scrapbook vingt-deux

I found these wicker ball lights on a clearance aisle in target during winter break, and hung them up immediately when I returned for the spring semester. I think my roommate and I have had them lit maybe four times (?) this semester. Yea, we fail epically. Yesterday we were having a bonding evening, watching a great classic, Aladdin, and a soon-to-be classic (not really haha) Harper's Island. Disney makes me immensely happy, so I was really hyper and was all over the place. I randomly decided we should have the wicker lights on. For the first time I noticed the effect they had on the room. My attention was drawn the shadows. I don't know why, but it made me feel like I was in a forest. Shadows are such amazing things. They can be beautiful, like this, or they can represent something terrifying, like shadows in the woods on a moonlit night, you can't identify what they are from. Yet, in order to have a shadow, you need light coming from somewhere, and light is a symbol for hope and security. It's interesting to think how something so scary can come from light. I am going to make sure to use these lights more next year.

scrapbook vingt et un

These are my pre-approval of transfer credit forms from the registrar. Due to job shortage in my hometown, my mother and father decided that it would be best for me to take classes and work around the house the rest of the time. I don't think I am going to take all of them, but in the off chance I chose one over the other I need to make sure I get credit for my effort. My attention was drawn to them for a couple reasons. One is that they are symbols for my summer, or in this case lack there of. I only have three more "vacations" in my lifetime. I think before this I took them for granted, but now I realise that I should attempt to enjoy them to the fullest extent since pretty soon I will be working fulltime. Another reason is that they were such a pain in the butt to get/hand in/etc. I thought it would be simple, go to registrar, fill out form, leave, come back, pick up. No. There were like eighteen more random steps in between and about eighteen people (some of whom were nasty to deal with) at the front desk of Glendenning. Its seems like a lot of work just to have more work approved so that once that work is done you can go have more work done to have the grade put on your transcripts. Well at least now I know how lovely the process is...Summer is currently fifteen days away for me. Fifteen days until one of my last summers ever, and I will be doing more homework. Joy.

impressionism reflection

For my second artist talk/lecture/visit I went back to the National Gallery with my French Conversation class to see a guided tour of the impressionism exhibit. Impressionism is my favorite style of art. I took Intro to Art History last semester, but since it was getting near the final, we kind of breezed through this topic, so I only knew that I liked impressionism. The tour itself was really interesting, because rather than just go on and on about the picture, the docent asked us what we saw and what we thought the artist was trying to convey. Also, the information about the artists seemed really personal, and not just a general overview of his or her life. For example, after seeing two self portraits, one by Van Gogh and the other by Gaugin, the docent preceded to tell us about their tumultuous relationship and that they only agreed on one thing. They both thought Gaugin was a genious. I was also fascinated that pretty much all of the artists we looked at were going blind because of their work, and that was a big reason why their "impressions" were so important, because they lacked the ability to see all the details. Monet was my favorite, because I loved his series. Its so true that you get a different feeling seeing something at different times of the day, and his paintings definitely reflect that notion.

film reflection

I really enjoyed the film, La Jettee (I know there is supposed to be an accent somewhere in there). Not only was the story itself kind of interesting, but the concept of that one important image that would last with you for all time rang true with me. There are images, not ones that were photographed or documented in any other place but my mind, that have been with me for years. Some in particular though I see a lot. The image of my mother and father crying as they explained to my brother and I what happened on September 11th is one that will forever haunt me. As a child, I think you just naturally expect your parents to be strong and defend you. I finally saw how vunerable they were, and it shattered my world to an extent. It made everything after that seem slightly more terrifying, because I knew that my parents had the same feelings I did, but constantly had to hide them. I think I am going to use this idea in my narrative project. The single image forever scarred into a man's memory....

scrapbook vingt

These are my newest pair of headphones. This school year alone, I have had to buy four new pairs. For some unknown reason, the right speaker always blows out and dies. At first I didn't think that it would matter, but after a while, hearing only through one hear tends to give you a headache. A really bad headache. I can not pinpoint exactly why they fail me, but every month and a half, they stop. Last year I didn't really think about my headphones, or how vital they were to my existance. This year, however, has been rather traumatizing. I am hoping this pair lasts me. I never thought about how techinical headphones were before. Each of my other pairs looked totally fine, yet the right ear did not function in any way shape or form. They are not art because, since I am poor, I buy the cheap, unaesthetically pleasing sony ones. Maybe they die because they are cheap? Anyway, I think they deserve attention because of how often they are used and the detail put into them (or possibly my case since they are cheap the lack thereof?). They have the ability to provide enormous amounts of entertainment without disturbing anyone else around you. That's pretty nifty. Imagine how loud the world would be without them. They are so tiny too! It's incredible such a loud sound can come from them. Since they are tiny, it's also difficult to find the problem. In mine for example, maybe a wire snapped, or I turned it up too loud. I guess I'll never figure it out.

scrapbook dix-neuf

My birthmark on my leg has plagued me for as long as I can remember. Its an eye sore that causes anyone who sees it to wonder what the hech happened to me. I've been asked if I've been injured (which based on my coordination is likely),if I have a rash/disease/infection, if it is a tattoo, or if it is paint (?). Nope. None of the above. It's a birthmark. I used to hate it so much that I never wanted to wear anything but jeans. It was awful. And they used to be worse since I was smaller, they were closer together and the color was way more intense. They are like purple Rorschach blots. Yet inspite of the fact they are ugly, they make me unique. I have never met anyone else with a similar birthmark. At least one that pronounced. I am now proud of it. I was told that once I got to high school it would disappear. I'm glad they are wrong. It makes me "me". If it was not there, it would be like a part of my life/identity was gone too. This doesn't really have a GoogleEarth link, since I didn't know where I was from, since I move around and such.

scrapbook dix-huit

This is a guitar pick I found when I was vactioning in North Carolina. I picked it up, because I had planned on making it into an earring for my high school spirit day. Our color was yellow, and the more creative you were, the more likely you would be on powder puff court (the uber-strict allgirlcatholicschool equivalent of homecoming court aka fun). I attempted all four years, and failed miserably, probably because I never wore this in my ear haha. It usually sits in my shadow box on the wall. Now I look at it and it means so much more. It serves as a reminder from that vacation but it makes me think of who it belonged to. My family is very consistent. Each year we go to the same beach, stay the same week, and at the same house. I wonder if the person that left this has a similar schedule. If he/she is there the week before me. Or if it came from months before. What kind of music did it "create". I'm hoping anything but country...