The Diary of Queen Mothy |
For Sale: Half of My Soul written @ 6:53 PM on December 02, 2004 Time for a Sam entry par excellence, and let me tell you, it's been one of those months... But first! Chicago pictures! Here we are, the Chicago skyline on glorious Lake Michigan on the last day of our trip. It was taken from the Shedd Aquarium. The Sears Tower, from my hotel room. Everyone on the art department field trip occupied the seventh floor, except for this one elderly couple, much to their dismay. I believe they made five noise complaints, and if they didn't know what that strange smell was, then they never smoked Mary Jane. Michigan Avenue, a block or two north of the Art Institute. The courtyard of the Art Institute at dusk. That row of windows makes up part of the Asian art exhibits. This is an interesting public art project on Michigan Avenue. An artist took thousands of pictures of ordinary Chicago citizens and projected them on these two glass towers. The faces change every few minutes. Another public art project. It's an awesome metal helmet-like bubble on the same complex as the glass towers. You can walk under it and take pictures of yourself like you're at a funhouse. That's me! Taking a picture of... me... in the sculpture. A panaramic picture of Chicago in the sculpture. The staircase at the Museum of Contemporary Art. A huge piece of artwork occupying the entire front wall of the Museum of Contemporary Art, and it's made of 200,000 ... PENCILS! The ferris wheel at Navy Pier. It was once the largest ferris wheel in the world, built for a World Fair in years of yore, but it's now about a hundred feet smaller than what it once was. Hulking goldfish at the Shedd Aquarium! I plan to convert this into a painting sometime this summer. More fish! A coral reef. Tree frogs. A shark above my head. Lion fish, my favorites when I was a kid. Another reef scene full of fun plants and barnacles. Holy leaping dolphins, Batman! This was the last exposure on the last roll of film I had for my Chicago trip, and I was damned lucky to get this one, if I do say so myself. The stadium-like pool, a la SeaWorld, faced Lake Michigan and was one of the prettiest spots in the building. That's the planetarium in the background. Anyway, here was a spattering of pictures from Chicago. I have about fifty more, but I also realize that talking about them all is as entertaining as watching other people's vacation slides, so moving on... *** I know what you're thinking: WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN UP TO, SAM?! Well, you should be thinking that anyway. Because my answer is: JESUS-CHRIST-IN-HEAVEN-I-NEED-A-VACATION-BUT-GEE-AM-I-DOING-GREAT. Yes, spoken with hyphens, too. Thanksgiving was kosher, I suppose. It's going to have to take some getting used to spending holidays twice with different parents. My grandmother came down from Rhode Island, so naturally she was driving my mother crazy. My mother went to a psychic festival in Sharonville a couple weeks ago. She went for the hell of it, and she picked a lady who was giving palm readings. The psychic in question recorded her conversation on a tape, so I got to listen to the cassette in my room one afternoon over Thanksgiving break. Over all, the psychic was dead on for her characterizations of my mother. And then she added some details about her kids. She said I tend to be OCD, which, if you read this diary, is perfectly accurate; that I work too hard and I need to chill; that I'm a people person but I hate stupid people; and that the only thing that is saving me is my "warm sense of humor." On Thanksgiving my mother, a Roman Catholic, called me into her room to ask me "what something meant." She pulled a pentagram charm out of her jewelry box and presented it to me. My jaw hit the floor. "What are you doing with that?" I demanded. "I forget what it means," she said. "Don't all the points in the star mean something?" "Yes, they're the elements," I said, "but why do you have this? Did you buy this at the psychic festival?" "Yeah, so?" "Nothing, I guess." She told me once she had read all about the Old Religions when she was around my age. On the cassette tape, the psychic told her that she was much too practical to pursue these things, but she is a gifted healer with enormous potential. I said, "You're not going to wear this to your church group, are you?" She frowned. "Well, why not?" "Are you kidding?!" I exclaimed. "Do you want all the right-wingers to have a conniption? You'll be tossed out on the sidewalk faster than you can say 'heretic.'" "Oh. Good point . . . Did you see St. Joseph buried in the front yard?" she asked. "No. And how would I see him if he's buried? Why is St. Joseph buried in the front yard?" "I was in a Catholic bookstore the other day, and I read that you're supposed to bury St. Joseph upside down if you want to sell your house. So I bought St. Joseph and buried him. He's near the Buddha under the cherry tree." In the kitchen, she picked up her purse and began fiddling with her checkbook. I noticed something clinking on her purse and saw I Ching coins. "What are those?" I demanded again, even if I already knew. "They're my I Ching coins," she replied innocently. "They bring good luck." "Mom," I said, "between the pentagram, the Buddha in the front yard, St. Joseph, and the I Ching coins, exactly what deity in the pantheon are we following these days?" "Hey, I need all the help I can get, don't you think?" she said defensively. She stashed away the checkbook, shrugged on her coat, and made for the door. "I'm Catholic," she added proudly. And I'm confused, but there's my mom for you. *** On Black Friday, AKA the day after Thanksgiving, the old high school posse and I went Christmas shopping as part of our long standing tradition of buying stuff for ourselves. Tis the season, you know, and we've all been good girls this year. 2004 had been a terrible year for all of us, I think. I ended up spending more than I had ever intended to, but I figure people who know me deserve something nice for putting up with all my crap, especially my roommate. *** Now for my Thanksgiving movie review: National Treasure: Contrary to the reports of the critics, if you go into this movie not expecting some sort of Pulitzer-winning, Oscar-contending film, you will have a good time and enjoy it, a la Pirates of the Carribean fun. Plus I love pretending Nicholas Cage is that smart and cool in real life. Alexander: It sucked. Don't even rent it. I mean, come on, Colin Ferral as Alexander the Great? Beyond that, there were glaring historical inaccuracies that did not sit well with me, the script was... odd, to say the least, and it was poorly edited-- and my God, it just sucked. My grandmother liked it. She turned to me after the show and crooned, "That was a hell of a production, don't you think?" I tried my best not to screw up my face too much. "That was... something." Kudos to Angelina Joli, though. She gave a performance of substance with what little she had to work with. Bridget Jones II: If you liked the first one, you'll enjoy the second one, even if it is a rehash of #1. Hey, you and I both know that the only reason you wanted to see this movie in the first place was to watch Colin Firth and Hugh Grant's latest fist fight. *** After Thanksgiving break, I trudged back to school. Yes. Trudged. I'm throwing my most sophisticated vocabulary at you tonight. Impressive, no? I'm waiting for the perfect opportunity to sneak in the word sidle. It being two weeks before exams, Hell Fest has officially begun at NKU. What's on the menu? A doozy of a graphic design project, which I'm making out of some sort of newspaper and Elmers glue concoction, gilded over with acrylic paint, for one. My typography class's final project will, I swear, crash my system, secondly. Tack on six drawings for my honors class, two art history exams (one on Japanese art, the other on Mannerism through Neoclassicism), and a stagemanagement position for my final in theatre, and you've got yourself your own little Hell Fest. Or I would, rather. I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy. I try not to think about it, though, because it'll only give me a nervous breakdown. I always say it hasn't been a good semester unless you have at least one good nervous breakdown, but I try not to schedule these things before I take my finals. *** By the way, I officially sold half my soul. That's right, kids, I had my interview for my BFA degree on Monday. To bring you up to speed on things: a Bachelor of Fine Arts is a higher degree than a Bachelor of Arts. A BFA means more thorough exploration of your subject, but more classes hence more years in school. I'm planning to get two BFA degrees in art and theatre. My interview on Monday was for my theatrical scenic design degree. Luckily I had put together my portfolio during my summer break so all I had to do was preen it and whip that baby out. A week before my interview, a professor I had never spoken to in my life came up to me and said, "I'm looking forward to your presentation on Monday the 29th at 2pm, Sam." Honestly, who the hell speaks like that to anyone unless they want to scare the living bejeezus out of someone? Said professor succeeded. I was breathing into a paper bag three hours before my presentation. When I got there, all the theatre tech professors were there, plus the scary one, and I think I just started telling them my life's story until I got to college! One of the many tactics I like to pull when I want something from my professors is humility: "I think it an honor that as an undergrad you guys let me touch the set. Tell me, oh wise gurus, what may I improve upon in my art?" I didn't actually say "oh wise gurus" but I was so nervous that I was about to drop to the floor and cry, "We're not worthy!!" a la Waynes World. And do you know what they said? "Learn to say 'no,' Sam." I blinked. "What?" "Say no to favors!" said Ron. "You do too much, you work too much, you do too many things. Say it with me, now. 'Noooooo.'" "'Noooooo,'" I mimicked. "B-but--" "Say it again. Nooooooo." "No. But I can't help it. I do everything I do for the sake of doing it, for the experience--" "Say it again. Let it become your mantra. Noooooo," sang Ron. "Nooooo." "But don't say no when we ask it," added Terry dryly. Needless to say, yesterday I got a letter accepting me to the BFA track! I sold half my soul! Yessss! *high five* Where's the other half of it going, Sam? To the art department, of course, silly. The other BFA degree. *whew* Okay, that's enough ramble for one evening. If you don't hear from me for the next week or so, I'm having a nervous breakdown someplace over my projects. Cheerio!
A Bit of History ~ And Onward! L'Amour Toujours! - August 08, 2005 |
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