1. It should be obvious, but: when you go out with sorority girls, you end up acting like a sorority girl*.


I wore a jumper that looked like a bathing suit from the 1920s.

And the hangover starts..........................now.


2. I made invitations to my birthday party and have been handing them out to people I run into, Super Sweet Sixteen style. I gave one to Juan behind the counter, and he smiled and said, "Oh, great. I love parties on Thursdays!"




* a.k.a. Paris Hilton. The fact that no one is actually Paris makes it all the more pathetic.

I like to wait until riiight before big events where I will see a lot of people and want to look nice (my birthday party, going home, dates, presentations, etc etc) and then pick every slight skin abnormality and microscopic blackhead to the point of bleeding.

I looked in the mirror and had to reckon with my self-inflicted savagery last night. Jesus. I look like.... a joke should go there, but I can't think of anything funny. I look bad. There.

Lisa is back -- she is more suited for Pittsburgh because she sees silver skies where I only ever see gray.

Going back to what I was thinking about censorship, I realized -- more than worrying about mom and pop, what controls my actions the most is comedy. If it's funny, I don't really care if I look like as asshole (or a loser, or crass, or whatever) when I tell the story.

That being said, I have to run to class, so no asshole, loserish, crass stories for today.

That sums it all up.

I wonder when the last time I woke up and went to sleep in the same day was. It's probably been years.

The thing that censors me most in life (actions or words or, yes, blog), is not the potential wrath of current/future employers, or legal repercussions, or worries about saving face, or any other reason that keeps from doing whatever they want to do. I am always most censored by the thought of my parents finding out. I'd like to say that at a certain age I'll lose that quality, but I probably never will.


Some related things to ponder:
- "I am bored when I lie or hide the truth of my life from another person, who, presumably, means no harm." (David Berman)

- "What am I giving you? I am giving you nothing. I am giving you things that god knows, everyone knows. [...] I tell you and it evaporates. I don’t care – how could I care? I tell you how many people I have slept with (thirty-two), or how my parents left this world, and what have I really given you? Nothing. [...] We feel that to reveal embarrassing or private things, [...] we have given someone something, [...] but it is just the opposite, more is more is more...” (Dave Eggers)

- One hundred years ago, I was at Tracy's beach house, and everyone was drunk in that way that is very specific to high school. I had a breakthrough moment on the porch with Melanie - it was night, and windy, and spinning, and I was laying on a lawn chair, trying to focus on the moon. Mel said, "New is awkward, but new is really beautiful, too." It's so simple, but, uh, yeah. It means that something real is taking place, which is something worth hanging onto.

---

Tracy doesn't like to give advice, especially in sticky situations, but her default reply is always "play it cool."

Today I channeled (or attempted to) her calm life outlook. "Play it cool, Tay." Thanks, Tray. There is a little dotted line of love from Pittsburgh to Barcelona.

Random memory:

When I was in Thailand, one of the groups I was with were running a music program. They brought a box of maybe three hundred Recorders and handed them out to the village kids. Yeah guys. Great idea. Good program. I can see a lot of learning took place there.

Anyway, if you think one kid blowing away on a Recorder is fucking annoying (and you would be correct), imagine hundreds of kids running around a neighborhood, blowing into their recorders, making that nails-on-chalkboard noise. Day and night. It's in the jungle! Noise carries!

When one kid left and forgot his journal, we all read it and passed it around. It was obvious he wasn't a habitual journal-er and was only doing it because his parents told him it would be a good idea: entries started with "Hello Mr. Journal." He wrote about what he thought of all the kids on the trip - nothing positive - but my favorite entry by far was scrawled on one page, all by itself, towards the back:

"i'm fucking tired they're playing flutes"

Kids - save yourselves years of searching: Jen has found the perfect snack to munch on, and it is peanut butter filled pretzels.

"I wish someone had pulled me aside when I was young and told me this," she said, but instead she has paved the way for generations to come.

God, how fucking embarrassed am I that I just watched a movie whose tagline is "The ultimate romantic comedy"?

There was a well-placed Dido song. There was catharsis. And those were not unrelated.




...Fuck.

Not so good thing:
My teacher overheard me talking in my studio about accidentally having sex with my friend's boyfriend and then doing heroin. The part he didn't hear was, "I had the craziest dream last night. I..."

I should be more embarrassed than I am, but man, it is just so unfortunate and so funny -- I can't help but laugh.



Good thing:
"Hey Tay, I was thinking I might come up and have lunch with ya next Friday. I'll be in the area so I wanted to stop by Pittsburgh and see you."

"Where will you be that's in the area?"

"Atlanta."

Two haikus, because I like to have to consider syllables sometimes. I am excellent, I hope you are too.


When I don't wear my
mascara, I look just like
my father - bland face.

With mascara on,
I look just like my father
wearing mascara.

I'm always a little amazed that Paul and I are still friends: his memory is so good it's scary, while mine is so bad that it genuinely frightens me. Furthermore, Paul is always in control, and I am always the one that has to be put to bed against my will.

I woke up Saturday morning missing a lot of my Friday evening, but I had gained mysterious bruises and a new change of clothes. Interesting.

"I'm sorry if I was annoying and you had to deal with me," I told Paul.
"No, you weren't annoying at all - actually, you were the complete opposite of how you usually act."

I've been in a rut recently - unmotivated, uninspired, and not very happy with anything I've been producing. I'm trying to do things over and over and over again until I can finally stop thinking so hard about it. I need to produce more - more bad art, more good art, just MORE.

"Don't wait, create!" - It is so simple! Here I am at art school, surrounded by materials and resources, feeling totally stumped, while my friend has nothing and is making the coolest art out of stamps and Kool Aid.

Also: It is better to measure out my life by the things I produce as opposed to the things I failed to accomplish. I'm going to try to create an artwork a day. To make something without critiquing it, or questioning it, or pulling my hair out over it. So there we go.


(I love bodies)

Hey, what are some good movies? I just bought Netflix because I absolutely had to and could not wait one more second with out it and now I have it and I can't think of more than two movies I want to see.

So please, let me know.

Things to do:
- Nap
- Fix Ponylegs website
- Finish drawings.
- Start planning/sketching for painting
- Buy Rubber Cement
- Regain genius mind
- Get Netflix
- Nap. Now.

Nothing quite as good as riding in a car, listening to familiar music.

Here is a post that could have been written by a thirteen-year-old boy:

My favorite store in Austin never checks the spelling in their e-mail flyers. A good one today: "no purchase necessary - just come on it!"

Gentlemen, do not buy carnations. "They're like what you buy a whore," Audrey says, and I would have to agree.




Wow, think of how many people are doing it right now!!!!!!!

Quickly, before I collapse into bed:

1. "Trying to look good limits my life. This did not necessarily refer to a good physical appearance. I meant that my need to always be a nice guy, my need to appear cheerful — even when I am not or in situations where I should not be — is confining."
- Stefan Sagmeister.

2. Lovely evening with Jen, talking on the couch. Important notes:
- K.I.S.S. - Keep It Simple, Stupid. Maybe the most important thing that no one ever remembers.
- Don't worry about it. Have fun. Don't be serious all the time.
- Whatever you do, you have to own it.

I realize we were mainly talking about the repercussions of being an art student, but still! K.I.S.S. - perhaps the most important thing.

3. Jeez, finally. I find it really refreshing that a celebrity was finally photographed with pubic hair. Yeah I'm putting that out there into the universe. I stand behind that statement.

4. Goodnight!

Recent Crafties:







1. A reminder. Still workin' on it, obvs. What's up, paper maiche? Still relevant, I say.
2. Lil planters.
3. God, I love my calling cards (front and back pictured, obscuring my number, 'natch). Yeah, they're 3D, in case you can't see. I can't wait for the day when someone asks me for my number and I hand them one of these. Then walk away stylishly. End scene.
4. Valentine's Day cards that I made when I should have been sleeping. Also, what is the best time to write all your Valentine's notes? After a fun gathering of friends when you are back at home, (more than a little) tipsy.

I can't believe Monday just ended. It's been a week since this morning.

1. My brother and I play this game called "fuck 'em!" where we call each other, tell our stories, and respond to everything with "Fuck him" or "fuck her." It's stupid, but it makes everything feel funnier.

"Bitches be crazy, bro."
"Yeah. You're right, Tay. Bitches DO be crazy."
"Fuck 'em."
"Yeah! Fuck her!"

"Aw, fuck him."
"Yeah. That's what I was going to say. Fuck him. And fuck Cole!"
(Cole, in the background: "hey!")

etc etc.

2. I haven't been upset, or stressed, really, just BUSY and damn tired. But last night I had good dreams! Not "not-bad" dreams, but actually good on their own account. That changes things.

3. You may have thought Ponylegs.com broke it's leg and we had to shoot it down by the river, but you'd be wrong. Bill and I are cooking something up.

I want to tell myself to "talk less, do more", but I tell myself this all the time, which I think is testament enough to how well I ever internalize it.

Ashley used a gymnastics metaphor yesterday, which I appreciated because it felt like we were speaking the same language.

"It's like throwing a back handspring. You can't think about it, you just have to throw it." True in life, and true in back handsprings. I was instantly reminded of years spent in gymnasiums, with that delicious rubber smell, jumping backwards onto my head because I was thinking too hard about it.

Deep breaths, Tay.

“I wear weird things sometimes. I like to drink coffee. Neither of these things have anything to do with who I am."
You tell 'em, MK.

Okay, so:

1. Can we take one moment and talk about the two people who have added this picture of a silly collage I made as one of their favorite flickr photos? At first, I was complimented, but then I took a look at their profiles, and then their other favorite images. Who are these people? And, do they do anything besides obsessively masturbate? Please, go explore. Also worth looking at: the groups they belong to on Flickr. I'm glad to be associated with these fine folks via the ol' Net.

2. Talking to a friend about a tattoo he was considering ("I shit on the body of Christ," to guarantee he could never get into heaven... yeah.) I said, "Tattoos are forever." He replied, "It will last as long as my body lasts, and that's not forever. That's actually a very short amount of time.

I got a haircut yesterday, and there was one piece that seemed much shorter than I wanted. But, hair grows, I thought. It's not worth being upset about anything that is temporary. Mulling these thoughts over on my walk back, I had a thought (aka, Stoner Wisdom of the Day): It's not worth being upset over anything that is temporary, and everything is temporary!" Mannnnnnnn. Tight.

quick reminders, for later;
- zenin
- flickr favorites
- haircut fiascos
- talked to tray
- something else i am forgetting
- i'm glad i have fun with my schoolwork
- recent crafties (calling cards, letters)
- plant
- bad week on a tuesday, o.l. e-mail
- stoner wisdom vis-a-vis temporary things

I am obsessed with Frosted Mini-Wheats. This is not a cereal where you can buy the knock-off version and it's the same. You have to splurge. I bought a box last night and it will be gone before I even get a chance to eat them with milk.

One of those mundane beautiful moments:

I'm at my second home, walking to brush my teeth with the toothbrush that I keep in the upstairs bathroom for my frequent visits. Hearing the tell-tale noises of two people having sex in the adjacent bedroom, my friend and I try to stifle our amusement, but as things escalate, we start to laugh, toothbrushes hanging out of our mouths. Loud laughs, the yelling kind where you hold your stomach. Soon we hear loud laughter coming from the bedroom as well. There we all were: two girls laughing in the bathroom because two people were having sex, and two people having sex laughing because they had been found out.

"Sober, life is a prison.
Shitfaced, it is a blessing.
Sober, nobody wants you.
Shitfaced, they're all undressing."

I can perfectly imagine Stephen Merritt scrawling that on the back of a bar coaster in a moment of cleverness and clarity.

The whole challenge of posting something everyday is that I don't like to do it, and there is very little to say all the time. I just want one more thing to look back at and cringe at later, I guess.

Poignant graffiti is so rare. I see this at the bus stop:


Tragic.

Last night started with a pair of stolen shoes, and it ended with a stolen plastic viking hat.

"I'm just looking for a couple good puns."

We also got into an argument with some bro-dudes about Leif Erikson.

Playing is so much more fun than working. I don't even know my own bed anymore. You know what else I don't know anymore? My shower. I'm becoming one of those dirty-haired girls.

In the very beginning of this year, I was in Austin, where I always feel happiest. Leaning against kitchen counters, having a beer, discussing the new year.

"2008. It's gonna be a shit-storm," Kevin said.

There has been lots of Parallel Synchronized Randomness in my life lately. It is very rare, when that happens.

I keep waking up to "Congratulations! You've won on eBay!" e-mails for things I don't even remember bidding on. This is part of my never ending quest of purging and acquiring. I never want to feel 'eh' about anything I surround myself with.


"Que sera, sera, baby," Jen says, flashing a lazy peace sign.

It's true.