How to Get Work Done #199

(See also: How Not to Get Work Done #1)

The best part is seeing other people react. Priceless.

Really…how cool are these?

Whoa.

My first day in London—30 March 2009. Like a kid in a super candy store.

And from the shelter of my mind
Through the window of my eyes
I gaze beyond the rain-drenched streets
To England where my heart lies.

Cancellation

Good thing I went to bed at four this morning, got up at eight, came to school at nine…and now don't have class.

Not cool. Well, cool…but not cool.

I Shall Be Released

I find this Dylan cover (beautifully conducted by Wilco and Fleet Foxes) a good Sunday night / early Monday morning song, as I sit alone in my studio space. I miss a lot of things right now and it's hard to remember that everything is happening for a reason. I just want to see the someday when everything is different…

Or maybe, I should just appreciate the now—as a necessity, as a passing, as a blessing in disguise.

They say ev'rything can be replaced,
Yet ev'ry distance is not near.
So I remember ev'ry face
Of ev'ry man who put me here.
I see my light come shining
From the west unto the east.
Any day now, any day now,
I shall be released.

They say ev'ry man needs protection,
They say ev'ry man must fall.
Yet I swear I see my reflection
Some place so high above this wall.
I see my light come shining
From the west unto the east.
Any day now, any day now,
I shall be released.

Standing next to me in this lonely crowd,
Is a man who swears he's not to blame.
All day long I hear him shout so loud,
Crying out that he was framed.
I see my light come shining
From the west unto the east.
Any day now, any day now,
I shall be released.

This is me, ripping my hair out…

…because I've been working on the same design for the last 12 hours. I hate this.

Long Distance Call

These lyrics could not describe my situation any more perfect :

Where to go, I had no idea about it
Most of the people do, there're only doing just fine
I don't wanna stay in place no more, see
Ain't doing well well well, I am only doing just fine

Long time no see, long time no say
Got little to tell, I don't say much but I might
Something always told me us two would be serious
I am looking around town, thinking the same as you

Long time no see, long time no say.

This is Japan! from Eric Testroete on Vimeo.

I think this video is pretty rad — the artist has a pretty rad portfolio, too.

(Really.)

Vinyl.

I'VE BEEN SEARCHING FOR a record player over the past few weeks, with little success. I'm really hoping I can find a decent one for a reasonable price, and/or score one for my birthday. I'm being pretty particular about my selection, so I'm willing to hold out for a good one (new or old). I would love to listen to good tunes on vinyl. I think that would make life very groovy—that is, even more groovy than it is now.

New Tasty Grooves

Albums I've bought in the last week:

1 / Lady Gaga / Fame Monster (Deluxe Edition)

2 / Phoenix / Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix

3 / Yeah Yeah Yeahs / It's Blitz!

4 / Spoon / Gimme Fiction

Now that I've discovered super reasonable mp3 downloads on Lala (you can purchase an entire mp3 album for less than iTunes, hands down)(plus, singles are generally 89 cents! What a steal), I can't stop myself. It's just too damn convenient and enjoyable.

I'm open to any music suggestions? I love hearing new schtuff.

I'm listening.

Every man must decide whether he will walk in the light of creative altruism or in the darkness of

destructive selfishness.

–––––––

Darkness cannot drive out darkness;

only light can do that.

Hate cannot drive out hate;

only love can do that.

(MLK)

The meaning of the Martin Luther King, Jr. holiday

Life Minus a Box of Chocolates

MY SISTER GETS ALL THE GUYS. Saturday afternoon and I'm strolling around the house, waiting for the day and plucking truffles from a box of her chocolates.

Where'd she get the chocolates? Well, I'll tell you. She got them from a guy—some dude—that was trying to win her over, even though she has a boyfriend. I spotted the glistening box sitting on the coffee table one day and asked, "Hey muffin, where'd these come from?" She responded with some nonsensical answer, followed by something to the extent of, "Eat as much of them as you want." You don't have to tell me this twice—at that point I'd already downed one third of the box and had another third in my mouth. I've really never met a chocolate I didn't like, and these were particularly douchey and delicious.

She later came to me with her problem. "What do I tell him?!" she demanded, in some desperate tone you use when your car runs out of gas at the intersection of Main and Broadway. What do you tell him? I thought of every single turn off: First, pretend like you know nothing about sports—actually, scratch that, just hate sports. Then be super needy and clingy. Also, while you're being super needy and clingy, talk about your ex-boyfriends. Express your disinterest in Pizza Rolls and video games, both of which mankind find particularly engaging. Don't answer any calls and finally, if you do happen to see one another again, reiterate how much you don't like sports. All this has worked for me and my, has it worked well!

My actual response was more like,"Gee, Heidi, I wish I had that problem. Buuuuuut unfortunately, it's been so long since I've been in a relationship, I'm not even sure how they work anymore. Sorry…I…can't get involved!"

Truthfully, there are many times when I wish I really had these problems: Boys bringing me lavish boxes of chocolates (none of that Hershey stuff either—I'm talking about Russell and World's Finest Chocolates), buying me tickets to see my favorite artist in concert, or taking me to meet their grandma. It all sounds so glamorous, so much cooler than watching reruns of What Not to Wear while contemplating how many times I've seen the episode I'm watching. Or, cleaning my room again and then reorganizing my closet. I mean, those things are pretty exciting, don't get me wrong. Sometimes…sometimes I just wonder. What life would be like, you know, if it involved boys buying me boxes of chocolate.

What's worse than doting on truffles is the conviction I pour into the mailbox. I swear, I check the mail nineteen times a day (I'm still not convinced that it all arrives at once) hoping for my idea of the créme de la créme of a relationship: snail mail. If perchance someday I opened the mailbox to find a letter addressed to myself (even better if it's in perfect cursive), so help me, I will melt. This is an extremely under-appreciated practice that needs to be revived. Don't send a facebook message, don't send a text. Send a real, live, handwritten letter. Attach a box of chocolates to it.

Finally, and even worse than the conviction I pour into the mailbox is the trust that someday again, I will find a nice note on my car. Like the days when I used to get out of high school volleyball practice (JV, represent) and find some chicken scratch tucked under my wiper that said something like, "I LUV U BABY!! CALL ME WHEN YOU'RE DONE!!" Yeah. I miss that.

I suppose it's not all that bad—I mean, it can't be if I'm sitting here eating Almond Nougat and watching reruns of the Kardashians running around in thong underwear. Right?

Blood Bank - Bon Iver

Good things this way are going to come. The door just opened wide—and I cannot wait to see where I'll step out.

Time. Time is all that separates.

1901

Counting all different ideas drifting away
Past and present—they don't matter
Now the future's sorted out
Watch her moving in elliptical pattern
Think it's not what you say
What you say is way too complicated
For a minute thought I couldn't tell how to fall out.

I GOT UP EARLY THIS MORNING. Eight-thirty and I was rolling out of bed, pulling back the covers behind me, fluffing the pillows and wiping my comforter smooth. I was hell bent on having a productive day—wide-eyed, motivated and action-packed.

So I prepared breakfast. I was the only one in the house (as with most mornings) and lost myself in the sounds of nothing: no voices, no footsteps, not even the sound of the heater. With the table set facing toward the eastern sun, I sat down to the day

.

It was delightful, but mostly

I was thinking of how much I wished there was someone sitting across from me.

Okay…so this equation isn't entirely false.

Season 7, Baby! It's gonna be good.

This is my new pin. I bought it at a secondhand store last week.

I already believe this pin is lucky—if luck does, in fact, exist—because after I found it and before I purchased it, I dropped the pin in the store while I was shopping. It wasn’t until about twenty minutes later that I realized it was missing from my hands, and I was genuinely forlorn.

I retraced my steps and discovered it in front of a case of cassette tapes I’d studied for a while. It was waiting for me, its new owner, with shimmering presence.

This is good. I need luck.

All images courtesy of nytimes.com, Eduardo Munoz.

Pray for Haiti.

A Loss, A Gain.

LOSS: Today I deactivated my facebook (again).

If you need to reach me, I'm always here on blogger. Also, I check my email religiously (seriously) — chrisjen@mnstate.edu.

I have a home address as well. And, I love snail mail nearly as much as I love chocolate and checking my email (I also check my home mailbox religiously). If you'd like my home address, email me for it. Maybe you should just email me?

And regarding facebook: I've always had a love/hate relationship with it. I honestly dislike it and the time I've spent with it (but not the people that I've connected with. I love those people). I had a class with an instructor yesterday that said it best:

"Facebook is the worst thing to happen to modern society since the atom bomb."

So I'm taking time off from it this semester, in order to focus on schoolwork. I dismissed facebook last semester and did rather well, so I'd like to continue this semester without it.

END LOSS/>

GAIN!

Today I got another job. I'll be working with the gallery manager as part of the gallery installation crew on campus. This means I'll be helping with the gallery layout, placement of pieces, etc., assisting in setup for gallery receptions, and when it's all said and done—taking down the exhibit and putting up a new one. It's great flexible hours, I get to work with rad people, awesome experience and a fantastic gain to compensate for my loss : )

EXTRA EXTRA. ALAS—A STUDIO SPACE!

Okay, so this isn't as exciting for you as it is for me. This past semester I signed up for a long-awaited studio space in the art department, and upon my return found that I'd received one!

I should note that a "studio space" is really nothing special. It's literally a five foot long L-shaped counter space with a cupboard. But I've never had my own five-foot L-shaped counter space before, so I'm thoroughly excited. My own counter, my own outlet (4 OF THEM), my own cutting board. THRILLING.

In the absolute delight of the moment (really, I might burst), I thought I'd post a few photos of my new digs. (REALLY, don't get your hopes up.)

Check it out! It's me! In my "studio"!

MYSPACE! Mine!

The cabinet containing all of my super-important supplies: Adhesives, sharp objects, and cords.

Hooray!

I should also mention — I have ANOTHER STUDIO SPACE, too! It's my sculpture studio space, located in the sculpture studio (thank you, Captain Obvious). It's void until I get started on my first project, BUT! It's got a really cool old drafting table and a shelf. My very own shelf.

I've never had designated spaces to create within — my years here have been spent storing supplies in lockers and hauling back and forth, sprawling out on floors, counters, wherever I could make a space. So this is…kind of a big deal. I'm…kind of excited.

Take care, all. And of course, GO FORTH AND CREATE.

jc

For Kayla (and Kevin):

More to come—

jc

LIFE IS HARD. I've always lived under the assumption that I can do everything—but I can't. I've always focused on rich, successful, hardworking, loving, living, and graditude, but I feel poor and desolate in every way. I've always walked faster, and dreamed longer than days past and yet, after all, I'm just me. Trying hard.

Maybe I'm not trying. Maybe all this is just passing of time, relentless allusions of failure and procrastination, soft grievances of waiting and a subtle wish for passage to fame, or at least recognition. Am I wrong? Where am I, and when can I forget? When can I achieve?

Why does a multitude of words and images, feigned to be all I’ve got, all I’ve got, all I’ve got, always feel tangibly mediocre—

lackluster—

lost?

?

I've not the words. You'll always be better.

Biting off more than I can chew,
Chewing anyway.

Untitled

To hitch and hike

Wash and bike

Travel down the road

To dust and spike

Read and write

And put things in their rows

Against the wind

A tinge and sin

Travel through the wires

The pace replaced

By pause, disgrace

And countered with desire.

I'm going to go

Watch and flow

Travel by the dream

Stitch and sew

And row, and row

And wish I'd never seen

The haste and waste

Of dumps and lakes

Travel up the hill

The give and take

And lonely taste

Of one voice and one feel.

2010's project.

Oh, and I know this of myself
I assume as much for other people
Oh, and i know this of myself
We've listened to more of life's end gong than the sound of life's sweet bells