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1 month ago
Forgettable Thread of Wasted Time
Tonight at dinner, my mom asked me whether I had filed my taxes yet. Well of course, I thought. There are three weeks before the deadline, so I assumed people would have already at least started thinking about it. Apparently my parents hadn’t. No surprise there. As I proudly proclaimed the fact that I had indeed already filed AND received my return check, I thought about how motivated I was just a few months ago. I had a goal to reach, and I eagerly jumped into action to get back a percent of the hard-earned money the government seemed to be sneaking out of my paycheck every two weeks. Mean.
Two months later, I wonder where all that motivation went. My life last semester included literally spending 50+ hours in the studios every week, on top of a horrendous Writing Intensive art history course, and spending about 20 hours a week wearing a ridiculous green bowling outfit to a place I call Work. I never got a break, and my color-coded Google Calendar schedule became key to my survival. There would be days when I decided to be daring and not stick to the amount of hours I had planned out to spend on certain assignments, and my life became even more living hell as I tried to catch up on my scheduled assignments.
I read a book this week. A Million Miles In A Thousand Years by Don Miller, to be exact. It mostly happened because I was complaining like a girl, and Pete told me to read this book. Then occurred the repeated instances of me refusing, then complaining again, him telling me to read it, me not knowing why he was being such an annoying advocate about it and it ended with Pete shoving the book in my hand, me ignoring it, then during one of my many hours of sedentary time of procrastination, I opened it up, and he won. In this book, Don Miller tells us that the principles of writing a good story can also be applied to our own lives. You are the storyteller, and subsequently also the protagonist of your own life. One thing he writes is that good stories don’t just happen. Last semester didn’t just HAPPEN to be successful; it happened because I planned out my days. There was never a day when I had projects to do and I just sat around waiting for the next best art to appear out of nowhere; I worked for it. As I was reading this book that got me hooked and gave me another reason to procrastinate, I sat there and thought about how great of an idea that was: that planning out my days with my homework assignments would surely help me out with my semester. And yeah, maybe getting assignments done right and on time would help me get motivated to keep going. Heck, once I stop wasting so much of my time, that might even start one of those magical “Snowball Effects” people talk about and I would bang out one project, and another, and another, and then I could just be a really great motivated artist who did their homework on time!
Ugh.
Where is the eject button because that movie sounds like it would suck. It sounds like a good substory about a character overcoming a 20-credit semester at college and all, but an actual story doesn’t yet exist. It doesn’t sound awesome, and if that movie came out, I would run back to the tech booth and immediately stop it before the credits revealed “Karen Mawikere” as the name of the protagonist. I know you probably expected some inspirational ending testifying on how dramastically my life has improved after reading this book, but my realization that I waste too much time doing absolutely nothing for no reason is really just a start. That statement of realization is an initial post to record where I am now so that maybe (hopefully), I can look back on this later and the protagonist in my story would have changed and she’d be able to laugh at and appreciate the state where she was at. I want to live out a good story, but I guess substories are a good start, and I could make the rest of this semester a great one. After all, what’s a story without its scenes?And considering I read this book in two days, which is infinitely faster than it’s taken me to finish another one in an entire year, you will probably see more posts about it than you think necessary. But I’m sure that once you read it, you’ll understand.
“And once you live a good story, you get a taste for a kind of meaning in life, and you can’t go back to being normal; you can’t go back to meaningless scenes stitched together by the forgettable thread of wasted time.” —Don Miller
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Notes: 12478 / 2 months ago from thisboythatgirl (originally from likeafieldmouse)
Etsuko Ichikawa - Deai (2005)
Artist’s statement:
“These works are glass pyrographs that are made by drawing with hot molten glass, leaving the immediate charred tracery of my movement with the heat.
It is a way of capturing a fleeting moment and eternalizing it, and it gives the viewer the opportunity to see a gesture.”
(Source: likeafieldmouse)
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2 months ago"So many people live within unhappy circumstances and yet will not take the initiative to change their situation because they are conditioned to a life of security, conformity, and conservatism, all of which may appear to give one peace of mind, but in reality nothing is more dangerous to the adventurous spirit within a man than a secure future. The very basic core of a man’s living spirit is his passion for adventure. The joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences, and hence there is no greater joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon, for each day to have a new and different sun."- Jon Krakauer, Into the Wild
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4 months ago
Art vs Education
On my way back from vacation today, Michelle started talking about her niece who would be coming over in a few hours, and she really loved art. Michelle said, “She thinks it’s the coolest thing that you go to school for art. You should teach her something tonight!”
I replied with, “I don’t know how to teach art,” which brought up the question of how I was in school for art (education, probably), but didn’t know how to teach it. The truth is, I really do not actually know how or why there are actual secondary courses for teaching people how to draw, paint, build, sculpt, photograph, etc. If art is a form of expression, why are students being put into a classroom to learn one professor’s way of making art? Everything in the 2-D art world has to be about mastering still-lifes and nude models to be in perfect proportion with everything in the setup. Colors have to be complimentary when they are painted, and each color value on the palette has to have some hint the other colors in the painting to make it look “cohesive”. What? How many famous historical artists followed each guideline that 21st century art “teachers” are throwing on their students today?
Art grew because artists came up with a new way of thinking, and a new way to express it in the best way they could in order to communicate what they saw or felt. If art had stopped at caveman times, and the cavemen decided to teach what they knew about art, we would all be taking classes on how to draw stick figures of humans and animals. Some of us are masters at that. Sure, we think this is a little ridiculous, but isn’t that what today’s art teachers are doing; teaching students the limited, minuscule amount of art knowledge that they know and how to do what they do? Cavemen artists had no idea how much art would expand after its time, but look at all the movements that have inspired us and even made it in history books so that they could teach an awful subject like Art History? I think it could be the same with today’s generation. We limit students with too many guidelines and convince them that to receive a good grade in the class, this is the way they are to generate a piece of art. I believe there is so much more out there in the world of art that everyone is missing out on because of (ironically) art programs and art schools.
It stresses me out that teachers ultimately result in swaying students to perform a certain technique in art, but never actually teach students HOW to think about their projects. We don’t teach students how to think differently, then art teachers get stressed out that they’re stuck in this redundant mess grading students according to what the TEACHERS call art as opposed to what the student is trying to express in his piece of work. Imagine for a minute what would come out of projects that instead of being limited to talent, material, time, and setup, these projects actually force students to think and find new ways to generate art. I’m not exactly sure what these projects would consist of, but all I know is that one of my long-term goals I wrote down this New Year’s is to change the way art is taught/learned.
Where to begin, you ask? First finish this four-year undergrad in UNH’s art program….
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“Remember, I’m going to mark you, it is my great pleasure to reward real effort, it is my great pleasure to punish stupidity, laziness, and insincerity. These marks won’t make much difference in your later life, but my reaction to you will. But the reaction of your classmates to what you do, will.”
— Paul Thek, artist/author/teacher (1933-1988)
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4 months ago
I think the older I get, the more confusing Christmas is always going to get.
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5 months ago
Five Years Later
I miss you.
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Notes: 1 / 6 months ago
It’s Thanksgiving!
Spending the first eight hours of my being awake at work again. This has got to be one of my favorite holidays. I may even like it more than Christmas. Because for one day in the entire year, no matter what age you are, background you have, or religion you claim, the people in this country take the time to find something to be thankful for. Millions with one purpose on a holiday, to recognize and appreciate the little things: that, is a celebration in itself.
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6 months ago
Yesterday I spent 17 hours at work. For those of you who don’t know, I take care of old people at an assisted living home. So I got there at 6 a.m., and left at 11 p.m..
There is one resident (we will call her Dori) who is very particular about meal times. Doors open to the dining room for breakfast, lunch, and dinner at 7:45 a.m., 11:45 a.m., and 4:45 p.m. respectively. She uses a wheelchair, and makes sure that an aide brings her down 45 minutes before the door opens so she can get “her table, number four, the seat closest to the door.” There are no assigned seats, yet she believes that no one else is allowed to sit there. The nurse assistants do what they can to please her, but yesterday morning had gone haywire.
Dori’s private aide who spends an hour with her every morning to get her ready and down to the dining room on time did not show up until SEVEN FORTY-FIVE, the time that the dining room opens. By the time she got down, other people had already reached “her table” and stolen “her seat”. She complained about it the entire meal, and then the anger continued for the next fifteen hours that I was going to have to spend with her. I couldn’t believe it. I thought, “Man. If my biggest worry in the world was getting my seat taken in the dining room, I would be the happiest person on the planet. Life would be GREAT.”
As my day continued, I ended up having a few conversations with the residents on my floor. They asked me how long my shift was and I said I would be there until 11 that night. Most of them showed sympathy and cracked jokes saying I could take a nap in their rooms if I wanted (somewhat tempting.) Then one woman said, “If I had my old apartment down the hall, I would let you sleep in the spare room.” That got me. The spare room she was talking about was the room that her husband had slept in. She talked about how many memories that apartment held and she said she was glad to move because it means she didn’t have to live in the room she had shared with her husband who had passed away about a month ago.
While all day, I had been thinking about how great my life would be if my biggest problem was getting my seat taken, I sat there thinking about what that resident must have thought of me and other people who complained about life. She probably thought, “Man, if working 17 hours in one day was the biggest problem in my life, I would be so happy.” “If schoolwork/coworkers/relationships were my biggest worry, I would be so happy.” Because there she was, widowed, struggling to continue physical therapy for her legs, and also trying to emotionally heal from the loss of her one and only. At the same time, she still has to see people who know her and knew her husband because they still live in the same facility. And even worse, the people with poor memory loss still constantly and repetitively ask what happened to her husband and when he would be returning from the hospital. She still answered these uninformed residents every single time. I couldn’t even imagine. I had posted on Tumblr about three years ago with a promise to do my best to not complain. I’m not doing so well, so here’s another try. There are far worse things in this world than not getting schoolwork done on time, or not knowing what to do with my future, and so many more.
For example, breaking up > death and losing someone you’ve spent your entire life with.
Other people may have it worse than me. I seriously need to remember that.
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6 months ago
decisions?
I have so. many. major. decisions. that I have to make in the next week, and they are all up in the air. I feel like I’m in that phase of life where right now, I’m not sure whether I should be making my own decisions for my future. It seriously scares me. Shouldn’t I know what I want?
I feel silly talking to people the decisions I have to make because really, even the people you hold closest to your heart are bound to let you down. I think we’re all firsthand victims here. Should I really let people have a say in the things I do? People who may potentially let me down and break my heart? Should I, myself, tell the people around me what my opinions are on their decisions? Undergrad majors, class selections, views on relationships, job offers, living situations, etc. They all affect someone’s future. It’s weird; I hate giving my opinion because I think I could be stopping that person from chasing after their dreams, but I keep relying on those same people to tell me what I want in life. I am messed up.
Sometimes I wonder where I would be and what I would be doing if I had never asked anyone for their opinion, never met people who would eventually become my best friends, or ever even started any friendships at all. bah humbug.
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7 months ago
just found a picture of the album cover remake i was working on four years ago. i wish i knew where the final product was :(
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7 months ago
is okay.
This isn’t a feel-bad-for-me-because-I’m-so-busy post, but let me give you a snapshot of my last four days.
Friday
6a-2p: work
3p- : boston mfa for art history
Saturday
-1:30p: boston mfa for art history
2p-10p: work
10:30p- : woodshop project
Sunday
1230a: woodshop project
1030a-11a: wooshop project
11a-1230p: church
1230p-130p: self-portrait for photo
130-150: woodshop
2p-10p: work
1030p- : woodshop
Monday
- 2a: woodshop
2a-3a: self-portrait for photo
830a-9a: wooshop
910a-12p: darkroom class
12p-145p: make contact sheets
110p-2p: art history (late to class)
2p-550p: woodshop
6p-8p: cooking class
8p-11p: woodshop
Literally had no room for free time and this was probably the most stressful 4 days I’ve had this school year. I felt like every project I had been working on was falling apart, and I was giving up. My projects were due Monday and Tuesday, and I was a zombie trying to get everything accomplished.
In addition, we have eight prints due for photo next Monday (this takes about 9 hours), and someone had left the developer open in the darkroom which caused a leak, and my teacher was angry. We spent the first hour of the class on Monday cleaning the darkroom and he said no one was allowed in unless work-study is there. My schedule was opposite of work-study’s and I was afraid none of my prints were going to get done. I told him. He told me that those were the consequences.
After I had stayed up til 3am the night before finishing the assignments for his class, skipping lunch to do work, and only getting 4 hours of sleep after a long stressful weekend, I was about to break down. Literally holding back tears of frustration all afternoon, until I let loose once I got blood stains on the wood project I had been sanding and perfecting for three hours straight that day. It was really embarrassing, and I wish the work-study hadn’t walked past me in the hallway while i was having a meltdown.
After many mishaps that day, I got through Monday. I restlessly slept through the night, and Tuesday came around. Checked my email:The Darkroom is Re-opened.Thank. God. That was such a relief. I can do my prints when I have time, and I don’t have to worry about trying to frantically match up my schedule with work-study, and trying to prioritize my projects. I went along my day, and did all that I could to my wood project, at the very least sanding off the blood stain from my massive nosebleed the day before. I finally put a coat of finish on at the end of class, and went to go do my painting homework and realized I had already done an extra painting that I can use (hopefully) for this assignment. Four hours of work, done. All in a moment of realization.
It’s funny how I can spend so much time stressing out and worrying about things I have to get done. I act as if God doesn’t already know what I’m going through, then he has a funny way of orchestrating everything in my life to work out whenever I am in doubt, and losing confidence, and losing hope. Thankfully, I’m always proven wrong. I remember Jason Cooper talking at Summer Camp last year, telling us that the situations we’re fighting is a fixed fight. We get beaten down multiple times, yet at the end of the day, we win. We’re all caught up in our lives, thinking that we’re struggling, but we completely ignore the fact that behind the scenes, everything has already been sorted out. There is nothing more comforting.
I’ve put my last coat of finish on my project, and I’m getting ready to leave and set up for the student art gallery this afternoon. I’m all done with classes for the day, and the opening night for the gallery is tomorrow. Life is coming together again. I’m excited.
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Notes: 1 / 7 months ago"We sit silently and watch the world around us. This has taken a lifetime to learn. It seems only the old are able to sit next to one another and not say anything and still feel content. The young, brash and impatient, must always break the silence. It is a waste, for silence is pure. Silence is holy. It draws people together because only those who are comfortable with each other can sit without speaking. This is the great paradox."- Nicholas Sparks
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7 months ago
Zomg twinsies!
(totally just blew off my art history test to draw my first self portrait ever)
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