Go cry about it

When someone on Facebook is in a relationship, I notice that their status updates are usually pretty upbeat. There's nothing more annoying than reading about how much other people's lives suck in short bursts of depressing status updates.
I became Facebook friends with a couple, one after the other. A few months later, I witnessed a pretty public happening that most likely led to their breakup, which was on announced in my mini feed the next afternoon. The infamous, so and so is now listed as "single."
And then I see the Facebook statuses. It's sad that some people feel the need to broadcast their misery to the rest of their cyber friends. So and so is lost. So and so is drowning in a swirling whirlpool of emotion. Now I admit I'm guilty of an emo status now and again. But after you are on the receiving end of a dumping, there is a sick need to let your friends and your ex (whom you are presumably Facebook friends with still) read how much your life is a dark abyss of misery and woe with no light at the end of the tunnel.
Hold on there.
Is a relationship really the only thing that will make you happy? Think about what attracted your ex whatever to you in the first place. Was it your cynical outlook on the world around you? Was it your hatred of the male (or female) sex? Was it your emo music that you listen to because the lyrics were written specifically for you?
Probably not. I know I'm not attracted to sad guys. Or guys who hate the world. Well.... not anymore I guess. Anyway, I know that while yes, having a boyfriend is nice and exciting and all that, being single is not the end of the world. There are far worse things to be.
I used to be disappointed if there wasn't a big party happening on any given weekend because it hindered the potential of boy meeting. Like I was going to attract a nice you gentleman while I was stumbling around drunk on the top floor of an old warehouse apartment building. What the fuck was wrong with me? I was miserable last semester. I was super stressed out, and I made some really stupid decisions. I regret a lot of things, but I'm learning from each of them. One of the things that I am regretting is letting the loss and lack of a relationship bother me. Last night I realized that I was honestly in a good place with myself. I was just spending a lot of time with some close friends whom I wouldn't trade anything in the world for. And that made me feel really happy. Sure I'm lonely in the love department, but wanting a relationship just for the sake of having a relationship is very silly. It's about having an actual connection with someone special who makes you excited to just be with them. That's really hard to find. But the best is when it catches you off guard when you're least expecting it.
The worst thing about MICA is the contagious desperation that most single straight girls here all have in common. I've seen friends (myself included) get hurt over boys whose egos have been so over inflated just because they're in the type of environment where they can basically get whatever they want, whenever they want.
At any other "real" college a lot of the guys here at MICA who are considered "ladies men"or "players" would be average joes. Once the MICA bubble is popped, I hope they get a reality check. It's unattractive to me the way guys my age act most of the time. Grow the fuck up already. Maybe I'm just on my high horse again, with my 20 long years of life experience under my belt.
I guess what I've realized is that if I can't be happy on my own, being single, how the hell am I supposed to be happy in a relationship? If you can't love yourself, how can you accept that someone else loves you? Or love them back? It's so sad how some people can't seem to function outside of a relationship. Yeah, I get sad when I remember good times, and I often dwell on them, or find so many places or things that remind me. But I've learned from my experiences. I'm a better person now and I know that a breakup's not the end of the world. Not even close. And it's not like I'm an old maid or anything. Not yet....
I guess what my point is, is that life is too short to let someone who has hurt you where it hurts the most take away your happiness. It's not worth the effort. Wouldn't you rather feel happy? Do any of us actually enjoy feeling like shit? If you need some meds to feel better by all means get some.
Do you just crave sympathy? Do you want me to feel sorry for you? Pity and sympathy are two different things. Go ahead and cry. Yell, scream, listen to all the sad music you and your roommates can stand. Then get over it. Live and learn. Don't wine about how long it's been since you've gotten some. Or kissed anyone straight (GUILTY).
Words of wisdom from the one and only.

Feel Like Shit

After not sleeping Thursday night, my plans to take a nap after class were thwarted after my two friend's picked me up on Pratt street to go to Fells Point.
After much debate over whether to buy something at the head shop, I decided to leave that purchase for another day and settled for playing with the molting cockatoo for 20 minutes instead of seriously browsing the goods.
Having only eaten a luke-warm egg bagel with cream cheese that morning, as the hours passed I began to feel the effects of hunger and exhaustion setting in and delirium hit. After much deliberation of what to put into our stomachs, we drove back "uptown" to XS for sushi and dumplings. Stopping back at the Gateway we helped ourselves to cherry chip and cheesecake ice cream before going to my companions apartment to watch Religuous and become enraged accordingly.
The rest of my night is a blur of nudity, a random guy I've met once apparently kissing me on the cheek and complimenting my ass while I was passed out on the part of the floor covered in pillows, a certain horrible kind of water being spilled on my hair, and many many photoshoots.
As today is Saturday I am trying to brace myself for another evening of debauchery, though I am not sure my abused body can handle any more of the same right now.
I often ponder what my college experience would be like without the aid of certain substances to have the most fun possible. I wonder how I survived high school without socializing with barely anyone and sleeping all weekend.
I think about how different I am now from only a couple years ago and try to imagine how much more fucked up I'll be in a couple more years.
As long as I know when to stop I'll be OK. Until then, this is what I live for. Because I can't think of any better ways to pass the time.
And that's really really sad, but it's really really true.

GROSS

I am the most unproductive blob right now.
There are 3 things I can't get off my mind.
The first is the blueberry thrill mix that is sold in the cafe downstairs. But in my cheapness and constant need to convince myself that I don't need to eat because I have enough fat to burn as energy, I am still debating whether or not to go down and get it....
The second will probably be exposed soon, though it's kinda annoying to explain to people. But it's something that's been bothering me for a few months, and I'm finally able to do something about it. Sorta. I'm worried about being in dept though... Probs to my parents :(
The third is another one that's been bothering me for awhile. Even longer than the second. And it's something that I find hard to get off my mind. I write it down (I have a specific notebook for it and things related to it) but I don't really talk about it. And it's not healthy, I know. But that's me. I'm a basket case, and most of the time I can hide it away from public view. My close friend's know how neurotic I really am. And thank God I have that many friends to begin with. I honestly don't know how it happened.
Anyway, this post is pretty pointless, since I'm not even saying what's on my mind, only vaguely describing it...
This whole blog is pointless.
All I'm doing is procrastinating from the shit ton of embroidery that's waiting for me.
But soon I'll be finished my visual pun silk scarves and I'll have pictures up.
Even if I have to stay up all night again....

Birthday

This day started and ended in almost the same way, with a little sushi and ice cream in the middle.
And I was only on the roof this morning.
A fine birthday it was.

Why I Love My Mom Mom

1) Whenever I come home, she stuffs a couple twenties into my fist.
2) She is the biggest gossip in the family, and I love hearing about how much of a delinquent my cousin's son is turning out to be.
3) Holding up two or more fingers when she repeats a story or asks the same question over and over again makes her mad.
4) Whenever she remembers I have my nose pierced, she makes a face and a disgusted noise.
5) She's a much better grandmother than my dad's mom, who for some reason refuses to die and put everyone out of their misery.
6) She doesn't think I'm a bitch for saying reason #5.
7) She's really mean when we play cards, and says "shit and molasses" as often as possible.
8) She's probably only cleaned her Fry Daddy a few times in the last 20 years, and that makes her french fries taste amazing.
9) She's almost 90 years old, and that's really fucking old.
10) No one else has pet names for me in Polish.

Today

After waiting an hour to get my car inspected, a woman came into the little white box we're supposed to wait in and said, "You know we're living in the final years? And the only way to save yourself is to believe in Jesus?"
So of course I said yes, I'm not about to fight with some short woman in the New Jersey Motor Vehicle Commission. I just wanted to get the hell out of there and go to Wawa.
But what would I really have said to her? "Actually lady, I'm in a transitional period in my life where I may or may not be considered a christian or not. I'm definitely not a good one. For instance, my most successful weekends often consist of putting my greatest effort forward to get as fucked up as possible on whatever substance that is at my disposal. Just enough so I can forget most of the details of how I got home, or if I even did at all. I think I believe in God..... Ask me in a few years when I have more time to think about it."
That sounds about right.

Internship HO!!!!

So I guess Printfresh really liked my work or just appreciated me as a human being, because they e-mailed me today and officially offered me a position!
Now I'm still not sure about my living situation.... I may try and look for a cheap sublet... or reach out to those extended relatives that might need a house sitter or something in the city.... Or there's always the daunting option of commuting from home, which really wouldn't be all that terrible. And I'd be gone for most of the day, so it wouldn't be like I'm a bum... It is unpaid, and I know I've been greedy about money making lately, so I'm going to bite the bullet and accept that maybe the life skills and valuable real world experience will be payment enough.
Though real world experience won't pay the rent....
My first choice is still the Fabric Workshop, which I hope to hear from soon so I can choose between the two. There's also a career and internship fair coming up at MICA, but it looks like I won't really need to go. I know for sure that I don't want to stay in Bmore this summer, even if I do have a place to stay. I could either drive or take the train to Philly from home... or combine the train with my bike and save $4 a day on Septa tickets.... But that would require a bike rack for my Beetle since my bike is colossal and cannot fit in anything that isn't my dad's Ford F250.
So this gives me a lot to think about. Which couldn't come at a better time, since I've been stuck in the rut to end all ruts lately and now that I have some form of summer fun ahead, I can look forward to something.
SCORE!

Knitting Again

This is my ridiculous project for my Material Construction class. I really don't know who names the fiber courses, but what this class is all about is as much a mystery to me as any one else. Our assignment was simply to knit something.... Most of the class had taken to the knitting machine. I, who always have to do things the hardest and most tedious way, decided to hand knit and in my amazing procrastination waited until the night before to do most of this. So after a sleepless night, I was relieved to receive a very good critique.
Thank god my teacher was more impressed with my technical skills than the fact that I really had no concept when I started :/

P.S. that bruise if from intense sledding down the steeper side of the Station Building hill. We all have battle scars from Sangria Snowday.....

Interview with Printfresh

I think karma may be on my side for once. I arrived at 155 Cecil B Moore, Philadelphia, PA without getting terribly lost or pillaged and raped. Though I was slightly annoyed that the locals considered the sidewalks extensions of their body shops by parking their broke ass cars on them, causing me to cross the street at least once per block. But complaining will get me no where fast.
I'm glad I brought at least some work with me, though I wish I had brought some more from MICA home with me. Like my Squid Vicious at least. But I had my Visual Pun series in progress, the shoe hat, and my insane lace knit tunic dress.
The husband and wife interviewing me were very nice and not very intimidating so I was not extremely nervous and had a good time talking with them. The wife gave me a tour and explained what exactly Printfresh does and all that. Very heavy stuff for a tiny company located in bumblefuck Philly.
After about 20 minutes, I left Printfresh feeling pretty confident that I had done my best job and whether I get it or not, I know that I'm not kicking myself for something stupid I said or forgot to say, which is a small personal victory.
I hoped the EL train back to center city where I wandered aimlessly for an hour and before grabbing my third coffee of the day and heading back to Jersey. After some nostalgia, familiar graffiti (mad face), and the ever present stench of urine filling my nostrils, I arrived back home where my car was still waiting for me.
Will I be able to actually accept this internship if offered? Depends on my living situation. Apparently, I have some 2nd cousins in Philly I don't think I've ever met, but perhaps could bum off of if need be. Or if my friends gets an internship at the PMA, then maybe we could find an apartment on the cheap. There's always sublets out there I'm sure. It's all up in the air for now.
I'll leave it at that.

My Weekend In Review

I don't think the universe has taken quite as big a dump on me in a long time as it did on Friday.
My silk screening class took "field trip" to the Fabric Workshop and Museum and since MICA is notorious for screwing us over with funding, they cut buses for such excursions, leaving us to beg those lucky enough to own their own vehicles to graciously provide the less fortunate with a means of reaching our various destinations.
I do own a car. It has four wheels, a steering wheel, fuzzy dice, the works. That much I know for certain. What I also know is that if you happen to measure taller than my height (a whopping 5 feet 6 inches) and you sit in my back seat, you will probably hit your head on my ceiling at every slight bump we hit on our merry way. That is the beauty of a VW Beetle. I also had a suitcase occupying one of my back seats at the time, so I was hesitant to offer more than one spot to any classmate brave enough to climb into a vehicle with me behind the wheel. Dain (6 feet 3 inches) was man enough to be my passenger and we took off up 95 North with my moleskin notebook full of directions to the Design Center in North Philly. Several hours later, after being extremely lost and forced to turn around several times (as is always the case when I am driving somewhere unfamiliar) we made it to the Design Center only to be embarrassed by the fact that we were so late we missed the tour completely and had to get right back in the car to drive to center city for the rest of our day. After trying in vain to find parking on 12th street on a Friday afternoon, in my frustration I squeezed myself into what I believed to be an acceptable parking spot on 9th and Walnut. Lacking quarters I paid for only about a quarter of the time I actually needed and told Dain not to fret, because I would be back to pay it soon and no one would even know that my meter had expired.
After some bad pad tai and an orgasmic Amish muffin at Reading Terminal Market, we made our way over to the Fabric Workshop for a tour. It was around 5 pm before I came back to my meter alone, as Dain returned with the others back to Baltimore. But what I returned to was not my isotope green Beetle but a street devoid of all parked cars completely, and the sinking realization that I had in fact been towed. After a short bout of denial and a cup of Starbucks coffee, I took a taxi to the Philadelphia Parking Authority and waited in line to retrieve my car. An hour and $226 later, I drove off into the night a free woman.
I think that the phrase "fuck my life" escaped my lips so often that it has lost all meaning to me. Somehow I ended up on South Street later to commemorate the terrible afternoon with an industrial piercing before I took off to Millersville U to visit my friend from high school at "real college." I must admit though that I have never seen so many unattractive people in one place before. But maybe I am shallow. That's all up in the air.
What I do know is that I am finally back in New Jersey, where the gas pumps itself and Wawas shine like beacons in the night from every street corner. In other words, I am home.

The first (of many???)

I guess this is more of a place for my art work, because I'm not actually a real person. But sometimes coherent thoughts are formed in my mind and this seems as good a place as any to dump them.
I'm getting really into printing on fabric and aspire to intern at the Fabric Workshop and Museum in Philadelphia this summer. The appeal of Baltimore is at an all time low of zero pleasure points, and the aspect of returning home for another summer living with my parents has become more and more undesirable ever since they almost filed a missing person's report for me one fateful Friday night last July. So I plan to carpe the diem this year and instead of selling my soul to Liberty Lake Day Camp, I will offer it freely to the Fabric Workshop. I applied for what is technically dubbed an "apprenticeship" there, even though I seem to have always associated that term with a carpenter's young boy slave or a shoe maker's lowly assistant. But I digress.
Anyway, it's extremely competitive (allegedly) and that makes me have doubts that I'll get it. But then again, maybe someone will find the concept of my yellow wool baby so appealing that they'll be dieing to have me work under them. I would love to be a silk screen slave.
More than anything I just want to begin to understand exactly what direction I want to take my life after I graduate from MICA (which I do plan on doing.) Maybe grad school (if the financing is available) will be the best place to go unless I find my calling elsewhere. But what to do with my skills... is as much a mystery to me as it is to the various family members who constantly query me about my future and the reasons why I might choose to wear a "hook" in my nose.
My back up plans for not being given this apprenticeship are interning for another Philly based printing studio called Printfresh, or a small fabric production business named Carolyn Ray in Yonkers, NY. The latter seems more unrealistic, as NYC is most likely not within my budget (and my budget now is non existent as I failed to find a real job in the past 2 months I've been hunting for one) and also the fact that I do not know anyone in the city to call upon in my time of need. But I am supposed to have an interview at Printfresh this week, where I hope to not embarass myself in front of my potential summer life givers by saying something stupid or irrelevant about myself, as I often do when I'm under pressure.
If all else fails, Baltimore is always ready to receive me with open arms. The rat infested urban sprawl is not nearly as depressing in summer as it is in the cold months, so I can't say it would be all that unbearable. But it would be beneficial for my sanity to get out of the city for at least 3 months before returning to begin my junior year to bite my finger nails and stress about my future and non existent career goals.
In other words, I have no concrete anythings. I have no place to live after this semester ends and hardly any money to spend that doesn't reek with the stench of parents' love and support.
It's a long shot, I know. But maybe writing these things down and sending them into ciberspace will trigger some kind of supernatural occurance known as "good luck" and I'll get what I really want for once. Until then, keep your fingers crossed for me. If this blog is still coherent enough to follow.