tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3768725958775310962024-03-13T06:57:34.077-05:00amateur idleramateur idlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130129938786828517noreply@blogger.comBlogger172125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-376872595877531096.post-12088068034153144292014-07-10T22:50:00.000-05:002014-07-10T22:50:42.236-05:00Is 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.<br />
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Until further notice, any and all blogging will take place<a href="http://kelseyrf.blogspot.com/"> here</a>.<br />
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It has been a sincere pleasure, dear void.amateur idlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130129938786828517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-376872595877531096.post-82337261579204251632014-01-09T18:06:00.000-06:002014-02-06T00:16:05.678-06:00Celebrities 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.<br />
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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.<br />
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.<br />
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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 <i>Jennifer Lawrence</i> offers it to me, I'm going to take it." But I woke up before she could.<br />
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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."<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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1.28.14 <br />
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.<br />
Later, some smallish polar bears sort of genteelly attacked my car, and I gave them dove chocolates to make them not eat me.amateur idlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130129938786828517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-376872595877531096.post-41210119048207298062013-09-24T22:49:00.002-05:002013-09-28T03:07:05.007-05:00ALERT! ALERT! THIS IS IMPORTANT! <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 17px;">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!</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"><br /></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 17px;">I am very concerned about this. I can't even enjoy my ice cream.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;">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. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;">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. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;">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. </span></span>amateur idlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130129938786828517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-376872595877531096.post-51765708807192984342013-05-29T03:44:00.000-05:002013-07-20T03:45:43.459-05:00How to win at reading Agatha Christie. <br />
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Now, before we begin here, I ought to let you know why I am qualified to write this list. I am an Agatha Christie devotee - and have <a href="http://amateuridler.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-might-be-genius.html" target="_blank">guessed</a> the endings of a good many of her books, which is no mean mental feat, I must say. I have only been truly surprised by the twist ending of one book in my entire life, and it wasn't one of hers.* I have read all but one of Madame Christie's stories. (It's one about Poirot going to the dentist, and finding it is the quest of my life.) I've seen the movies, the TV show, and read commentaries on her. I subscribed to both the UK and US Agatha Christie newsletters, which has proven rather pointless as they're exactly the same. I own the <i>Agatha Christie Who's Who.</i> <a href="http://amateuridler.blogspot.com/2011/06/books-about-death-and-crime-mostly.html" target="_blank">I once even went to a meeting</a> of the local Murder on the Orient Express book club.</div>
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(These are <i>some</i> of my Agatha Christie Books. The hardbacks are not shown.)</div>
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So, obviously, I know what I'm talking about here.</div>
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My mom once asked my Grandpa, who was a surgeon and knew every answer on Jeopardy (and so was, clearly, a genius), if people really could guess the ends. "You can guess," he said, "but you'll guess wrong."</div>
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Now, with all due respect to Grandpa, you <i>can</i> guess right. The likelihood that you'll get every detail right is slim, but you can guess who did the foul murder. I'm not a surgeon and I only know Jeopardy questions that relate to the Beatles and Johannes Gutenberg, so if I can do it you can too.</div>
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Basically, Pay attention. Use zee little gray cells!</h4>
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This, really, is the only thing you have to do. People claim that she doesn't give you all the clues to the mysteries - but Agatha Christie herself declared that was not true. You just can't read an Agatha Christie novel lazily or with your brain turned totally off. If you're serious about guessing, you must pay attention. This manifests itself in a number of ways.</div>
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<b>1. Nothing is arbitrary. </b></div>
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This is something all the best mystery people do. You have to assume that everything - every passing remark, or thing noticed or action taken is significant. Everything is connected. These books are like... baclava. Or spider webs. They seem delicate and fluffy, but they're labor intensive and carefully organized. Recognizing that will help you immensely. To use an example from a Dorothy Sayers book, <i>Have His Carcass</i>, putting together what it means that Paul Alexis's joints hurt after activity, and that he refused to shave - seemingly tiny things that are mentioned off-hand - have to do with each other solves the whole mystery.</div>
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<b>2. Don't assume you won't be able to guess because there will be historical things you won't get.</b></div>
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I sometimes complain about this with Sherlock Holmes - occasionally the stories seem dependent on facts that, had I lived back in those good old days, I <i>might </i>have known. However, only once - once, mind - in all my readings of Agatha Christie (in <i>Murder on the Orient Express</i>) did I think that there was something I couldn't have gotten because it was a historical fact. And if I was British I wouldn't have missed it. I'm not a history buff, so you can't claim to be fooled by this.</div>
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<b>3. NEVER write anyone off. </b></div>
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Poirot himself is forever explaining to Hastings that he suspects everyone until the very last minute. And you ought to do the same! Don't fall into the habit so many Agatha Christie characters do themselves - pinning their money on one character being the murderer, and making all the facts bend to fit the theory. It just doesn't work that way. You have to take every piece of evidence against each person and add it to their list. Then, at the end, you see whose evidence is the most convicting and ba da bing! You have your murderer.</div>
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<b>4. Think dirty.</b></div>
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To half-spoil <i>Hercule Poirot's Christmas</i>, when the murdered man boasts of having sons born on "the wrong side of the blanket," (after taking careful note of it, per number 1)<i> think</i> about it. He's got illegitimate sons, eh? Are any of them around? This woman has died and there's a chap there whose half her age. Could he be her son? Use a weird mix of logic and creativity when you think about people's social stations or ages. <i>Never</i> believe people when they say who they are.</div>
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<b>5. Enjoy yourself!</b></div>
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If you were a mystery writer, you would totally mess with people's heads, wouldn't you? Agatha Christie did exactly that in <i>The Murder of Roger Ackroyd</i>, and it made her famous. It drove people NUTS. And it's fantastic. Think of the wackiest explanations you can. You never know - it might be right.</div>
amateur idlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130129938786828517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-376872595877531096.post-12804642222745109872013-05-19T04:00:00.000-05:002013-07-20T04:01:05.851-05:00Beam me up, PLEASE.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Okay, so my family went and saw the new Star Trek movie the other day. And it was great in the way all J.J. Abrams movies are - I walked out going, "I didn't actually notice if that movie had any substance because it was a MOVIE!" You know what I mean? <i>Super 8</i> was the same way. I get overwhelmed by the movie-ness of it all. </div>
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But! Because my dad is, apparently, a big nerd, we immediately went home and watched <i>The Wrath of Kahn. </i>(Which incidentally was like watching paint dry after the BANG EXPLOSION BIG SHIP WOW! of S<i>tar Trek: Into Darkness.</i>) And then after <i>that</i> we had to watch the first Star Trek episode where Khan was introduced. And it was...</div>
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Well, you know, cheesy as heck - but also AMAZING and MAGICAL. LOOK AT THAT COLOR!!!! Every color palette I do for a good while is going to be based on this. I'm dead serious. I hope I can figure out a way to replicate that Technicolor gloriousness. Thank you thank you thank you dad.</div>
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I do have some questions though.</div>
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Why do the shields of the ship never seem to do much? And why do they always fail? Someone's always yelling, "Shields at 14 percent, captain!" WHY on ships that big do things like the engine room or the bridge seem so ludicrously vulnerable?? The first hit from enemy guns always takes out like half of the incidental people in the bridge. And guys who work in the engine room must have a life expectancy of like 25 years. And WHY are things like life support for the bridge so easy for the bad guys to hit with their guns? What is taking up all this extra space in these ships? Mini golf ranges for when they get bored? Or, like, tons of red shirted engine workers all in suspended animation to be awoken when they need to be replenished? I don't understand.</div>
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But, in closing - a story.</div>
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Once my uncle Craig was chatting with a mexican compadre about Star Trek, and he said to the guy, "Have you noticed something about Star Trek, man? There are no Mexicans. YOUR RACE IS DOOMED!!!"</div>
amateur idlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130129938786828517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-376872595877531096.post-85537602956606699382013-05-17T00:15:00.001-05:002013-07-21T01:06:52.243-05:00Time<i><b>I'm imagining some kind of exercise video of people in 80's suits waving business cards around while the leader shouts, "Network! Network!"</b></i><br />
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Sorry for all the SUPER SERIOUS ULTRA DEEP posts here, my handful of readers. I've had a lot on my mind.<br />
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I'm trying to figure life things out. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; line-height: 18px;">Success has been moderate. I have a hard time ever coming to solid conclusions about anything.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; line-height: 18px;"> However,</span> there is one thing I know for certain:<br />
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Self-promotion is kind of awful. As a person who wants to have an "arts" career, it's an unfortunate necessity. You have to be known to a certain degree to get work. But there's an interesting balance between doing self-promotion for work and doing it for pleasure and doing it just to be self-centered. And since I'm beginning to truly understand the value of my time, it seemed like a thing worth considering.<br />
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I have always written this blog (and all my other dead blogs) purely for my own pleasure. I never expected followers or anything to come of it. Granted, for a while I lost some of the pleasure of blogging and it has become less natural for me lately. But my intentions have always been, I think, about as pure as intentions can really be.<br />
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Self promotion for work is another thing. It's necessary, yes - but it also seems somewhat insincere. I don't think people are fooled by 100% commercially motivated "sharing." I don't want to do it anyways. It sounds boring.<br />
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Totally self-centered social media stuff makes me tired. There's a girl I'm friends with on Facebook who posts an ENDLESS stream of<a href="http://rookiemag.com/2013/05/all-by-my-selfie/"> selfies</a>. I'm trying not to give into the temptation to un-friend her, but I admit I am hard pressed.<br />
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However, I think I know how I can self-promote - heck, how I can do work in general! - that isn't pointless drivel. <br />
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<b>Things for a cause</b>. There are so many things that I care about, so many people I want to help - yet I am perpetually stumped as to how to do so. But about five minutes ago I thought, "DUH! Use the skills you're learning in school! Instead of just drawing pictures for practice, draw pictures of people you want the world to know more about! Make posters for great causes! Send drawings to people who you think are doing great things for the world, to let them know you're thankful!"amateur idlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130129938786828517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-376872595877531096.post-68965066940659349062013-05-13T16:32:00.001-05:002013-05-13T16:33:38.185-05:00PeaceI've changed so much this year. I look through old blog posts, and some of them seem like they were written by a stranger who was very, VERY concerned with her inability to decide what to study in college.<br />
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If I could have given a graduation speech to my 18-year-old self, this is what I would have said:<br />
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<b>You will never feel ready.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
You never get to this place where all of a sudden it dawns on you that you're ready to be married or choose a career. No lightbulb goes off. You don't suddenly think, "Ah! I have reached a place of maturity that signifies that I am ready to date!" and go out and find someone ASAP. There does not come a day when you officially feel like an adult. It won't happen.<br />
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What will happen, however, is that when you hit a wall and have to truly decide - not in theory, but in reality - you will realize very quickly whether you're ready or not. When Craig came into my life, I though I was still not ready to be dating, but it turned out I was ready to date <i>Craig</i>. You can't make generalized decisions about things before their time. Because when you get right down to it, there will always be things you didn't foresee. Life truly has to be taken one day at a time. You have to trust le bon Dieu to take care of you, and not give you choices you can't make.<br />
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<b>The only way to find out if you like something is to try.</b><br />
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(I still have trouble following this.) If you think you really want to do something, you can't just sit around waiting for opportunities to fall into your lap. Break down the goal into steps. What can you do now to take a step towards your goal? Do it. And if you find you don't like it, make a new goal.<br />
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<b>Don't defer happiness.</b><br />
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If you are not enjoying your life, you need to re-evaluate. If the journey you are on is one that isn't at least a little bit fun, then what is the point? Deferring happiness, slogging through acres of unpleasantness while telling yourself someday it will all pay off and everything will be perfect, is also known as wasting your life. Because it won't be perfect. Nothing ever is. So you ought to snatch the happiness you can have now. Enjoy your work! Cherish your relationships! Don't waste time in self-loathing or depression. Seize the day! Make your life extraordinary.<br />
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There's punch and cookies in the lobby for everyone. Thanks for listening.amateur idlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130129938786828517noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-376872595877531096.post-27472018163970238872013-04-13T11:43:00.002-05:002013-04-13T11:45:06.193-05:00I don't want to jinx it...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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But I think spring is <i>finally </i>here. Everyone's cars are tinted yellow because of the pollen, and it's perpetually creeping in under doors and dusting windowsills. Dad left the door open the other day, and tons of it got on Carly's piano. Which I thought was funny, but I don't think she particularly appreciated it.<br />
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Mom has all of a sudden gone green! She's checked out books on home-made cleaning solutions and skincare, and she's planting seeds. Dad built planting beds and a compost bin out of wood scraps, and the new official goal is to have only recycling and compost - no trash at all. <br />
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In a moment of expansion, she said she also wanted a goat to trim the lawn, but she's recanted that. Which I think is probably a good thing, though it would have been marvelously entertaining to see how a goat and our dog and cats took to each other. I think it would have chased us, which would have been fun.<br />
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Another reason to go green - you get the most adorable soap ever. </div>
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I, for one, am all for these measures. I'm always game for her adventures and schemes. She says we would have been good hippy roommates. Really, I just go along with anything she suggests. I fought hard by her side in the war of "to buy or not buy a microwave" when we moved to Arkansas, because she is afraid of the "rays" they put out. I mainly fought against it because all microwaves are ugly and they cook your food in a weird way. Sadly, we lost that fight.amateur idlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130129938786828517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-376872595877531096.post-34418893752846047562013-03-22T23:34:00.001-05:002013-03-22T23:37:36.042-05:00Employment History1. Childcare worker at my church<br />
I got that job when I was 15 and a half. I learned that, if I ever had children - which I wouldn't - they would never even know Dora the Explorer existed.<br />
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2. Gift-basket assembler<br />
This seasonal job mainly consisted of very precisely taping boxes of crackers against each other. I was introduced - thanks to damaged boxes that couldn't be used in the gift baskets - to the wonders of chocolate-covered caramel corn. C.C. Winkle, baby. Look it up.<br />
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3. Precinct walker<br />
I had this job for, if I remember rightly, two weeks. It involved going door to door and talking to people about a local proposition that I couldn't even vote for, as I lived in a different district. I quit after realizing I was making less than three dollars an hour. I spent all my money at California Pizza Kitchen, and ate the entire pizza myself.<br />
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4. Cookie store<br />
A remarkably stressful job, considering I peddled baked goods that had the word "hogs" written on them. <br />
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5. Anthropologie<br />
I was technically employed for 2 days. I realized I would never possess the drive to look cute every day and chickened out.<br />
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6. Hobby Lobby<br />
A peculiar big-box retail store. I bought a black santa that is clothed in cheetah prints instead of the typical red garb, a statue of an enormously fat pig with an American flag draped over its back, and a vase that looks like it's made out of cabbage leaves, and other such wonderful things at disgustingly cheap prices. That's probably the best thing I can say about it.<br />
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7. Music Dept.<br />
For a summer I worked as a front-desk person at my school's music department. Meaning I played facebook at my school's music department. <br />
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8. Art assitantship<br />
Perhaps the most varied job I've ever had - one day I take spray paint labels onto cabinets in the illustration classroom, the next I am scanning my teacher's family pictures. People had some spectacular glasses in the fifties.<br />
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9. Bottled water label designer<br />
I started this week. So far, so good. I design and print personalized labels for water bottles for things like banks and baby showers. You wouldn't think personalized water bottles would be a thing, but apparently they are. It's a fun job, really. I get to be creative and make my own hours and I can eat snacks at my desk. You wouldn't believe how nice it is to get to eat when you're hungry while working. And I get a comfy chair. And more than minimum wage. I could get used to this.<br />
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When I am old I'd like to be able to constantly surprise my children by suddenly chiming in in a conversation with, "No, when you're in a circus it isn't like that." Or, "When I was assistant to the princess of Sweden I tried escargot."<br />
<br />
I'm beginning to think that, as far as jobs go, I could end up nearly anywhere. Though, as my mother once told me, "I think you can do anything. Except be a jockey." <br />
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(I'm 5'10)amateur idlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130129938786828517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-376872595877531096.post-88280075530281692562013-03-13T23:42:00.000-05:002014-05-19T23:53:54.909-05:00from the Bauhaus to MY house, please. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EeNWueyvWDs/UUFQ8OMM44I/AAAAAAAAFfo/AB7ZThgXGdo/s1600/bauhaus_dessau.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EeNWueyvWDs/UUFQ8OMM44I/AAAAAAAAFfo/AB7ZThgXGdo/s1600/bauhaus_dessau.jpg" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8Ihz4YbEyHs/UUFQ8CGMh7I/AAAAAAAAFfs/m9MBQOkYDjA/s1600/tumblr_lezqu4IXQV1qdeys9o1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8Ihz4YbEyHs/UUFQ8CGMh7I/AAAAAAAAFfs/m9MBQOkYDjA/s1600/tumblr_lezqu4IXQV1qdeys9o1_500.jpg" /></a></div>
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Be honest now. If you could have your tea in a teapot like that, wouldn't you feel like the future had finally come? That you could just step outside and jet-pack on over to your friend's house for a chat?<br />
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I would.amateur idlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130129938786828517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-376872595877531096.post-17107399000373222662013-03-10T21:29:00.003-05:002013-03-10T21:29:44.706-05:00Oh yes.My school used to be called Little Rock University - or, more commonly "Last Resort University." However, if anyone still thinks that the re-named University of Arkansas at Little Rock is only a school for the dumb and/or desperate, think again. <br />
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WE HAVE <a href="https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=837469712552">THIS.</a>amateur idlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130129938786828517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-376872595877531096.post-81781832029584144492012-12-13T19:33:00.003-06:002014-05-19T23:59:42.846-05:00No more stress! Huzzah! Wait...I had the last final of the longest, hardest, most rewarding, most tearful semester ever today. I AM DONE.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-D1F8XDr18IU/UMqBpHAF36I/AAAAAAAAFMY/4XecC5OmjLk/s1600/Screen+shot+2012-12-13+at+7.31.32+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jfgC_UEnV-A/UMp-rnpFTUI/AAAAAAAAFMI/HqFDOHT57kw/s1600/DSC00969.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jfgC_UEnV-A/UMp-rnpFTUI/AAAAAAAAFMI/HqFDOHT57kw/s640/DSC00969.JPG" height="640" width="424" /></a></div>
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This was taken during a low point in the semester when I went around half the day with my sweater inside out, and then after realizing this, removing it, and putting it on right side out, I went around for the rest of the day with it buttoned very wrong. The arm is my boyfriend holding me so he could send a picture to my mom. They tell me they love me, but I'm beginning to wonder if that's really why I'm kept around.</div>
amateur idlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130129938786828517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-376872595877531096.post-46570195431616519522012-12-10T03:33:00.000-06:002013-07-20T03:34:42.223-05:00there is no such thing as free<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Okay. So, I've never actually been paid for any design/arty work I've done. In my defense, I've only been doing arty stuff for like a year, and only with moderate confidence for like a month. But! I've had a slight disappointment today in regards to some free work I did and what they are (or more specifically, are not) doing with it, and I've realized that I need to make some rules for myself if I'm going to keep doing free work.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">(And these rules apply after I've consulted the "</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><a href="http://shouldiworkforfree.com/" style="color: #e06666; text-decoration: none;">Should I Work for Free</a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">" flowchart and it's a YES.)</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">1. You may not agonize unduly over the work.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">2. You may not let free work get in the way of normal work you have to do. Free work is the lowest priority, unless it's for something extremely important or a lot of people will see it.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">3. You may not spend lots of money on free work. Strive to spend no money, if possible.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">4. You may not spend an unreasonable amount of time on free work, unless, again, it is extremely important or being viewed by many eyeballs.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">5. Because it is free work, you will not subject yourself to too much direction or interference. If they want you to do work for no pay, regard it as a chance to have complete freedom with what you make.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">6. Free work should be completed as quickly as possible. The more time it is left undone, the more time you have to think about it and let it worry you.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><i> Fast</i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">turnover is required.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">7. Even if it's for a good cause, or a family member or some other deserving person, you are allowed to say NO.</span>amateur idlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130129938786828517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-376872595877531096.post-36975819671622965752012-12-04T20:43:00.001-06:002012-12-13T19:40:35.229-06:00okay... thanks mom<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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After seeing all the work it entailed, I decided a while ago that I probably wouldn't do scrapbooking. Ever. I'm too self-critical and changeable, and I thought I'd always be making a page and then hating it and ripping it out. I told myself it was cheesy.</div>
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But when I started flipping through our family scrapbooks the other day, looking for a picture to draw for illustration class, I ended up sitting on the floor for like an hour and a half. </div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NNikNWXHigA/UL6zpolg8hI/AAAAAAAAFIs/H2NjLr4oXf8/s1600/DSC04368-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NNikNWXHigA/UL6zpolg8hI/AAAAAAAAFIs/H2NjLr4oXf8/s640/DSC04368-001.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
I never looked nice as a baby.<br />
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Odd bonding between enemies over the automatic cat litter box.<br />
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Bowling league. I thought that headband-scarf (the kind you tied round your head with little strings - remember?) made me the hottest thing on the planet.<br />
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Sewing gone wrong.<br />
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Childhood triumphs.<br />
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Grandpas.<br />
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Actually, scrapbooks are great.<br />
Mom? I'm about to say your favorite words:<br />
<br />
You were right and I was wrong.amateur idlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130129938786828517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-376872595877531096.post-52796757302442430972012-11-30T19:45:00.002-06:002012-12-13T19:39:08.348-06:00Magic Mouthwash and bleh.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qrDX-tFEWl4/ULhTui5b9xI/AAAAAAAAFGY/fSiddTkNoRI/s1600/sickofsickness.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qrDX-tFEWl4/ULhTui5b9xI/AAAAAAAAFGY/fSiddTkNoRI/s640/sickofsickness.jpg" width="428" /></a></div>
Glorious, isn't it?<br />
<br />
You know, you'd think being sick for a long, long time would have a great number of benefits. Lots of nice food. Parents and boyfriend waiting on you obligingly. Lying in bed and daydreaming that you're a consumptive poet whose greatness will only be realized after your tragically young death.<br />
<br />
But there are a surprising number of cons.<br />
<br />
1. People don't wait on you. Nor are you allowed to stay in bed for long. Very selfishly, people forget that you're ill and give you homework or make you contribute to the communal living experience and do things like clean up after yourself. <br />
<br />
2. You're all weak and tired and then all your relatives and friends who aren't weak and tired go to the rock climbing gym all the time without you and get WAY better at climbing than you. Which just makes you feel worse about yourself.<br />
<br />
3. You wear the same pair of socks like five days in a row because you're sleep deprived and forget to change them. And then you loose friends (the definition of friends being people willing to come within a ten-foot radius of you).<br />
<br />
But, quite seriously, I've been ill for over three months now with a tenacious and sometimes dreadful viral infection. I shan't go into details, but let me just say that cold sores (or whatever they are) can do fantastically hideous things to you if they want to. Keep on their good side.<br />
<br />
The only really enjoyable part of the whole ordeal so far was when during a visit my doctor said, "Okay, I'm going to prescribe you some magic mouthwash." I started to grin but realized he was perfectly serious. And when I got the prescription? Printed on the side was:<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">MAGIC MOUTHWASH. GARGLE TWICE DAILY.</span>amateur idlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130129938786828517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-376872595877531096.post-92048755656475847382012-10-24T23:07:00.003-05:002012-12-13T19:37:15.823-06:00DinnertimeI'm beginning to suspect that people ask me to cook solely for the entertainment value. These:<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9l0o2FjF8ss/UIi5G140u-I/AAAAAAAAE9c/zanT4WyARLk/s1600/pancakes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9l0o2FjF8ss/UIi5G140u-I/AAAAAAAAE9c/zanT4WyARLk/s640/pancakes.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
were supposed to be pancakes. And, quite honestly? They look better in the picture than they did in real life.</div>
<ul>
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amateur idlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130129938786828517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-376872595877531096.post-35042705275417418492012-10-15T21:06:00.000-05:002013-10-12T01:29:44.146-05:00Painty clothes and bruised knees, essentially.It's been too long. I feel an agonizingly long-winded UPDATE ON MY LIFE twitching in my finger tips! Can't... can't! Too laaaaate!<br />
<br />
So.<br />
<br />
Hello, my name is Kelsey.<br />
<br />
I am 22 years old. I go to college, which is fun about 57% of the time. I think that's not a bad percentage, really. Lately I have been making things like suits made of dried-out sanitizing wipes and fake wooden moose heads (like the sort hunters mount on their walls after they've, uh, shot them.)<br />
This is art, apparently.<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7uYLDYF6Foo/UHUEQwHfawI/AAAAAAAAE74/_6QhwPu-Wdk/s1600/Photo+on+2012-07-12+at+15.08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7uYLDYF6Foo/UHUEQwHfawI/AAAAAAAAE74/_6QhwPu-Wdk/s400/Photo+on+2012-07-12+at+15.08.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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(This shoe made of wire is art also, from what I understand.)</div>
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<br /></div>
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Recently I realized that I will never make good art if I try to force myself to be all serious and deep about it. I like funny things. And if, by some chance, the stuff I make gives somebody else a laugh... well, I can't think of a reaction I'd enjoy more. </div>
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One of the weirdest things that's kind of happened, and which I have not even mentioned here, is that basically I rock climb now. </div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-s5dle5AIreQ/UHy8QkXqLTI/AAAAAAAAE8Q/f297HbciVQc/s1600/559164_10150924902904212_1889898965_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-s5dle5AIreQ/UHy8QkXqLTI/AAAAAAAAE8Q/f297HbciVQc/s640/559164_10150924902904212_1889898965_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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See? That's me a few months ago. Climbing (not particularly well, but climbing) at a fancy schmancy gym in St. Louis. </div>
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I never would have imagined that someday I'd get into this sport. Heck, I didn't know it was a sport. </div>
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<br /></div>
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But I think I can consider myself into it. I have shoes and a harness and a chalk bag and a carabiner from when my dad climbed in the 80's that makes a horrible "skree" sound every time you open and close it (and, as a result, is never actually used). I'm getting better at it. I go at least three times a week when I can. I rattle off jargon. It's bizarre. Mainly because I'm, quite honestly, a deeply lazy person. </div>
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<br /></div>
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I think one of the key factors in the quite miraculous way I've stuck with climbing, besides that it's not competitive and doesn't require spandex, is that climbers are fantastic. And when I say "fantastic" I mean WEIRD. Climbing is kind of a fringe sport, and so it seems to attract the oddest array of characters. At the local gym I climb at, we have a 16-year-old yoga instructor (who only began yoga because he broke his back playing serious football), a linguistics-anthropology major who talks like a moronic surfer, and a 40 year-old Frenchman named Jose. Basically, it's marvelous. I'm becoming intimately acquainted with the "lower leisure class" as my boyfriend calls them - people who work just enough to fund weekly trips to climbing areas and the purchasing of gear. They're a remarkably happy lot. </div>
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<br /></div>
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And it seems to be doing me some good. Besides climbing with a fair amount of frequency and going vegan a few weeks ago, I've changed nothing, and I've lost 20-ish pounds. Today I wore pants I haven't fitted into since I was 15. They were a little tight, but it was worth it. </div>
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SO! That's where I've been lately. It's been very, very good. </div>
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What about you, mate? </div>
amateur idlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130129938786828517noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-376872595877531096.post-63318674301025909582012-08-15T12:11:00.001-05:002012-08-26T22:12:07.837-05:00No Nose-PickingA little ways back, I was in an art rut. I was whining. I said I didn't think I could do it, blah blah blah. But!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;"> </span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/04264619632341598804"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;">Jessica</span> </a>suggested a project to do that would make me feel better. And guess what? I did it! And it did make me feel better.<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-J9K9oQAd24w/UCxyuU-b-zI/AAAAAAAAE7Q/HUg7liGANBo/s1600/imeanit.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-J9K9oQAd24w/UCxyuU-b-zI/AAAAAAAAE7Q/HUg7liGANBo/s1600/imeanit.png" /></a></div>
<br />
This is a cruddy screen-shot of the completed poster, but if anyone desires, I would be more than happy to send a high-quality PDF whizzing through space to their inbox. It's your typical poster size - 18x24, if I recall correctly.<br />
<br />
The lesson to learn from this:<br />
I SHOULD WHINE ALL THE TIME! Commenting makes people feel good (which means I should do it more often, because I often want to and don't) and can help them more than you'd think.amateur idlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130129938786828517noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-376872595877531096.post-49657426171964021332012-08-08T14:28:00.000-05:002012-08-08T14:29:16.759-05:00Seriously,<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"></span><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cWjBxZDdC7E/T6DFlYKriJI/AAAAAAAAEtk/YM0CNaWmDxQ/s1600/Screen+shot+2012-02-11+at+2.29.28+PM.png.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6aa84f; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="250" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cWjBxZDdC7E/T6DFlYKriJI/AAAAAAAAEtk/YM0CNaWmDxQ/s400/Screen+shot+2012-02-11+at+2.29.28+PM.png.jpg" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; padding-bottom: 8px; padding-left: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px; position: relative;" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>amateur idlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130129938786828517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-376872595877531096.post-34129077837109558972012-06-28T13:30:00.001-05:002012-06-28T13:30:12.914-05:00Thank you! I think!So here's the deal:<br />
<br />
I was born in (the most glorious of months) May, on the 31st, to be precise. My boyfriend was born on June 2nd, a mere two days later. If we get married we have decided to do it on the first so the collected weight of so many things to remember will make it impossible to forget. <br />
<br />
But! On my birthday, I realized that people were probably putting things on my facebook. While turning on my laptop (it makes the most wonderful grinding and moaning noise when I switch it on, as if it is upset that I want to use it) my sister came galloping into the room. "Have you seen what Craig put on your page??" She asked, grinning manically.<br />
<br />
"No" I said.<br />
<br />
I went on my page. This is what I found:<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/brXc0ufPW3s?rel=0" width="640"></iframe><br />
<br />
Yep! That's my baby! He's a scruffy drummer studying film who likes hiking, depressing music and cheese.<br />
<br />
To explain the "ghost", It's actually a black Santa tree topper that I bought for him (back before we were an item, thank you!) when the Christmas stuff at my place of employment when into really deep sale mode. We enjoyed that all the white Santas and angels had the traditional red outfits, but the black Santas and angels had these shiny leopard and cheetah print costumes. Craig imagines that he will be able to sell it to some museum one day for millions of dollars, proving that blatant stereotyping still existed in large-scale chain retail shops in 2011.<br />
<br />
But! I was, as you may imagine, touched and possibly a little disturbed by this gesture. And, obviously, I knew I needed to reciprocate. With only one evening to throw it all together, I set about making my own birthday tribute.<br />
I knew I couldn't top that for creepy - no one could - so I decided to go a different route.<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="480" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/bTASUHgxCL4?rel=0" width="640"></iframe><br />
<br />
We're an odd pair.amateur idlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130129938786828517noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-376872595877531096.post-75318905749127858802012-06-25T11:32:00.002-05:002013-07-06T19:36:04.185-05:00Music Dept., this is Kelsey.Guess where I am RIGHT NOW?<br />
<br />
Before you guess some place that's actually cool, like Iceland or Colorado, I will tell you.<br />
I am currently sitting behind a rather unattractive reception desk in the dinky, freezing office of the Music Department Division of Performance Studies at my beloved university. <br />
<br />
Yes! I am one of those lucky, lucky students shamelessly availing themselves of fellow students' tuition money by doing almost NOTHING and calling it work-study. I started last week and I can already say that this is, without a doubt, the smartest employment decision I have ever made. <br />
<br />
The fact that I am writing a blog post while "working" is a pretty clear indicator of how dull and free this kind of job is. I have spent a large majority of my time working here reading <i>A Walk in the Woods</i> for the millionth time and sketching band logo ideas. No joke.<br />
<br />
Here's how a typical day might run down:<br />
<ul>
<li>Arrive, and sit reading for an hour, waiting for something to do.</li>
<li>A small task, such as shredding a stack of paper, is given to me and I am happily occupied for about fifteen minutes. </li>
<li>I sit some more. Maybe check facebook or sketch for a bit. </li>
<li>A phone rings. I transfer a call.</li>
<li>More sitting. </li>
<li>I go home. </li>
</ul>
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I'm not kidding! This is what it's like! I can hardly believe my luck. Once I got to deliver an inter-office memo envelope across campus. What an adventure it was! </div>
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<br /></div>
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Oo. The boss just came in. I might get to go get a paper from Purchasing! (What is Purchasing, anyways? I haven't the foggiest.)<br />
<br />
I've got to go. Important business is afoot! Papers must be carried! Things must be signed! Sticky notes must be stuck!</div>
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<br /></div>
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I love this job. </div>
amateur idlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130129938786828517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-376872595877531096.post-2571115592740569072012-05-02T23:48:00.000-05:002012-05-02T23:50:22.433-05:00rest in peace.Every time I add an image to a blog post from my picasa web albums or whatever they are, I am filled with remorse. Because on picasa web albums I see the ashes of the blogs I once have had and which have been deleted. Black holes of the interweb. Far too many. I have 116 files in my "blog titles" folder. I am ashamed. But! I am also in a confessional mood. <br />
So, for your consideration, the headers.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fIIV-sQ9jWI/Syn8PUyPMLI/AAAAAAAAAJE/P-6zSvScUF0/s1600/weatetunafullsize.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fIIV-sQ9jWI/Syn8PUyPMLI/AAAAAAAAAJE/P-6zSvScUF0/s320/weatetunafullsize.jpg" width="269" /></a></div>
Let's not discuss the dozens of times I switched the title of this very blog from "Amateur Idler" to the more appropriate, but slightly ambiguous "We Ate Tuna Sandwiches". Because it pains me.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CV0T0LctlSs/S0ZGvqIgXZI/AAAAAAAAAN4/uioJ6zWgFPc/s1600/messing+around-2+%2528Custom%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="228" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CV0T0LctlSs/S0ZGvqIgXZI/AAAAAAAAAN4/uioJ6zWgFPc/s400/messing+around-2+%2528Custom%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
Ah, yes! Now, this here was a private blog on which I was meant to track my progress on a travel book I tried to write. I know, right? It's laughable!<br />
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Here we have one of the few worthwhile blogs I've made - a book review site.<br />
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And an entirely awful blog is up next. I had this curly image under the header of "The Skinny", another private tracking blog, this one for weight, on which I posted pictures of slim famous people as motivation. Not particularly healthy, but moving on!<br />
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After this a style blog ("yet another style blog") and a Deep Thoughts blog ("think think think") were born and died before I could give them custom headers.<br />
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A blog I still own but which is largely stupid and abandoned now - idelheart began as a repository for pretty pictures and quotes - basically just stuff I found and liked.<br />
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Another one that is yet living, if just barely - shared with my sister, meant to be a place to dump all the fashion-y pictures I had cluttering my laptop.<br />
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Possibly one of my best. V for Victory, entirely devoted to writing on idling. I was very proud of the look of that blog. <br />
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Frankly, I have no idea what this one was. The sub-heading was "The Austen Project" from what I can find. I think it had something to do with eating well and taking long walks, but I really don't recall. <br />
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Another blog still cluttering the inter-web. At this time, the peak of my Audrey obsession, I began collecting an alarmingly large number of pictures of her and needed somewhere to put them.<br />
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Had more headers made for it than it did actual content. Seriously, there are like twelve variations for this one. <br />
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Meant to be, like, a big collective of coolness where I'd get tons of contributors. A cool idea, but never particularly feasible.<br />
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A personal favorite, about attending community college. I could still write this one. I have more than enough material. And I'm still rather keen on that header there.<br />
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This one is particularly melancholy. A fairly long-lived style and design blog. I like the name still and am tempted to re-use it.<br />
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Pullover 365 - I was supposed to draw something and then upload said drawing every day. There are literally five pictures in there.<br />
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More idling. This post is getting way, way too long.<br />
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Recently deceased pretty stuff depository blog.<br />
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Still barely living. Book reviews. Briefly housed a project where I tried to read a book every day. I didn't get much sleep during that period of my life.<br />
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Lived like one day, seriously. Visually nice stuff was the intended subject, I think.<br />
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And, last but not least and also still living:<br />
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An "art" blog. Heavy emphasis on the quotes there.<br />
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Oh man. I knew this was going to be bad - but<i> this</i> bad? I am almost too ashamed to say anything.<br />
This is why I can never get a tattoo. I can't make up my mind. I'd like it for ten minutes and then curse myself for a fool as soon as I got out to the car to drive home.<br />
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Goodnight. I'm going to go hide under a rock now.amateur idlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130129938786828517noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-376872595877531096.post-20885742974882729332012-02-21T23:52:00.000-06:002012-02-21T23:52:00.386-06:00yes no maybe<br />
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I intend to see this. Like, the day it comes out. And I'm dragging as many people as possible with me. At least, people who I think will be appreciative. </div>
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And here is my burning question: WHAT on EARTH is that font? I love it. I need to learn my typefaces.</div>
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LATER: Just googled "Moonrise Kingdom font" and found that nobody seems to know what it is and nobody seems to be happy about the change. I may be the only person who likes it. Don't get me wrong, I ADORE Futura.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e69138;"> </span>But I like that he's branching out, and it was time to do so, and I think it adds. So there.</div>amateur idlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130129938786828517noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-376872595877531096.post-74898739023332344762012-02-17T13:20:00.000-06:002012-03-16T13:21:57.176-05:00Currently, I am enjoying:<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-E_66Pgym1Lo/Tw9NAhdM6sI/AAAAAAAAEms/B8scCAj93T8/s1600/Collages13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-E_66Pgym1Lo/Tw9NAhdM6sI/AAAAAAAAEms/B8scCAj93T8/s320/Collages13.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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With every arty hipster kid on earth, Wes Anderson's asthetics.</div>
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Analogous color palettes. The last three projects I've done for school have all had analogous schemes, or been as close to it as I could get 'em. I really enjoy wearing this one outfit I've concocted that literally consists of pink pants, an orange shirt, a pinky-red sweater and yellow flats. I get weird looks.</div>
<br />amateur idlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130129938786828517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-376872595877531096.post-19629634197831431632012-01-30T23:11:00.002-06:002012-01-30T23:22:46.097-06:00should odd acquaintance be forgotSo! I was re-reading bits of this here blog this evening. (Did you notice me speaking the way the natives in my adopted state do? I also accidentally called a "cart" a "buggy" while working at my dreary retail job the other day, and almost had a sort of soul aneurysm right there in the scrapbooking department.) And, anyways, I came across my new years' resolutions from last year:<br />
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<div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9pciMscaRCQ/Tyd3ueqWVSI/AAAAAAAAEnE/RPn5oUrLbT0/s1600/happy+new+year!.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9pciMscaRCQ/Tyd3ueqWVSI/AAAAAAAAEnE/RPn5oUrLbT0/s320/happy+new+year!.JPG" width="193" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Be less negative.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">Enjoy idling again.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">Give myself a break. When I've done my best, leave it at that. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">And be a happier, more cheerful person in general.</span></div></div><div><br />
</div><div>And you know what? I had completely forgotten that I'd made them at all. Which is so incredibly true-to-type of me that I almost can't bear it. So! I might try again. Though I would also like to add:<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">See the rest of Wes Anderson's movies.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Read my Bible every day starting now, not tomorrow.<br />
Do things for other people as often as possible.</div><br />
</div><div>It was an excellent year, last year. And this year has come in with a bang like no other. A very deeply contented boom, more than a bang. </div></div>amateur idlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130129938786828517noreply@blogger.com0