What Nerds Do Over Spring Break

We all know I'm not your typical spring break girl. I'm not a big drinker, I go to bed early, and I'm pretty sure I'm going to be 84 this year.

What does a girl like me do over Spring Break?

Crochet.

Mmmhmm. I said it. Crochet. Look, there's proof!

He's going up for sale in my Etsy shop whenever I get around to taking real photos of him.

I didn't do much else, really. I worked.

I'm beginning to think I'm not cut out for retail. It frustrates me more and more every day. It makes me realize that I do want higher education. I don't want to be my boss in 5 years: married, a store manager, never able to leave town on a holiday. Ew.

That's it folks. We return to regularly scheduled programming next week: Class, work, class. Rinse, repeat, for another 5 weeks. Graduation is quickly approaching, and I could not be more excited.

Self Actualizations

I'm learning some... stuff... this week.

As you may know, my dating life is a blooper reel.

I'm currently stringing along men I'm not interested in, because they keep popping up, even when I ignore them. I have one woman who wants to "hook up" and then see what happens. And then I've got one who is confusing the hell out of me with the witty banter and playfulness.

Anyway. I digress.

What I'm learning, by observing the dating rituals of those around me, is that I'm a settler. I give in to other people. I give them what they want to hear, because I'm not honest enough to just say "no," for fear it hurts their feelings. If I'm tired and want to go home, I can't just say so without feeling guilty. If I don't want to date you, I can't just say so without feeling guilty. It doesn't matter WHAT it is, everything I ever say in opposition gives me a guilt trip.

So, what does this mean?

Honestly, I don't know. I wish I knew what to do with it. I've tried meditating for some clarity, and sadly, I just keep falling asleep because I've been so exhausted lately.

I'm trying to tap into my inner sex goddess, as awkward as that may be for some of you to learn. She and I used to have a great relationship, but over time we've become fair weather friends. She gained a couple of pounds and some laugh lines and now she's in hiding. I'm trying to coax her out with lots of fanfiction (if you don't get this, please don't worry, you're probably better off). I'm trying to re-establish our bonds, because we had a great time together. I don't know, maybe she needs a break from me.

I've also learned that distance not only makes the heart grow fonder, but truly tests the threads of relationships. I'm watching it in the relationships of my friends, and I'm watching it in my own relationships. How many people are excited for my return to Florida? Let me just sum it up by saying "a lot." How many of those people have come here to see me? Have emailed me? Have seen me when I've visited Florida? The response is a sad but true "a few."

Now, please, don't take this harshly. I understand the complications of work, money, school, partners, and children. I do. But, I am reachable by phone, email, text, chat platforms, skype... you name it, you can reach me on it.

I'm terrified that this will happen again when I go to Tallahassee. It's far enough away from both of my homes that I may be truly isolated. I may be completely and utterly alone for a few months until I find some poor soul to eat lunch with me.

Maybe my paranoia and nerves are getting the best of me at this point. I'm really, truly, terrified to do this by myself.

Little Announcements

Forgive me, because this is going to be completely self-serving:

I GOT INTO FSU!!!

Okay. Done. I promise. No more exclamation points.

I was terrified that NO ONE would take me, that I would be stuck at Old Navy for another year, waiting for my life to start.

Today, my life started. Today, I got into graduate school. Today, I officially became a "PhD Seeking" student, as so named by Florida State University.

I have until March 31st to give a response, so I'm going to wait about two more weeks to see if anyone else wants me as well.

Where ever I end up, I will be proud of myself. And, where ever I end up... I will be terrified. I will be broke. I will be alone. But, I will be making something of myself, and THAT I'm okay with.

Jasper Johns Did What Now?

Jasper Johns was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom.

To the Art History nerd inside of me, this sounds like the beginning of a bad joke, along the lines of "a rabbi walks into a bar..."

It's no joke, friends. The American artist who has been challenging accepted notions of American identity since the early 50s was awarded the highest civilian honor by Barack Obama himself. The last studio artist to get this was I think Willem de Kooning. Maybe Georgia O'Keefe? I know they both received it, at some point, but I don't recall if it was post-humously or not, as it was with Alexander Calder.

Anyway, I guess what I'm trying to say is... What the fuck? Honestly. I love Johns, please don't misunderstand me. I have a lot of respect for the work of Johns. But, it's no secret that the man has made a mockery of American symbolism. He has taken classic American icons, like the flag, the map, the colors... and has given them a Warholian approach. He has turned them into commodities.

I guess next... it will be Kerouac and Ginsberg winning Medals of Freedom.

Go, Jasper Johns. I salute you, but in the only way appropriate: a totally un-American one.

Adventures in Dating

My dating experience thus far has been just that: an experience. I've tried a lot of different things, a lot of different types. I've tried traditional and a-typical dating, and everything in between.

I think it's about time I started to record these things. Because, honestly, these stories are just too crazy to exist only in my memories.

Like the guy that wanted me to toss his salad. The one that wanted to feed me BBQ chicken while I wore a diaper. The guy that cried far more than I did at chick flicks. How about the one that wanted to talk about laundry detergent, and nothing else?

These things are real, people. And they happen to me. Of course, me. Because I attract the weirdest types.

A truly funny lady once called it my "harem," and sadly, the moniker is not stretching the truth by much.

What do we think? How interesting do we find the plight of a serial dater?

The Art Kid in Me Just Peed Herself in Excitement...

Okay, so Google and I are buddies. No, seriously. We're BFF's. Google handles my email, my calendar, my text messages, my phone calls, my money, my blogs, my pictures, my documents, my GPS. If Google ever goes under, I'm pretty much screwed. I believe in Google so much, though, that I'm willing to take the chance.

That being said, most of you know that I'm an art history nerd, an artist, and a Google freak.

This latest undertaking by Google just blew my mind: http://www.googleartproject.com/

Basically, Google has adapted their technology from Maps, and applied it to art museums. No kidding. I toured the MoMA yesterday. You can search galleries, zoom in on works, get information about the work, the artist, the date, etc. The digitization is high quality. Short of actually being in the museum, this is the BEST possible way to view art.

I'm probably never going to get to most of the museums listed. It's just fact. Money is tight, and art historians, sadly, don't make much of it. This is a great substitute.

So, excuse me for a few days while I take a whirlwind world tour of the masterpieces =)

Ragin' Palin Street Art

Ha. Haha. Hahahaha. I can't tell you how much I hate this woman. I've seen so much parody art over the past few weeks, it just tickles me pink.