“I am seeking. I am striving. I am in it with all my heart.” Vincent van Gogh

I spend 90% of my time scheming ways to become rich and/or famous with limited skills and even littler effort. Inclined to use the left side of my brain, I always thought it’d be great to be some bohemian artist.  Alas, doing yoga and buying expensive organic groceries weren’t as effective as I initially planned. So, I finally decided to hone my artistic prowess and take an art class, expecting miraculous results never seen in the five years I’d spent at art school. With blind determination, I registered for a weeklong workshop with Stephen Early studying the human figure in oil at Raleigh’s Art Space. So as not to look like some huge chump, I cashed out my 401K and traveled to the art store where I purchased the nicest oil paints money could buy. Surely, it’s the paint that makes the artist, not talent.

My charcoal nudes from college

Upon arrival, I realized I might be a bit in over my head. My palms began to sweat and the Caboodle case I’ve used to store hair ties in since the third grade almost slipped out of my death grip. I suddenly wondered why I’d blown all my cash on paints and not purchased a trendy storage case?! I put my negativity aside, chose an easel with trepidation, and sized up the competition.

Stephen providing instruction

The class began with instruction on composition setup. We discussed color theory and the importance of positioning paint on the canvas for color transition without blending. It all seemed like a lot of work and too much attention to detail so I decided just to revert back to my self-taught method of taking the easy way out. Somehow I wasn’t as successful as the trained professional teaching the class. I completed the course several days later realizing I always had my ability to read and watch tv to fall back on. I’m currently reworking my resume to reflect these strengths.

The Blogger Tells All

Tonight, I rushed work, cut my workout short, and forwent grocery shopping to watch, always the thriller, The Bachelor. I thought the final rose was to be presented and so would begin another infinite journey of love and friendship. Unfortunately, I was duped and ABC proves yet again their knack at prolonging the inevitable when Sean chooses Catherine and tells AshLee she is too old and Lindsay she is too dumb.

After three cheese sticks, 2 lbs of grapes, and 10 nut clusters, I exhausted my alarmingly scarce fridge provisions just at the conclusion of tonight’s airing of The Bachelor and infuriatingly discovered there were two more episodes left (how could I forget The Women Tell All?). Needless to say, it wasn’t all for naught, as I’ve developed some opinions and noted a few items worth blogging about.

1. The Bachelor alarmingly felt like an MTV popup video with incessant tweets flashing across my tv screen. If Polly from Alabama feels she’d make beautiful babies with Sean, then blog about it like a decent human being because I need to watch the robotic AshLee become a stage 5 clinger and get voted off the island.
2. Did I hear Sean mention Lindsay as his emotional and mental inferior? Someone please review the tape and get back to me. 
3. Can the ladies get off their soapboxes about the fantasy suite? For the greater good, sacrifices must be made. You’re not blowing some stranger outside the Kum ‘n Go and you’re not a heroine from a Jane Austen novel, you’re a reality star… Don’t waste your 10 minutes of fame. The rest of the single woman populace doesn’t fantasize about sitting up all night discussing feelings with a man that has a six-pack… and it is the fantasy suite after all.
4. Is Catherine seriously trying to evoke pity? She was told she was chubby and ate too much? Please, do you think I’m so funny because I’m good-looking? Thanks for playing.

In conclusion, don’t bother calling me the next two Monday nights.

The best laid plans of mice and men often go astray.

Growing up outside a small town, I had dreams of moving to the big city. I was an aspiring artist, crafter, reader, and designer. Wide-eyed with opportunity and almost speechless with passion, I was inept to render a defined focus.

Fast forward to college graduation, I emerge from my academia bubble and realize how sheltered the previous five years have been (Yes, five years). My susceptibility to the limited job market brings desperation and like all the other Ugg and jean skirt-wearing females, I am desperate. Suddenly my “practical” skills of knowing a simple knit stitch and Bravo’s nighttime scheduling isn’t gonna cut it.  I had so many achievements in that much needed fifth year. I grew my hair out, not succumbing to whims of getting bangs or a pixie cut. I lost weight and was able to fit into a size 1 pair of jeans if I wiggled and clenched my ass muscles just right. I was shacking up with a guy who appeared to have his shit together and honing my abilities to provide comedic relief. Practically a Mother Teresa, I finally discovered I couldn’t keep working for free and fulfill the basic necessities of life, like purchasing the $600 Burberry purse I’d been salivating over.

In the end, I forcibly relied on my practical business degree (and bullshitting skills) and was awarded a position within a Fortune 100 Company (pretty much sheer dumb luck). Now, at 25, I find myself in a man’s world where my creativity and artistic prowess remain unleveraged. Luckily, the hole in my nose from a previous piercing has healed shut nicely and I have no other visible body art expressing individuality. So, as far as I can tell, this corporate facade I present from the hours of 9-5 is widely accepted.

While monetary compensation quiets my sorrows, my bachelor of fine arts degree in design, photography, and jewelry and metal-smithing sits dormant. Within my gray prison, I still dream my dreams. This blog is an attempt to regain the passion that once overwhelmed and consumed, to fight complacency, and extract and cultivate the ideas residing in my marrow. If anyone should happen across this blog and find inspiration or enrichment, I will be glad. However, for me, this blog is an indulgence, meant as a challenge to be the girl I once was and chronicle my transformation of simple musings to something of personal significance.

*Please note this is a revised version of my first posting. The second posting will not be revived in any way. Sorry to disappoint all my fans.

A Brief Reprieve

You may have noticed the disappearance of my first two postings. My recent compilations were developed with reckless abandon, surmising I had nothing to fear but fear itself. Alas, no man is an island unto himself and in an attempt to receive future inheritance I have vanished my well-written prelude and will move forward with plots less offensive and disturbing to my loved ones—feel free to quit reading, now. Moving forward, if I wish to jest, I’ll divert to self-deprecating banter and single out friends who’ve acquired a thicker skin in subjection to what has been coined “my insensitive humor.” Good luck…