I know I said I was limiting my journalling to paper, but I'm currently at the U of R library with only scraps of paper from previous shopping trips and I pathetic pen - so I think that this situation calls for online reflection.

Thus far, Mo and I have lugged our things into Elmwood Manor, signed tons of forms, and bid our families farewell. I feel genuinely optimistic about this next year living with Mo away from RIT. I haven't obtained any emotional wounds this summer and am ready to jump fervently into classes and work (if you can separate the two). I'm going over the recommended course load, but I spoke with Doug Rea my advisor the other day and he said he wasn't too concerned "Most students overload because they need to catch up or are transferring in, your motivation is very different." After declining some loans yesterday, I emailed a ceramics professor about auditing his intro course. The freedom to experiment with clay this summer was SO NICE and I want to continue the therapy related to the art form.

I think Mo's done with her "Tuesday's with Maureen" blog, so I'm going to scoooot.

One last thought; why is life so damn expensive? Rent, internet, basic food groups, parking permits, school books!!!!!!!! Will this madness ever cease?

Peace. :)

August 2nd, moving and shit

Whew, what a day today was. I woke up a little after 9 and plowed on to 3 yard sales with my parents. Our initial attempt was fatally fruitless and the second had already been ravaged by the damn early birds who always get the worm. I did, however, get a lovely little yellow lamp for 3 dollas. Then, came a wave of packing which has and always will consist of my inner urge to be sucked into contemplation of all of my old memories which are somehow still preserved in the most inconspicuous object. As always, I have to fight a bit against that nostalgia in order to actually make progress.

I'm bringing a box of my old journals up to Rochester though, in the hopes that I can form some project out of my old rambles. It would be wonderful to have a crazy multimedia wall of recollections and the ever changing present into past. Alas, the passage of time. I can only begin to imagine what it must seem like to my wonderful parents, seeing their daughter move out and into her first apartment. Hypothetically, if I was helping my child move out, I would feel relief at giving him or her a life his or her own, a plethora of hope towards his or her life, but also sadness at separation. The continuity of life is such a grand wonder!

It's 11:33 and I'm squatting on my ground since we already moved my chair into the van. I have to get up at 7 tomorrow and I should go to sleep. But first some pics of this dwindling summer in Pittsburgh.
On the left is Marcus aka "Omish Mike" and on the right is my absolute favorite customer Roland. He comes in every day at 5 for happy hour (which is actually two hours... weird...) and gets the Yuengling draft for 2 dollars instead of 2.75 during regular hours. He has a wonderful Mass. accent and tons of stories which I enjoy listening to. I'll have to scan in this astrological chart he gave me my last week there. But since it's late, I'll sleep now and stick to my paper journal next week since I'm not bringing my computer yet.

August 1st recollection

Last night was a boisterous girl's night with Lis and Laura. We drank a bit of red wine and had animated discussions until 3 or 4, finally passing out on the lawn chairs. Around 7 we relocated to the basement where Addy kept my feet warm with her little Italian greyhound body. I had the weirdest dream that Laura was arrested for murder or kleptomania by an annoying little girl and I was trying to prove her innocence. In the morning some celebration for Lis's bday, then at my house she napped while I packed up my bathroom stuff. I have A LOT more packing to do, but I feel very unmotivated. There's a shit load of glitter on the ground from an accidental avalanche and I just made myself drink some milk because I may or may not have just swallowed a bit of paint... That might sound random, but I decided to spice up some dollar store frames with a painting effort. I was mixing some acrylic yellow onto a turquoises frame but it needed a solvent and I didn't feel like getting up so I spit on my finger. Then in the bathroom I realized there was paint on my lips. I hope I don't accidentally kill myself with a lapse of judgment like that..

Now for the recollections and analysis pertaining to this past weeeeeeek...

This is one of the luck recipients of the spider man paint job. I did about 5 before running out of the red face paint. Volunteering at the North side festival was really fun, especially the part where a little girl asked for hello kitty with flames in the background (copying the flames from the boy I'd painted previously, not thinking that it would look like hello kitty was on fire).

Jeff at MCG with his FABULOUS flava flav dragon. He runs a bicycle magazine and works with the digital studio and is kick-ass.

It was Doston's 40th birthday this past Monday, and he was bummed that we didn't put his name on the board. Once Terry got in I told her to put it on. Doston is a skinny, squirrelly man who comes in and orders Budweiser bottles. He seemed very lonely, but also very proud of the family ties he has. He hit on me a little, following suite with the other tipsy old men, but then realized "you're only a year older than my daughter." Then he want on to show me a picture and talk about how he misses seeing her.

I have a ton more photos I wanted to talk about, but I'm loosing my train of thought like no other. If I don't wake up tomorrow because of the paint predicament, I want it to be known that I hold no grudges and died with love in my heart... hehe...