even if I was a brick worker or a rickshaw driver – the one thing that would get me through my day is my beliefs – and my spirituality – the Ganges.
It is easy for scientists and foreigners to question how on Earth human beings allow the water of the Ganges to touch their lips – however, the rest of the world is hung up on sanitation wipes and numbers, India is at least in touch with their hearts. The Ganges is a symbol of birth, life, and death. It is the cycle of life manifested in a river – how much more extravagant can spiritually possiby be?
After spending my summer in India, I learned some things about Indians that I never knew could exist in human beings. As wound up and obsessed they are with their beliefs - they believe with and for love. They have crazy hang-ups and superstitions that drove me insane – yet at the same time, these hang ups and superstitions always came with a moral. The problem with people such as me, and the rest of the world is we are so far disconnected with our roots that we forget life can be as simple as it is in India (a story with a moral). When you think of it - people are born, drink, live, and die in a river – what sounds so wrong or inhumane with that statement?
The rest of the world is just prude. Indians have the heart and mind and the simplicity in their life to wash themselves in water. A water that carries all of India. They don’t care if it’s dirty – for they don’t even know what clean is. Or, might I say, we don’t know what clean is.
Before you start this project California, seriously think about redefining yourself and meanings. I’m not saying that you should fly to India and bathe in the Ganges this very second – I’m saying that maybe you should think about what being dirty means to you. About what being clean means to you. About what spirituality means to you. About what poverty means to you. About what water means to you.
You have always had clear water to drink that has come out of a faucet into a glass. – No One who drinks from the Ganges even knows what that feels like.
In America – you will first use water to wash your hands and then drink it.
In India – you will drink the water first, because there is never enough water to quench your thirst.
There are so many times I wish I was born in India. (This is the idealistic part of me talking right now.) But seriously, sometimes I wish I knew what it fucking felt like to have one pair of clothes, to have one belief, to know nothing other than what and where I was born. To wholly live within the moment. We are all so educated and so aware that it has in turn hurt us instead of helping us. I’m not a pessimist – I just can’t stand when education breeds sanitation. Do not go into this project tying to make the Ganges “cleaner,” or “better,” or more “sanitary friendly,”– don’t try to do what you think “helps” the Indians - because if there is ever an attack on Earth – we’re the ones who are fucked – because we drink clear filtered water.
Foreigners think that they can “help” India – but, India does not need help. It is the one nation that is truly taking its time to develop. Everyone else in the world is so ahead of themselves that they will be dead and not even know how they died – where as in India everyone will be praying and bathing in each other’s death. That is what I define as beautiful.
Do you know what it feels like to drink water that is muddy with ashes and pollution in it? Do you know what I feels like to possess a spirituality within you that can blind yourself to muddy-ness and pollution. Indians, have no money, therefore they have faith. They could never afford clear water. So, instead they allow their thankfulness and spirituality to morph any water into drinkable water. Have you ever been so desperate or so simple in your thinking?
Sometimes I hate my body for being full of clear filtered water. Every time I saw people in India drink from some random puddle of water in the road – I got jealous. I don’t think this happens to a lot of people – but I just wanted to tell them that what they think is poverty, might just be a blessing in disguise.
How all my rambling will fit into a project – I’m not sure. Although, I do hope that you approach this subject with sensitivity and understand that India is many physical steps behind us but a hundred spiritual steps ahead of us.
Clear water does not = clean.
Muddy water does not = dirty.
Our “dirty” = Their “clean”
Their “clean” = Our “dirty”
One thing I did not bring up is the Ganges drying up. All I have with this topic is my thoughts, and from what I have observed – I think India will follow nature. If God and the laws of nature decide to dry up the Ganges, India will bow their heads with love and see what happens. They might be scared, but they have the will power and the heart to accept that certain things such as nature and spirituality are stronger than they will ever be.
Truthfully California, I do not know where or how you want your project to go – I’m afraid that I might have a very clouded perception of what is the Ganges and what others might see. However, keeping that in mind along with my idealistic views here is what I see:
Before I can even begin speaking of spirituality and Hinduism, I will have to bow to science and logic: The Ganges is dirty. I don’t allow myself to think of how incredibly dirty that river truly is, I’m scared that if I do – I will ruin it. I’m scared that by counting the pieces of trash and pollution in the river, I’ll be turning my back on India. As much of a foreigner and American that I am – even though I deny it – the fact is that I will never know what it feels like to have been born in the Ganges, to drink from the Ganges, to bathe in the Ganges, and to die in the Ganges.
It is a life source.
The way I try to see it is as if I was an Indian born on the banks of the Ganges. I would know no other wonder in the world, especially if everyone around me told me how holy and lucky it was for me to be born in the waters of Ganga. I would be enlightened and allow the spirituality of the river’s symbol and significance become my everyday. Even if I was a brick worker or a rickshaw driver – the one thing that would get me through my day is my beliefs – and my spirituality – the Ganges.
It is easy for scientists and foreigners to question how on Earth human beings allow the water of the Ganges to touch their lips – however, the rest of the world is hung up on sanitation wipes and numbers, India is at least in touch with their hearts. The Ganges is a symbol of birth, life, and death. It is the cycle of life manifested in a river – how much more extravagant can spiritually possiby be?
After spending my summer in India, I learned some things about Indians that I never knew could exist in human beings. As wound up and obsessed they are with their beliefs - they believe with and for love. They have crazy hang-ups and superstitions that drove me insane – yet at the same time, these hang ups and superstitions always came with a moral. The problem with people such as me, and the rest of the world is we are so far disconnected with our roots that we forget life can be as simple as it is in India (a story with a moral). When you think of it - people are born, drink, live, and die in a river – what sounds so wrong or inhumane with that statement?
The rest of the world is just prude. Indians have the heart and mind and the simplicity in their life to wash themselves in water. A water that carries all of India. They don’t care if it’s dirty – for they don’t even know what clean is. Or, might I say, we don’t know what clean is.
Before you start this project California, seriously think about redefining yourself and meanings. I’m not saying that you should fly to India and bathe in the Ganges this very second – I’m saying that maybe you should think about what being dirty means to you. About what being clean means to you. About what spirituality means to you. About what poverty means to you. About what water means to you.
You have always had clear water to drink that has come out of a faucet into a glass. – No One who drinks from the Ganges even knows what that feels like.
In America – you will first use water to wash your hands and then drink it.
In India – you will drink the water first, because there is never enough water to quench your thirst.
There are so many times I wish I was born in India. (This is the idealistic part of me talking right now.) But seriously, sometimes I wish I knew what it fucking felt like to have one pair of clothes, to have one belief, to know nothing other than what and where I was born. To wholly live within the moment. We are all so educated and so aware that it has in turn hurt us instead of helping us. I’m not a pessimist – I just can’t stand when education breeds sanitation. Do not go into this project tying to make the Ganges “cleaner,” or “better,” or more “sanitary friendly,”– don’t try to do what you think “helps” the Indians - because if there is ever an attack on Earth – we’re the ones who are fucked – because we drink clear filtered water.
Foreigners think that they can “help” India – but, India does not need help. It is the one nation that is truly taking its time to develop. Everyone else in the world is so ahead of themselves that they will be dead and not even know how they died – where as in India everyone will be praying and bathing in each other’s death. That is what I define as beautiful.
Do you know what it feels like to drink water that is muddy with ashes and pollution in it? Do you know what I feels like to possess a spirituality within you that can blind yourself to muddy-ness and pollution. Indians, have no money, therefore they have faith. They could never afford clear water. So, instead they allow their thankfulness and spirituality to morph any water into drinkable water. Have you ever been so desperate or so simple in your thinking?
Sometimes I hate my body for being full of clear filtered water. Every time I saw people in India drink from some random puddle of water in the road – I got jealous. I don’t think this happens to a lot of people – but I just wanted to tell them that what they think is poverty, might just be a blessing in disguise.
How all my rambling will fit into a project – I’m not sure. Although, I do hope that you approach this subject with sensitivity and understand that India is many physical steps behind us but a hundred spiritual steps ahead of us.
Clear water does not = clean.
Muddy water does not = dirty.
Our “dirty” = Their “clean”
Their “clean” = Our “dirty”
One thing I did not bring up is the Ganges drying up. All I have with this topic is my thoughts, and from what I have observed – I think India will follow nature. If God and the laws of nature decide to dry up the Ganges, India will bow their heads with love and see what happens. They might be scared, but they have the will power and the heart to accept that certain things such as nature and spirituality are stronger than they will ever be.
Aujourd'hui
Aujourd'hui (Today)
8:30 am - study for Weather and Climate Test
11:00 am - Weather and Climate Test
12:00 pm - lunch
12:30 pm - studio - draw longitudinal section
2:00 pm - memorize lines/ go over character for shoot
3:15 pm - make list for tomorrow
3:30 pm - Practice Theory
4:45 pm - California calls.
5:00 pm - cook dinner at Seneca (witch California on phone)
6:00 pm - take picture for photography project - practice theory
7:00 pm - dinner is late
7:30 pm - at Kevin's for Shoot
- he looks at me and tells me to breathe- fifteen minutes to myself -
7:45 pm - shoot starts: My name is Lesly, ladies and gentlemen.
11:26 pm - shoot is over, My name is Ajna
11:45 pm - take my dvd player which won't work to my dad's girlfriends daughter house because she is going to Houston, so he can fix it
12:00 am - drop car off in parking spot
12:15 am - get to Seneca
12:30 am - clean room. it's a mess. feed Flar.
12:45 am - Sex, Cheese, Wine, Reading in the City
Now, I am going to write something for California - he is confused on what he should do with his project - it involves India and he asked if I could help him - of course, verbally I can't do anything, so I told him I'd write about it. I'm excited to write, but i have to get up at 8:00 am!!!! Is this insasne? I don't know what to think sometimes...I am trying to learn about theory, read FLW's writings for 10 years, make buildings, make films, be in a co-op with labor, go to acting class, go to yoga....it might be too much. Sometimes I spread myself so thin it's scary.
oh yea didn't eat dinner. ugh.
8:30 am - study for Weather and Climate Test
11:00 am - Weather and Climate Test
12:00 pm - lunch
12:30 pm - studio - draw longitudinal section
2:00 pm - memorize lines/ go over character for shoot
3:15 pm - make list for tomorrow
3:30 pm - Practice Theory
4:45 pm - California calls.
5:00 pm - cook dinner at Seneca (witch California on phone)
6:00 pm - take picture for photography project - practice theory
7:00 pm - dinner is late
7:30 pm - at Kevin's for Shoot
- he looks at me and tells me to breathe- fifteen minutes to myself -
7:45 pm - shoot starts: My name is Lesly, ladies and gentlemen.
11:26 pm - shoot is over, My name is Ajna
11:45 pm - take my dvd player which won't work to my dad's girlfriends daughter house because she is going to Houston, so he can fix it
12:00 am - drop car off in parking spot
12:15 am - get to Seneca
12:30 am - clean room. it's a mess. feed Flar.
12:45 am - Sex, Cheese, Wine, Reading in the City
Now, I am going to write something for California - he is confused on what he should do with his project - it involves India and he asked if I could help him - of course, verbally I can't do anything, so I told him I'd write about it. I'm excited to write, but i have to get up at 8:00 am!!!! Is this insasne? I don't know what to think sometimes...I am trying to learn about theory, read FLW's writings for 10 years, make buildings, make films, be in a co-op with labor, go to acting class, go to yoga....it might be too much. Sometimes I spread myself so thin it's scary.
oh yea didn't eat dinner. ugh.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
while the bread bakes
I'm kind of tired and not in a desperately good mood ( I don't quite know why ) but I have the time to blog right now because I just put in some white chocolate cranberry banana nut bread in the oven, so I have to stay up for it. I don't have high hopes of it turning out too splendid though because the batter was super thick, like in cookies, and I already cut out some of the dry stuff. I just thought it would be better a little drier than adding an ingredient after i had mixed everything else together. We'll see :) I mean, I like everything that went into it.
So, like my comment said, I'm not going to New York tomorrow. My mom couldn't get the ticket. But I haven't gotten a hold of Susan even, our neighbor, who is the one that has the IMG connection, so it's probably for the best. I also haven't gotten a hold of the guy that knows the booker at Next in Miami, so my plan b of going to Miami on Thursday might be out the window as well. I didn't tell work that I'd be available those days again yet. I still have hopes for thursday and we're hosting an overbooked private event those days, so I wasn't particularly looking forward to getting eaten alive by old people tomorrow. Plus, it's Cory's day off work.
Cory. The new boy in my life. Haha. Um, so I really think I like him. Which is a good thing, different from how I felt about Logan. He is 24 years old. Shaved brown hair (he cut it 2 weeks ago, it used to be dreads past his shoulders). Skinny. Vegan. Works in a bike shop. On parole till January for possession. Loves the beach, plays guitar, kite boards, has a water bed and hammock in his room. His house. Hhhmmm. Love it. The more I hang out with him, the more he surprises me and contradicts/surpasses my expectations (in a good way). What can I say, I adore the boy. And I get the vibe that he is as genuinely (if not more) into me as I am into him.
My bread smells delicious.
I think I'm going to wake up and go to the garden in the morning before my exercise class tomorrow. I need to get out there again, 2 days seems like I'm distancing myself. I was late paying my credit card and it over drafted because the gym charged me $60 instead of $40 (the $20 was apparently for the past and new abs and butt classes I do on Saturday). It's frustrating that I was late (my fault ) and that my account overdrafted by $4 (their fault) but I'm not as annoyed or angry or stressed as I usually got when stuff like that happens. My minimum payment is $100 more than what it used to be and I just kind of feel ok about it. I need to pay that fucking card off, so at least this will force me to do it faster.
The bread is out. I'm tired. Love.
So, like my comment said, I'm not going to New York tomorrow. My mom couldn't get the ticket. But I haven't gotten a hold of Susan even, our neighbor, who is the one that has the IMG connection, so it's probably for the best. I also haven't gotten a hold of the guy that knows the booker at Next in Miami, so my plan b of going to Miami on Thursday might be out the window as well. I didn't tell work that I'd be available those days again yet. I still have hopes for thursday and we're hosting an overbooked private event those days, so I wasn't particularly looking forward to getting eaten alive by old people tomorrow. Plus, it's Cory's day off work.
Cory. The new boy in my life. Haha. Um, so I really think I like him. Which is a good thing, different from how I felt about Logan. He is 24 years old. Shaved brown hair (he cut it 2 weeks ago, it used to be dreads past his shoulders). Skinny. Vegan. Works in a bike shop. On parole till January for possession. Loves the beach, plays guitar, kite boards, has a water bed and hammock in his room. His house. Hhhmmm. Love it. The more I hang out with him, the more he surprises me and contradicts/surpasses my expectations (in a good way). What can I say, I adore the boy. And I get the vibe that he is as genuinely (if not more) into me as I am into him.
My bread smells delicious.
I think I'm going to wake up and go to the garden in the morning before my exercise class tomorrow. I need to get out there again, 2 days seems like I'm distancing myself. I was late paying my credit card and it over drafted because the gym charged me $60 instead of $40 (the $20 was apparently for the past and new abs and butt classes I do on Saturday). It's frustrating that I was late (my fault ) and that my account overdrafted by $4 (their fault) but I'm not as annoyed or angry or stressed as I usually got when stuff like that happens. My minimum payment is $100 more than what it used to be and I just kind of feel ok about it. I need to pay that fucking card off, so at least this will force me to do it faster.
The bread is out. I'm tired. Love.
New York City
HAVE FUN!!
I am swamped with FLW readings, Dirt: The Ecstatic Skin of the Earth, Monasteries, and Weather and Climate. I'm actually sort of panicking on HOW much I have to be working on! My FLW readings are insane, the research project I chose is crazy - although, this really big part of is enjoying sitting reading all of his writings: almost like I'd rather just do this than anything else. So hopefully, the readings will help me brew some amazing research paper.
Oh FLW, thank you for teaching me so much!
Dearest Bri, have fun in New York. I wish you all the luck and all of my love. You are beautiful and smart and everything anyone would ever desire and crave - love you love you love you.
Call me when you get back. XOXOXO
I am swamped with FLW readings, Dirt: The Ecstatic Skin of the Earth, Monasteries, and Weather and Climate. I'm actually sort of panicking on HOW much I have to be working on! My FLW readings are insane, the research project I chose is crazy - although, this really big part of is enjoying sitting reading all of his writings: almost like I'd rather just do this than anything else. So hopefully, the readings will help me brew some amazing research paper.
Oh FLW, thank you for teaching me so much!
Dearest Bri, have fun in New York. I wish you all the luck and all of my love. You are beautiful and smart and everything anyone would ever desire and crave - love you love you love you.
Call me when you get back. XOXOXO
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Dirt: the Ecstatic Skin of the Earth, quotes
Here are some quotes that made me smile:
"The little finger is a child, the weak member who must be protected. The second finger waits, it wears the ring, and it follows the high-standing middle finger that so frequently stands for the penis. The index finger is the one that points, turns the pages, is the one that Christ raises in teaching. The thumb, in the French Salic Law, was said to be worth half a hand. It is the symbol of human strength and ability. And among all cultures, the palm is a common ground that when exposed means peace and when concealed in a fist means war."
"Neighborliness is nature! No way. Nature is red in tooth and claw."
"For the rest of us, practically the only hole we see outside the bathroom is the refrigerator. There is no denying that it is a very clean and useful hole, but I suspect that refrigerator light is the sort they have in hell."
"We spend our lives hurrying away from the real, as though it were deadly to us, 'It must be somewhere up there on the horizon,' we think. And all the time it is in the soil, right beneath our feet."
Sabrina, you might find this interesting:
"For planting, plants that fruit above ground should generally be planted in the moon's second quarter, so that they and their fluids are drawn upward and their fruits grow into juicy ripeness. Root crops, on the other hands, are to be planted in the waning moon, so that their energy is stored underground. Peas and beans and other vining crops were meant to be sown then, too, so that they would establish firm roots before beginning their astonishingly rapid ascent and spread."
I know you don't have any reference points to these quotes - make up your own! love you BOTH.
"The little finger is a child, the weak member who must be protected. The second finger waits, it wears the ring, and it follows the high-standing middle finger that so frequently stands for the penis. The index finger is the one that points, turns the pages, is the one that Christ raises in teaching. The thumb, in the French Salic Law, was said to be worth half a hand. It is the symbol of human strength and ability. And among all cultures, the palm is a common ground that when exposed means peace and when concealed in a fist means war."
"Neighborliness is nature! No way. Nature is red in tooth and claw."
"For the rest of us, practically the only hole we see outside the bathroom is the refrigerator. There is no denying that it is a very clean and useful hole, but I suspect that refrigerator light is the sort they have in hell."
"We spend our lives hurrying away from the real, as though it were deadly to us, 'It must be somewhere up there on the horizon,' we think. And all the time it is in the soil, right beneath our feet."
Sabrina, you might find this interesting:
"For planting, plants that fruit above ground should generally be planted in the moon's second quarter, so that they and their fluids are drawn upward and their fruits grow into juicy ripeness. Root crops, on the other hands, are to be planted in the waning moon, so that their energy is stored underground. Peas and beans and other vining crops were meant to be sown then, too, so that they would establish firm roots before beginning their astonishingly rapid ascent and spread."
I know you don't have any reference points to these quotes - make up your own! love you BOTH.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Spinal Surgery
My review went well. Martha and I had so much done that it seemed as if we were presenting a final review. We had:
Plan
Site Plan
10 Sections – rendered shadows and light by hand
Process Work
Hybrids
1/32” model
3 1/8” section models
Seriously? We both looked at our pin up and were like “Fuck, when did we do this all?” We work in studio pretty much everyday for about 3-6 hours and this steady pattern yielded the largest crop! I wish I could have done this my past studios – the partner thing makes you go to studio and makes you work because you know someone else’s ass is on the line.
I am not in love with our project. I love it, but not in love. I love our process as a team much more. I am dazzled by Martha and her technical hands and mind. There is a traditional – ness to our project that has Martha written all over it, which I’ve slowly been trying to erase and write my name as well. Martha, is a wonderful person – yet she at times falls victim to her technical mind and body. She is fascinated by my abstract mind and lets me feed her hungry mind with ideas. She eats them all and very carefully saves the least abstract one for both of us to share. I can’t help, but go along with this. Me asking Martha to be abstract is like asking me to take Construction – not going to happen. So instead, I have been walking on the fence of abstract and concrete.
Our reviewers basically told us everything that I had been thinking and trying to express from the beginning, but Martha did not hear or did not agree with. The fact that what I wanted in our project was verbally coming from academic’s mouths, makes it much more powerful. I don’t really care who says it, I’m just glad it was said.
Our project has a spine, however instead of allowing everything to fit in its socket we have dislocated it – and right now our project walks on hands and eats with feet. The reviewers basically told us that if we have spent so much time constructing this beautiful spine then why on earth is our skull upside down? They are telling us to keep the spine, but to relieve the arms of carrying the weight of the spine and putting them back in place.
Martha completely agreed with everything they said. I am excited now. This will hopefully be one of the most comprehensive projects I have ever been a part of!
Plan
Site Plan
10 Sections – rendered shadows and light by hand
Process Work
Hybrids
1/32” model
3 1/8” section models
Seriously? We both looked at our pin up and were like “Fuck, when did we do this all?” We work in studio pretty much everyday for about 3-6 hours and this steady pattern yielded the largest crop! I wish I could have done this my past studios – the partner thing makes you go to studio and makes you work because you know someone else’s ass is on the line.
I am not in love with our project. I love it, but not in love. I love our process as a team much more. I am dazzled by Martha and her technical hands and mind. There is a traditional – ness to our project that has Martha written all over it, which I’ve slowly been trying to erase and write my name as well. Martha, is a wonderful person – yet she at times falls victim to her technical mind and body. She is fascinated by my abstract mind and lets me feed her hungry mind with ideas. She eats them all and very carefully saves the least abstract one for both of us to share. I can’t help, but go along with this. Me asking Martha to be abstract is like asking me to take Construction – not going to happen. So instead, I have been walking on the fence of abstract and concrete.
Our reviewers basically told us everything that I had been thinking and trying to express from the beginning, but Martha did not hear or did not agree with. The fact that what I wanted in our project was verbally coming from academic’s mouths, makes it much more powerful. I don’t really care who says it, I’m just glad it was said.
Our project has a spine, however instead of allowing everything to fit in its socket we have dislocated it – and right now our project walks on hands and eats with feet. The reviewers basically told us that if we have spent so much time constructing this beautiful spine then why on earth is our skull upside down? They are telling us to keep the spine, but to relieve the arms of carrying the weight of the spine and putting them back in place.
Martha completely agreed with everything they said. I am excited now. This will hopefully be one of the most comprehensive projects I have ever been a part of!
Black Eye gone Bye Bye
So I just filmed this RTF project that was all about junky dealer – me and how I am in need of money – and this one guy – super junky – owes me two thousand fucking dollars. I am supposed to go get it from him, if I don’t I’m going to end up like fucking Luca Brassi.
The director is one of the sweetest people I have ever met. He was wonderful. However, he was as nervous as me – so we managed to tip toe a lot, which is kind of awkward. I never understood how vital the role of a director is. I know they are the heart of the movie, yet I never truly felt that until now.
I would not say this was my best work. Usually, after I do a scene or a RTF film I immediately beat myself up. Mentally destructive to the max. It is not healthy. In fact, it is sick. Absolutely sick. It is almost as if I get some sick pleasure out of beating myself up, so I can feel better about not doing my best. As if I justify my “not reaching my potential” by mentally abusing myself.
This is the first time that I did not slap myself across the face or give myself my own black eye. For the first time, I understood that Ajna this is still new to you. Yes, you have dreamt of the camera as the love of your life and have wished to be the manifestation of pages in a novel/story. You have dreamt of this for so long that the reality of it is scary. It is absolutely mind-boggling –ly frightening.
I have spent so much time in architecture, in my everyday, in myself that the act of telling a story has so far been in my imagination and dreams. So, the second I bring it out of my dreams and into my hands I can’t seem to handle it. And instead of learning this and accepting that everything takes time - I get mad at myself.
Well, this time, I did not.
I am happy with my performance. I know that my potential as actress is sky high – I just need to accept that hard work and diligence and faith will be a part of my journey there. Instead of crying on the phone to my mom or California, I sat down and thought of all the things that I could have done better in the scenes, all the moments that I did not fully play through and all the times that I was scared. It was wonderful. It is as simple as baking cookies for the first time.
You never know how important the consistency of the butter is until you melt the butter one time. You never know how important freezing the dough is until your cookies become crepes. There is an art to everything and learning its language takes time and experience and an open mind. It is as if every time I messed up, I immediately thought: “You suck as an actress, Ajna.” When really all these mess up are what can make me stronger - only if I let them.
I have never had formal training. I have never even had the balls to tell everyone what the biggest dream of my life is. I used to loiter around the theatre groups in high school. I used to sign up for theatre every year and then go cross it out. I used to think as I was in swim team, “Just swim till you get in college, Aj, then go for it, just go for it.” I have never had any experience, until these past two years – when really I work so much in architecture and fall asleep in acting class.
So, when I mess up – I get mad at myself? What the hell am I thinking – I should be happy that I’m actually fucking doing it! And if I mess up, so what? That is the point. In this acting book I was reading, the author is this really well-known casting director and he talks about how actors and actresses think that you’ve either got it or you don’t – he said that is true to a tiny extent – mostly its hard work. It’s working at becoming an actor/actress – it is so emotional that most people plateau with fear of what will happen next – I’d rather fail, do bad, fail, do bad, until I finally get it and do better! I want to see the film – I want to see what I did badly or what did not work and next time do better.
I’m sorry for writing a semi-novel about this, but I’m pleasantly fascinated at my lack of anger. And I’m so happy that I won’t wake up tomorrow morning with a bloody nose or a black eye, but instead an open mind to my path on becoming an actress.
I think I just gave myself my own therapy session.
The director is one of the sweetest people I have ever met. He was wonderful. However, he was as nervous as me – so we managed to tip toe a lot, which is kind of awkward. I never understood how vital the role of a director is. I know they are the heart of the movie, yet I never truly felt that until now.
I would not say this was my best work. Usually, after I do a scene or a RTF film I immediately beat myself up. Mentally destructive to the max. It is not healthy. In fact, it is sick. Absolutely sick. It is almost as if I get some sick pleasure out of beating myself up, so I can feel better about not doing my best. As if I justify my “not reaching my potential” by mentally abusing myself.
This is the first time that I did not slap myself across the face or give myself my own black eye. For the first time, I understood that Ajna this is still new to you. Yes, you have dreamt of the camera as the love of your life and have wished to be the manifestation of pages in a novel/story. You have dreamt of this for so long that the reality of it is scary. It is absolutely mind-boggling –ly frightening.
I have spent so much time in architecture, in my everyday, in myself that the act of telling a story has so far been in my imagination and dreams. So, the second I bring it out of my dreams and into my hands I can’t seem to handle it. And instead of learning this and accepting that everything takes time - I get mad at myself.
Well, this time, I did not.
I am happy with my performance. I know that my potential as actress is sky high – I just need to accept that hard work and diligence and faith will be a part of my journey there. Instead of crying on the phone to my mom or California, I sat down and thought of all the things that I could have done better in the scenes, all the moments that I did not fully play through and all the times that I was scared. It was wonderful. It is as simple as baking cookies for the first time.
You never know how important the consistency of the butter is until you melt the butter one time. You never know how important freezing the dough is until your cookies become crepes. There is an art to everything and learning its language takes time and experience and an open mind. It is as if every time I messed up, I immediately thought: “You suck as an actress, Ajna.” When really all these mess up are what can make me stronger - only if I let them.
I have never had formal training. I have never even had the balls to tell everyone what the biggest dream of my life is. I used to loiter around the theatre groups in high school. I used to sign up for theatre every year and then go cross it out. I used to think as I was in swim team, “Just swim till you get in college, Aj, then go for it, just go for it.” I have never had any experience, until these past two years – when really I work so much in architecture and fall asleep in acting class.
So, when I mess up – I get mad at myself? What the hell am I thinking – I should be happy that I’m actually fucking doing it! And if I mess up, so what? That is the point. In this acting book I was reading, the author is this really well-known casting director and he talks about how actors and actresses think that you’ve either got it or you don’t – he said that is true to a tiny extent – mostly its hard work. It’s working at becoming an actor/actress – it is so emotional that most people plateau with fear of what will happen next – I’d rather fail, do bad, fail, do bad, until I finally get it and do better! I want to see the film – I want to see what I did badly or what did not work and next time do better.
I’m sorry for writing a semi-novel about this, but I’m pleasantly fascinated at my lack of anger. And I’m so happy that I won’t wake up tomorrow morning with a bloody nose or a black eye, but instead an open mind to my path on becoming an actress.
I think I just gave myself my own therapy session.
all things food
any recipes or other goodies or tips i thought we could just post as a comment here. so they are all together.
Me? Self-centered?
Pat yourself on the back Sabrina. (pat, pat). Thank you. You are so wrapped up in your little world of gardening, cooking, going to exercise classes, photoshopping my face, staring at pictures of myself, writing greedily on the blog, planning my quick trip to New York, telling Phil I'll make him a red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting,
-----that----- you forgot to (a) pay your fucking credit card bill, ugh, but (b) ------------------------wait for it----------forgot what day it was.
today is November 7th. Sebastian's birthday. He is 23 years old.
He came home and I offered him to taste the oven fresh roasted potatoes I pulled out while writing the last blog. We chatted about his going to some big football game for his birthday. (Still don't say happy birthday). I then ask him what he's doing tonight. He says, going to the game. (I hadn't been listening.) Then he tells me it's his birthday. GOD I'M CLUELESS.
I texted him last night (at 12:03, he remembers) to ask about where to go dancing. He was disappointed, I could tell. And still was. Annoyed and disappointed and rightly so. The universe isn't sun-centered right now. It is Brie-centered. A big beautiful, melty, rich, mouth-watering wheel of cheese.
Again, congratulations sweetheart! You've done it. You love yourself. Oh so much.
Step 2: start loving other people almost this much.
(bow. thank you, thank you!)
-----that----- you forgot to (a) pay your fucking credit card bill, ugh, but (b) ------------------------wait for it----------forgot what day it was.
today is November 7th. Sebastian's birthday. He is 23 years old.
He came home and I offered him to taste the oven fresh roasted potatoes I pulled out while writing the last blog. We chatted about his going to some big football game for his birthday. (Still don't say happy birthday). I then ask him what he's doing tonight. He says, going to the game. (I hadn't been listening.) Then he tells me it's his birthday. GOD I'M CLUELESS.
I texted him last night (at 12:03, he remembers) to ask about where to go dancing. He was disappointed, I could tell. And still was. Annoyed and disappointed and rightly so. The universe isn't sun-centered right now. It is Brie-centered. A big beautiful, melty, rich, mouth-watering wheel of cheese.
Again, congratulations sweetheart! You've done it. You love yourself. Oh so much.
Step 2: start loving other people almost this much.
(bow. thank you, thank you!)
Ida and Potatoes
The title of this post is an ode to the background. I'm roasting potatoes and the smell is lusciously homey. Ida is baking a cake on TV. It must be between 1:30 and 2 pm because that's when she is on. The clock on my computer says 12:36. The clock on the oven says 2:36. Neither is right. She's baking something decadent and chocolate. A cake with buttercream frosting and a white pizza with arugula. The air conditioning is off and all windows open. The weather is absolutely perfect...it continues to be every day. I love it! I think it is a bigger determinate of my mood than I ever realized because I've felt so incredibly grounded, elated, relaxed, beautiful, sure, and comfortable these last couple days. My mood has been en sync with the change in weather from hot and muggy to heaven.
I splurged yesterday, well last night a little bit. My mom and I went to Wholefoods for lunch (I needed my Organic Low Sodium Refried Black Beans by Amy--only sold there) and then again at night because they were hosting a $5 wine tasting event that benefited Autism Speaks. I saw it on the calender at lunch and we decided to check it out. After eating my wonderful south indian dosa/sombar/rosum dinner and getting Shela's mom's phone number, my mom and I tasted Pinot Noir, rich dark chocolate truffles, brie, and candied picans. There was a dj and I danced outside wholefoods with 2 drunk middle-aged women. undeniably a little weird but wonderful all the same.
That's not what I was going to talk about though! So I pulled weeds yesterday at my sister's house with Shela. This morning, before my abs and butt class, I went to her house again and shoveled and wheelbarrowed mulch. Tomorrow morning I plan on going back and weeding more. I love it. I get to spend my mornings feeling productive and being outside and finally doing something (for myself) that feels less selfish than everything else I do. And I also love feeling like I'm 'in' on something good (the selfish part of this volunteering!). I'm making myself a part of this in the beginning (they started at the end of september) and can't wait to see, literally, 'the fruits of my labor' over then next months / years.
My mom asked about it and I told her I weeded and she seemed disappointed. I think she was looking for something more substantial seeming...like planting baby arugula or do something pleasantly gardeny (I'll be weeding around the baby arugula tomorrow). But I love that I'm starting out this way. That I'm joining the project before it looks like anything. It's rows of dirt and I'm learning exactly how much work and time and love and knowledge goes into it. (Well, I've only been out there twice, but I think it makes me feel so good that I won't slow down.)
And I asked the guy who started the garden, John, about a good method to go about composting and so he told me his method. Aj, your mom wants to know about this, so copy and paste this or tell her to read this post, or whatever.
He said that he uses two large trash cans (the plastic big ones with lids that you can buy from Home Depot..I think you use these at Seneca). Drill a series of holes in them (maybe 20 or so?). The holes should be large enough to let the compost breath but small enough to keep rodents out, about 1/2" diameter? Get hay or dry leaves or something. Put the dry stuff on the bottom and then put a layer of it down over whatever food/organic matter you are composting every time. It helps reduce the smell and accelerates the decomposition process. Just keep layering compost with dry leaves/hay until you fill up the trash can. Then just leave it be and start the second one. By the time you fill up the second bin, the first one is ready to be used as fertilizer. Keeping it in the plastic trash cans allows it to be self contained and portable and make sure to get trash cans that have tops that click or latch in to keep them closed, so animals don't invade them.
I splurged yesterday, well last night a little bit. My mom and I went to Wholefoods for lunch (I needed my Organic Low Sodium Refried Black Beans by Amy--only sold there) and then again at night because they were hosting a $5 wine tasting event that benefited Autism Speaks. I saw it on the calender at lunch and we decided to check it out. After eating my wonderful south indian dosa/sombar/rosum dinner and getting Shela's mom's phone number, my mom and I tasted Pinot Noir, rich dark chocolate truffles, brie, and candied picans. There was a dj and I danced outside wholefoods with 2 drunk middle-aged women. undeniably a little weird but wonderful all the same.
That's not what I was going to talk about though! So I pulled weeds yesterday at my sister's house with Shela. This morning, before my abs and butt class, I went to her house again and shoveled and wheelbarrowed mulch. Tomorrow morning I plan on going back and weeding more. I love it. I get to spend my mornings feeling productive and being outside and finally doing something (for myself) that feels less selfish than everything else I do. And I also love feeling like I'm 'in' on something good (the selfish part of this volunteering!). I'm making myself a part of this in the beginning (they started at the end of september) and can't wait to see, literally, 'the fruits of my labor' over then next months / years.
My mom asked about it and I told her I weeded and she seemed disappointed. I think she was looking for something more substantial seeming...like planting baby arugula or do something pleasantly gardeny (I'll be weeding around the baby arugula tomorrow). But I love that I'm starting out this way. That I'm joining the project before it looks like anything. It's rows of dirt and I'm learning exactly how much work and time and love and knowledge goes into it. (Well, I've only been out there twice, but I think it makes me feel so good that I won't slow down.)
And I asked the guy who started the garden, John, about a good method to go about composting and so he told me his method. Aj, your mom wants to know about this, so copy and paste this or tell her to read this post, or whatever.
He said that he uses two large trash cans (the plastic big ones with lids that you can buy from Home Depot..I think you use these at Seneca). Drill a series of holes in them (maybe 20 or so?). The holes should be large enough to let the compost breath but small enough to keep rodents out, about 1/2" diameter? Get hay or dry leaves or something. Put the dry stuff on the bottom and then put a layer of it down over whatever food/organic matter you are composting every time. It helps reduce the smell and accelerates the decomposition process. Just keep layering compost with dry leaves/hay until you fill up the trash can. Then just leave it be and start the second one. By the time you fill up the second bin, the first one is ready to be used as fertilizer. Keeping it in the plastic trash cans allows it to be self contained and portable and make sure to get trash cans that have tops that click or latch in to keep them closed, so animals don't invade them.
Friday, November 6, 2009
Practice Theory: Bricolage - Found Object
My found object is the word. This class has given me so many found objects I hardly know what to do with myself. If fact I don’t – I sit in silence and hoard. So incredibly greedy, it’s slightly embarrassing
I have a fascination with the written word.
Actually, screw the sugar-coating:
I have an obsession with the written word.
I have enjoyed this class, so much that I do not say anything and write everything. I have written every word that has been released into the air. I have captured the words and given them a new home – my notebook.
There is no “logic” or sense to their new home – instead there is an utterly delightful chaos. The words have arranged themselves based on our discussions – and the difference in the spoken word versus the written word not only intellectually puzzles me, yet also amuses me. This chaos and nonsensical word arrangement has allowed breath in my thoughts.
Bricolage – I ripped out every page of the notebook and taped them all together in one long strip. One side has the even pages and the other side as the odd pages.
56 pages.
I then decided to line the strip with a tape measure.
143 inches (11’-11”).
It is the idea of taking a physical measurement/means to indicate a non-physical thing. The connection between the words and numbers measures our class. As broad of a statement this is, the connections made between the words and numbers are to each their own.
It is the idea of redefining a measurement. In this concrete world of ours, one inch equals one inch – universally accepted statement. However, what if one inch wasn’t always one inch? What if one inch – based on this tape measure – was a moment of monumental epiphany traps? For then one inch would feel like one hundred miles! What if measurement was defined by time? By memory? By what the word at that measurement means to you?
It is the idea of bricolaging the abstract to concrete. Or the concrete to abstract. The idea of allowing a bricolage to blur that distinction – and fully allowing one’s self to define the meaning of the measurement through the word(s).
I feel as if I’ve grown up in a place where I know what words mean and what numbers mean. I know how to count. I know my ABC’s. However, the thought of taking such “known” substances as the object of my bricolage – almost seems like I am staging some sort of revolution in my mind.
I have a fascination with the written word.
Actually, screw the sugar-coating:
I have an obsession with the written word.
I have enjoyed this class, so much that I do not say anything and write everything. I have written every word that has been released into the air. I have captured the words and given them a new home – my notebook.
There is no “logic” or sense to their new home – instead there is an utterly delightful chaos. The words have arranged themselves based on our discussions – and the difference in the spoken word versus the written word not only intellectually puzzles me, yet also amuses me. This chaos and nonsensical word arrangement has allowed breath in my thoughts.
Bricolage – I ripped out every page of the notebook and taped them all together in one long strip. One side has the even pages and the other side as the odd pages.
56 pages.
I then decided to line the strip with a tape measure.
143 inches (11’-11”).
It is the idea of taking a physical measurement/means to indicate a non-physical thing. The connection between the words and numbers measures our class. As broad of a statement this is, the connections made between the words and numbers are to each their own.
It is the idea of redefining a measurement. In this concrete world of ours, one inch equals one inch – universally accepted statement. However, what if one inch wasn’t always one inch? What if one inch – based on this tape measure – was a moment of monumental epiphany traps? For then one inch would feel like one hundred miles! What if measurement was defined by time? By memory? By what the word at that measurement means to you?
It is the idea of bricolaging the abstract to concrete. Or the concrete to abstract. The idea of allowing a bricolage to blur that distinction – and fully allowing one’s self to define the meaning of the measurement through the word(s).
I feel as if I’ve grown up in a place where I know what words mean and what numbers mean. I know how to count. I know my ABC’s. However, the thought of taking such “known” substances as the object of my bricolage – almost seems like I am staging some sort of revolution in my mind.
ohhhh what a week
I love your posts Sabrina! They brighten my day! Alana -I still can't hear your voice, however I can feel your eyes on our words - I love that as well. Also, my dearest Alana - I do promise you, that your writing skills or how well you may think you write means absolutely nothing to Sabrina and I - we just like hearing you.
Shits, Shela, Ritz, Philbert, and gardening - wonderful! Hope you have a good day today and don't strangle anyone!
I have my mid-review in twenty nine minutes and I am in Seneca in my fluffy little bed writing to Sex, Cheese, Wine, Reading in the City. I kind of can't wait for it to be over - we have beautiful drawings and models - I just don't enjoy the "review" process. I want it to be over and Happy Hour. Or there is a yoga class tonight - the one from 8:30 - 10:30 and the teacher that I like the most is teaching it. He taught the class this morning and said that he is going to be teaching tonight as well and then as I was leaving he asked if I want a schedule - highlighted with all the classes that he teaches. ahhhhhhhhhhhhh
Boys, Boys, Boys - omg Sabrina. I have so many tiny little moments to tell you about! Alana heard about them last night! I will explain them all later - I can't wait to write about them. They were so tiny and you could say insignificant, yet so powerful.
love love you.
Shits, Shela, Ritz, Philbert, and gardening - wonderful! Hope you have a good day today and don't strangle anyone!
I have my mid-review in twenty nine minutes and I am in Seneca in my fluffy little bed writing to Sex, Cheese, Wine, Reading in the City. I kind of can't wait for it to be over - we have beautiful drawings and models - I just don't enjoy the "review" process. I want it to be over and Happy Hour. Or there is a yoga class tonight - the one from 8:30 - 10:30 and the teacher that I like the most is teaching it. He taught the class this morning and said that he is going to be teaching tonight as well and then as I was leaving he asked if I want a schedule - highlighted with all the classes that he teaches. ahhhhhhhhhhhhh
Boys, Boys, Boys - omg Sabrina. I have so many tiny little moments to tell you about! Alana heard about them last night! I will explain them all later - I can't wait to write about them. They were so tiny and you could say insignificant, yet so powerful.
love love you.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
b&n
My day continued wondrously. I packed a quick yogurt with granola, dark chocolate, and fruit--a selection of apple, pear, yellow raspberry, blackberry, and banana--all cut up into baby-food sized chunks serving 2 purposes. 1. It forces me to take small little bites and the whole ensemble lasts longer 2. I get a lil'bit o' everything in every bite. Anyway, I took this little meal over to B&N where I met my mom on her lunch break. I didn't know she had a 2 hours lunch day today, but she did. So that was great and we were figuring out my plan for tackling New York and Miami.
Then, as if everything in this day wasn't already making me feel swell, she spots Shela walking by! So Shela is in Naples for only 3 days before she goes back up to Tampa and starts her next semester in MedSchool. So the three of us talked for a while and then my mom went back to work and Shela and I continued talking, walked over to Brio where I got the $2.95 bar menu special and then she dropped me off back home before work.
Work was nothing special. Philbert (black, gay, wears mascara, wants to be a manager and claims to be the head of the hosts, dating hotter/confused/bisexual waiter/busser Chad) is working with me. He wants to indulge about his life and relationship. I let him, even egg him on since it includes someone I know. I had told him a couple days ago too that since his birthday was coming up, I'd bake him something. He wants a red-velvet cake with cream cheese frosting. He told his mom, sister, and other people that I was making him a cake. He gushed about me making this cake and cut sweets out of his diet so he can indulge on Sunday. He insisted that I stay away from anything organic or healthy because it was his moment to be a fat kid. Ah, Philbert. He also told me I'm good at this stuff. That he's going to promote me. That I should really work at the Ritz Carlton sometime (like he did) because I'd be so good at it. I'm so good. So good at handling the floor.
Thank you Philbert. (Thank you Chad that Phil was in a good mood today because if he wouldn't have been, I would probably have strangled you.)
Tomorrow I'm gardening. Shela and Devin are crashing the garden lesson too. I can't wait. Then after that I need to photoshop and get MM space updated so I can forward the link to the IMG man in NY. My photoshopping will probably be less extensive though because Shela is here and I'd rather hang out with her than fix my virtual zits. And I get dosa tomorrow. DOSA!
life is good.
Then, as if everything in this day wasn't already making me feel swell, she spots Shela walking by! So Shela is in Naples for only 3 days before she goes back up to Tampa and starts her next semester in MedSchool. So the three of us talked for a while and then my mom went back to work and Shela and I continued talking, walked over to Brio where I got the $2.95 bar menu special and then she dropped me off back home before work.
Work was nothing special. Philbert (black, gay, wears mascara, wants to be a manager and claims to be the head of the hosts, dating hotter/confused/bisexual waiter/busser Chad) is working with me. He wants to indulge about his life and relationship. I let him, even egg him on since it includes someone I know. I had told him a couple days ago too that since his birthday was coming up, I'd bake him something. He wants a red-velvet cake with cream cheese frosting. He told his mom, sister, and other people that I was making him a cake. He gushed about me making this cake and cut sweets out of his diet so he can indulge on Sunday. He insisted that I stay away from anything organic or healthy because it was his moment to be a fat kid. Ah, Philbert. He also told me I'm good at this stuff. That he's going to promote me. That I should really work at the Ritz Carlton sometime (like he did) because I'd be so good at it. I'm so good. So good at handling the floor.
Thank you Philbert. (Thank you Chad that Phil was in a good mood today because if he wouldn't have been, I would probably have strangled you.)
Tomorrow I'm gardening. Shela and Devin are crashing the garden lesson too. I can't wait. Then after that I need to photoshop and get MM space updated so I can forward the link to the IMG man in NY. My photoshopping will probably be less extensive though because Shela is here and I'd rather hang out with her than fix my virtual zits. And I get dosa tomorrow. DOSA!
life is good.
3 shit mornings
In my mind I have so much to spill but I think a good amount of it spilled over the phone yesterday. I'm super excited to garden tomorrow morning in the organic garden at my sister's house. Once they teach me, I can return anytime I want...and on days like today, I'd spend the whole day there I think. It is absolutely gorgeous today.
I usually hate walking Sally and I keep the walk as luxurious but quick as possible. It ends up being usually around 15 minutes because she takes 2 to 3 shits every morning. One right outside our house...she can't wait. Then as we walk along, usually once more casually in this leafy ditch. Then, depending, again casually, or often after I start hurrying her ass home she pulls off to the side to let the third one rip. I don't know how she does it, because she shits at night too, but she does. I guess it's like a dog version of me in a way...but she shits more and is half my size. Hm. Anyway, today, I prepped myself for a longer stroll since it is so gorgeous. I got my headphones (listen to Dishwasher by Fugi..something & Mi..something. i love that song!) and brought along Omnivore's Dilemma as well. I relish every word in that book. It makes me want to fuck the world, go find some little farm (not in the USA)...maybe somewhere in South America...and live there self-sustained. And raise any future children I may have on a farm. There is something so pure about the idea, and the weather, that has glazed over my world right now. And Nora Jones is playing. Ah. She's apart of my morning routine of reading and eating that inescapably will distinguish this time in my life I think. Her music will trigger me to reminisce. I have 5 minutes to change and get my butt over to my beloved pilates class which I haven't been to in over a week. CAN'T WAIT!
I usually hate walking Sally and I keep the walk as luxurious but quick as possible. It ends up being usually around 15 minutes because she takes 2 to 3 shits every morning. One right outside our house...she can't wait. Then as we walk along, usually once more casually in this leafy ditch. Then, depending, again casually, or often after I start hurrying her ass home she pulls off to the side to let the third one rip. I don't know how she does it, because she shits at night too, but she does. I guess it's like a dog version of me in a way...but she shits more and is half my size. Hm. Anyway, today, I prepped myself for a longer stroll since it is so gorgeous. I got my headphones (listen to Dishwasher by Fugi..something & Mi..something. i love that song!) and brought along Omnivore's Dilemma as well. I relish every word in that book. It makes me want to fuck the world, go find some little farm (not in the USA)...maybe somewhere in South America...and live there self-sustained. And raise any future children I may have on a farm. There is something so pure about the idea, and the weather, that has glazed over my world right now. And Nora Jones is playing. Ah. She's apart of my morning routine of reading and eating that inescapably will distinguish this time in my life I think. Her music will trigger me to reminisce. I have 5 minutes to change and get my butt over to my beloved pilates class which I haven't been to in over a week. CAN'T WAIT!
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
step one: modeling
i've felt kind of lost, scared, and helpless the last few days. There have been so many things on my mind that even the white space to fill on this post is intimidating and overwhelming. i don't know where to begin or go.
i think the easiest way is to just break down areas of my life into cute litte categories so i can get a handle on them (or you can).
modeling: i'm scared shitless to move forward but and am pretending that time isn't passing. it's like i've already got it in my head that i've missed this season or maybe if i keep procrastinating i will miss it...which will be easier to face than failing. blaming it on waiting for america's next top model is easier than grappling with the rejection or picking up the pieces of where i left off at front and next. i'm just scared to even go back to them as if they will blame me or not want me because i've been taking my time--which i just keep taking more and more. i finally faced a demon when i looked up new york agencies and found out open call times. most of them don't have them, so it seems illogical to fly up there, but i don't think sending pictures online is going to get me there either.
i have this tendency to keep using my pictures as some sort of excuse for not moving forward. i can't go to the agency until i have a book. i can't have a book until i have all the pictures. i can't print the pictures until they are beautifully photoshopped. i'm learning just how long it takes to photoshop them.
but the fact is, i need to get over all of this because the shoots from austin aren't make or break. and i need to just get my balance of investing enough into this to be serious and be taken seriously, but not go overboard and leave myself drowning. so i've been working over how to do this and i think i'm finally getting there in a way. i have a poa, so to say. i actually took a break in writing this paragraph to talk to my mom and figure it out.
also, i still haven't talked to jeanne, which is getting to me because it's kind of a big deal, knowing what i have to do in order to graduate. and that is looming over me too as i'm trying to work all this shit out. so here is the plan:
go to miami next week and meet with front and next with whatever i have by then. hopefully i'll have more photos from austin that i can take. and as for the photos, i'm going to make a mini 'book' that is nice, a good presentation, but won't go overboard in terms of cost since i think that if they take me they will tear everything out and basically mold me and market me the way they want to. and i have to get over my honest self and just lie about my age because i think a lot more doors are open if i say i'm 18 instead of 21. same with my measurements, i need to just put 35 or 34 instead of 36 down to get my foot in the door because i look slender and can fit in most of the clothes. looks are what matter and i look right. but the fucking numbers i right down make people look at me differently. also next week i will email or get all the photos ready for the new york agent at img to check out. hopefully by then i also will have gotten a hold of jeanne and figured out where i'm headed...because if i have to start in a 'smaller' market before i can get into a big one, then i may as well do that while finishing up school. so basically my goal is NEXT WEEK. to make my next move in this part of my life. because i'm here in naples and it is comfortable to get into this small little world and easy little pattern...and i don't want to be one of them! that girl that was going places but never went anywhere.
unsuprisingly, i don't have time to write about everything i want to. i have to be at work in 40 minutes and have to eat and get gas before that so i can't write any more. but i want to post on the book, food, music, boys, values, ahhhhhhhhhhhh.........so much! love you.
bri
i think the easiest way is to just break down areas of my life into cute litte categories so i can get a handle on them (or you can).
modeling: i'm scared shitless to move forward but and am pretending that time isn't passing. it's like i've already got it in my head that i've missed this season or maybe if i keep procrastinating i will miss it...which will be easier to face than failing. blaming it on waiting for america's next top model is easier than grappling with the rejection or picking up the pieces of where i left off at front and next. i'm just scared to even go back to them as if they will blame me or not want me because i've been taking my time--which i just keep taking more and more. i finally faced a demon when i looked up new york agencies and found out open call times. most of them don't have them, so it seems illogical to fly up there, but i don't think sending pictures online is going to get me there either.
i have this tendency to keep using my pictures as some sort of excuse for not moving forward. i can't go to the agency until i have a book. i can't have a book until i have all the pictures. i can't print the pictures until they are beautifully photoshopped. i'm learning just how long it takes to photoshop them.
but the fact is, i need to get over all of this because the shoots from austin aren't make or break. and i need to just get my balance of investing enough into this to be serious and be taken seriously, but not go overboard and leave myself drowning. so i've been working over how to do this and i think i'm finally getting there in a way. i have a poa, so to say. i actually took a break in writing this paragraph to talk to my mom and figure it out.
also, i still haven't talked to jeanne, which is getting to me because it's kind of a big deal, knowing what i have to do in order to graduate. and that is looming over me too as i'm trying to work all this shit out. so here is the plan:
go to miami next week and meet with front and next with whatever i have by then. hopefully i'll have more photos from austin that i can take. and as for the photos, i'm going to make a mini 'book' that is nice, a good presentation, but won't go overboard in terms of cost since i think that if they take me they will tear everything out and basically mold me and market me the way they want to. and i have to get over my honest self and just lie about my age because i think a lot more doors are open if i say i'm 18 instead of 21. same with my measurements, i need to just put 35 or 34 instead of 36 down to get my foot in the door because i look slender and can fit in most of the clothes. looks are what matter and i look right. but the fucking numbers i right down make people look at me differently. also next week i will email or get all the photos ready for the new york agent at img to check out. hopefully by then i also will have gotten a hold of jeanne and figured out where i'm headed...because if i have to start in a 'smaller' market before i can get into a big one, then i may as well do that while finishing up school. so basically my goal is NEXT WEEK. to make my next move in this part of my life. because i'm here in naples and it is comfortable to get into this small little world and easy little pattern...and i don't want to be one of them! that girl that was going places but never went anywhere.
unsuprisingly, i don't have time to write about everything i want to. i have to be at work in 40 minutes and have to eat and get gas before that so i can't write any more. but i want to post on the book, food, music, boys, values, ahhhhhhhhhhhh.........so much! love you.
bri
Practice Theory: Intuition - Logic - Me.
I can’t wait for the day where intuition and logic hold hands.
Or let’s say, I can’t wait for the day where intuition is valued as much as logic or even more.
Despite our technological world with ticking clocks – I do hope I allow my intuition to guide me. I can’t possibly logically define myself or my day or who I am – I see no point in living if there were logical reasons for my existence.
L’aura – I really enjoyed your post. There are times in studio where I do not know why I did what I did. Why is this room suddenly so much larger than the adjacent. Or why did I choose to make this hallway much smaller than most hallways. Or why did I chose to orient my design “awkwardly”? Sometimes, when I design and write I become the person walking through my space and I become the words on the page. I have no reason for my decisions except for that is what my mind is seeing. I have no logic to my mind moving through my design in my imagination – all I have is what my mind tells my hand to draw.
Insecurity is not friendly – it creeps into my designs all the time. Sometimes, I’ve drawn such beautiful drawings and have no idea what it “means” and push it aside in fear of being too abstract when concrete needs to be poured. However, that has been my struggle in architecture – learning to trust my intuition.
Anything that is truly truly powerful in this world is invisible. Logic and reason are visible, that is why we are more comfortable with them – because we can see them. However, if our roles as architects is to take what is invisible to others – such as what our mind can conceive of – and make it visible – then mustn’t intuition be our first language?
Or let’s say, I can’t wait for the day where intuition is valued as much as logic or even more.
Despite our technological world with ticking clocks – I do hope I allow my intuition to guide me. I can’t possibly logically define myself or my day or who I am – I see no point in living if there were logical reasons for my existence.
L’aura – I really enjoyed your post. There are times in studio where I do not know why I did what I did. Why is this room suddenly so much larger than the adjacent. Or why did I choose to make this hallway much smaller than most hallways. Or why did I chose to orient my design “awkwardly”? Sometimes, when I design and write I become the person walking through my space and I become the words on the page. I have no reason for my decisions except for that is what my mind is seeing. I have no logic to my mind moving through my design in my imagination – all I have is what my mind tells my hand to draw.
Insecurity is not friendly – it creeps into my designs all the time. Sometimes, I’ve drawn such beautiful drawings and have no idea what it “means” and push it aside in fear of being too abstract when concrete needs to be poured. However, that has been my struggle in architecture – learning to trust my intuition.
Anything that is truly truly powerful in this world is invisible. Logic and reason are visible, that is why we are more comfortable with them – because we can see them. However, if our roles as architects is to take what is invisible to others – such as what our mind can conceive of – and make it visible – then mustn’t intuition be our first language?
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Pluck, Scoop, and Eat
If someone asked me my favorite past time, I would say picking at my legs.
Hopefully, they wouldn’t not be incredibly disgusted by my answer, but would ask why – so I’d have the luxury of explaining why this is indeed my favorite past time:
There is a satisfaction in plucking hair/ingrown hair that is beyond me. Sometimes I find my self picking and plucking for an hour – seriously Ajna? Every time I pick a hair it is like taking the first scoop of a freshly opened jar of peanut butter. What is it about that first scoop? It feels amazing – the spoon gently pierces the soft flesh of the peanut butter elegantly marking its territory. From then on no other scoop every feels or looks the same. It is all about the virgin scoop.
So, I have an alternative – picking at your legs! Every hair is a virgin! Some are more timid than others (legs crossed, granny panties), some are all talk and no action (prudes in disguise), some are waiting for marriage (that sucks), some love spreading their legs (sluts), some are on the pill (If I were you, I’d leave these ones alone, a little on the emotional side), and some just want to have fun (me!). Regardless of their virgin status, I go for them all – yea, I’m desperate.
I just can’t resist. Once I’ve gotten one and I’m pulling them out and seeing their roots and how deep within my leg they have been hiding – I’m instantaneously satisfied. It’s a plucking hair orgasm.
Someone once told my mom that her food gave them an orgasm in their mouth – I can totally relate. So, I have some unsolicited advice to those orgasm-less people – scoop peanut putter, pluck hair, and go to Indika!
Hopefully, they wouldn’t not be incredibly disgusted by my answer, but would ask why – so I’d have the luxury of explaining why this is indeed my favorite past time:
There is a satisfaction in plucking hair/ingrown hair that is beyond me. Sometimes I find my self picking and plucking for an hour – seriously Ajna? Every time I pick a hair it is like taking the first scoop of a freshly opened jar of peanut butter. What is it about that first scoop? It feels amazing – the spoon gently pierces the soft flesh of the peanut butter elegantly marking its territory. From then on no other scoop every feels or looks the same. It is all about the virgin scoop.
So, I have an alternative – picking at your legs! Every hair is a virgin! Some are more timid than others (legs crossed, granny panties), some are all talk and no action (prudes in disguise), some are waiting for marriage (that sucks), some love spreading their legs (sluts), some are on the pill (If I were you, I’d leave these ones alone, a little on the emotional side), and some just want to have fun (me!). Regardless of their virgin status, I go for them all – yea, I’m desperate.
I just can’t resist. Once I’ve gotten one and I’m pulling them out and seeing their roots and how deep within my leg they have been hiding – I’m instantaneously satisfied. It’s a plucking hair orgasm.
Someone once told my mom that her food gave them an orgasm in their mouth – I can totally relate. So, I have some unsolicited advice to those orgasm-less people – scoop peanut putter, pluck hair, and go to Indika!
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