Posts Tagged ‘ defining moments ’

I’m leaving on a jetbus…

Goodness gracious, you* must be thinking, why all this mobile posting nonsense? Is this another godawful ploy to start blogging again like a pro? Yes, no, maybe so? In the awful syntax of the lolcat: my reasoning, let me show you it.

So, I’m taking a trip. More specifically, it is a vacation. Even more specifically, it is a vacation filled with a wedding. Even more more specifically, it is to participate in the wedding of this lady right here. (Aw yeah, I can link too!) But even more more more specifically, the journey aspect of it is going to be epic as it is going to be on a Greyhound bus.

Please keep in mind: most of my childhood summers were spent in airports. Every late June to early July, we would be escorted to Indianapolis International and fly up into the sky, only to land in the incinerating heat of Sky Harbor roughly five hours later. Afterward, we would either be picked up by a rental car service or my aunt and would start the epic trek up I-17 to Flagstaff. Once (and a particularly memorable once it was), I made the trip via Amtrak with said aunt, zipping through the countryside amongst a gaggle of people that I would never meet again that were just as enraptured with the romance of riding the train as I was. But as much as I suspect that air travel is as alien to train travel as a thoroughbred to a giraffe, so too is the animal that is bus travel to either of these. So far, my internet excursions to research such things have left me at a loss; there have been rumors of sleep deprivation, bad terminal food, and tons of sketchy people at every corner. The word “convict” was heavily sprinkled amongst the articles and personal reviews on message boards alike. To say that my tiny suburban white girl heart hasn’t skipped a few beats during the planning of this trip would be a blatant lie. Apparently, bus travel is not for the faint of heart.

But there’s a part of me that says this and then says, “When did you become such a fucking pussy?” I’ve cavorted about in France just fine, thank you and that wasn’t in my native country! Furthermore, since when did I ever think it was productive to automatically assume the worst out of a situation? And alright: what makes me so awesome that I might not be part of this riff-raff, too? I’m a broke college student that is presently trying to bake and cook for a week’s vegetarian/vegan camping trip so that I don’t have to buy any food on the road. I have debt up to my neck and am surly as hell to strangers. Although I’ve bought provisions to (hopefully!) guard against this, I too will probably start smelling like rank ass once I’m dropped off neatly in Great Falls, Montana with the hope that my hostess with the mostess won’t cry when she sees my little hobo face. I’m hardly royalty and acting so nervous about getting on board one of the most affordable travel options in America is stupid! Besides, I went to women’s college — they teach you how to defend yourself craftily.

That being said, there are a few things I can’t defend myself from, and that’s an exhausting travel schedule (two days there, three days back) and the monotony that comes with it. Along with food and portable shower/face washing solutions, I’ve also been hoarding entertainment options. Books, podcasts, sketchbook + the usual drawing accouterments, knitting projects, and the purchase-to-be of a portable radio (and printed guide of every NPR station in the continental US) are all on the list. But so too, my friends, is blogging. I’m going to attempt to chronicle the weird nature of Greyhound travel and make a documentary of sorts from it, I suppose. Voice posts will be used for my longer discussions, with short observations via the bus being dictated via e-mail text posts. The last post with the picture will be used for Sketch Challenges that I’m going to give myself: I’ll take a picture with my phone and then I’ll draw the results and upload them when I get back to Indiana. Good thing too: apparently, if there’s a picture with the post, it takes WordPress an entire day to upload it.

I hope that my misgivings are foolish, but no matter whether I’m right or wrong about this entire brouhaha, it won’t change this little fact: whatever I’m about to embark upon is going to be one hell of an adventure.


*My one follower named Loren.

State of the Union: Holy Shit, When Did It Become May?! Edition

All this and a picture of tits got me to where I am today.

All this and a picture of tits got me to where I am today.

Funny how those resolution things work; half of my posts in here are, “Oh gosh, how sorry am I that I haven’t written in here!” when, in reality, I’m only apologizing to myself. That being said, this is a case where I’m hardly ashamed of abandoning this blog for four months, for the dearth of posts actually represents a wealth of productivity elsewhere. I’m finally on the other end of sophomore review, finally capable of boasting the role of “member of the junior painting faculty” to show for it, and within the span of the month I’ve learned more about my artistic process than I have within the past three semesters combined. Even within the span of last break, I didn’t have much to boast by way of productivity/studio time, but now I feel as if I have a solid plan for Making Stuff Over the Summer. I want to experiment with media, do this and that, and I feel empowered to do so because I have a voice. I’m not really capable of painting for the sake of process in the sense that it doesn’t give me a proverbial carrot to lock myself downstairs and get high on paint fumes. There needs to be a theme behind it, and courtesy of an extremely helpful Drawing IV project, I think I have just that. I’ve certainly learned a lot this semester, and I suppose I’ll take now to look at a few entries back to see if those lofty goals I set for myself are in effect: Continue reading

Drawing Intelligently (OR: The Difference Between Good and Great)

I’ve been thinking lately — admittedly, a dangerous past time, but my desire to live on the edge is a tangential subject to the post at hand. Although it would be quaint to fully claim that all this rumination is purely due to this being the anniversary of my birth, the timing of this particular birthday has its significance. I haven’t reached any technical milestones (save for the 23 on the 23rd part, which I find cute), but this year will serve as the crossroads for my program at university, the likes of which I was reminded but a few days ago when catching up with a professor after class.

As back story: the whole of my Mondays and Wednesdays last week were spent in a rather atrocious bit of transportation limbo, which forced me to end up missing the whole of my sessions for that week. Fortunately, the professor was terribly understanding (and this after I had blown up in a mess of ugly stress somewhere else on the Internet), and so my meeting to catch up with the odds and ends of made-up assignments and the like was a little less apprehensive than it could have been. Still, I was colored by a bit of worry: the grades of my first two assignments, which the professor had returned but moments before. A B+ and a B respectively were certainly not bad, per se, but I’m no settler — and, well, it would be a lie to ignore the very fact that I had never received a B for a drawing project in my life until that point. With these thoughts in mind, I set to conferring and catching up. Continue reading