The Selfie

It amazes me what we chose to document.

Since the beginning of time  it has largely been the same.
We make pictures,
of animals,
of gods and creation,
of significant events,
of the lands around us,
 but most of all we make images of our selves.

In what will be called "The age of the Selfie" the act of capturing the self is nothing new.

For centuries the upper classes documented themselves in oil paintings that covered the walls of castles and chateaus. These paintings are how we know so much of the lives of the wealthy before the skills of reading and writing were common. They might not have had enough money to write their memoirs. But they could try to capture their entire lives in a single portrait.

Painted portraits were the only way to capture a physical image other than sculpture until the the late 19th century. Thousands of years of human faces only captured in paint. Now we live in a world where your face will exist for an eternity in thousands of forms on the internet. We all have the power to capture our face and put it out for all to see thanks to platforms like Facebook and Instagram.

Imagine trying to capture the sum of your life in a selfie. Would your friends and family be involved, would you be using a bathroom mirror, on a beach or in a city, would you be able to see the background at all or just your face...

Things to think about on a sunday night.

Fear and Wonder

Stuck between fear and a sense of wonder

Life is lived within this spectrum. I live in this spectrum.
Between the fear of my cold apartment floor and the wonder of a bowl of cereal.
Between the fear of rejection and the wonder of a new love.
Between the fear of the polar vortex and the wonder of an arctic city.

Im back: Not that I ever left...

So I haven't posted anything on here in several months.

Its not that I haven't written anything, i've written plenty. But its not all happy fluffy stuff ready for the world.

I write a lot, on a bi weekly basis I spend time recording my thoughts and reflections. I write a lot about my childhood. I write about my family and my artwork. Sometimes I write about my relationships and world events. But mostly about my childhood, and I don't post it.

I keep it in the "vault" as a professor of mine would say...

Its not that I'm ashamed of my words, Its just that, how do you know when it is time to let things go. I was a happy kid I guess. I know there are millions of children who had much worse childhoods than me. And maybe thats why I don't post it. Maybe I feel like I'm whining. But I always tell people,

No matter what your feelings are they are valid

but then I have always had a hard time telling people how I feel. Logically, feelings are irrelevant I tell my self, especially when I have to make tough decisions. But my job has tuned me in to the real world fact that feelings are not irrelevant. Feelings start revolutions and they are able to unite people who have nothing else in common. Feelings make people travel thousands of miles to rebuild the homes of strangers, feelings are what push people to enter into life threatening careers. As essential as feelings are to the human condition, I'm still bad at them. I ruin things because I have such a hard time vocalizing them. Thats what a lot of my art is about to me. Its about pent up feelings and words that logic has shunned away.  Maybe thats why I don't share all of my writing. A part of me says that acknowledging those feelings will not force a positive outcome so logically its not worth the effort.

But if thats true why do I write them down. They are not the kinds of stories id ever read to any future children. They don't really express any universal truism that will shatter the current process of thought, if they were id share them. But they do express how I feel about times in my my life that were particularly painful and difficult for me. And whats the point in sharing that. I mean I'm not a comedy writer nobody reads this for laughs. But don't you just hate reading depressing things.

Sure Schindler's List was depressing, but at least there was an ultimate greater good served. Like Water For Chocolate is really sad too but all is well at the end. Maybe im just waiting for my happy ending, as much of a cliche as that is. Maybe I'm just waiting for a time in my life when I can look back and see how my experiences shaped me into the glowing example of human triumph and success. I might just be waiting for the day when I can talk about such experiences and not feel like I'm whining despite my privilege. Or I just don't think its worth the social recoil i'd get, humph whatever... we'll all just have to wait and see.

Religion and Food Part II

     When I first left home for college I was so excited. Within hours I had best friends and I was totally ready for the freedom of it all and leaving Cali behind for a new adventure. My freshman year was great. I had good friends, great professors, easy classes, and no responsibilities.

     But the one thing I knew I wanted at the end of it all was to be an RA. I had a great RA he was really aware of the students on his floor and took time to get to know us as people. I wanted to be able to open up and be real with people the way he was with us. So I applied, and I didn't get it.

     I was crushed. But I knew the worst thing a person can tell you is No. But, no is just a yes if you are patient. So I looked at my options and I applied to be a summer RA. I got the job but that meant staying the whole summer in Chicago and no seeing any of my friends or family.

     The summer was really hard on me I had fun but I ached for the people I loved and hadn't seen. I felt lost without them. Most of my new college friends left and my friends from home were home so it was just me. There were other summer RA's and we bonded and became friends but there was still ample time for me to sit and wallow in my loneliness.

     I became very depressed. When I am sad and depressed there are only two things that make me happy, good food and good movies. So naturally I watched hundreds of hours of Netflix. I some how stumbled upon this fabulous documentary about the Dalai Lama. It was fascinating. It told the story of his life how he was plucked from childhood to be a living god, and how he used his powers to speak to the world on equality, and morals.
   
     He taught the ideas of Buddhism and how the main world religions have very similar ethical codes, but are taught in different ways. This was a revelation for me.

     My main issue with Christianity was all the ideas veiled in stories, and how it claimed to be the reason for meaning in the world. After more research on the Dalai Lama I learned more about Buddhism the pillars, and the stories. I am not a fan of all of these ethical stories, every religion has them, but id rather the message be straight up, why hide the fact that people should treat each other with fairness and love, why do we need to hide that?

Questions that lead to Questions Part I

     So ive been doing this project for a class where I write down all of the questions that come to my mind. Im only a few days in but I already see trends.
     Most of my questions are about every day stuff, what to wear, what to eat, do I really need to bring that to class. But a lot of the rest are reflective questions. That have popped up going through old friends Facebook accounts or categorizing the 6000 photos I recently uploaded. Questions like:
        What happened to us?
        Why haven't we talked in years?
        Where are you now?
         I wonder if you remember the time when we:
                         fell asleep in class on each others shoulders,
                         wore matching denim tuxedos,
                         had a food fight in the kitchen,
                         played dress up with your moms clothes,
                         spent all of our free time building forts and wooden cars,
                         showed me the hand saw you keep under your bed for "emergencies",
                         would sing at the top of our lungs over the radio,
                         went skinny dipping in the pacific in the middle of the day at a public beach,
                         had a piggyback contest on the hills of San Francisco,
                         had our first kiss during media class,
                         painted a mural for class,
                         would race down the hill to the swing set after lunch,
                         thought that this stump was the coolest thing,
                         played with the wooden swords I made us,
                         tried to make our own legos with hot glue,
                         made tons of "money" on Business Day,
                         woke up in your bathtub with tons of people in your house that neither of us knew,
                         got locked in the bathroom together and the janitor had to take the hinges off the door,
                         spent an entire class period using Photo Booth on my computer rather than class,
                         taught "spoons" to the class and played for the entire rest of the day
                         learned what our teachers middle name was,
                         tried to get our favorite substitute to sign our year books,
                         bought a fancy saw to make projects from a book,
                         almost got lost less than a mile a way from my house,
                         walked from my house to yours just because,
                         rode our bikes to Grandpa's house without telling anyone,
                         went on self esteem walks,
                         did crazy makeup and photo shoots,
                         made bad decisions on a field trip to a mormon college.
                         shotguned energy drinks with our teacher,
                         were eating apples and were warned about finding half a worm in it,
                         went wandering around Sac State looking for a party,
                         danced around the music room instead of homework or studying,
                     
                This list is going to get a lot longer, but Ive realized why my work is so nostalgic and spiritual. Because each one of these moments has stuck in me as a moment of love. A moment to be cherished, because it will never be the same. No matter how things turn out in the end if we're lucky we will still have our memories we will still be able to think back on a time where our biggest worry was if thrifty would have my favorite flavor and when the new episode of Star Trek Enterprise was on. We often don't realize the impact simple everyday moment have on us, some of my best work comes from memories of simple things, like ice cream. And even some of the things others think that I would want to forget, Ive come to realize good or bad they happened and as far as I know you can't change the past so why let them consume you why feel guilty why feel regret. Things happen people change but in the moment they seem like good ideas so hold on to that keep the love once felt, the joy in your heart, the tingly feeling on your skin, the wonder that filled your eyes, keep the mist in your hair, and the beauty in the fog. Keep the memories.

The Ends and Beginnings

When I was about three years old I saw a t.v. show that would change my life forever. I was watching a marathon of Mr. Rodgers with my Grandpa. When suddenly the smiley old man with a fondness for puppets and zip up sweaters was replaced by a man with sandy blonde hair and tiny santa-like glasses. It was Rick Steve’s Europe and he was visiting Paris. I remember sitting on my grandpa’s lap with my eyes glued to the screen.

He went to Notre Dame, scaled the steps of Montmarte, walked the Champs-Élysées, went on Le Grande Roue, all of the things you are supposed to do in Paris and few more. But of all the things in Paris it was the Louvre that enchanted me. Its history as a royal palace, its strange pyramid in the courtyard, but most of all Winged Victory. How could something with out a face or arms be so beautiful and so elegantly capture movement. I think my child self resolved that it must have been an unfortunate angel who fell in the path of Medusa and was turned to stone, in my mind there was no way something like that could have been made by a human. In any case this city captured me in such a way that at a very young age I knew that I would go to Paris someday. It was not a mater of if but to me I saw it as something that was going to happen, someday I knew I would be walking the banks of the Seine with Notre Dame on the horizon. Even at the young age of three I would tell people that I was going to Paris, it was just a matter of  time.

It was afternoons like that one spent at my grandparents house watching PBS shows, building blanket forts, making dolls out of socks with my grandma, or racing my sister to the lone swing that hung from the largest Pecan tree this side off the Pecos river. That I miss the most from my childhood. I spent so much time with my grandparents by the time I was in kindergarden I had picked up a little bit of their Texas accent.

I remember one day during the dreaded reading group time, which I hated because I already knew how to read, this ornery little kid called me out for saying y’all in front of the whole class. It was incidents like this that made me dislike the people at my school, I enjoyed learning, I just was not so hot on all the kids there, I continued to visit my Papa and Grandma every day and I further retreated into their love. The children in my class thought it was silly that I was going on trip “someday” they were very set on making me feel that I was very odd. At that age I didn’t know anything else that I might want as a grown up, I just knew that someday I would go to Paris.

After school and during vacations and summer I stayed with my grandparents while both my parents worked.  My sister and I would do puzzles with my grandparents, help them in their acre with raking and cleaning up after their fruit trees an garden. In the mornings when my mom would drop us off I would help my grandpa. I would go into his room and help him button his shirt, put shaving cream on his face, help him shave and get his dentures for him from their glass.  Then we would sit down for breakfast. By that time my grandma and my sister would have ate already and would be in the yard working, but Papa and I would always spend our mornings together.

My Papa kept needing more and more help from me in the mornings, eventually I wasn’t enough help for him. I knew that he had cancer, but at the age of seven I just thought It was something that all old people got. First my dad and I had to make all theses ramps for him and his walker which was decorated with every sticker I could get my hands on. Then It was a shower chair and a wheel chair. Next was a hospital bed, then meals in bed, oxygen and a nurse. One day my dad came to pick me up from school early, I thought it was for my sisters Open House but he took me to my Grandparents house where my sister and my Aunt Sherry and my Grandma were and they told me he was gone. I remember going into his room but all I remember seeing are his skinny long feet touching the foot of his bed, his closet open reveling the classic Members Only jacket he always wore, and the owl wind chime that hung from a corner of his room. I remember feeling really sad and crying for hour

When my grandma passed away my junior year of high school, the woman who took care of me as a little kid, the woman who taught me to sew the woman who kept my papa’s memories alive by telling his stories through her tears, and so many other things.  Ironically my grandmas passing allowed me to complete the one thing I had always known, that I needed to go to Paris. She left me enough money to fund me to go on a class exchange program to France for a month.

   Its funny how things end up how our beginning tie our end, how falling in love with an idea in an orange chair can land you swimming in the Mediterranean sea with the taste of salt tingling your skin and the sun illuminating your oldest dream. I was so so sad when she passed,  I still am, but at least now there is a hope that  somehow they will find each other in the heaven they so deeply believed in.

How to surf the web effectively

The above statement is an impossibility for most people, especially when it comes to researching things for a report or paper on something you don't give a shit about, (im talking to you art history papers...)

The simple answer no one wants to hear is don't.

If it doesn't interest you don't bother. Otherwise you will just end up watching Tina Fey's rant about twitter on hulu...or on facebook playing farmville so you can finally show up all the cheerleaders you secretly hated in highschool, you know they'll be jealous the unicorn cow, if only you can get it to hatch...or indulging whatever your guilty pleasure youtube search is.

The best defense is a good offense.

So before you are assigned to write about your favorite mathematical principal, do a little pregameing, a google here a click there and you end up watching a TED talk about origami, the cool kids and nerds will be impressed and you avoid a mass suicide inducing powerpoint about the amazing power of proofs...
The stuff I hate researching can be improved by adding the phrase "worst of" to it, it always makes what im really looking for much less awful:
Airports
Online Shopping-actually a very entertaining blog
or looking up youtube videos on the subject.

In short if you are actually trying to research something, go to a library and pick up a book. The web may have started as a place store information, but has ended up as a place to waste time

Time, Food and Stuff

Its November, NOVEMBER!
     Time just seems to have flown away so quickly. I feel like a few weeks ago I was back in Cali on a road trip with my bffl. But in reality its been almost a year.
     Im finally going home next month for the first time in a year. I am so excited. I get to see my parents my family my friends and my dog! Its only for two weeks, but I still get to go home. I love Chicago and traveling and art and all but a year is a long time especially when you are only 19. I finally booked my flight and scheduled it all so everything is set now I just wait for the semester to end.
     There's so much I've missed in the past year and so much I miss. I missed graduations, birthdays, holidays, parties, parades, shows. Im more concerned about what miss though.
     Like In-and-Out I have been craving some since last November, when I went home for Christmas last year I didn't go and I really just want a burger and fries for less than $20.
     And Costco, samples, samples, samples all fo free! Bulk, buying things in bulk, like almonds and toilet paper, and chicken I miss shopping in bulk if I could here I would only have to go shopping once a semester! I can also get film put on CD for like $2, this why I refuse to go and get it done at Walgreens for $15
     Hagens, its a Sacramento staple and its darn good!
     Leatherby's, I sadly found out is actually a chain, but i still miss devouring banana splits in less than 10 min with my dad.
     All the thrift stores. Theres probably more in chicago than in Sacramento, back home there all just a few blocks away on one street!
     Raku firings! My high school ceramics teacher lets alum come and fire, but the open flame is a "fire hazard" so theres no raku at SAIC Id have to go to Hyde park or Lil street and take a class if I wanted to do that.
     Of course almost everything I miss is food related.....
I also miss adventures with my friends, walking to the river with my family and going off trail and almost getting lost, giving tummy rubs to Mr. Noodles brother, Mr Noodles! Being snuggled by my kitties, laughing at my parents playing Just Dance, Singing on Guitar Hero with my sister... and lots of other stuff.
     Im ready for thanksgiving break with my sister in Chicago, and im really ready for Christmas with my family in Sacramento.