Now in "oh-so-grown-up"

So, this Saturday, I attended my undergrad alma mater's Homecoming for the first time since 2005. So, three years ago. I was 23, I mooched off of my parents' tailgate, attended a party at the theater, got drunk, and slept on campus.

This year, I had a group of out-of-town friends come to my house on Friday night. We got up at 7AM to drive to the college, planned and executed a fabulous tailgate, and went back to my place fairly early and fairly sober. We proceeded to sit around in my living room, discussing life plans, memories and politics, and generally cracking each other up.

I suppose what I'm saying is: I am no longer in it for the drinking, the craziness, the lack of remembering. I am in it for the people and the memories. I have a fantastic group of friends. Their only bad quality? Some of them live too ding-dang-god far away.

In other life news, I'm busy as anything. I'm lost but not too lost. I'm open to possibilities. I'm generating creative output (yay, NaNoWriMo). I'm reconnecting. I'm planning. I'm decorating. I'm dreaming. I'm marvelling at all the things that change and those, of course, that stay exactly the same.

The IM Self-actualization of Artists

R: YOU WILL NEVER FIND HAPPINESS IF YOU DON'T GO LOOK FOR IT

Me: I understand the concepts behind self actualization and fulfillment.

R: Prince Charming does not fall into the lap of girls like us.

R: we're made to get broken

Me: Yeah, yeah. Wait...what?

R: we're artists.

Me: Ah. I see.

R: we need a little sadness.

R: otherwise what would we write about?

R: but you have to keep looking!

R: aye-carumba!

A tribute to two greats...

Two fabulous people were born on this day. One in 1881. One in 1984.

Happy Birthday to Rachel and Picasso.

Now, could a girl from Hicksville, MD and a man from Malaga, Spain- born almost one hundred years apart- share anything in common, besides a birthdate?

You bet your ass.

Versatility and Art. Also, did you know that Picasso couldn't spell either?

Look at this. Four different paintings from Picasso. It's not easy to tell they were done by the same painter. Such artistry! What a master of style!



He's the father of modern painting, you know.

Similarly, here are some pictures of Rachel (all yoinked off of myspace, as I am posting illegally during work hours and unable to access my own photo collection). Versatile- look at all her different looks from one picture to the next. Art? Sure- the one with pigtails is one of her early works. Plus, look at the photo where she is obviously being exhibited. Style? I should think so(class, too: look at the company she keeps).

They also both find/found it hard to get up in the mornings and do/did their best work at night. Both were/are regarded as MUSTs on the guest list of any party. And you know what: PICASSO MADE BAD CHOICES, TOO!


In closing: to celebrate Picasso's birthday, read Steve Martin's excellent play, Picasso at the Lapine Agile. To celebrate Rachel's birthday, go buy her a drink. If Picasso was still alive, he would want a drink, too.

Winning at Losing...

Work, work, work.

These days it seems that everyone is the most tired, the most busy, the most stressed, the most overworked. It's a contest I never meant to be in the running for. When I was young and lazy (-ER, as I'm still young and lazy), my Dad would yell at me: "Someday, you're going to have to work hard all day, every day, like I do." I said: "Not if I can help it."

I still mean that. Not to be trite, but there's more to life.

Anyway, I suppose my weekend was 'the more', but I refuse to live just for weekend respites. It was a birthday weekend. Friday was my college roommate's birthday, so we went to the O's game (my first baseball game in years...they suck) and dinner and drinking. There was no dancing, but there was Naked Woman Memory. And how can that not be a good time?

Saturday was mostly reliving my college days- sitting around with two of my best friends doing absolutely nothing. Then getting up and ordering take out food, so we could continue to do absolutely nothing. Doing nothing with your friends is so much better than doing nothing all by yourself. The sad part (one of them) about growing up and leaving college is that you have to get up and go somewhere to effectively do nothing. Or have people come to you. Either way, it involves a lot more effort than it used to.