fun splats!

So I stumbled upon this Web site. It's called JacksonPollock.org. You get to be your own version of Jackson Pollock -- you know, the ink splatter painter guy. Click the mouse and the "paint" changes color.

I could sit and play with this for hours. Here's one of mine:













Happy drawing! :o)

icky

What is that called when the weather matches your mood? I know there's a literary term for it, but alas, it's been a while since I've taken a true English class -- John? A little help? Regardless, it's basically been raining non-stop here in Elon for about 3 days. And not just the random little drizzly obnoxious rain, but the monsoon, you're going to get swept away kind. I wish a photo would capture the intensity of the rain as it falls outside my window right now. It's basically amazing.

Don't get me wrong, I love the rain. It's probably my favorite sort of weather pattern, followed closely by sun, and then an even closer third place, snow. I love the sound it makes in the gutters and the way it smells on the concrete of the parking lots and sidewalks. Rain smells different everywhere. Arizona rain smells different than Maryland rain. D.C. rain smells different than London rain. But like most things, I like it in moderation. This rain in particular seems to have coincided nicely with a marathon newspaper putting-out session.

Starting Monday, I believe I clocked a total 28 hours in the Pendulum office, designing, writing and perfecting Friday's edition. Usually, as you Elon readers know, the paper comes out on Wednesdays and production is just Monday nights. It's not unusual for us to be in the office from 5 p.m. to midnight most weeks. But this edition was a bit of a nightmare. Olivia, our fearless leader, was called away to Denver to be with her family during a time of sadness. I was left in charge. I don't mind being in charge. I'm good at bossing people around. I just got really overwhelmed with this one. I think because it was the first one back, and a double issue (two sections, due two different days) this one really worked me over.

So as it rained outside, dreary and sad, looking like 7 p.m. at 10 a.m., we worked away in the office, consuming insane amounts of Twizzlers, Sun Chips and homemade cupcakes. But it's done. We finished.

The rain just always seems to make things worse. It's like being sick at night. You always feel like you're going to die somewhere between 2 a.m. and 5 a.m., until the sun comes out and you know you'll make it through.

Another lesson in endurance, I think. I have a feeling there'll be a lot of those this year...

whistling teapot

My shower sounds like a whistling teapot. It sings. Not nicely, though. It's more of a shrill, constant, high E above middle C sort of sound. It's one of those showers where you turn on the water, and then pull up on the little knobby thing on the spout to start the shower flowing. Pull up all the way on this one, and it starts whining. Sort of like me? My old one didn't do this. Physical plant is getting a call tomorrow.

So, I was standing in the shower, listening to it sing its brain-numbing song, and I started to get mad. This isn't right! I kept thinking. This is so unfair! I was pissed. My old one didn't do this! How did I get stuck with this P.O.S.!? And then, because I wasn't paying attention, I got shampoo in my eye. Um, ouch!? I think it was the universe telling me to stop complaining and fix the problem. So I leaned over, and fiddling with the little knobby thing, I played with it, pushing it down and up and turning it until I could get the whistling to stop. I fixed it. At least for that shower. Physical plant is still getting a call.

I finished Rainer Marie Rilke's Letters to a Young Poet this morning. This series of letters is absolutely incredible. It's a philosophical text, so not appropriate for someone looking for a quick throw-away beach read. But it's amazing. If you're a writer, an artist, a philosopher or basically a human being, you should read this text. Rilke's writing is direct and and laden with advice, some I agree with and some I don't. As an artist and a writer, I was overtaken by the honesty and incite of this German poet. His thoughts on the necessity of solitude, art and creation, God, and love were not only universally relevant, but profound and beautiful. He was a poet after all.

One of the things he discusses is the necessity of struggle and pain. I've always believed, however sadistic it sounds, that pain is the most formidable education. But struggle falls right there as well. That whistling shower this morning, as petty as that is, was a struggle that I found I had to overcome. Every struggle forces growth and maturity. I know, I know. I'm reading way too far into a whistling shower, but bear with me... Or not. But it's about learning to take charge and believe in the struggle, as my adviser always says.

Rilke writes, "... it is clear that we must hold to the difficult; ... everything in Nature grows and defends itself according to its own character and is an individual in its own right, strives to be so at any cost and against all opposition. We know little, but that we must hold to the difficult is a certainty that will not leave us; ... the fact that a thing is difficult must be one more reason for our doing it."

I can't even begin to explain, and I won't try, how that paragraph affects me. How it involves me on a level that were I to explain, would, I think, diminish it's value. So, take it for what it is, let it wash over you. No one ever reads the same text as someone else. The same words, the same punctuation, yes. But the experience is never the same. Our lives and our histories prevent that.

I have a new book to add to my list of favorites. And I am a firm believer of passing on the good stuff. So there you go. Oh, and thanks, Bryan for cluing me in.

fresh starts

I've been mulling over this idea because I'm back at a school I've known so well and so comfortably for 3 years, but through multiple instances of situational insanity, I'm back at a school that feels so foreign. So as I'm unpacking my room, I find myself wondering if I should rearrange furniture. I'm finding it weird that I am different and my life has changed, but the scenery hasn't. Is it better to power through the old, and eventually find myself comfortable again? Or is it better to rearrange it all and start fresh?

Something to think about until I get around to something more extended and thoughtful.

Also -- am reading Letters to a Young Poet, it's incredibly thought provoking, and I have so much to say about it. That's another upcoming post...

more soon, I promise.

b

two!

I know. Two in one day. It's a record. Bring out the cake. I just found out that this was published and I just had to share this interview with you all. I was responsible for the press release that made this interview possible, and was literally sitting next to Betsy Lowther, the interviewer, as she playfully grilled the fabulous Simon Doonan.

It's a wonderful interview, and Doonan has great advice on how to be loud and proud about being yourself. Check it out!

Recap: Simon Doonan Dishes on Fashion

slowing down

What's that line from "Top Gun"? "I have a need, a need for speed." While this may be a necessity for fighter pilots, swimmers, cyclists and runners, for your average 21-year-old girl, it may not be so important to be constantly rushing through things.

I've been trying to slow myself down the last few weeks and months, to really take in all that's happening around me. I've never been good at being present in a moment -- I constantly find myself thinking ahead, planning and anticipating. I walk fast, and I talk fast, and recently the latter has gotten me in some trouble. So it's time to slow down, think before I speak and really allow myself to absorb my surroundings.

As I was walking to work today, the last day of my internship at the Corcoran, I took my time. I simply wanted to experience the morning walk for the last time: the smells, the sounds and the motion. I alighted at my station to the voice of my favorite street performer: An older black man with killer dreadlocks, with a voice so soulful and expressive. He sings to his guitar and into a microphone. Plugged into an amp, he's broadcast for at least a few blocks. He plays James Taylor, Cat Stevens and Van Morrison -- easy listening for me. On days that he's playing, I always ride up the escalator instead of walking. Today, he was playing a song I didn't know. And the only line I caught was this:

"The future is uncertain, embrace the present, never forget the past."

How's that for perfection?

I've marveled recently how life seems to give you exactly what you need when you need it. I was talking to a friend yesterday, and she mentioned that she's been having bad luck in the dating world. She just can't seem to find someone. But perhaps, regardless of the fact that she wants someone, now is just not the right time. Perhaps, regardless of whether it's what you think you want or not, we subconsciously provide ourselves with what we truly need.

I've come to believe that some how it all seems to resolve itself. Resolution, regardless of whether it's the outcome I'd hoped for or not, has incredible merit. Resolution is not an end, it's not a period. But rather, more like a paragraph break, separating one part of the story, one moment from another. Resolutions create breathing room, they allow us to step back, observe and understand.

My new school year resolution is to absorb, to step back, observe and allow my final year as a student to wash over me with my friends surrounding me and my life playing out as it should.

I'll be sure to let you know how it goes.