Waste

With finals afoot, I am majorly identifying with this series of prints by Alyson Provax. "This series is a sort of audit of how I spend my time," she writes, "but the prints could also be thought of as permission slips allowing you to spend a period of time in a wasteful way." I love that! 

If I were to add a few of my own they would probably sound a lot like '30 seconds reheating the brownie in the microwave,' '1 minute and 14 seconds sitting in the car waiting for the song to finish,' '23 minutes staring,' and 'the next two weeks in constant duress.' 

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.

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. 

Caribou Coffee

See?

Even when we are on vacation, we work. Because we are some pretty serious gals. Homework, homework, homework. It's all we do. ...But, maybe with a little people watching mixed in. Like, for example, watching the man in the sport coat and peach shirt pick his nose and then try and hide it. Or the elderly man who keeps falling asleep while reading the Davinci Code. Or "friends" who are just "grabbing coffee" while each of them are really wondering if it's a date or not. It's definitely a date. She likes him. She wore eyeshadow.

But I'm doing homework.

I promise.

PS- Yes. My hair is still yellow/sunset/weird. I'm on it, ok?

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. 

20th Century

I have to admit that most of the blog posts written this quarter have been written out of boredom in during 20th Century Art History. 

Like this one. 

I am having a hard time identifying with the Da Da-ists and Surrealism just doesn't really do it for me. 

And it smells like soup. And there is a boy who thinks he knows all the answers. And I'd rather be eating leftover birthday cake. Somehow it just keeps getting more and more delicious everyday. 

Playtime is Over

Ok. Today. 

Woah. 

Can we just... sit. And talk about how yesterday I was like, hanging out and cooking for fun and going to bed at 10:45 and as calm as a cucumber and right now... I am not. 

I am not as calm as a cucumber anymore. 

No.

No sir.  

The year has officially begun. 

Nothing creates quick bonds and friendships in classroom like someone quietly crying in the corner when drawing thumbnails. I'm not saying that the person crying was me, but I'm not saying it wasn't either. 

And apparently, the city of Savannah has some sort of vendetta against me because this morning I found a very unwelcome ticket on my windshield suggesting that maybe I have some outstanding tickets or something? I don't know. Maybe I remember throwing away some tickets last year out of anger or protest... buuut... whatever...

Whatever. 

Good thing Beyonce is playing in my illustration class. Or else I would not have been responsible for the madness that could have ensued.