Monday, May 26, 2008


Note: an extremely candid and emotional post that is both earnest and vulnerable. Try not make fun of me too much. Okay you can.

I wanted to cry as I drove home from Center City to Havertown tonight. All 9 miles of it. I couldn't though. I wanted to because I'm about to embark on a big decision that I thought would do me good. The truth is my decision to move to Philadelphia in June will still probably do me good. It's just I'm really downsizing and I know moving back home would be so much easier. It's a 15 minute drive to work. Now I will have a nightmarish commute which partly had to do with my urge to cry my eyes out. And I was just coming home (which is half the distance of going to work) on a breezy, holiday evening with zero traffic. This gloom was entirely unexpected. The reality hit me hard as I boxed up a bunch of stuff, took it to my parents, and visited the place in which I will be more or less living extremely lightly. I don't mind living minimally. I look forward to it. I strive to do so. I just hope I can get a hang of things in one piece.

As childish and insecure as this sounds I hope people are nice to me. I hope I make some new friends though as lucky as I already am having a few in the city. I worry that I'm making a lavish mistake and that I'll wind up going broke and having to forfeit independence. Sometimes I make impulsive choices AND I hope this isn't one of them. It's tough making living arrangements. It's a commitment. It's always easier doing these things in your head. At first it's exciting and you think about the fun stuff. I think about all the music I'll see or how I won't have to drive to get my groceries, the new people I might meet, the excitement of always having something going on, the diversity, the history, the culture, the walking, or that there's a barnes and nobles a block away. A repetitive Kevin Bacon commercial is coming mind but this shit is exciting. All of these glaring benefits erase any worry and doubt... at first. Now I can't get out of my head the tumultuous voyage into Newtown Square daily, the gas money, the familiar lonely feeling I felt that awful year and half I spent in art school, everyone running a muck making me feel claustrophobic, missing state parks, leaving behind some friends who say they'll visit but not too much because they hate the city, feeling food illiterate, the feeling that I'm uptight compared to the city natives, everything is expensive, learning how to use mace etc. Also, call me crazy but the 400 murdered people last year don't make too happy either. It terrifies me. I keep reminding myself you're doing something that doesn't entirely make you comfortable. Good. This means you're taking chances. I just have to learn how to let go. It's already happening.

I'd like to expand more on this but I'm feeling sluggish at the moment. Too much barbeque food for me. I plan on extending this post a bit later. I hope everyone's Holiday was spectacular.

Anyway, this song has nothing to do with Philadelphia other than the Diplo aspect. It's been on repeat this weekend.
"California Soul (Diplo / Mad Decent Remix) -Marlena Shaw & Diplo


Sunday, May 25, 2008

I'd like to have a few words with the Philadelphia Parking Authority. I got a second notice today doubled in fines for a ticket I've already paid online. The best part about this is that I've got zero record to prove my payment because I'm completely irresponsible. Ladies and gents save those confirmation e-mails! I'm pretty certain ppa fucked up royally on this one. My guess is that my payment never went through. We'll see PPA. I don't care what my bank statements say when I check them tomorrow. I paid whether you wanted to take my money or not. I hate you Philadelphia Parking Authority.

Sigh, it's so much easier to complain about this sort of thing. Instead I just paid. You win.

Anyway, this song totally cheered me.
"Cappuccino" -The Knux


Friday, May 09, 2008

This is what I like to call the final 3. What does that even mean? It means I've got 3 minutes left on the clock and I'm going to recap as much as I can for the next 3 minutes with typos, sentence fragments, ill-punctuation included. I'll just jump in:

Phone rings. I answer it. The voice yells Hello?(loud southern accent). I go, This is [insert company name here]. The voice screams back Hello? I repeat, This is [insert company name here]. How can I help you? [Long pause] What I assume to be drunken laughter but laughter nevertheless a man responds "yeah, um I've got a maaaaaasive erection.. Immediately CLICK. Fucking yikes. In hind sight I wish I would have stayed on the line and messed with this guy for a moment or at least dialed him back just so I could hang up on him twice.

This is just another thin slice of life in Newtown Square.

Wednesday, May 07, 2008

"In your dreams babe"

Last night I fell asleep at 7 o'clock and woke up around 3-ish. No big deal. I went back to sleep around 5-ish. You'd think I'd be cranky. Truth is I needed that much sleep more than anybody. Yesterday, I was mentally off balance. I feel incredible this morning. I even made coffee. I never have time for that! Also, I'm feeling even more so fantastic because it's going to be above 80 today. Yeah, I'm trying to keep my composure. Anyway, try going the whole day with out having this song stuck in your head

"It's a Beautiful Morning"-Young Rascals

Lastly, since this news of my glorious morning may be a total bore to you (It really might be) check out Myron Macklin's artninjastudio. Tell me if you can't spot the portrait of Lyrics Born from a mile away?! It's great.


Friday, May 02, 2008

Q: What would I have to do if I didn't have to do it perfectly?

After an assault of telephone calls, impossible requests from bosses/co-workers, DHL being the disruptive bastard it wants to be on a Friday, printers refusing to print, a fallen pretzel leaving a gigantic mustard stain on my pants, a mild heat stroke causing me to nearly faint, ate a bad combo of muffin/pretzel/cola causing me violent stomach pains, elbowing the counter tops and smacking my fingers when carrying pretty much anything today, running from the office side to side doing more than one job (somebody was sick), and nearly falling down a flight of stairs pretending to air guitar.


Here's an interesting theory on perfectionism taken from the book a dear 65 year-old woman/pal/co-worker lent me called The Artist Way (it's a bit arty so bear with me) and probably soon will become my motto. It helped me feel less stressed I guess you could say.


"Tillie Olsen correctly calls it the "knife of perfectionist attitude in art". You may call it something else. Getting it right, you may call it, or fixing it before I go further. You may call it having standards. What you should be calling it is perfectionism. Perfectionism has nothing to with getting it right. It has nothing to do with standards. Perfectionism is a refusal to let yourself move ahead. It is a loop--- an obsessive, debilitating closed system that causes you to get stuck in the details of what you are writing or painting or making and to lose sight of the whole. Instead of creating freely and allowing errors to reveal themselves later as insights, we often get mired in getting the details right. We correct our originality into a uniformity that lacks passion and spontaneity. "Do not fear mistakes," Miles Davis told us. "There are none."


Thursday, May 01, 2008

Night Pages Pt.1: This certainly ain't a regular thing

Every time spring rolls around I'm compelled to change something. This may take the form of being a more attentive friend, eating better, cutting my hair, catching up with an old friend, working on unfinished projects, busting out the sewing machine that hasn't hit daylight in a year etc. We've all got these to-do vows. Specifically, I'd like posting to be more of a regularity on here. This also means writing with less self-criticism. This will be tough and means letting it rip as much as possible. Though, the remains of "letting it rip" may just turn into a provocation of self-doubt and awkward confessions. It will feel unnatural at first. But isn't most change that way in the beginning? It's necessary. Anyway, I've warned you fairly.

Speaking of letting things rip. Nobody does it better than this guy.
Here's to cleaning up the stuff you meant to last year!
"I like it, I love it" -Lyrics Born
Snagged from insound.