Defense

Almost the entire first floor of my parents house is this same hardwood...



I'm a little worried.

I learned a long time ago that for me one of the hardest parts of moving is getting used to a new kind of 'dirty.' Dirty being the natural state of a place and when you're not used to it, it just feels like the element is sticking to your skin. In Tucson it was the dust, in VA Beach it was the smell of low tide and the creek in the back yard, in Cedar Rapids it's definitely the smell (though nobody knows just what it reminds them of), in DC it's the swampy humidity, and, for me, in Iowa City it's the bugs.


While I am a firm believer that cockroaches, ants, and those fake ladybugs that travel 400 deep and bite(?!) are God's gift to the Raid Company and should be treated accordingly, I've got a bizarre hold up about killing spiders. I don't like spiders. I don't like them near me, looking at me, in my house, or webbing up my stuff. So (as long as its not one of those giant brown spiders which I swear are big enough to have a personality and possibly a job and pet of his own) I get a paper. I hold it out in front of them and those spiders that can be convinced to walk forward onto the sheet get a free trip to the garden or, if it's nasty outside, into the bushes at the base of my window.

Those that refuse a change in surface,however, perhaps too stubborn or shy, eventually do meet the paper as I use for cleanup after flattening their little bodies against the wall or hardwood floor.

infinate wisdom and redundancy

So, in my infinite wisdom of coming home this summer, I came home, did not get a job, and spent tonight drinking, trying to figure out a way to Skype and Gmail chat simultaneously, and repeatingly painting my nails five times.

Just so everyone knows: Black + yellow + orange to black again and finally red = the exact color of ruby slippers.

...Makes me wonder if I could eliminate the middle man.

IQ test to work day

Most of Springfield and the surrounding areas are still without power. This means no traffic lights. How do we deal with this problem in a safe and budget conscious way?

Not by stationing traffic cops strategically at major intersection.

No, by using (non-salaried) traffic cones to block all left turns.

You can still get places, but only if you can plot an entire course in your head using only right turns.

Total mindfuck.

Hand crank radio: Check, Jugs of water: Check, Christmas cheer: Check.

A few days ago I come home and my mother is reading Time magazine. The cover story is asking the reader if there is a catastrophic desaster will you be one of the survivors. I walk in and my mother, very seriously, asks me if I thought I might survive.

"Iffy."

"I know I would survive, I'd be a fighter. I'd be one of the few that actually makes it."

...

For those of you not living or visiting the Maryland/Virginia area this summer, there was a series of tornadoes yesterday leaving most of the area without power.

I was the only one home when the power went out. I, naturally, spent the afternoon and evening praticing my masterful survival skills of wasting my laptop battery and wondering about the relationship between power outage distance and restaurants I might consider eating takeout from. Not a totally unproductive afternoon considering.

My mom and dad finally made it home. So, after arguing with my mother who was holding a can of refried beans in one hand and corn in the other while insisting we had dinner right here, Jim and I got in the mini van (mom told us we were not allowed to crash and die in her Prius)and braved the torrential downpour and possible tornado sighting in Maryland for calzones and chicken salads.

It took forever because half of Springfield had our same idea, so by the time we got home it was late and nearly pitch black inside the house.

Luckly, my survivorman mother had broken out her for-emergency-only supply of Christmas themed candles.




We had a lovely dinner taking turns cranking the hand crank radio every ten minutes until Jim realized it also took batteries.

fuck you Joneses

Nothing like having the best dressed lawn clippings on the block.

Cutting room floor.

Here's a video I scraped up that didn't make it into my semester project. 

Enjoy.

Dear Guantanamo,

Might I suggest a bug bite on top of an ENORMOUS bruise. 

Feel Good Mother's Day

3 people I really like

One of my riders tells his horse to "walk on" by asking very politely, "Rock on please, Sonny. Rock on."

In the same class there is a boy who (normally almost silent and with only the best intentions) screams like bloody murder all of his commands.

"Ok, Tell Mike to 'trot.'"

silence...
silence...





And finally, one of the girls came in today wearing an all black jumpsuit, black cowboy boots, and a pink rhinestone encrusted half-jacket. She spent all morning striking poses, not for anybody in particular, just by herself in the crowd. Every now and then and only for brief moments a hand would go on the hip, an arm would extend and a toe would point.



Rock on, kids.

I was at the MFA thesis screenings recently, standing in line to enter the theater and chatting with a friend of mine and a guy I had never met before. 

Carlos: How's school blah blah blah?

Me: Oh you know blah blah blah. 

Carlos: What about the class with all the tools in it?

Me: What?

Carlos: You know, the one with the guys playing with power tools.

Me: Oh! Ugh!

(Turning to Carlos' friend who I had just met to explain the class)

Me: It's this class where we build sets and things, but really it's just a bunch of guys playing with power tools. 

New Friend: Oh, I don't think I would like that, I don't like power tools.

Me: Yeah, I don't really either. Usually I just yell at the guys in my class, "I need a man over here, I want to screw something!" 

I actually kind of yelled it (you know, better story that way) and immediately turned bright red. 

 

This is a graduate level class you can take here at Iowa

Textile Science: 

This is a study of textile fibers, yarns, fabrics, and products. Topics include textile properties, fiber science, yarn and fabric construction, textile testing and standards, dyeing, and finishing. The class has one lecture and one lab each week. In the lab, students identify types of fibers, dye fabrics, and conduct a project. Examples of lab projects are examining the strength and absorbency of fabrics, examining the appearance of fabrics under different types of light, and developing classroom materials on the relationship between textiles and electrostatic cling. Grading is based on two exams, lab work, and participation/attendance. Students must purchase a text, a packet, and some materials for their project. 

Proper accessories for horses

It's Miracles 20th anniversary this year.

After MUCH deliberation
it was finally decided
the best way to

celebrate:





OH YES.






There are so many more of these photos now, by the way.

Google Me

Here is a list of recent Google searches that have lead people to this very blog:

"Why I like horses"

"Proper accessories for horses"

"Drastic Haircut" (Twice!)

"Haircut check"

"Carina caliente" (I assume somebody was checking on my previous post about this)

And my favorite...

"Asshole Match.com profile" (I hope this person found what they were looking for)

We are artists

I spent a good part of two nights ago chasing the cat around the house after he stepped in the pile of gold paint I was using.

He hopped on the desk, then paused in a brief moment of confusion. He and I realized what had happened at almost the same instant. He was faster and managed to hit the desk, bed (sheets and comforter), area rug, hardwood floor, and kitchen rug before I scooped him up (gold feet straight up in the air) dragged him through the building and dumped his happy ass on the front walkway.

He scampered to the window and bitched at me while I Cinderella-ed about eight different surfaces.



He's a bad cat.

In class shoot

...damnit it's squished.

Deal for now.

I'll repost.

To be taken lightly

Here's a section from the film I'm working on right now. It's rough. 

Dig the new locks though. 

Online Videos by Veoh.com

Note to self: always carry a spare oversized t-shirt in case of truck stop

Since my next post is going purely vain and dealing not too subtly with the issues of vanity (it's a clip from my upcoming film/excuse to show off my new haircut) I figure I may as well post a related story. 

I am driving with Ari from Iowa City to Chicago to pick up Ben Rivers (name drop) from his international flight from the UK and we pass by this: 

So naturally we stop. 

Here's the scene: I'm in Iowa (midwest, baby), in the bathroom between the Starbucks and the McDonalds in the largest truck stop in the entire world sporting an ironic punk rock haircut, mini skirt and tights and red, patent leather mary janes.  

I'm standing around surrounded on three sides by mirrors waiting for Ari to finish washing her hands. Naturally, after sanding around for so long I decide to change my look. I'm going to wear my shirt tucked in rather than out from now on and proceed to make the switch. 

"Did I show you my new belt?" 

"Yeah, I saw it last night."

While Ari and I are talking (granted vapidly) a woman tries to squeeze by me and I move out of her way. I don't know why, perhaps it's because I'm standing in the center of a room fill of mirrors, or because I'm in the middle of tucking in my shirt, or because I'm a 23 year old girl, but I happen to glance in the mirror while side stepping around her. 

"Don't worry," The woman (jeans and sneakers) snaps at me,  "you're still pretty and skinny and look like a model. Very lucky." And stomps out.  

Ah! What? Why?

 

I hate discrimination. 

    

Drastic haircut: Check... Pint of ice cream: Check... New dress: Check, check, check

I recently broke up with Kyle and as a result needed to go on a terribly indulgent dress buying spree. That very same day I was walking through Johns looking for the cash machine with my sister. I was sporting a new green polkadot dress with puffy sleeves, a black and white headband (also polkadotted), and brand new red patent leather shoes with the most satisfying tap I've ever heard. And was feeling pretty good about myself. Amy was walking a few feet ahead of me and when I passed an old man with a long white beard he looked me up and down, "Nice outfit, waaay above average."

"Haha, yes. Go me." I naturally think to myself. Until, that is, my darling sister leans real close to tell me that, "Oh my god, that guy was just talking about prostitutes and how much all the different girls cost!"



(Honestly, still a bit smug about the whole thing)

Speaking of Work

The woman I spend most of my time alone with in the office is pregnant. This is all fine and good except that hearing her talk about all the bizarre things that happen to you when you are pregnant (or maybe just spending so much time sitting in the same tiny room soaking up all her radiating fucked up hormones) has left me all weird inside it seems. I actually drove to the HyVee at 11 last night just because I couldn't go one more second without eating two different varieties of cook and serve Jello Pudding.

Needless to say, waiting for that shit to cool was one of the hardest things I've had to do in a while.
(And I'm not going to lie and say I didn't burn my tongue last night).