Another day, another deadline dealt with. My thoughts for this segment of classes? Drop or reschedule something. I feel like with the 3 major projects in that short time frame, my mind was not fully in anything, just rushing rushing rushing! I'm leaning towards adjusting the number of reflexive writing assignments to 2, allowing more time to work on each part, and of course requiring more work. I really do feel that would decrease the pressure immensely, and also simultaneously increase the quality on the group presentations and the professional presentation, in addition to the quality of the reflexive writing assignments itself. But I finally finished everything, so that's a relief. ...uhh, that's...all I have to say this time! See you in a weeeekkk, mind fleek.
Many times when a small business becomes large, I’ve noticed that they pride themselves on remaining not only close knit, but quirky and somewhat unorganized. I can see the appeal. After all, who would pick Walmart over a funky little shop with some sort of punny name? Or Outback over their favorite little hole in the wall café? Who? …me. I love big businesses. I love the knowledge that what I’m getting is the industry standard for that item; if I drive to the next store, they’ll have basically the same thing. Standing out for the sake of standing out bothers me. If your store is meant to be unique, it will happen. Forcing creativity and uniqueness cheapens it. If your “creative” and “laidback” organizational system gets in the way of progress, you should change it, even if it means [gasp!] doing what others are doing. Sometimes something is considered the norm because it works. It works well. A store that sells nails is still a store that sells nails, whether it’s called “Nail Store” or “Naily Daily!”, whether it’s logo is (surprise) a nail, or some cute ironic cartoon of a nail. And at the end of the day, which one is going to do well? Who knows. Maybe it’ll be Naily Daily due to their fabulous customer service. Or maybe it’ll be Nail Store because people just want to buy nails without dealing with awkwardly adorable cashiers making jokes about nails in order to provide a unique experience. I’m not knocking on innovation in presentation. I am aware that people demand a business to have an image now, it's how the world is changing. I’m just saying that "down to earth" doesn't have to mean "unorganized". Be classy. Don’t let your style get in your way; it's meant to work FOR you, not against you. Be conscious of the expectations of people and how your product/company/image stands in relation to it.
One thing I’m trying to include a lot of with your daily serving of college kid whining is lots of pretty pictures that (in my opinion) help to establish a mood for each entry, or otherwise provide some visual aid. If you’re wondering- each and every image on here will always be made or drawn by yours truly. Why? Because of my crippling and totally unreasonable paranoia that someone, somewhere, READING THIS BLOG AT THIS EXACT MOMENT is waiting for me to use something in a totally harmless way and then POUNCE AND SUE ME. And well…I don’t want that. I need that money so I can waste it on chocolate puffs at the ice cream and chocolate shop not far enough away from here. So, unless it illustrates some point far better than I can with my box of crayons, I shall continue to only use my images until I have a lawyer that does all the copyright stuff for me. I could use my creepily lawyer-like dad, but I feel weird about that… “Hey, Dad, um…can you tell me if I’m violating copyright law?!” “…uhh…I…I’m busy [playing Collapse on MSNGames]” “DAD PLEASE IT’S IMPORTANT [shoves sheaf of papers at him]” “GO TO YOUR ROOM” “…BUT THAT’S DOWN IN SARASOTA! DAAADDD!” “GO! GO AWAY!” [struggle] (By the way, if this seems unsettlingly violent to you, then you can relax- we get paid to do this. …Wait, wrong answer. I mean, we do this all the time. Gratuitous martial arts fantasy violence is my family’s way of showing our bond. You should see when my bro and I go at it- it kind of looks like the following video)
Uhh, my point is, I like seeing my own pictures above my own words above my own name. I am all about total self-sufficiency.
(By the way, I might do a post on what they're doing in that video- parkour/free running. It's just one more unusual career goal of my brother's and mine)
I'm dyyiiinnggg. This stylebook project is heavy. Very heavy. This whole couple WEEKS has been heavy. Not exactly sure why everything decides to happen at once- when it rains it pours I guess! Just a short plea for the next semester this class is taught- maybe split up the work/due dates for the reflexive assignment and the professional presentation of self. Even if you've got a good time management schedule going on, it's really distracting from each if they're happening simultaneously. I personally feel like the professional presentation of self could take the place of one of the reflexive writing assignments, but that's just my opinion. Now, back to work!
(THIS. IS. LONG.) As you may or may not notice, I don’t use my real name on the internet very often (If you haven’t noticed, maybe you should pay more attention, this stuff is deep). I use a pseudonym, Desude Lashada, to refer to myself on this blog, as well as most public galleries and sites that require a nickname. I even use it occasionally when I’m feeling the need to be especially mysterious or subversive when ordering computer parts or candy online. My family seems indifferent, so why not? In fact, my mom actually does the same thing (I like to think I thought of it first). So where did this name come from? Let’s rewind the video back to about- oh say…6 years ago. I was about 13 years old, in 6th grade. At this point I’m the type of kid who is constantly trying to be “weird”: blue jeans with a black floor length jacket, red, purple, and blonde streaks in my hair, annoyingly brooding and chubby. I was in a little gang of 3 girls who were best friends. We had a lot of fun, and the best thing about friends in middle school is that you are constantly with them, bumming on their couch or eating ramen noodles and soda. We would be friends forever, until the backstabbing, gossiping, and insults meant to rip from the roots caused a major fissure and changed one of the us for the rest of her life. But that’s another post. So, my friends and I are in a little group. We have countless nicknames, usually borrowed from tv shows or books. At some point I come up with the idea that we needed original names: something easy to remember, but totally unique to each of us. So I picked out 3 letters in each of our names, and mine ended up S D E…and turned into Des. Which turned into Desdemona Von Pinacoladarita Von Armada III, and then shortened into Desu, which finally turned into the very nice, even sounding DESUDE. Dezooday. I love saying it, I love hearing it, I love being it. Desude is my best friend, my shield, and my sword. I can do anything with that name. People love Desude, she’s talented, confident, and knows how to conduct herself in whatever affairs she can get herself into. And, that name is mine. It’s something I made. It’s as much a piece of art, a piece of my portfolio, as that picture up there. Desude is the public identity, I am the normal one. Desude will do great things, and I will profit from it. (…does this sound creepy to you? It does to me) When I’m my original name (my real name, from my parents), I have to follow the rules of the world that name was born in. If I make a mistake, or screw up, it STAYS with me. Maybe the edgy Desude doesn’t mind, but cautious “me” minds. A lot. Easily googled, my mistakes can cost me a job, a scholarship, or a friendship, although going that far is unlikely. But it’s a possibility. I used to want to work for the CIA really badly when I was younger. My dad warned me that if I really wanted to do that, I needed to have the cleanest record ever (He was in the Air Force, in the intelligence sector) They would ask my childhood friends about me, my teachers, the mail dude, everyone. I became dead set on never tarnishing my name. This paranoia never really faded after I decided I wanted to open my own company. What if I suddenly wanted to work for the CIA? I couldn’t with that overdraft fee hanging over my head!! (Ok, I’m exaggerating. A little.) So I’ve protected my real name with the ferocity of a thousand ducks. Uh…in case I want to work..for…the …CIA? Ok let’s look at the big picture: I don’t want anything “unprofessional” or unfortunately worded casual statements I made somewhere on the internet connected to my real name. Sometimes I think about changing my name to Desude Lashada. But then I realize I much prefer the comfortable dichotomy of two names. Make Believe and Reality. Art and …Business! And of course, it serves a practical purpose too. Protection from creeps. If you are established on the internet, someone will stalk you at some point. It also serves to separate my younger self with the me I will become. It gives me a chance to throwaway Desude if I want to.
Well, my Professional Presentation of Self is well underway! …sort of. Ok, I’m still working on the cover design. It’s a start. I’ll probably have about half of it done later tonight, my main concern is my indecision about how I’ll approach the form this stylebook is going to take. Prepare for some more boring indecisive rambling about how I’m gonna do this (I PROMISE TO STOP). Let me straighten out my extremely professional crumpled piece of notebook paper, and talk about the possibilities until I end up arguing with myself about what I really want to do. Option A: AKA “The Original” Just a really nice, expensive coffee table book. PROS: ….mmm glossy pages I kind of think once you have a coffee table book it means you are immediately more impressive and pretentious (wow, is this really a pro?) CONS: Exactly the kind of crap no one cares about. The whole “expensive” part, my budget is…$-10. Boringgggg Boorrrrinngngngjsdfkdfj
Option B: Cards shaped like magnolia petals, possibly on a ring or circle thing (I hate the word “grommet” really bad, sounds like “vomit” and “grouch”), then when you fan them out, it looks like a magnolia or lotus blossom (my personal insignia) PROS: Portable Able to have better quality materials because each “page” is smaller Cool looking, good if I ever manage to make the magnolia icon official. CONS: Admittedly, a bit impractical in the context of this assignment. It’s TOO portable, too cute, too easy to lose. Not sure how those little metal circle things work. Do I need a machine?
Option C: A petal/leaf shaped envelope with the leaf shaped pages sitting inside. PROS: Cool, without being unnecessarily super unusual (“LOOK AT ME LOOK AT ME”) Self contained Portable CONS: Not sure if I like the envelope concept.
Option D: A folder with loose papers inside. Might be a trifold, shaped so that when it’s closed, a “crown” of three points resembles a simplified magnolia blossom. PROS: Simple, unassuming, but still cool Professional Easy to produce
CONS: …I like this one. No cons for now.
Option E: A simplified book, kind of like a greeting card, with horizontal orientation, bound by either book tape or ribbon (because it’s pretty!) PROS: Easy to understand Fairly simple to produce Attractive CONS: A little boring General apathy towards this idea
Option F: A slim box with the loose pages inside PROS: Very very attractive design Self contained Impressive Fairly simple design CONS: The box (how do I make/find one?) A little bulky
I can tell I’m already leaning towards the last two. As soon as I finish a few more pages I’ll try to make a final decision.
I need to get some stuff posted here. Weekend, come faster!
While the cold entries are still in the microwave, I'm going to post some freethinking for my Professional Presentation of Self. Warning: this is very very faithful to my thought process, which means it's very very thorough, very very redundant, and at times very very misinformed/dumb/nonsensical. Proceed reading at your own risk.
At the instant the assignment was …assigned, the rapid-fire thought was “I already have that…my online portfolio”. Then I continued, “Wait, I don’t really have a portfolio. More like a blog and an account on an art social network. That’s not something I’d feel comfortable handing into someone for a job. Hm, maybe a digital portfolio on my own domain?” Then I felt…bored. All of my stuff is digital. I have no hard copies of anything to hand out ever because I’m creepily attached to the idea of virtual space. I need something…tangible. Something pretty. Something WELL MADE. My thought was "art book". Art books are the one type of tangible book I will still spend money on. It is my guilty pleasure; if I had enough money, I could probably replace all food with art books and THAT IS SAYING SOMETHING I LOVE FOOD. Art books are just collections of art (and sometimes cool stuff like sketches, interviews, or a walk through of the artist's artistic process) from an artist (or several). They're usually shiny and very verrryy good looking, and everyone can find one they like, as long as they have eyes. And it’d be so awesome to have one of my own work. I kept thinking. An art book is good for my actual ART, but I don't consider myself solely an artist, and sometimes, I don't like to say I'm an "artist" at all. At least not with the connotations currently assigned. To only address my artistic body of work for this assignment feels like I'm neglecting the bigger picture, and I am all about the bigger picture. So...next thought was "style book". My imaginary label in my head has a very specific set of standards for design. So why not practice applying that to a product (assignment)? In my head, a company that deals with Beautifying Da World (I promise to never put that in an official document) should have something in it's arsenal to show people: a definitive resource that is the essence of their aesthetic. Something that clients could consider, fans could collect, and designers and fellow innovators could keep on their bookshelf. Also, it sounds really cool. As of this moment, of course, I don't have a company. But I have an aesthetic concept. And I have a crumply piece of paper with blueprints for a store on it! Moving on, a "style book" would need to be consistent throughout. My initial thumbnail sketches laid out around 15-20 pages. This is a large workload in terms of work, money, time, and...stuff. I'm amazing, but usually fall a tad short of "miracle worker". And in the case of budget for materials...let's say the $$$ is in the double digits and one number is not higher than "2". So maybe 10 extremely essential pages? Maybe I can do 15, the thumbnails allocate a few pages to such features as: "Pretty Space Wasting Title Page", "Table of Contents", "Weird Blank Page That All Books Are Apparently Supposed to Have at The Back, Possibly Called an End Paper, I'm Not Sure", "Introduction" (to something, the concept? The back-story?), and "Biography/Credits". The other pages would include a page devoted to concept work, sketches, and idea revision (essentially showing the first steps of the creation process), another page with completed works (maybe one digital page and one traditional page, if I can scrounge up any photos I took of them, pages about my goals for the future (entrepreneurship), and pages maybe detailing a step by step through a piece? I do have some really cool pictures throughout my time doing some wall art for my grandma. …Why does any sentence that ends with “for my grandma” sound really uncool? DISCLAIMER: I LOVE MY GRANDMA AND ANYONE WHO WANTS TO SUGGEST OTHERWISE WILL GET A FACE FULL OF FIST. Moving on, I guess I should include a resume. Maybe I can work the resume into the biography page? Essentially, I want it to leave no questions unasked. I feel a little bit like it’s leaning towards art book a bit too much, but…working through it. Overall, I want something tangible. I’m currently working on the various ideas I have for the form it’ll take, and I’ll probably make an entry on those pretty soon (I’m giving myself a Friday night deadline for the decision). Until then, please find something to entertain yourself with.
So presentations are done. Everything that could have gone wrong, did. BUT. For the first time...I wasn't nervous at all! I felt confident; relaxed, even.
Oh. Um...remember that job interview I posted about earlier this week that I thought I totally bombed? Incoherently rambled the entire length of it? Threw me into a dark pit of business despair in which I lamented my fate of eternal unemployment?
As the deadline for part one of our reflexive writing assignments approaches (today), I decided to share some of my feelings about class so far. Also, to say that I think I will be continuing MIND FLEEK for the next assignment, and possibly the third. Anyways, onwards!
ASSIGNMENTS: These range from manageable to a bit difficult. I find that sometimes it's a little hard to understand the assignments fully, like the revising of those official guidelines or whatever. To me, that was frustrating and not particularly rewarding. I didn't get much out of it, and felt with the time limit, it would be hard to do so unless something was further explained, but I'm not sure once. I find the actual assignments are also a little hard to discern- sometimes I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do until a good amount of work time has passed.
READING: I'd like to see some more discussion about the reading we've been assigned, because right now, I'm doing the reading but find I could have skipped it and not have a problem in class. That can be a good thing, but sometimes I like to have some reinforcement in speaking form, since I'm an auditory learner primarily.
CLASS TIME: I like the different approaches to class each time, and the variety of activities we do. My least favorite classes are the ones where we go off and work on our own, and my favorites are the ones split with some discussion and demonstrations, but that's just because I'm a loser who can't interact with people properly. ...Um, moving on, I appreciate the casualness of class, and the fact that the demeanor is fairly relaxed. I can check my email for a few minutes or type my ideas down during class without the teacher biting off my head, and I can eat a snack in case my stomach is trying to digest itself.
OVERALL: It's good, but at the risk of sounding like a slave to the machine, I want to see some more structure? Maybe that's not what I mean. More like, I want clearer purposes. I'm fine with free reign, but I think it's surprising how much creativity can thrive with a few guidelines.
On the topic of MIND FLEEK, I'm a little paranoid about the reception of this project, but I feel like I did a fair amount of posts and presented enough ideas. Heading forward, I want to try focusing a little more on subjects related to class, but it just seems really...broad. Well, this is the first thing I've ever done like this, so I'm learning, slowly but surely.
This lady proudly proclaims she is the only person in the world who knits conceptual pieces on an extreme miniature scale. I believe her. She, no matter what you feel about it, is a professional. She is the best at what she does, an expert in her field. She is also extremely fulfilled. She loves her job, and working in miniature has been her passion since she was young. Many "traditional" business types might scoff at her. They may say, "Professional? More like quack! The financial reports I proofread have much more of an impact on the world! My work gets things done". I would say "Hmm, not true. Her work is a fundamental element of one of my, and many others', favorite movies! That movie in turn inspired the aforementioned and me, and we then used that inspiration to do many things in all fields. Your red penned financial report spelling checks passed under your boss' eyes, then situated themselves firmly into a filing cabinet, never to be seen again, except in cases of audits...if you're lucky. You are BOTH professionals!"
ETA: Accounting is Very Important. I take an Accounting class. But the balance sheets only as important as the thing it's supporting.
CASE #2
After this video you might dismiss this man as some crazy kid pulling a stunt. This man, in addition to being my brother's role model, is a professional. More specifically, he is a professional CHAMPION. Takeru Kobayashi is ranked as the 3rd competitive eater in the world, and held the record for hot dog eating for 6 years. He has broken many records. You can read all about it on Google or something. "Ha!" Financial Proofreader man screeches victoriously. "His work is much less important than mine! Who needs competitive eaters?" "Hm, Takeru Kobayashi has a Wikipedia page. You don't. So Wikipedia needs competitive eaters. Also, my brother views Kobayashi as a role model. Kobayashi is notoriously fit and dedicated to his chosen mission. He works out constantly, and trains for hours. My brother saw something he liked, and uses him as inspiration for bodybuilding. Also, they both like to eat. Kobayashi's determination, dedication, and hard work are all much sought after traits in the business word. You are BOTH professionals!"
ETA: This is my competitive eating role model: (Please do not inquire further as to why my brother and I are so into large amounts of food, we both possess extremely healthy appetites, and food is tasty).
Isn't she amazing?! Gal Sone really loves eating. She is a good example of loving your job. Enough to eat 20lbs of noodles.
CASE #3
Stephen Colbert, folks. What I love: Stephen Colbert loves his job so much, he never steps down for one second from his "Colberrrrr" persona. "Stephen Colbert is just doing what many have done before him. Comedian news reporters are nothing new!" Yes, but your kids don't care about older comedians. And kids are more tuned into politics because Colbert has made them relevant and entertaining. When they don't get a joke, you know what they do? They look it up. And also, he's hilarious without being gross and/or profane. He stays in character to a fault. Dedication, creativity, and hard work. So that is why he is a professional. The suit doesn't hurt, either.
Next, I'm gathering materials for a PEOPLE WHO DON'T LOVE THEIR JOBS post.
Jeex. Hello, everyone, my name is Babbles When Nervous, and my talent is blurting out really incriminating things that reflect poorly on me during job interviews. Yesterday I had a quick job interview to try to score a second job with the school. You know that quote- "Think quickly, speak slowly"? Usually I do a pretty good job with that. Except in important situations I guess. I'm actually not very talkative most of the time. Why on Earth do I suffer diarrhea of the mouth when it comes to things that are actually relevant to my life? It's almost as though as soon as they ask a question, this jerk named My Mouth decides to blurt out a bunch of embarrassing crap, and his girlfriend My Brain is standing there, gaping at her boyfriend's sheer unfettered JERKFACENESS, until she slaps him. I really want to practice the Art of Being Suave. Speaking in slow, measured tones, assured of my precise meaning and wit lacing every. FREAKING. WORD.
..and while I'm wishing for stuff, I want a pony.
But really. Maybe I should take speech therapy classes or something. Is there one for "Dealing with socially retarded babbling"? Or "Nervous Rambling: How to End The Heartbreak". Heck, I'd even considering signing up for "Becoming a Debonair Gentleman: For Women".
I think it's important to have the brains, but the brains don't mean a thing if it ain't got that swin- ...I mean, if you can't express the brains in a coherent, steady flow of words. Honestly, there's enough of a stigma about women in the business world without adding "babbly" to the list of stuff people will whisper about you. I already feel insecure about my voice, which conveniently gets about ten octaves higher when I'm nervous/speaking to strangers/on the phone.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go stand around in lounges and smile coolly while maintaining a mildly interested facade. People always go for that kind of thing.
The teacher said if we made a rubric he would consider using.
SO. I. DID. The first is the boring official one. The second one is something I'd actually look at if it landed on my desk. It's very open ended. You could use a simple but classic numbering system, or write paragraphs of loosely related rambling to make your point! It's all up to you. I feel that paperwork should be exciting. It should reflect your company's aesthetic. Even in black and white, that second one? Classy. Not to say I'm against bare bones. I love simplicity. I mean, look at the layout of this blog. Sharp, clean, dark, and pretty. Just the way I like it. Yes, it's hard reconciling the love of cute with the love of brooding blackness, but I'll figure it out.
...Also my finance teacher told me that printing in amaranth colored ink will drive costs up into the stratosphere.
Well, I read the rest of "Orbiting the Giant Hairball", and thankfully it has a happy ending. Sometime between last night and this morning I got over myself. Actually I'm not sure why I was such a whirlwind of thoughts yesterday. It might have been the fact that in an attempt to save some money, I'm trying to hold out on grocery shopping until the weekend. Yay fluctuating blood sugar! So...apparently I'm extremely perturbed by hairballs. I do live with three cats, so it's not all that out there. I'm not sure if my reaction to the book is positive or negative, but it IS a reaction, which is A+ in my opinion. I'm still working out the issues with this blog, but I think it's starting to feel a little more like what it should be, which...according to me, is a collection of observances on class, communication, business-y concepts, my much awaited magical all of a sudden transformation into a beautiful business butterfly, professionalism, blah blah blah all that good stuff. So...I'm learning. Slowly but surely. I WILL MAKE THIS WORK!
WARNING: this is a long, boring post about me me me whine whine. This is not how my thought process manifests itself normally.
This is how it manifests itself after my brain has been halfway uprooted.
Orbiting the Giant Hairball has rudely pulled so many switches in my brain that I can’t even communicate to my roommates in Earth speak right now. Let’s start with a story. Once upon a time, when I was around 12, I think I probably reached Nirvana. I was in the back of my dad’s Sebring Convertible and I waved to a little kid, even though I’m not a kid person. So I achieved Nirvana suddenly. I felt the whole world go away, and I lived in the wind bubble at 60 mph. We stopped at Kmart. I said with a smile to Dad, “Hey…I think I just reached Nirvana”. My mom seemed oddly accepting. For some reason, though, this threw my Dad into an uncharacteristic fury (He is not unstable or prone to unreasonable anger, by the way). He was vehemently against the claim, saying how there was no way I could reach Nirvana, giving the totally bizarre reason that I’m “Only 12 years old! How is a 12 year old going to reach Nirvana?!” He was livid. My mom on the other hand took this as a challenge. She faced off with him, saying, “If she says she’s reached Nirvana then MAYBE SHE DID!” I just blissed out, until later I thought about what my dad had said. He seemed to always be right so…I hadn’t reached Nirvana. After all, I was just 12 years old. It was ridiculous. It wasn’t until later I thought about what my mom and dad fighting really seemed like. The ultimate rebel, outsider, and all around outlier, Mom, defying authority: angles, the epitome of a white-collar worker, Dad, champion of logic and words. So at the age of 12, I learned that apparently 12 year olds can’t reach Nirvana, but my mom would be accepting of whatever…weird cosmic experiences I would get bestowed upon me. Including Nirvana.
So I read the first 56 pages. I am now sitting, reading my closet doors that are covered in pink pieces of paper. Those pieces in turn are covered in frantic scribbles: my brain overflowing through my favored black Crayola marker. I’m not sure what my brain is trying to say- if it’s agreeing with the book or fervently arguing with it. I’m going to settle for it being overly stimulated. I was on an Elliptical machine while I was reading it, so I couldn’t even jot down my thoughts, just raise the level on the machine to “Nuclear”. I think the reason I feel so messed up is because…I’m not even sure I’m in the orbit of a hairball. I’ve tried to be in a hairball for so long. I once even lost a hold of feeling emotion so I could be in a hairball. Being in hairballs is not a talent of mine. It’s one of the couple things I utterly fail at. It’s the reason jobs elude me, why I can’t say anyone 100% understands me, and why I constantly “float”- float between people, some of who aren’t even there. I am, for better or worse, a 4th dimensional person. It’s a Korean phrase (as far as I know) for someone who has 4 sides, and doesn’t seem to be…”right”. A popular break down of the 4 types can be: Bright and Normal Bright and Strange Dark and Normal Dark and Strange
A 4 dimensional person displays all of these or none of these simultaneously. Another common trait is that “words drop out of the sky” to them. This can have several meanings. They might be seen talking to themselves (there is a distinction from crazy, because, at least in my opinion, they aren't talking to themselves. They're talking to whatever is listening, as opposed to crazy people who are talking to their hand or something). They might be artists or poets with an extremely strange, prolific personal aesthetic. Communication with everything and nothing. I don’t know about other 4th dimensional people, but for me, it’s ensured that I can never converse with someone with my entire mind. I’m either analyzing their brain or missing out on everything, coming away from the conversation with entire messages totally unnoticed. Just because I'm lazy. It also ensures that I totally fail at fitting in. I think part of the reason this book has me so freaked out because it's on the verge of invalidating my existence. So far, I'm almost labeled as a gray fuzzy nothing on the chart. As a bubble person, I float within hairballs and orbits. I go to art school. To study business. I always claim I'm anti-Fine Art, yet…I paint more than most art students do. I’m not an artist by my own definition, but then what would you think when you see my piles of sketchbooks, constant doodles, works in progress? It makes no sense. I love thinking business, and I love the privacy it gives me to do my own projects. I have never been as unhappy as I was in the Fine Art environment. Ironically, it stifled my creativity. I wasn’t allowed to do anything the way I wanted, because it wasn’t “artistic” enough, whatever that meant. As a Business major, I have more freedom in my art than I’ve ever had. I can draw what I want, when I want, how I want, and it’ll still be ok because I’m not supposed to be able to draw. I’m in my own little orbit, I think, floating in my daydreams and scribbles, and ambition. I can raise my hand proudly when someone asks if I’m an artist, because no one expects me to. There isn’t a place for me in the world yet, so I want to make my own place, which is why I’m going to be an entrepreneur. I want to live in the world and show them the 4th dimension through my designs and products. I’m not sure if I’m incredibly stupid or a genius, if I can break through my anti communication frequency and forcefully attach it to everyone else’s frequency, but I’m going to find out. Even if I fail horribly, I can always float back up for some R&R.
With all these opportunities to meet influential and extremely successful people, adults around me are constantly telling me to network and work on starting “professional relationships”. They tell me to shake hands, state my name, get an in. When I hear this though…I have a few prominent thoughts.
a) What on Earth will that accomplish? b) It would be good to tell me, oh wise one, what exactly you do after saying your name. Just stand there and smile? My smile IS dazzling, but it’s not THAT dazzling. c) This feels bad. This feels too close to brown nosing. If I’m not doing it for my own personal interest, and feeling genuinely excited, it feels empty and power hungry.
Yet as an aspiring entrepreneur, I’m constantly getting the same advice. I understand that getting my name out there is good. It’s a good thing. But at the same time…I’m 19 years old. I live in a dorm. My main projects lately are digital paintings and deciding whether or not the rice crackers will last until budget refresh day. Yes, I do make up business plans in my notebooks, and I have one hell of a master plan going on deep in the laboratories but…right now, I feel like all I have to share with people is a little silly. I’m super excited about my plans and goals, but it seems petty to take up someone’s time with intangible rambles, especially when that someone has accomplished more than I have in my entire life. I know conceptualizing is valuable, and it’ll transmit the right message to the people who need to hear it, when they need to hear it, but…I have nothing to interest them yet. I have done the business equivalent of doodling, and I’m trying to show Rembrandts and DaVincis my little crayon drawings. I don’t look the part, and I feel like I haven’t earned the excited gushing about entrepreneurship because, duh, I haven’t done anything yet. And my hardboiled office experience amounts to, uh, going on one month of office assistant-ness? I guess what I’m trying to say is I wish I could win the lottery so I could have my own little shop thing. Then I could be the one making people nervous with the slightest facial tic. ...I just invalidated my entire point. Awesome!
Before jetting off to the flea market (I assure you I really am a college student, not an old person), I had some time to kill. Instead of working on Photoshop or continuing to scrounge in our somewhat minimalist kitchen for breakfast, I decided to attack my backlog of half finished entries. It’s a pretty unattractive tangle of half finished thoughts, stupid quotes, and green grammar lines. I do manage to record some potential material, though. The Squiggle model of communication in class was reminding me of something. Also, I forgot the technical name for this model, but..."squiggle model” seems all right to use casually. It haunted me for a bit, and I was wondering, “What could this possibly remind me of?” It seemed weird that it would stand out to me. Naturally, I wouldn’t remember until AFTER the assignment, but I was definitely on to something. The something in question was that series of remake movies, Ocean’s Eleven (and twelve, and thirteen). More specifically Ocean’s Thirteen because it’s on cable practically everyday. You’ve probably seen it flipping through channels. People always say it’s the worst in the trilogy. I don’t care. It’s on TV the most. I make no claims to having a good taste in movies, but I really do like O13. It’s very subtly funny, and I do love plans without a hitch. And the plans in Ocean are always very big. So, jet setters, bored genius thieves, ridiculously high stakes, and stylish transitions- I’m in. Despite my failure to find a script, I’m going to attempt some recall. On with my point: throughout the movie, two of the main characters, Danny (George Clooney) and Rusty (Brad Pitt), are often used to segue into a scene. They are shown midway through their unrelated conversations. The lack of context is what makes them so funny to me.
Now I am going to hate them, because I’m going to analyze what on Earth those could mean, by taking the funny out and replacing it with hard cold description. Oh, school, the sacrifices I make for you.
Situation #1:
Theory: Rusty decided his current love interest, who was threatening to change the channel would appreciate him…dropping his towel, in return for the cessation of channel change! (Tongue twister.) Once the remote is dropped, the towel goes back on. Maybe she had said something about wanting him to be more spontaneous recently? In any case, Danny seems unfazed by his friend’s antics. In the same way you get used to a dog that pees everywhere, Danny has gotten used to his friend. (I'm just bitter because MY dog pees everywhere, and coincidentally, his name is Danny). He also seems to think this situation was handled in a typical way. I get the feeling the woman in this equation didn't stay around for very long.
Situation #2:
Theory: Rusty and Danny are good enough friends that they barely need to say anything to understand each other. I’ve been there, it’s nice.
Situation #3:
Theory: …well at the very least, Danny seems a little shocked by the audacity of the pancake on the floor, but then congratulates his friend putting his foot down and taking a stand. (No comment) I don't even know why pancakes would be offensive. And once again, according to Danny, it was handled in the best possible way. Maybe pancakes are Rusty's least favorite food, and Danny feels you have to make a statement to be understood. I…I’m …having trouble with this one, mostly because I’m cackling while ticking away at my keyboard. I’m going to take a break.
I tasted power today, when I temporarily stood in for the abandoned reception desk at XXXXXX, an office located somewhere within Ringling. The phone rang only twice (three times if you count the call I missed while answering another call...cue staring at the blinking SECOND CALL alert, only to snap back to reality when the other line questioned my slack jawed silence...Let's pretend that one didn't happen), but I think I probably hung up on one trying to transfer the call, and made the other one go to the wrong voicemail.
...If it was important, they'd call back, right? Suffice to say, I spent the rest of the time cringing every time someone seemed to be walking towards the office (considering the location, a lot of the time), hoping it wasn't the enraged caller come to beat my face in with the telephone.
I then had a marvelous conversation with somebody. This was probably helped by my nervousness about...um...possibly hanging up on potentially important people? When I'm nervous, I'm a great talker. I'm friendly, witty, and quick minded. Maybe I should be nervous more often! Sure, I look like I have the jitters, my skin gets corpse pale, and my breathing becomes erratic ("Must...not...breathe...it's socially unacceptable!"), but I'm just the life of the party. ...That's just my perception though. It's quite possible I'm imagining this as my mind's way of protecting me from the reality: I come off as a total serial killer.
it puts the lotion in the basket or it gets the hose again!!
I've noticed that people will often chide me for being "too nice" or "wimpy" (I prefer ridiculously laid back and/or lazy). This is okay to me. I'd rather be "too nice" than constantly express "DEAR HELL WHO PEED IN YOUR COFFEE" caliber rage. I also prefer chilly silent anger than "Punch You in the Jeans" anger...but that's another entry. My point is that you would think this gave me leeway when my mouth lets escape a pointed remark in a fit of delirium. (See: running late for class) I've found that, instead, people tend to REMEMBER. EVERY. EXACT. WORD I SAID. For yearsss after the fact. I mean, I'm absolutely ecstatic that people are apparently hanging on my every word, that was a little dream of mine, but when my roommate remembers an offhand remark I said that, according to reports, was arrogantly dismissive, it gives me pause. Also...I don't sweat small stuff, so although I'm sure it wasn't as vitriolic as she perceived it, I have no other context to place that in besides her view, since I filed that memory away, oh say, about 5 minutes after it happened. I guess what I'm trying to say is.... I SWEAR I'M NOT A PURPOSELY BAD PERSON (insert sob) LEAVE ME ALONNEEE Also, it's so weird how something that you say offhand with absolutely no strong feeling or thought behind it can live on for years as a virtual clothespin stuck on someone's nose. (...Interesting analogy. I like this blogging thing; it makes me sound vaguely intelligent.) Although we're good friends, she will always remember that exchange, as well as my defense years later when she told me. It's...it's actually a little creepy.
And that was my allowance of paranoia for the day, back to being cheerfully disaffected!
I feel dumb because I didn't realize the reading was on Sakai until...oh, say, this morning.
When I got to the section on vertigo, my first thought was how much actual vertigo sucked when I got it. In addition to sailors in fogs and scuba divers experiencing it, apparently Temporary Credit Associates who work at XXXX Department Stores get it too. Then I read about social vertigo and thought, "Boy I feel that all the time! How unfortunate a revelation!" Then I remembered my sudden year long bout of apathy in senior year of high school, and thought that feeling social vertigo is much better than not feeling anything at all. This sounds more angst...ful than it really is.
I need some Crayola markers. It'd make my conversation script prettier. (Yes, they really do need their own tag, there at the bottom; what if I feel like talking about Crayola markers in the future?) I'm not going to be able to get them until it's too late, so my script will be black on black. Impressive!
First posts are so unnerving. You always want to post something memorable, but you can't just dive into the content straight away with no fanfare. There's no difference with written journals. FIRST PAGE HAS TO SAY "MY JOURNAL". (Optional: "read and die!" or "Brent Luhguhuu is so dreamy~") So...this is the first post.
