BEHOLD. I was pondering this upcoming summer and came up with a TIWTA (Things I Want To Accomplish) list.
Here it goes.
1) Get a tattoo.
- I've been waffling on this decision for the past two years. I know that I want my first tattoo to be small, a "tester" tattoo if you will. If that one goes well and I'm still happy with it a year or so later, I'll take steps towards getting a bigger one. I've decided the tattoo will be of my Monkey Muse, no bigger than three inches in diameter, and will be located somewhere on my upper back or foot.
(Randomly on a side note: I'm writing this blog post in the common room of Barnacles, Dublin. Currently there are a lot of college age students in here, chatting it up, laughing, etc... except for the random lady crouched like Gollum next to my chair, sipping a can of Budweiser, and twirling her hair as she silently observes the room. She is disquieting.)
2) Get an acoustic guitar.
- I have been trying my hand at the banjo. I'm not to terrible at a few songs and am feeling pretty confident. I'd like to try the guitar. If Mo and I go half and half on the price this endeavor might be plausible.
3) Set up a work out routine.
- I want to get a regular workout routine set up... and drag Mo along with me. MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
4) Find $$$ for Grad school.
- The big Choice is coming. Do I want to stay on another two years and get my Masters at the Corcoran. At the moment I certainly want to. Therefore I need to start looking at financial options. This makes a nervous bubble swell up in my tummy so I don't like dwelling on it too much. There is still some time before I really need to get down to business.
5) Find a internship/ better job for this upcoming year.
- Barnes & Noble is not where I'm planning on being employed beyond this summer. What I really want is to find at least a volunteer position in an after school, inner city Arts program. I've yet to discover if such a program exists in D.C., however I'd be very surprised if there wasn't something. I need to sit down and actually do some serious searching. Google is a powerful tool (I may start referring to it as the Oracle, as my father does).
6) Be a kick ass Teacher/ Teacher's Assistant
- I'm gearing up for another summer at Camp Creativity. Last summer I was a TA and had a complete blast. It was so much fun and I was very sad to see it end. This year I will also be teaching a session in August. BookMaster. Book making for the kiddies. I plan on putting a lot of effort into this summer :)
So that's it at the moment. I imagine I'll more than likely be adding more as the summer wears on.
On a finishing note, apparently the Irish are fond of recreating medieval environments with creepy mannequins in poorly lit basements. I was scanning the tourist information/pamphlets and the Dublin Heritage Centre has DUBLINA! Experience Viking & Medieval Dublin! The picture shows mannequins in a dark medieval room.
No thank you. I'll pass.
I think I'll put my efforts into convincing Mom that we need to go to the Kilmainham Jail. That sort of creepy suits my tastes better. I think I have leverage to get her to go, seeing that she has denied me the too expensive Haunted Bus Tour of Dublin.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Medieval Horrors
My mom and I are traveling around Ireland before we fly home to Virginia. We spent some time in Galway, took a bus tour up into Connemara. I've been up to Connemara twice before but enjoyed visiting it again. Yesterday we navigated the bus system down to Tralee. We checked into our fancy room at the Grand Hotel, ate a scrumptious dinner, and slept.
The next morning we wandered about The Green, a beautiful park that was home to some lovely rose bushes and a couple of really old and really large trees. We decided to step into the museum next door. For 5 euro we walked through the history exhibit that covered Ireland from the Mesolithic period up to the 1916 Rising. It was a lot of reading, hard to follow at times, but over all a perfectly satisfactory exhibit. Afterwards came something that was advertised as the "Medieval Experience". Sounded interesting enough.
However, I really should have sensed the horrors of what was to come. I really dislike wax museums and any other exhibit that has too many dressed up mannequins. This semi-fear developed from a visit to Harper's Ferry , West Virginia, when I was younger. We learned about the infamous John Brown raid during the Civil War at the town wax museum. I was disturbed and found myself having a hard time eating my pizza afterwards. The cheese on the pizza reminded me of the wax figures. The history exhibit had a few dressed up in furs and wielding stone axes. A few. It wasn't too bad so I ignored the frayed, messy wigs on their heads and the poorly painted faces. The pamphlet made the "experience" seem like an interesting enough sight to see. We made our way down the stairs to the basement all the while reading the following information:
"Tralee in 1450 is recreated in the Medieval Experience. Here you can stroll through the streets, experiencing the sights, sounds and smells of a bustling medieval community. You can find out what people wore, what they ate and where they lived, and why the Fitzgeralds, the Earls of Desmond, who founded the town, also destroyed it"
By the way, they were dead serious when they mention "smells". I don't know what they used, but the exhibit had the foul, funky stench of cow dung and a neglected porta-potty.
I don't know why they have the family in that fancy, riding cart thing. You have to walk through it, around the mannequins and stuffed animals. I would never want to walk through this at night.
Imagine my surprise to look up and see this lovely dame, manic expression on her plastic face, chucking fake "waste" (I think it was sheet plastic or something) down on my head.
Yum, fake meat.
It was creepy. And dark. The poor lighting added to a sense of claustrophobia as I made my way around the mannequins, sensing that one might move at any given moment. I think the fact that we were alone in the exhibit made it worse. They had motion activated sound rigged up so we were accompanied by the wailing of the doomed baby cow at the "butchers", people screaming at each other in Gaelic, and the overly enthusiastic female voice narrating us through our journey. It was like a bad dream. I'm certain this will haunt my slumbers for days to come.
I can still smell it.
The next morning we wandered about The Green, a beautiful park that was home to some lovely rose bushes and a couple of really old and really large trees. We decided to step into the museum next door. For 5 euro we walked through the history exhibit that covered Ireland from the Mesolithic period up to the 1916 Rising. It was a lot of reading, hard to follow at times, but over all a perfectly satisfactory exhibit. Afterwards came something that was advertised as the "Medieval Experience". Sounded interesting enough.
However, I really should have sensed the horrors of what was to come. I really dislike wax museums and any other exhibit that has too many dressed up mannequins. This semi-fear developed from a visit to Harper's Ferry , West Virginia, when I was younger. We learned about the infamous John Brown raid during the Civil War at the town wax museum. I was disturbed and found myself having a hard time eating my pizza afterwards. The cheese on the pizza reminded me of the wax figures. The history exhibit had a few dressed up in furs and wielding stone axes. A few. It wasn't too bad so I ignored the frayed, messy wigs on their heads and the poorly painted faces. The pamphlet made the "experience" seem like an interesting enough sight to see. We made our way down the stairs to the basement all the while reading the following information:
"Tralee in 1450 is recreated in the Medieval Experience. Here you can stroll through the streets, experiencing the sights, sounds and smells of a bustling medieval community. You can find out what people wore, what they ate and where they lived, and why the Fitzgeralds, the Earls of Desmond, who founded the town, also destroyed it"
By the way, they were dead serious when they mention "smells". I don't know what they used, but the exhibit had the foul, funky stench of cow dung and a neglected porta-potty.
I don't know why they have the family in that fancy, riding cart thing. You have to walk through it, around the mannequins and stuffed animals. I would never want to walk through this at night.
Imagine my surprise to look up and see this lovely dame, manic expression on her plastic face, chucking fake "waste" (I think it was sheet plastic or something) down on my head.
Yum, fake meat.
It was creepy. And dark. The poor lighting added to a sense of claustrophobia as I made my way around the mannequins, sensing that one might move at any given moment. I think the fact that we were alone in the exhibit made it worse. They had motion activated sound rigged up so we were accompanied by the wailing of the doomed baby cow at the "butchers", people screaming at each other in Gaelic, and the overly enthusiastic female voice narrating us through our journey. It was like a bad dream. I'm certain this will haunt my slumbers for days to come.
I can still smell it.
Monday, April 26, 2010
History of a Cigarette
I was reading the blog Journey Around My Skull and this little bit on smoking caught my attention. It's curious.
History of a Cigarette
by Felisberto Hernández
Translated by Gilbert Alter-Gilbert
1
Late one recent evening I pulled a pack of cigarettes from my pocket. I did this almost without wanting to. I never gave much thought to how many cigarettes I had on hand, or to when I was going to smoke them. It was a long time before I began to think about the spirit of such interactions: of the spirit of man in relation to his fellows; of the spirit of man in relation to things; and certainly I never thought about the spirit of things in relation to men. But without wanting to, I was staring fixedly at a thing: the pack of cigarettes. And now as I analyze it, I recall it vividly. I remember that I had fully intended to pull out one of the cigarettes, but only barely touched it with my finger. Then I began to pull out another, but couldn't get hold of it firmly, so I pulled out a third. I was distracted all the while—somehow they were able to dominate me a little—yes, it was plainly evident that, along with their scanty material substance, operated a corresponding spirit. And this infinitesimal, discretionary spirit enabled them to orchestrate the escape of some, while I reached for others, instead.
2
The other night I was walking with a friend. Then I became distracted, began to sense something odd, and started thinking about cigarettes. I had the urge to smoke and when I reached for one of them, suddenly I changed my mind and reached for one of the others. Without meaning to, I crimped the tip of the first one I touched, and it seemed as if it had caused me to do this so as to avoid being taken. If given a choice, my tendency has always been, as is only normal, to prefer my cigarettes unbent. Consequently, I pushed the broken cigarette to one side, away from the rest. I offered them to my friend. He reflexively chose the one snuggling in the corner by itself, because it was easiest to reach but, when he saw that it was crooked, he immediately reached for another. I was preoccupied by this series of events for quite awhile but, as we resumed our conversation, I gradually forgot about it. A few hours later, I again felt the craving for a smoke; I pulled out the pack of cigarettes and then it struck me. With much surprise I saw that the twisted cigarette wasn't there, and I thought I must have smoked it without noticing, and my obsession vanished in a puff.
3
Still later the same night, when I picked up the pack once again, I was confronted by the following: the broken cigarette hadn't been smoked after all; it had fallen sideways and was lying horizontally at the bottom of the pack. Certain now that it had deliberately eluded me several times, my obsession returned with redoubled tenacity. I was seized by an overwhelming curiosity to see what would happen if I smoked it. I stepped out to the patio, removed all the cigarettes from the pack except the wrinkled one, re-entered the living room, and offered it to my friend; since it was the only one left in the pack, he would have no choice but to take ‘it'. He started to take it, but then refrained. He regarded me with a smile. I asked him, "Is something wrong?" He answered, "Yes, but I'm not going to tell you what…" This really frosted me, but then he added, "There's only one left and I'm not going to be the one to smoke it." Then he pulled out his own cigarettes, and we smoked two of them in silence.
4
The following morning I remembered that, before going to bed, I had put the broken cigarette in the drawer of my nightstand. The nightstand bears a special distinction: it has a strange alliance and affiliation with cigarettes. But I was determined not to let this get the better of me. I approached the nightstand, intending to take out a cigarette and smoke it. I opened the drawer. I took out a cigarette as always, with complete naturalness and aplomb but, as I did so, I knocked over a glass of water, and it fell, along with the cigarette, onto the floor. My obsession flared. I quickly contained myself. But when I reached down to pick it up again, I saw that the cigarette had fallen onto a section of the floor which now was sopping wet. This time my obsession was beyond control; it steadily intensified as I observed what was taking place on the floor: the cigarette was blackening along its entire length as the tobacco absorbed the water…
Oh, you elusive cigarette. I feel like a need to reread this bit again and again and see something deeper each time I revisit it.
History of a Cigarette
by Felisberto Hernández
Translated by Gilbert Alter-Gilbert
1
Late one recent evening I pulled a pack of cigarettes from my pocket. I did this almost without wanting to. I never gave much thought to how many cigarettes I had on hand, or to when I was going to smoke them. It was a long time before I began to think about the spirit of such interactions: of the spirit of man in relation to his fellows; of the spirit of man in relation to things; and certainly I never thought about the spirit of things in relation to men. But without wanting to, I was staring fixedly at a thing: the pack of cigarettes. And now as I analyze it, I recall it vividly. I remember that I had fully intended to pull out one of the cigarettes, but only barely touched it with my finger. Then I began to pull out another, but couldn't get hold of it firmly, so I pulled out a third. I was distracted all the while—somehow they were able to dominate me a little—yes, it was plainly evident that, along with their scanty material substance, operated a corresponding spirit. And this infinitesimal, discretionary spirit enabled them to orchestrate the escape of some, while I reached for others, instead.
2
The other night I was walking with a friend. Then I became distracted, began to sense something odd, and started thinking about cigarettes. I had the urge to smoke and when I reached for one of them, suddenly I changed my mind and reached for one of the others. Without meaning to, I crimped the tip of the first one I touched, and it seemed as if it had caused me to do this so as to avoid being taken. If given a choice, my tendency has always been, as is only normal, to prefer my cigarettes unbent. Consequently, I pushed the broken cigarette to one side, away from the rest. I offered them to my friend. He reflexively chose the one snuggling in the corner by itself, because it was easiest to reach but, when he saw that it was crooked, he immediately reached for another. I was preoccupied by this series of events for quite awhile but, as we resumed our conversation, I gradually forgot about it. A few hours later, I again felt the craving for a smoke; I pulled out the pack of cigarettes and then it struck me. With much surprise I saw that the twisted cigarette wasn't there, and I thought I must have smoked it without noticing, and my obsession vanished in a puff.
3
Still later the same night, when I picked up the pack once again, I was confronted by the following: the broken cigarette hadn't been smoked after all; it had fallen sideways and was lying horizontally at the bottom of the pack. Certain now that it had deliberately eluded me several times, my obsession returned with redoubled tenacity. I was seized by an overwhelming curiosity to see what would happen if I smoked it. I stepped out to the patio, removed all the cigarettes from the pack except the wrinkled one, re-entered the living room, and offered it to my friend; since it was the only one left in the pack, he would have no choice but to take ‘it'. He started to take it, but then refrained. He regarded me with a smile. I asked him, "Is something wrong?" He answered, "Yes, but I'm not going to tell you what…" This really frosted me, but then he added, "There's only one left and I'm not going to be the one to smoke it." Then he pulled out his own cigarettes, and we smoked two of them in silence.
4
The following morning I remembered that, before going to bed, I had put the broken cigarette in the drawer of my nightstand. The nightstand bears a special distinction: it has a strange alliance and affiliation with cigarettes. But I was determined not to let this get the better of me. I approached the nightstand, intending to take out a cigarette and smoke it. I opened the drawer. I took out a cigarette as always, with complete naturalness and aplomb but, as I did so, I knocked over a glass of water, and it fell, along with the cigarette, onto the floor. My obsession flared. I quickly contained myself. But when I reached down to pick it up again, I saw that the cigarette had fallen onto a section of the floor which now was sopping wet. This time my obsession was beyond control; it steadily intensified as I observed what was taking place on the floor: the cigarette was blackening along its entire length as the tobacco absorbed the water…
Oh, you elusive cigarette. I feel like a need to reread this bit again and again and see something deeper each time I revisit it.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
M&M Came to Visit.
My Marra came to Ireland. She and my cousin Maggie are the first family I've seen in almost 4 months. It was good to see them. We went on an adventure! Maggie bravely took the wheel while I squinted at maps and pointed to road signs. We did well... only got beeped at once. I now know how to navigate my way to Galway's city center and then to all the other main routes that head out north. I'm feeling a tiny tickle of pride because, yes, I finally figured out the bus system, purchased my first ticket, and made my way back to Ballyvaughan all on my own. Dance!
Marra & Poppy treated us to a night in Ballynahinch Castle. It was so fancy I felt like a grubby grub as soon as I walked in through the front door. It was amazing. We took a stroll through the gardens, along the riverside, and watched as large fish jumped and the sun set. I could imagine myself slowly working my way along the river back, clad in a turtle neck sweater, book in hand, and pondering life and all of its diverse issues. After admiring the Conamara sunset, we felt the familiar tug of hunger pulling at our tummies and decided to head into the castle for dinner.
The room was gorgeous with windows opening up to a ground floor view of green lawns and the river flowing by. I promptly took the fancy soaps from the bathroom. They are now on my sink. Delightful, perfumed little devils.
We prepared ourselves for dinner. While I slipped into my nice shirt, we realized that we were far too casual for the dinning room. I looked down at my jeans (which haven't been washed in a while... a long while). We shrugged it off. We were paying customers and despite our dress, we would be getting our full course dinner. Despite a few looks from the predominately french waiting staff. French waiters, in Ireland... go figure. I immediately used the wrong utensils. I have never been to a meal that had three different forks and knives. But we figured it all out in the end. Another first, I also had veal. I know that as I took the first bite an angel lost it's wings or a kitten died somewhere, but it was damned tasty. Sorry, baby cow. Oh! Another first as well! I tried oysters as my starter. Not really my thing, far too watery and the saltiness of it about knocked me off of my seat. The salad I had afterwards was pretty good. Fresh greens and candied walnuts. For desert I had creme brulee and finished off the amazing meal with a cognac. When we got back to the bedroom I showered and then fell asleep, much to the amusement of Marra. She was convinced that the cognac was what knocked me out. Maybe, but I was also sick with a head cold and had been busy finishing up school before she arrived. It was nice to get a good nights sleep in a soft bed with fancy sheets. They took pictures of me while I slept. Hrmph.
Anyways, now I'm preparing for the last bit of school, the UnderGrad show and Mom's arrival. Lots of cleaning and packing to do.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
THE MONKEY LIVES!!!!!!!!!!!!
After hours of toiling away with my needle, thread, and yarn... BEHOLD the fruits of my labor! Tomorrow we film! I'm so Excited! This mask is the most wonderful, awkward thing I've ever made.
Have I had too much coffee tonight? Yes. Yes I have.
The video is going to be my own version of the famous Graveyard Duel from The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly.
Oh, Edward.
Before I start let me lay down some important points:
Yes, I have read Twilight.
Yes, I have seen both movies.
Yes, Edward is sexy when he broods and Jacob is hunky, I will not attempt to deny the silent squeal of delight I felt jump up in my chest as he ran about with no shirt and those tight... tight... *ahem* jean shorts.
Yes, there is appeal in the idea that your beauty can tame a painfully handsome and dangerous man. It will be a wonderful, romantically dramatic affair that ultimately ends in passionate, mind blowing hankypanky and a happily ever after. That sounds like the daydream of many women, myself included. (Hey now, don't judge me.)
BUT
No, I do not think Twilight has any standing in respectable Vampire Literature.
No, no, no, no, no Vampires do NOT shine and glisten in the sunlight.
They charr up and burn. That's just how it is. A gruesome death fitting for someone/something that gets to live forever otherwise.
Here is a list I got from Wired.com. It's a bit heavy handed, but it does have some good points:
1) If a boy is aloof, stand-offish, ignores you or is just plain rude, it is because he is secretly in love with you — and you are the point of his existence.
2) Secrets are good — especially life-threatening ones.
3) It’s OK for a potential romantic interest to be dimwitted, violent and vengeful — as long as he has great abs.
4) If a boy tells you to stay away from him because he is dangerous and may even kill you, he must be the love of your life. You should stay with him since he will keep you safe forever.
5) If a boy leaves you, especially suddenly (while telling you he will never see you again), it is because he loves you so much he will suffer just to keep you safe.
6) When a boy leaves you, going into shock, losing all your friends and enduring night terrors are completely acceptable occurrences — as long as you keep your grades up.
7) It is extremely romantic to put yourself in dangerous situations in order to see your ex-boyfriend again. It’s even more romantic to remember the sound of his voice when he yelled at you.
8) Boys who leave you always come back.
9) Because they come back, you should hold out, waiting for them for months, even when completely acceptable and less-abusive alternative males present themselves.
10) Even though you have no intention of dating an alternative male who expresses interest in you, it is fine to string the young man along for months. Also, you should use him to fix things for you. Maybe he’ll even buy you something.
11) You should use said male to fix things because girls are incapable of anything mechanical or technical.
12) Lying to your parents is fine. Lying to your parents while you run away to save your suicidal boyfriend is an extremely good idea that shows your strength and maturity. Also, it is what you must do.
13) Car theft in the service of love is acceptable.
14) If the boy you are in love with causes you (even indirectly) to be so badly beaten you end up in the hospital, you should tell the doctors and your family that you “fell down the steps” because you are such a silly, clumsy girl. That false explanation always works well for abused women.
15) Men can be changed for the better if you sacrifice everything you are and devote yourself to their need for change.
16) Young women should make no effort to improve their social skills or emotional state. Instead, they should seek out potential mates that share their morose deficiencies and emotional illnesses.
17) Girls shouldn’t always read a book series just because everyone else has.
18) When writing a book series, it’s acceptable to lift seminal source material and bastardize it with tired, overwrought teenage angst.
19) When making or watching a major feature film, you should gleefully embrace the 20 minutes of plot it provides in between extended segments of vacant-eyed silence and self-indulgent, moaning banter.
20) Vampires — once among the great villains of literature and motion pictures — are no longer scary. In fact, they’re every bit as whiny, self-absorbed and impotent as any human being.
Just food for thought I suppose.
http://www.wired.com/underwire/2009/11/twilight-lessons-girls-learn/
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
