Oh I Couldn't Help Myself!

No words can describe the hilarity:

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Difficulty

I'm feeling quite frustrated at the moment. I was doing the usual skype date with Mo when he told me some news. Bless that big, hairy man of mine, I love him to death. However, one source of... eh, I guess I would word it as 'tension', is our backgrounds. Mo grew up in Sudan. His father is Sudanese and a practicing muslim, his mother is filipino and converted to join his father. Both my parents come from the Protestant American middle class, our great grandparents having made the journey over from Europe way back when. Mo and I are both non-religious. We don't feel it is necessary to define ourselves and how we act by a religion. I'd much rather figure out how to be a decent human being through just that, being human. It's said that "With God, anything is possible." I think the correct way of wording that is "With People, anything is possible."

To get back on track, I was reminded of the difficulties that come from having relatives of a conservative nature. Mo's parents are coming over from Sudan for his graduation in May. It is exciting. After two years I finally get to meet the folks. Since Mo is graduating, other members are coming over a.k.a. his aunts. Here comes the point of complication, I live with Mo and his brother. More accurately, I rent out an apartment with Mo and his brother. My name is on the lease. I work hard to cover my share of the rent. So this isn't to be confused with me mooching or having "moved-in". It's great, we live well together. I mean sometimes I want to destroy his brother, but on the whole it is a peaceful living environment.

So let's sum up what we have so far, shall we?

Conservative relatives coming to visit.

Their son/nephew lives with a girl out of wedlock.

Difficulties ensue. His parents gave the okay for this living arrangement, as did my parents. It was financially the best choice because the apartment is cheap. Hurray wonderful, great.... hmmm... not so great when they ask me to hide my things and pretend I don't live in my own home when the aunties come over. It is the "my own home" thing that bothers me the most. I love my parents, and I love where I grew up. However, that apartment has become my home. For clarification, I NO LONGER LIVE WITH MY PARENTS. I can't just skip over there for the day... it would take a while to skip there. I wouldn't recommend it seeing that they live three hours away (by car, incase you were wondering). So, what am I to do when I'm expected to not "actually" live where I live? There is no where else in the District of Columbia for me to go. They wont be staying with us but they will be over here for a while. What happens when they decide to randomly come calling one day. Am I supposed to hide all my stuff with a snap of a finger and dive out the window ( I live on the 6th floor)? I can't help but be reminded of that scene from Matilda when they have to hide all the happy things in the classroom behind flaps and doors before that wretched principle comes stomping in.

Is my defensiveness a bit too strong? Perhaps. It just rubs me the wrong way. When you get down to it, being told that you have to pretend your situation is different from what it actually is, in this sense, hits on the idea that what you are doing is fundamentally wrong. His parents say okay, you can live together because of the circumstances (but its wrong). Therefore it must be hidden instead of standing up to the overbearing, conservative opinions of others. Mo stood up for me. He got into a row with his mom over it. At the same time, I don't want relations between him and his mother to be rocky because of me. I made it clear that if it comes to hiding that I live there, fine. Hide my shit... or try to at least. My stuff is everywhere, after all, it is my home. But don't expect me to be there, "just visiting" when they call. I refuse to sit on my own couch, smile, and say "Oh yes, I'm still living in a dorm." No thanks, I'll be out reading a book in the park or drinking coffee. Maybe even both.

Nurture Shock

Recently I've reading NurtureShock, which is a blog and recently published book by Po Bronson (Yes, I would like to have Po for a name as well. You would think that would have to be short for something) and Ashley Merryman. They also have a regular column in Newsweek. Their main beef is the belief that today's agreed upon methods for raising our kiddies are wrong, wrong to the extent that they are "backfiring". Goodie, sounds exciting and you can be rest assured, I dug my teeth into this idea like a ravenous beast. Munch, munch. Despite my humor, yes, they do make a lot of sense. I like the way they think.

I recently read a number of articles they posted on the idea of predicting our children's future academic success. Private schools will go to preschools and scope out the children, picking those who show the most obedience. Apparently they are under the belief that an obedient 4 year old tike will grow into an obedient, successful student. Lets ignore the fact the child is still growing, as NurtureShock was quick to point out. The factors change with age. Being social and amiable is important when you are four, however, studies showed that these kids didn't actually end up being the academic stars of the class. In fact, the introverted teen was often the brain. I can't help but be reminded of awkwardly reading my book in the lunchroom while the popular boys from the wrestling team threw food and crude jokes back and forth. I graduated second in my class, those guys... not so much. I was also a roaring terror as a young child. Mom's theme song for me used to be "She drives me crazy! ooo! ooo!"

I guess what really bothers me about all that is this obsession with being elite. "My child is gifted! GIFTED!" It seems pretty absurd to me. When I have a child I'm going to focus on making him/her a decent human-being with respect for humanity instead of getting into the best prep school.

My Friend is a Hippy Star Wars Fanatic

OOoooooooooooh Man...

Today has been a busy day. I did laundry, made some beef stew, cleaned the house.... painted Mr. A on my face. Yeah, it was a good day.

Mark Newport

Mark Newport is a huge inspiration for the work I do now. Check out his website! Here is a picture of a piece I have showing right now in the Corcoran Ceramic Annual:

You can't see the details very clearly but this is Mr. A in one of his earlier forms. It's a bit like a Mr. A cult making pots :D

But back to Mark Newport. This is the link to his website:

www.marknewportartist.com

& Here be taste of his awesomeness:

Sheep

I am home alone this weekend. Unlike the Berlin trip, where I was excited to have the house to myself (because I wasn't all that interested in going to Berlin) this time I am very disgruntled. I am disgruntled because everyone in my house (except for me) are going to spend the night in Ireland's MOST haunted castle. The everyone in the photo class and people fortunate enough to have had their names drawn in the lottery (obviously I was not blessed with such fortune) are on their way right now. Actually they probably are already there, exploring the haunted towers and dungeon.

I am a wrinkled prune of jealousy.

So I decided to channel my bitter bitterness into something positive. I cleaned. Look how clean the kitchen is!

As I was mopping the floor I looked up to suddenly encounter at least ten sheep staring through the window at me. Ireland is a strange place. This picture should give you a good idea of what it was like:

I then watched as the my landlord chased them all off. Which then made me think of this:

Bloody weather.