IT'S OVER

Marathon finals.
It is finished.
Celebration.
With foods.
And drinks.
And dancing.
And probably some laughing.
And probably some more dancing.
8 quarters down.
4 quarters to go.
Terrifying.
Not thinking about that right now.
Right now is about celebration.
With foods.
And drinks.
And dancing.
And probably some laughing.
And probably some more dancing.

I've Turned a Corner

I've turned a corner. Or maybe, I've climbed the hill. And you know what happens after you climb a hill, right? YOU CARTWHEEL ALL THE FREAKING WAY BACK DOWN! As I'm sure you are aware, today is Tuesday which is only one day from Wednesday which means that Thursday comes after that and then I'm done I'm done I'm done! I'm at that magical stage that I love oh so much where projects quit being works in progress and start being done! Like forever. Like tag 'em up. Like box 'em out. Like ship 'em out! Can my joy be contained? No! I mean, I'm listening to a playlist called "Walking on Sunshine" ... this should explain everything. 

In case you want to get in on this action, press play. 

Fun at the CAD Lab

SEE, GUYS? FINALS IS FUN! 

A Wild Friday Night

Are you sick of all of these posts about finals? Because I definitely am. But the fact that this morning I put shaving cream in my hair instead of shampoo tells me that finals are still very alive and well. So I blog about finals. Not because I want to. But because I have to. (And also because besides how tired and scramble-y I feel, I can't think of one single thing even remotely noteworthy to discuss.) Fair warning: I am quite tired and have lost all clever pithiness when it comes to my writing. I hope this post isn't as painful to read as I feel that it's going to be. 

Anyway, I thought you might want to see a few pics from the comings and goings of a day in the life of a fashion student in finals mode. Just a few pics for the old scrapbook, if you will. 

Here Susie, Lindsay and I are partaking in the age old tradition of lunch. What a wonderful tradition it is. Susie recently discovered that one of my favorite places in Savannah, a cheese and wine shop called "Form" serves lunch. So we decided to give it a try. While everything on their menu sounded absolutely delicious, nothing sounded very good to me except for their famous cheesecake which I've wanted to try for almost two years now. And when I saw they had a few slices of their espresso Kahlua  flavored variety, I decided I'd go for it. Yolo. Cheesecake and a water bottle. Works for me. 

In case you ever wondered what I was referring to when I say "the building" or "Eckburg," this is it. Or, this is part of it. The whole fashion building is quite large, but this room is the only room on the third floor and where I typically work. It is huge and has really high ceilings and big windows. It's sort of funny being in there on nights like last night because everyone is really focused on their work and super tired so it's usually extremely quiet. When I first started taking my major classes at the building, I used to hate how quiet it was because I thought people were too shy or thought they were too cool to talk, but the further along I get in the program, the more I find myself getting annoyed with the younger students who don't understand the unspoken rule of respecting the quiet.* I am such an old lady. Also, people say this room is haunted. But I don't buy it. 

Here I am taking a break from working, eating Wendy's and catching up on Keelyn and Kaitlin's blog about their adventures in Ireland. (By the way, those geese sound terrible... do you think anyone would miss them if you guys maybe just... took care of the issue... if ya know what I mean?) At this point you're probably thinking, "Cheesecake for lunch, Wendy's for dinner?" I know. It's bad. And I have no defense for it. Besides the fact that it's finals and that it's Winter so I'm allowed to be a little of the softer side on the hip scale. ...but, I promise, I don't usually eat this bad... I don't know. Maybe I do. Why am I apologizing to you? I ATE A BURGER AND FRIES LAST NIGHT FOR DINNER AND I LOVED EVERY MINUTE OF IT. 

Well, I think that's it. I don't want to be finished writing this because that means that I have to face the day head on and get back to work, but it has really been lovely chatting with you. I can't wait for this week to be over so I can fly my little watusie back to sweet California. But until then, I'll wear a mumu and Uggs with a cup of hot tea and my hand and the promise of good grades in my heart. 

*Unless, of course, you're Susie or me who are more than allowed to yell at each other from across the room. Or make loud moans of despair when we realize we've sewn something in wrong. 

Largely Blessed

I'm wearing a pair of socks that belong to a friend while typing this. But I would argue that once one is allowed into the personal world of a friends sock drawer, they are more than friends and something closer to a sister. Largely responsible for the socks was last night. A night of homework. And round tables. And homemade rhubarb strawberry jam. And then homemade rhubarb strawberry jam in ramekins with brown sugar, oats and butter. Crisped in the oven until they were fully consumed with burned tongues. And some of the most important people in my life sitting and talking about everything. The stresses. And victories. Crushes on boys. Some we know and some we don't. The perfect summer shoe and our preferences when it comes to the size of mechanical pencil lead. It felt like home. And it felt like I was known-- a feeling only continued again this morning waking up to find a living room full of some of the most awesome, talented, smart, and realistic women I know all holding their routine mug of coffee and waking up this day together.

I'm excited for the future of these people. Both individually and as a team of support and understanding like nothing I've ever seen in my life before. 

Finals Starting in 3...2...1...

I can't believe I'm saying this with three whole weeks of class before Spring Break, but it seems, in spite of intense protest and denial, finals have begun.

Wanna know how I know?

I went to Taco Bell for dinner last night. At 10:00.

I've been rocking a sports bra for 4 days straight.

Spencer is turning to spaghetti squash and a jar of honey as her main food groups.

I don't really know... no... I can't quite recall... I definitely don't know when my last shower was.

This is either because it's been a quite while or because my short term memory is rapidly deteriorating due to lack of sleep and sunlight.

...It should also be noted that it's been the same sports bra for the last four days...

Whatever. Boyfriends are overrated.

Words were exchanged today with a girl at Eckburg over how long it's appropriate for one person to hog use the scanner before moving out da way for other humans.

I may or may not have pulled up a chair next to her and watched her work until she decided to be mature and do the right thing.

Again: Whatever.

I'm listening to Pussycat Dolls Pandora. And loving it.

It's obvious that I'm already in over my head. Please stay tuned to watch my tri-annual mental breakdown. For the next three weeks, you are either with me or against me.

Reset

Homework was not a top priority this weekend. As a matter of fact, the idea of homework was quite offensive. Spending such wonderfully chilly days holed up in my room focusing on anything other than the prospect of future food adventures and napping just seemed so wrong. 

On Thursday, we went on a failed Dairy Queen exploration. Ok, what happened to all of the DQ's everywhere? You spend years driving past Dairy Queen's every day and never utilizing them and then the day comes when all you ever want in the world is a Oreo shake and you realize you've missed your chance. For shame. 

Let's skip Friday. I was sick. 

Ok. Saturday. The farmer's market, which is closed in the winter, re-opened this week. I just really love the Forsyth Farmer's Market. If you ever are in Savannah, I would say that it's a must go. It's not the largest, as a matter of fact, it barely has 15 vendors, but if you go on the early side of the morning when the sun is warming up the tree branches and park is still quiet, there is nothing more wonderful than picking out the most beautiful butter lettuce or sampling fresh baked French bread to kick off a Saturday. 

For dinner, I got to spend the evening with a large majority of all of my favorite people in the world at Lindsay and Kara's way too cool for school apartment. Lindsay's mom is visiting Savannah and spoiled all of us with a delicious home-cooked meal. We all spent hours sitting on the floor, sipping on wine and eating delicious cheese, talking about life and school and affirming each other. It was such an uplifting evening that made me realize what cool, smart, talented, beautiful and kind friends I have. And Mrs. Giambattista made me realize how much I miss my own mom and her support and genuine excitement for my and my friend's dreams and lives. It's simple. Mom's are just the best. This night was such a blessing. 

Spencer and Oli in the elevator leaving Lindsay's apartment. They are just so cool. I think they are just so cool. 

Wait. Guys. This is really cool. After spending three years at an art school, you acquire a lot of art supplies. Specifically paper. Pads on pads on pads on pads of paper that is way overpriced and annoyingly hard to store and easily forgettable. And even though as a fashion student you never use said paper, it's heartbreaking to throw such (overpriced) pads of paper away (in spite of it's annoyingly hard to store qualities). And so it sits in the corner of your room. And you look at it every day and try and think of a creative way to keep that gross pile of paper, but hide that gross pile of paper so you don't have to stare at such a gross pile of paper. But you'll never be able to think of anything. And right when you have reached your whits end and you are about to throw it all away, something funny sort of strikes you and you decide that you want to do some sort of art project involving using the gross paper. 

Like yesterday. 

(Hold on. I'll get to the point soon. I swear.)

Inspired by Saturday night's dinner party, I wanted to play around with my ink and nubs. And when I opened this pad of paper that I swear I have not even looked at since freshman year, I saw this little note in the corner that I apparently wrote to myself sometime over 2 years ago. Like a time capsule! (I live for stuff like this. I hide a lot of stuff just to find it later. Sort of like a crazy hoarder. No. A lot like a crazy hoarder.) Anyway, I was so excited/sort of weirded out when I saw this because of how applicable it was. Like always, life is a little up in the air right now and there are some decisions that will have to be made in the next few months that are going to be hard. And I've already been working on the idea of trusting in God in regards to my future and letting go of expectations that I have put on myself or I think that people have put on me, but this note was just a little affirmation of that in perfect timing. He works in mysterious ways, doesn't He?

Anyway, I really did try to do homework a bunch of times. I really did. But I ended up having fun instead. 

What did you do this weekend?

What I'd Rather be Doing

I'm sitting in an endless session of History of Fashion. We've been talking about kirtles and soft soled shoes for far too long.

I'm feeling whiny and all I can think about are the thing I'd rather be doing.

In case it isn't obvious by the title of this post, you should know that I'm about to tell you what exactly I'd "rather be doing."

I want to make sourdough starter. Have you ever done that before? I never have and it's all I've been thinking about since my attempt during Christmas break. Can you imagine the delight? Fresh sourdough bread. Warm out of the oven. I can already hear myself squealing in delight. And then taking a carb indulgence induced nap for weeks.

I want to take pictures of my everyday life like Anna Gawlak. But, in fact, I'd actually like her to take pictures of my life. Looking through her website fools me into thinking that such beautiful photography is effortless. It is not. I have tried. Her photos have such a calming quality of quietness. In my head, I'm thinking about her pictures in comparison to the handful of iPhone pictures I've taken recently and it is painful what an obnoxious, bright pink, ham I can be in contrast to her steady breathed cadence.

Also, Risotto. Risotto. Risotto. I love risotto. Let's make/eat/make/eat/make/eat it every single day.

Whirlwinded

I know, I know. Bad blogger. I get it. 

Let's just forget one second about how mad you are me for taking so long to post again while you peruse some pictures from the last few weeks of the Winter quarter. And hopefully, by the end, we will have completely forgotten about this whole non-blogging-blogger behavior, huh? 

Look at these cats on the first day of school. Pretty sharp, huh? 

Spencer Malinski kitchen dance party. Beyond typical.

 Whoever said that girls with glasses get more passes... WAS RIIIIGHHHTT!!!! BOOYAH. 

Frances and my very first trip to a REAL LIFE BAR. Abe's, to be more specific. Salt of the earth, I tell ya. Frances wore a bow in her hair. Claire ordered potato vodka. I was almost forced to take a shot. (Almost). We got stared at.  The locals hated us. It was wonderful. 

This weekend was just simply oodles of fun. Hey, Bushka Lifers-- remember my senior collection from high school? Well, as much as I LOVE the shots of all my friends modeling the clothes in high school, they needed a little updating. The amazing Kara Reichart re-shot all of the looks in our backyard and Frances got her twerk on as my beautiful modela. (PS- remember that one time last quarter when Kara was amazing?)

You can see more pics of the shoot right.... here... on my website, which, by the way, is chock full of new goodies if you wanna click around and check it out. 

And then as if Friday's photoshoot wasn't enough fun, Saturday gave it a run for it's money. Dearest Lindsay Giambattista came over and filled our home with the sweet, sweet smells of homemade, family recipe style marinara sauce. And meatballs. Homemade ones. Oh, baby. This girl is Italian, alright. 

Oh. And then we made homemade spaghetti. And eggplant parmesan. And watched the Godfather. Viva Italia, bebe! 

Ok, wait a second. Is Savannah pretty or what? 

This little lug nut was giving me good luck hugs this morning before I was headed to class and then to a  very important... interview! ...for an internship! ...with Anthropologie! ...that went really well! Oh. Weird. Did I forget to mention that? Hmmm... must've slipped my mind! Or maybe I've been working on my portfolio 28 hours a day for the last week keeping me from doing anything but formatting pictures and InDesign pages. 

Anywhoooo, I don't know what's going to happen with that little Anthro situation, but I felt like the interview went really well and the rest is out of my control. But I promise I'll do better at keeping you all posted on such matters. 

And in closing, let's just all agree, once and for all, that Spencer Malinski has mad talent. And that these backpacks are the world's coolest. Ok. Good. Now that that's settled... 

What bunch of awesome days all in a row, ya know? This quarter: so far, so good. In a big way.

Fear Tactics

Yesterday afternoon, I sat with Susie in our Apparel 3 class holding our bodies very still. 

We sat there and listened very carefully to the near whispered and, heavily accented words, coming out of our English born fashion professor's perfectly painted red lips. Her hair is short and straight in an almost fashion homage to the military. Her skin is fair and after years of a probably intense daily skin regime, just starting to wrinkle. Her glasses are well trained against the bridge of her nose, not daring to make a move down her nose in fear of a strident push back up to their spot. They don't move. They know their place.  

She told us about the course work load. She told us late work was never tolerated. She told the boy in the first row to stop smacking his gum. 

I sat there listening to her every word-- the way she said papier-mâché with a french accent and how she laughed along with the TA when she told us that this class was going to be fun-- and I waited to be intimidated by her demeanor, but instead, all I could think of was what her favorite ice cream flavor was. Or maybe she hates ice cream. And I thought about how she mentioned that factory production was the only way we were going to learn because it was the only way she had experience with. So, I tried to picture her as a factory worker. And I tried to picture her as a fashion student. 

And right when I was trying to figure out whether she is a cat person or not, she paused, quickly scanned the room and said 'Well, if you're done with me, then I'm done with you. I'll see you on Thursday.' packed up her folder and class was over.

I'm so pumped. 

Winter Quarter

And so it begins. Another year another quarter. Another day another dollar. Let's kick things off this year with a little History of Fashion in the A.M. and some Computer Aided Design tonight.

Let's face this head on, shall we? I'm nervous about this quarter. I am hoping hoping hoping that that seven week break I'm coming fresh out of was enough to re-charge morale and the spirit of learning in me, but I can only be sure about that after a few weeks of testing the waters.

The work load of the next 10 weeks is currently a mystery. And I hate mystery. Am I going to be pulling all nighters and living on bowls of rice because the mere thought of standing up and cooking exhausts me? Or will I be basking in the beauty of an open schedule and throwing out blasphemous sentences like "I'm bored" or something as ludicrous as "I wish I had homework"? I don't know. This remains to be seen. And I hate that.

But Savannah is beautiful this morning. And I'm eating an hot egg with toast for breakfast. And my friends are here.

Quarter Full

La la la laaaa it's the last day of the quarter and I do believe that it's worth singing abooouutt!!!

How can you not wake up with a smile on your face and a song in your heart when you know that in about 7 hours this will all be done? Done with critiques and done with fabric swatches and done with all of the 20th century's artistic history (specifically the boy in the first row of 20th century art history who seems to think he is the world's funniest person and wants you to think that as well) and done with micron pens and marker paper and ink quills and ink spills! I don't think it is possible, no matter how little sleep you are running on, to be grumpy this morning. And even though it is POURING (with a capital P) rain here this today, the sun still shines in our little SCAD-tastic hearts!

Oh yes, I am in that good of a mood.

I find myself currently packing and singing and singing and packing and drinking a victory tea (with a extra scoop of sugar) and wearing a bright red sweater. Stevie Wonder understands my joy.

Unnecessary Yawns

I finished the work on my last final last night at 9:30. 

I didn't go to bed until 3:00. 

I woke up at 4:30. 

Something just doesn't seem to add up here. 

A few weeks ago, when with furrowed brow and a large, blank, desk calendar keeping me company at dinner, I was looking down the ramp to the end of the quarter and starting to map out my plan of attack on finals. I was simply giddy to realize that the last few weeks of the year would not be too too intense. One may even dare to describe them as... easy (a word that I would hesitate to say out loud even in a whisper as not to jinx it). But in spite of my suspicions, it proved to be true that this quarters finals were a cinch. My brushes and papers were all packed up relatively early last night (hypothetically speaking, of course-- my desk is obviously really still a mess).

So it was much to my chagrin when I laid my head down at around 11:00, preparing for a celebratory full night of sleep, and found that I could not fall asleep until well after 2:00. The room was too quiet and too nice. It felt like there was something that I was missing. Which, of course, after a thorough quadruple check of the to-do list proved to be untrue. But finally, after counting futures (a fun game that I like to play instead of counting sheep-- why not end the night with a panic attack about the future, I always say) my eyelids finally surrendered. But it didn't last. When 4:30 rolled around, and I found myself wide awake once again, I threw chagrin out the window and employed anger. The room was a different type of quiet, but a sort no less frustrating. I thought that I might get up and make some homemade jam or maybe what's better than starting the morning off with fresh baked chocolate chip cookies? But I didn't have the supplies. So I sat in bed and stewed. Growing more and more tired, but still immune to actual sleep. And when I was laying there, I realized for the first time that I might miss this bed when I go home next week. And then I fell asleep. 

I guess this was just SCAD's way of keeping the playing field even for all students whether you have a lot of work or not and the policy remains that during week 10, you will not sleep. No matter what. 

Plans.

Yesterday morning at 9:00, I met with the career advisor for the Fashion Department. 

For some reason, when I was getting dressed to head over to Eckburg, I was really, really nervous. I think that maybe it was because I knew that this was the kick that would start the ball rolling towards next summer. And that   scares me. Because I just moved on from this summer. This summer of future job search anxiety and take-out dinners alone and  watching the West Wing to avoid the scorching heat of Manhattan summers and midnight walks  through the East Village and my first  introduction to the professional, semi-capable version of myself. ...And more take-out. It was a three month scavenger hunt through the City picking up new and exciting unrecognizable parts of myself along the way.  This summer was hard. And I loved it. Or I don't know if I  loved it. I guess that's sort of my point-- I'm finally really removed from this summer and here it is again. Next summer. Popping in to say hello. And I don't quite feel like I'm ready for it.

But I went to the meeting. And wore a white blouse and spoke in a like totally like professional way. And we talked about resumes. And cover letters. And past work experience. And future goals. And e-mail etiquette. And my counselor was so helpful and wore cool glasses and she listened graciously when I told her about how overwhelming school can be and she was nice, but the entire time I sat there and wondered what I was doing all of this for? For weeks now, the little creepers of freshman year and sophomore year and this summer have been making me wonder if this-- fashion-- is really what I want to do with my life. And maybe even bigger and scarier of a question: if it's not this that you want to do, then what?

When I think about all of the possibilities of the future, one of the most frustrating things is the fact that there are so  many possibilities. I know that in 15 years, I'll look back and wonder what in the world I was so afraid of when I am so lucky to say that there is virtually no way that I can fail, but right now the future scares me. And taunts me. And I see flashes of my future-- or rather, what I would like it to be, but I have no way of knowing how to get there.

It's been a while since I've gotten all ranty and intense on here, so I thought it was high time for me to over-share and make people feel sorry for me. So, after all of this, there are no definitive answers. And  I don't think there will be for a while (which just makes me want to eat ice cream and watch Grey's).  I've decided that for now, I'll focus the next few hours on the only thing that I truly have control over: what font I want my resume header to be.

Miss Them Already

After three years, my whole family finally visited little old Savannah for a long weekend. And it was glorious. I showed them around to my favorite SCAD spots, introduced them to the greatest sandwich this side of the Mississippi, and took in the brisk(ish) air of changing seasons. 

In return, they bought me pumpkins, made me tacos, took me shopping and told me that my art was the greatest they'd ever seen. Like I said-- glorious. 

It felt great to have them see all the things that I've been talking about for the last three years-- especially this year when I feel the most comfortable and maybe just a little bit like a local. Just a little. Teensy. I can't wait to see them all again back in Newport in four weeks!

Fashion Illustration

Besides the all nighters and the ink covered hands that I have made a nasty habit of complaining about, I have to admit that I am absolutely loving my Advanced Fashion Illustration class. I am not an illustrator by nature and I am terribly uncomfortable with the idea of drawing in general (I think it's because I lack the patience), but for some reason, I am really responding to it this quarter. 

One of the best parts about the class is the research that goes along with each project and the illustrators that I had no idea about that I am now very excited about. I took a similar class last quarter that taught us the more basic and technical skills of fashion illustration-- extremely helpful, but sometimes monotonous and uninspiring. This quarter, my professor is encouraging us to explore our own styles, and mess an up and...wait for it... have fun! Crazy! 

Until SCAD, I always grouped all illustration in the same basket of anime and comic books, but there is this great, big, wonderful world of beautiful and interesting illustrations that make me want to buy a print and hang them in my house. 

Vogue just had these vintage illustrations on their website and it just brightened my day. Aren't they beautiful? 

Here are some more.