10 July, 2014

Is this the end?

I've been vaguely writing this blog since I was 19.  And though thinking about that makes me very sentimental,  enough is enough.  I'm throwing in the sponge, as they say.  I just feel too much weirdness about posting things here, and I'm making attempts to obliterate all weirdness from my life.  So here we are. It's not you, it's me.

Until further notice, any and all blogging will take place here.

It has been a sincere pleasure, dear void.

09 January, 2014

Celebrities I have... met.

Last night I dreamed Leonardo DiCaprio was my adopted brother, and I decided to take him a bunch of places so people would be all excited that he was there and wouldn't notice that I was late, had done no work, or was doing no work.  He was basically the answer to all of my slacker problems.

Which has made me notice something.  I think I might have a lot of dreams with famous people in them. Or, at least, more than a person might ordinarily have.
In dreams, I've also met Jennifer Lawrence (we were close friends, actually), Karlie Kloss, the band The Wombats, and Tom Hanks.  My sister dreams that Tom Hanks is our uncle all the time (he looks like he could be anyone's uncle, which is part of what makes him great), but she has not had the serious bonding time I've had with Jen.

In the first Jennifer Lawrence dream, we were messing around downtown where we rode an elevator that was deeply unsafe and more like a ride from the fair.  We talked about how she had found out he was going to play Katniss while cleaning up a mess on the floor at my house. We also went to a PetSmart, which, peculiarly, had beverages for sale - like a whole wall of glass containers like at a gas station - and Jennifer explained to me that there was some kind of margarita mix/juice that was delicious without the alcohol that she and her brothers had discovered and it was only sold at PetSmart.  I was sitting on the floor, laughing unhelpfully. In the back of my mind I had a feeling that she was going to offer me pot, and I thought, "Well, if Jennifer Lawrence offers it to me, I'm going to take it."  But I woke up before she could.

In the second, she was getting ready for a premier and I discovered that all her jewelry was like the plastic kiddy kind you buy at Rite-Aid, hooked onto little cardboard hangers. I thought, "Wow! Smart.  No one would notice."

P.S. I have actually met Shia LaBeouf at a Six Flags (during his Even Stevens days), and Jump5 back when they were a thing, and I sat one chair away from a very bearded Jason Schwartzman this past summer in a hip vegan restaurant. None of those encounters were anywhere near as good as being Jen's bestie, I have to admit.

P.P.S Last night (1.10.14) I dreamed I was dressed in some sort of period costume (may have been Jane Austen-ish)(all the ladies had mason jars of yogurt that matched the color of their dresses), and there was some odd sort of choice-making ceremony in which I was picked by chance to be the future bride of this snippy jerk.  And after responding to a moronic comment he made about how I'd arranged some strawberries on a plate, I turned to serve some of the strawberries to the woman to the left of me. It was Emma Thompson. She was rather professor Trelawney-ish, and as she dithered about I gently plopped strawberries on the side of her plate, which was already quite filled up with long, thin, curly shreds of peeled carrot. I really can't explain it.

Jennifer Lawrence and I went skiing.  I tried to make excuses because it looked cold out, but once I got out there I enjoyed it.
Later, some smallish polar bears sort of genteelly attacked my car, and I gave them dove chocolates to make them not eat me.

24 September, 2013


I learned in geology class today that acid rain is EATING marble statues and temples and other VERY IMPORTANT AND IRREPLACEABLE THINGS! We can't afford to let them get eaten! They're broken up enough as it is! GAH!

I am very concerned about this. I can't even enjoy my ice cream.

Coincidentally, I am also taking Greek Art and Mythology class this term, so my awareness of the importance and beauty of these statues and temples is at an all time high. 

Apparently in some places covers are being built over things to protect them - but it seems like bailing out a sailboat with a teaspoon. According to Wikipedia there's also a thing called stone sealer that could be used to protect stuff, but I have to wonder how much stone sealer it would take to cover, say, all the buildings on the acropolis. 

Obviously, the only solution left to us is to stop driving cars, using cows and breathing.  It's for an extremely good cause, so comfort yourself with that.  In time you won't even miss any of it. 

05 September, 2013

walking clothes hangers

While looking through some pictures on a fashion blog this evening, I suddenly noticed how slender the models' legs were.  And then, suddenly, I realized that it's been months since I've noticed that.  Honestly, months since I've been hyper-aware of how slender their shoulders, flat their chests and long their necks are.  Now all I do is look at the clothes.  It's a minor miracle.

I haven't lost my awareness of how unhealthily slim models are.  But I have lost the disordered thinking that, though it thankfully never lead to disordered eating (in the most typical sense - anorexia, etc.), made my life much more miserable than it ever should have been.

I'm nearly 5'10", so tall for a lady.  I weighed myself this evening, I'm a smidge over 140 pounds.  And you know what? I'm happy with that.  I feel like, through being moderately active (though less than I should be) and eating vegan (though not always as healthfully as I could - Oreos are vegan), I've hit a healthy, natural weight.  I eat as much as I want.  I climb hard.  I don't try to diet or watch calories or count points or anything, and it's balancing out.

I'm happy.

31 August, 2013

My dear lady disdain, are you yet living?

We went and saw Joss Whedon's Much Ado About Nothing tonight.  "We" being my sister, her buddy, Craig, and me. It was showing at our local indie-weirdo theatre that has enough bad oil paintings of dogs to fill an entire block of coffee shops.  It's also one of those places where the film is unceremoniously scooted up to fit the screen as the movie is starting, and you can hear the camera clacking away in the background the whole time.  There's always only two other groups of movie goers in those theatres - three to four thirty year olds who are all single, on the prowl, and laughing too loudly, and an old couple that I pray I am like some day.

The movie itself was pretty darn good.  There's always a few minutes where you go, "Whaaaa?" at the language with Shakespeare, regardless of how much you've read or seen.  But then something clicks or deep, ancestral understanding kicks in and you get it.  The acting was, by and large, excellent.  And they managed to toss in great comedic moments that weren't necessarily in the original script. Benedick stumbling over saying "marriage," for instance. Spot on.

But! Anyways, school has started and its shaping up to be a spectacular semester. For one thing, I'm taking an editorial illustration class from the man who did this:

It's a little intimidating.  To say the least. I'm determined, though, to get as much knowledge as I can out of him while he is contractually obligated to teach me.  We'll see what happens.

21 July, 2013

a rotten stereotype

A few weeks ago, my boyfriend and I were at this new pizza place by my house called Mellow Mushroom.  It's 60's themed, obviously.  Though we definitely did not go there for that - we went because we found out (and both our voices jumped half an octave as we talked about it) that they have Daiya vegan cheese as a topping option.

When the pizza came we raved to the waiter and made many comments to each other on how much we love daiya.  After eating a couple of slices in relative silence, a realization hit me.  I set down my slice.

"Craig, I've become a rotten stereotype."
"What do you mean?"

How did this happen??? When did I suddenly get interested in buying my clothes ethically, eating non gmo-foods, hating on Monsanto, and saving every person and animal from everything that's ever been bad for them??

(I'm really serious about the elephant thing though. Keeping an elephant in captivity at all is actually terrible for them.  Elephants like to migrate.  Unless you can give them gigantic pens to roam around in, they aren't happy.  I've read about elephants needing to be on anti-depressants, for heaven's sake! It's very sad.)

Today at whole foods, my mom bought me this (sustainable, organic) wrap skirt. I said, "this looks hippie-ish though, doesn't it?" And she said, "but you are a hippie."
Now, I don't think that's precisely true.  Maybe I'd be a hippie if I'd lived slightly further in the past.  The young hippies I know are all into "syncronicity"(which my spell-check didn't know is a word), going to Arizona, buying weed in bulk and eating terrible things like Taco Bell and Pop-Tarts.

So I don't think I'm a hippie.  But what am I?

I don't think it's just an art student stereotype, because my boyfriend is just as bad and he's a film major.  Though, that might just be a deviation on his part from the stereotype.

It's very strange to know this about myself.  Not that it's going to change anything about the way I behave - I'm getting more and more intense every day, in spite of knowing that I'm just becoming more ridiculous with every step.

Because, you know what? I like being vegan and thinking that I'm helping stop mama cows being separated from their babies.  (And eating at home more has saved me beaucoup dollars on lunch!)  I like buying my clothes second-hand (it's cheaper!) and knowing that nobody had to work in a sweatshop so I could have something new.  I like lessening my negative impact on the world, and I'm lucky enough to be currently in a position where I can make my consumer choices with that in mind. I like helping.  I guess I like being a rotten stereotype.

06 June, 2013


I've been full of wrath lately.  Thoughtless videos that perpetuate stupidity about how to avoid the objectification of women are floating from friend to friend on facebook.  Myths persist. People are morons.  So, this evening my boyfriend suggested that I channel all of this ire into making stuff.  Posters, designs, anything that I can express my indignation with.  Perhaps he suggested it so he won't have to hear incoherent speeches every time we ride in a car together, but even if that's his motive it's a good idea.  Because, as effective as facebook rants are at changing the world, this will be more fun and cathartic. (I am AMAZED and proud that I spelled cathartic right first time! Clearly, it's a sign that I ought to do this.)

We'll see what happens.  To be honest, I was contemplating some poster ideas halfway thorough last semester. Had some sketches and copy for them, even.  So I guess it's time to turn the ideas into reality. If they work out, I'll go make copies of them at staples and tape them up everywhere and post them online and then maybe I'll feel a little bit better about all of this.