It's moments like these that undisputedly makes me believe that there's some Higher Order involved that occasionally likes to bitchslap me across the face.

Okay, everybody knows the mail system here sucks. It's awful. Nobody receives their packages on time, its hit or miss whenever the mail room decides to be open, or even sometimes if you'll ever receive the package. Yes, its that bad. In fact, in fall quarter, my parents sent me an overnight package of a home-cooked meal (yes, my parents spoil me) along with some gloves, caps, and scarves that I left at home that the Evanston October winds necessitated. My parents called me, told me when it's arriving, and I went to check the next morning. Package not received. Alright, it could come later in the afternoon, so I check later. Still no package. I check the next day, and then the day after that, then a couple of days after that, and still no word. I order something from Amazon a week later, and receive that package within a few days afterwards, and still, no sign of the original package. My parents start worrying, as it contained a good 1/2 pound of winter clothes and casserole; a whole month passes and the package still has yet to show up anywhere. Finals arrive and I deem the package officially a lost cause until I get a call from the mail room of a package that "had been sitting there for a while." I go and find the poor guy, dent and bruised, and check its mail date. It had been two months and four days since it had been overnighted. I won't go into detail onto the horror and stench that package wrought upon after so many days of neglect. I'll just say that it was rank. It was awful.
So, present day, I'm expecting a package from the parents of some vitamins and records I left in Baton Rouge and also eagerly anticipating those Disney animation DVDS I'd been talking about. I'd been expecting that first package for a while now, almost a week, and had been checking the mail room these past few days. I'd make sure I'd coincide with its hours, and go check- and every single time the mail room had been closed. Okay, whatever, I'll check later. So the week's over now, classes done, midterms slayed, and the weekend near. I check the hours, and find that it's right in the middle of the room's shift. I borrow Andy's keys (mine have been missing since January) and I hop over with Leo across the street-- and whaddyaknow?! It's CLOSED. AGAIN. This was about the fourth time in a row that it's happened, and fuming, I walked penis back to the dorm (this is the tiny stuff I get most angry about). This was it; I finally did what I had so giddily imagined and fantasized ever since Freshman Year when I had recieved that financial aid information a week late: I emailed the Hinman Mail room supervisor, Janelle Jansen.

"I'm going to make this simple and short. In the past two weeks I've been to the 1835 Hinman Mail Room, I have found it closed and without service. I always coincide with the hours posted on the door, and it doesn't matter if its in the beginning, middle, or end of the shift, NOBODY IS THERE. I would understand if this was an occasional problem every now and then but for the past two weeks several people and I have not been able to get packages from the mailroom when we want it. I'm unaware of any current personnel problems going on, but regardless, this is just another example of the terrible mail system of this university. Last quarter I did not receive a package that contained food products (overnight delivery) among other important accessories (gloves, scarves, etc) until two months after expected due date. I only ask that if you're going to post hours for the mail room, at least abide by them, and if nobody's going to be running the mail room for the day, please notify us in advance. I shouldn't have to emphasize the importance of mail and receiving important packages (financial aid, medicinal supplies, etc) on time.

Miguel Jiron"

I had written the email out of almost two years of frustrations and cursings. Something had to be done about this, and I deemed myself the messenger, funneling my anger to the idiot who's in charge of the packages of south campus. I send the email and presto!
I get a knock on my door. Its Leo. He told me actually had just called Janelle Jansen; she was coming over to open it up in a few minutes. Whatever, awkwardness aside, I really wanted to see if I got that DVD for the weekend. We're walking over and Leo says, "Yeah I think I actually know her. I've seen her around, I think..." Man, I think, that would be kind of embarassing. I wonder if I know her? Janelle...Janelle...
And then it came to me. This was the same girl that last year, in a drunken stupor of a party, I had flirted with and, at the end of the night, went in for a rejected kiss. It turned out she was the girlfriend of a good friend of Pat King, who was my dorm neighbor at the time, who I see all the time. Rejection coupled with humiliation equals personal horror in my book, and this was the text book example. She had brushed it off her shoulder like nothing had happened, and I pretended to as well; she has been nothing but the nicest girl to me ever since. I get that feeling in my stomach, like a brick dropped on a Timpani drum, and realized I had just sent this awful hate-filled email to this same girl- the keeper of the Hinman mail room. We get there, and sure enough, it's that Janelle, with her boyfriend. She gives me this beaming "Hey! I have two of your packages!" as she hands over Leo his delivery.
I tried to make my apology-in-advance as least-awkward as possible, though sometimes that's not my strongest suit. I grabbed my two packges in shame, feeling like the ultimate jackass. And to top it off, Leo left before me and I had left Andy's keys in the room so I'm locked out of the dorm, standing outside wallowing in embarrasment. I guess this could mean a couple of things: anger and hate usually aren't the most positive and constructive forces out there, and that also, Birthdaypalooza and booze are a must tonight. I guess I'll see you there, I'll be the guy in the corner with orange splotches on my cheek like the AIM "Embarassed" Smiley Face. And who knows? Janelle will probably there too! Great! Aaaaaah....

...Wow! I know this is more of Eddy's deal but man, at 4:05pm on a Thursday, April 29, 2004, these are the top headlines in BBC News and on CNN:

BBC: US plans to pull out of Falluja
US troops are to turn the city over to local Iraqis, a US commander says, but this is denied by the Pentagon.

CNN: Poll: More Iraqis optimistic, dislike U.S.
Survey done mostly before recent cycle of violence

Are we... on the same page, here? Sheee, Pentagon knows best.

I blew all my money today on comics, cd's, and the weekend; the beeyootiful weather today just compelled me and my wallet for some reason. But oooooh boy. Was it ever worth it.
I picked up Bone #54 which is, simply, amazing. If you are at all curious at this strange osteoporic (i just made that word up) comic I've been proclaiming, please ask me to borrow the first book collection. I'm aware of the comic-stigma that paralyzes many (myself included occasionally), but this is nothing but solid and beautiful storytelling. If you've got the time, I've got the books. I also picked up the latest Don Rosa story in Uncle Scrooge; I haven't read it yet though it seems to be a heavy retread of his Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck (which won several Eisners, if that means anything to you). I also went in looking for that hot-looking new Peanuts compliation, only to find it won't be released til a month or so. Damn you disgruntled comic vendor, I want my Schulz now. So instead, on a compulsive (though measured) buy, I picked up the similar hot-looking collection of Krazy Kat cartoons of 1925-1930. These are gorgeous imaginative strips that Bill Watterson has oft-proclaimed (if that means anything to you). I wish comics today were more like these.
And oh yeah, just to ensure the status quo of my wallet (meaning: zero) I moseyed on over to Dr. Wax's and found Ratatat's self debut along with Van Lear Rose by Loretta Lynn produced by Jack "I'm Angry" White. I was pretty sure that I would enjoy Ratatat and it has provided the perfect soundtrack for studying asteriods, nuclear fission, and Mercury for my Solar System Midterm tomorrow. I'm not sure that my current electronica musical inklings are a good thing or not; I've found that most of this kind of music dates really terrible for me, for reasons unknown (perhaps my inherent appeal concerns the vibrancy and "newness" or the "shock value" of the music, which obviously fades). Though for now it is quite scrumptious.
And what ado for the country legend Loretta Lynn? I must confess: I don't have a single song of hers on my hard drives. I'm not going to pretend that I, in the "conozco" sense, know her music, and I'm not going to pretend I don't have most every White Stripes bootleg and b-side (hooray for double negatives). But, wow. You ever start listening to new music, and suddenly start laughing, finding yourself unable to wipe away that huge stupid grin off your face at this sonic bliss finding its way into your ears? It happens to me a lot, and to my most loved and oft-played tracks, and it happened quite a lot in listening to this album. I never thought sexiness applied to the near-70 years old age category, but I have been proved wrong. This album is my new favorite. Her voice really is legendary, and Jack White wisely let her do her own thing, but still providing his distinct blues/punk stamp guitar and slide. I suspect most of you (whoever really reads this) won't jive with it; it is country after all. But its the country that I like, not that Nashville Sound, but rather pre-sixties country-- old country. Just buy the disc.
Positive "reviews" containing more negative words than positive are interesting. But so is a midterm that I've just started studying for-- last week I pulled a 41 hour "day" and hopefully I will not do the same today/tomorrow. Birthdaypalooza #2 is friday and the Roots/Common show is tomorrow! And I still have this stupid cold. But will that stop me? Will I take an active step for better health? Will I make the right decision? ... you decide.

When it's late at night and I know it will get even later, I like to put on "Put me in That Dungeon" by Mingus on repeat... it's got that swanky raunchy sax that you hear down moonlit alleyways and speakeasies from the roaring twenties, and then I like to pretend I'm puffing away on a handrolled cigarette, tossing my fedora on the oak desk and reviewing the facts and clues. It gives me something to work with while burning the midnight oil- and really when it comes to all nighters you need all the help you can get.
@#%^! There's nothing more annoying than getting consistently outbid by a dollar on eBay-- it's a constant reminder of being just a smidge shy of winning. I've been trying to track down an affordable Disney Treasure Goofy Collection, as its out of print and super-nice. I cannot believe I have dropped that ball and not been keeping track of these high quality cartoon compliations Disney silently pumps out. Now I'm tracking three 50 buck range dvds all over cyberspace. Ergh.
So yes, I am procrastinating; I have a feeling it'll be a long weekend which means no time for luxury activities such as this. And so in reponse to my last posting concerning drawing requests, here's is the list so far:
*Nate: illustrations for cut'n'paste novel
*Annie: a cricket no wait a helicopter
*Anna: "something" (your drawing's last!)
*Eddy: david bowie (of course) "circa 1976 looking badass singing Station to Station on stage, white bars of light behind him, looking very stark" AND "the sears tower getting hit by two airplanes simultaneously" ...I don't really have a comment...
*Mel: "the cookie monster in cookie withdrawal. elmo has stopped by his place to help him through it. but elmos was not prepared, oh no he was not, for the horror of cookie withdrawal. cookie monster won't stop asking for cookies. elmo gives him a carton of marlboro reds, and now cookie monster is rocking back and forth, chain smoking, with a twitch here and there."
*Shannon: a picture "capturing how eeeeeevillll bunnies and sandwiches are so i can hang it up in my rooooom!"
*Ben: King Louie from the Jungle Book (what a good choice)
*Max: a picture of me and him hugging
*Di: a photo of her and her friends
*Anna from BU: cartoon war (I kinda need another person for that...)
*Cooper: a monkey peeing in its own mouth (???)
*Jen: a picture of her under my guitar tutelage
*Megan: a Booms portrait
*Suzy: "happiness sitting out on the road looking past the rain clouds at a pot of gold :)" (oh, suz...)
*Sarah: dragonfly
*Jonathan (Hojee): a cathedral
*Tristan: double bass
Whew. When I put that question on my away message, I didn't quite imagine 35 reponses, but that's perfect. I'm working right away on them, on the order I received them, and if there's any more requests please leave a comment! I'm totally serious about this, and even if you want another picture let me know (cause Eddy certainly did, no huge surprise). As of now, I really should start working on my two papers.

I had written a pretty lengthy post on 2-D animation, my younger years, and my later rejectment of everything art-related in applying to college. But, as you can probably guess, I let it sit and fester on my computer til my "Session Expired" and ate it all up. I won't try to recap it, but I will ask you (yes, you) to ask me to draw you a picture. And don't say "Okay, draw me a picture." The whole point, or at least one point, of this is for you to ask me to draw something that you want... or what you want me to draw. I'm still trying to sort of feelings of my past renouncement of drawing and most things art-related, and I think I'm getting closer. I find it incredible that most friends here up until recently never knew I was the "drawing kid" or that even I made my monster movie posters. Or that most don't see me as "the kid who draws." I still heavily regret not applying to any art schools, not one, or even responding to the many letters and catalogs sent during high school. I'm trying to feel out exactly why I suddenly stopped carrying a sketchbook around and how much I disconnected it and threw it away as part (well, a major) of my life (because that's kind of weird that that ever happened. Imagine having one single passion in the world, so intense and so crucial to every minute of the day, that dictated everything you wanted, everything you did, and everything you imagined, and having it suddenly die. Washed away without a drop of remorse.) But enough of that.
One of my favorite simple pleasures is feeling puffs of wind booming from the subwoofer on my feet listening to ridiculously loud music. Oh, and Ryan is in New York til Monday (CAH-RAAAAY-ZEEE!) And it's already the end of another week. Okay, De Young is here so I must wrap up this mess of words together. But leave a comment and tell me what you want me to draw for you! I'm serious-- and I will get them done as soon as I can (maybe post them?)-- and, as my Rhode Island friend would often say at the end of things, LAAAAADAAAAAAA

A few notes:
- I listened to all of Low by David Bowie today on the purple express to downtown today. The first six or seven tracks were compulsively listenable, but thank God I did not name my ex-fish Warzawa (sorry Eddy). I could not really stand the last half of the album, maybe it was the glorious sun basking all of Chicago, or the thought of maybe meeting that girl again at Central Camera, but I was not a fan of the heavy Kubrick-soundtrack synths and omnious booms of Bowie's dark meanderings. I switched on Revolver soon after. Yeeaaahh.
-I am no good at reading "code," as Krista pointed out tonight. I used to be once long ago, but it seems as if my college years have dulled it down to a blunt flat worn out eraser. I have much more guy friends here than I did in high school, and drastically less girl friends which undoubtedly contributes to my "code" deficiency. I always get a slight impression that all the freshmen girls think I hate them, which is really terrible because I have very little hate stored up in these bones, all of which are solely directed towards those who flick my abnormal ear lobes and plus Allison Brown doesn't have my screename anymore.
-As hot as our proposal is, each day passing makes me this much more worrisome about summer plans. If by some reason the grant overseers lack a soul or any sense of what needs to be funded (nanotechnology? c'mon! gimme animated monkeys!), I have no back-up plan (remember that this is Plan D). Which is I guess cool, and all, but everything is riding on this. Like gravity.
-I was on the front page of the Daily today! I look hardcore pitching this ball to a joker who'll pop fly the sucker right to Andy. I am proud that if I were to be on the front of the Daily Northwestern for anything, it would be me playing kickball. And speaking of exhibitionism, apparently my 280 final was screened at Block today. Too bad I had no idea it was. Appearently it looked sexy on the big screen so that's nice.
My camera's all fixed and I plan on taking many pictures tomorrow--new pictures are on the way, along with some collages I did tonight for your comments. After all, this was a site originall about images, not non-commital communication and alienation right? Hello?

TV on the Radio were incredible Friday; as Ryan put it rather eloquently, their "soul punk" was pretty inspiring and heavy hitting-- too bad I had to duck out in the middle of "Ambulance" to the bathroom and ralph up all my Baja Fresh in that dirty dingy Fireside bowling alley. I have realized that better health and college do not mix well together at all; in fact most choices you make in college (well, I guess, I make) are pretty much detrimental and disadvantgeous to gaining better health. The show was at Fireside bowl, sold out, packed, sweaty, stifling, and most of all- sweltering. It was pretty much unavoidable. Too bad it happened again last night.
So, instead of just staying under my sheets watching Southpark and getting some healthy sleep to kill this cold, I caved into Sarahmaria and Eddy's calls and slammed down 40's and Bacardi at the apartment en route to a Bowie tribute show at Nevin's. It was a lot of fun, but also completely stupid, as the same fate befell upon me as the night before, and I'm nowhere near getting over this stupid cold. Though, despite messy details, the Bowie tribute was rather enjoyable (as are all things after a 40) and the apartment was a great time, as always (and I'm even getting decently better at fooseball).
And I can't believe its 84 degrees outside (currently warmer than Baton Rouge!). This campus is completely different under the sun. Yesterday I woke up to a glorious kickball game in long field, where we won the championship! (Only one other team than us showed up.) We took our gift certificates and all got snacks at the Unicorn Cafe. Frisbee on the Lake and all over campus followed. My thoughts keep slipping into the summer, of enjoying sun in the Chicago area, but I must restrain myself. It's so frustrating that I don't know when we'll find out about our summer grant. I'm getting more nervous and anxious about it, since I'm hearing of the overwhelming applications and proposals made this year. Keep your fingers crossed, please.
Anna just told me to eat some saltines and drink some 7up, but slowly. So I think I'm gonna try that.

Check out this interview with the supremely supreme Jeff Smith about the end of one of my most loved and unknown comic, Bone. I grew up reading Bone ever since it ran in rare color in Disney Adventures waaaaaaay back in the day, and I have probably reread the books (soon to be a final nine) around 27 times. Literally. It's that good, trust me. In fact I'm thinking it might be time for another revisit...

I woke up with an irritable throat a few days ago and now my nose is red and raw from grabbing paper towels, toilet paper, anything other than kleenex (cause of course, when you need kleenex the most it is not there) to stop the congestion. Under the spell of allergy lethargy, I feel like being a bum and watching movies or reading on the couch-- except it's beautiful outside today and you can never be too sure with the Midwestern skies whether you'll see the sun again for a while. A few things:
Mike today was complaining about "Spiders (Kidsmoke)" on the new Wilco album, A Ghost is Born. The original live version of the track is arguably his favorite Wilco track, ever, and in his words, Jeff Tweedy "smacked the shit" out of it for the album. I don't know, but somehow this really reminded me how annoying that Norris is stocking everything Arizona now OTHER than their Iced T! That was MY drink and now they only have their crappy wannabes spawning in their aisles- and if that wasn't enough, Whole Foods stopped supplying Lactaid! It's these little things that I get most upset about.
Oh, and what is up with everybody getting married? I seperately heard about 4 engagements this week of people I know (good friends too)... don't get me wrong, congratulations to all of y'all but I can't even begin to think of being in that stage of life. A good friend from Jefferson Terrace stopped by my family's jewelry store yesterday and bought a ring (he's my freakin' age). I'm having enough trouble as it is living with myself. Crazy.
Well, the grant proposal is all sent in and now we must wait for the word. It's a little frustrating that we won't know when they'll get back to us, as if this doesn't work out, my summer is @#!%'ed. But Nate and I both feel pretty good about it, or at least I definitely do, so what's the use of worrying. I'll post some pics, a little taste of what we're cooking up, in a bit. As for now, I must start tackling midterms! Can you believe its almost the end of the 3rd week of the quarter??

Happy Easter everybody, I hope y'all spent it eating some delicious meal with family and takin' it easy. I was called on set today, as usual, so I turned down invites to eat with families, only to find out that the digital vid camera didn't charge overnight. So, I find myself alone this sunny bright Easter Sunday, eating a pesto sandwich. I called the parents, as I got rather homesick today, and generally enjoyed on being alone and just taking it easy (as that's something of a rarity lately). It's one of those days where ya listen to alot of early Beatles, early Marley, and Trio Los Panchos, and read. Ahh, yes...
The undergrad grant proposal is going wonderfully well at this point, but let's still cross our fingers. Oh, and I think finally I'm going to have some weekends off, as I'm keeping film sets to a minimum. I understand I don't work as hard as other film guys (Pedro) but on the other hand, I don't seem to enjoy them as much as they do. It's great to be involved in a project and work your ass off and experience the jokes, random outbursts of absurdity, and satisfaction of working hard, but it's not something I want to do every weekend. Or, really, look forward to. Ah well. It's over!
As for now, I must wash the dishes, read about Indian Art, and try not get in trouble. And remember! Sopranos! 8pm Central Time! Do so, and you will not regret it.

2.0
I was walking towards Osco to pick up some detergent, and waiting for the cars to pass by at a stop, I looked over at the Hair Cuttery. In a matter of minutes, my healthy Samson mane was shorn off, and here I type before you, with hair as short as it was in Middle School (or even shorter). Needless to say, I got several double-looks and shocked faces. My friends here have never really seen me with short hair, which is kind of weird. But good weird. I am heavily enjoying that I can run without my hair attacking my face, or that I can wake up without being strangled by my hair. I never really wanted to have long hair, but I felt it necessary to not cut it Freshmen Year, and I just got really lazy this year. Until now!
I didn't really realize it until recently, but, looking back, having long hair truly makes people treat you differently. Its very subtle, but once you pick up on it it's really kinda amazing. All the prejudices and stereotypes go along with having long hair (hippie? activist? slacker?) completely color people's perception of you. And short hair is no different. Already I've gotten comments on how "sharp" "clean-cut" "older" I look now. Which is natural, but I'm curious how this will effect the rest of my quarter here (i.e. teachers, at work, etc). It's almost like it's a new me, but I see nothing new at all.
Thanks to Mel, I'm also currently enjoying "Clandestine in Chile: THe Adventures of Miguel Littin" by Gabriel Garcia Marquez (author of my favorite book of all time). It's about this filmmaker who is exiled from his country of Chile, and returns disguised as a businessman to secretly film a documentary of Chile's political decay from Pinochet rule. Good stuff. And MEL IS THE COOLEST OF THE COOL, the Sultan of Swing, the Apple of my Eye, for lending it to me (and in no way ever do I even in the least bit hate or dislike her, at all!). And that is sincere! Sincere! Liberals!
And yes, I am planning on putting up some new pics. Less talk, more pictures. Hopefully I'll add a section where you can view past stuff I've put up. Maybe some California pictures? Or character drawings of Sconce and the animation project? Productivity is rising...

Three Cheers
Man, have I felt worthless lately. It seems like my body begs for sleep every still minute, and I can't seem to get myself to do ANYTHING productive; I haven't done laundry, haven't written my grant proposal, I haven't gotten my keys, I haven't started Video Doc stuff, NOTHING! And cyncism and over-criticism is starting to uncomfortably seep in, but the most troubling thing is I don't know exactly why. I'm starting to skip classes (gulp) already! It's only the freakin' second week!

On another note, fake friends suck (or at least people who act like them from time to time). Yeah this is kind of a downer entry, but... But! I'm doing laundry as I type and I have this Trio Los Panchos cd that my parents sent me yesterday. It's the earliest musical memories I have, and the music is purely blissful to me... it definitely means much more to me than just music, but its also just amazingly beautiful unto itself. Playing it last night for Max, Ryan, and Andy, I was really shocked how much they were also enjoying it... so ask me for a copy of it sometime. I really don't want to describe it and praise it in hyperbole, as it feels... cheap? and unnecessary (almost disrespectful) to do so, other than saying it's very meaningful and amazing...to me. Plus, I bought some groceries and made myself a mighty mean Pesto Turkey Sandwich with Munster Cheese. Yum. Three cheers for productivity!

Okay, so I had an observation (hooray!) sitting here: look up at the top of this blog (and well any blogspot blog) (how many more times can I say blog? blog!) at the ad. That little sucker like scans your webpage for keywords to put ads on, for you readers (and myself) to click on, so like on Nate's and Nate's blog right here it had links to David Bowie concerts and soever. Isn't that weird? I almost feel violated from this jarring eyesore on the top of this page waiting for a big keyword to jump on! Right now it's all about liberals and conservatives cause of a rant I did earlier. So ha! Take this! Liberals! Sex! Stock Market! Music! Email! Airlines! Sex! Computer Equipment! Collectibles! I bet you the poor thing is going to probably explode any second now. Sorry, this is just an experiment, and I'm in a weird mood (a weekend of Madison, exhausting film shoots, bad party reprecussions, kick ass Sopranos episode, and, to say the least, interesting social situations will do that to ya). Online Banking!

Confession
Okay, after years and years of trying to deny it, blaming it on my shoes, blaming patrick's car, I have to come to grips with me and my feet. I have stinky feet. My feet are just awfully smelly, almost unbearable at times, and I am ashamed. I fear for every new pair of shoes I get, for I know that in a matter of weeks they will be an unholy bastion of all things foul and rank. There, I said it, I have really smelly feet. Okay? No, wait, I blame it on my dad. I remember, at their worst, looking at Papa's awfully calloused and just really nasty feet, hoping that mine would never turn out like that. Sigh.
So, I'm off to Osco to buy groceries, and well, some foot odoreaters or something.
P.S. I'm sorry to anybody who's footaphobic, as this probably was unbearably gross.

So my teacher today called my drawing "conservative." Now, I am very aware that this could've been applied and could be interperted in many ways, but for some reason when people call my drawings/photographs "conservative" it just really irks me. It's not that I consider myself really even "liberal" or "conservative" in a political sense-- but when someone applies label that to something of artistic merit, I somehow consider it to mean "conserative=safe" and "safe=dead." The assignment was to do something with your signature, fill the page with your signature, do as many things as you possibly can with your signature. When I start a drawing, I might have some kind of idea of where I might want to end up, but usually I'll catch on to some rhythm or pulse and try to ride that as long as I can; try to feel it out and not necesarrily concentrate on "me." Now obviously, what comes from your hands is a direct line to you, but whenever I feel like I have to conciously create something that represents "me" and who I am, the more self-concious I have to be about it, the less fun and more forced and well, just sucky the end result becomes. You're you, and whatever you do, is by some way an expression of you... but you must not think of it that way! The purest output is the most honest and direct; how the hell does someone go out and write/draw/film something with the analysis and essays already written out crossing every t and dotting every i and have every meaning already packaged in neat tupperware?
It's something I've been struggling with a while, as I hate phoniness pretty much as a life guideline. The phonier it is, the more artificial and fake it is, the worst it is. I want everything and anything I do to be as honest as I can, and so sometimes, when I'm on a drawing, and I'm getting really into it, I want to abandon as much as myself as I can and let whatever flows and the rhythm take full hold. So, when you get to a breaking point, and look back, or when the teacher comes around with his comments, what happens if it becomes something else you haven't necesarrily intended it to be or really be a representation?
Well, I don't think its really possible, or well, I'm not sure if it's possible to able to manifest yourself completely and wholly in a single drawing, film, whatever. I think I believe in representing complex ideas and abstractions and, hell, whatever you want through a work, but people, and much more your self-perception, I think are so much more unbelievably complex and brimming with trillions upon trillions different shades and emotions and traits, that sometimes I think the best pieces of art can't approach. But, it tries, and the closer it gets to reaching that, arguably the most beautiful and wonderful the work becomes. But can it ever compete with life itself?
Oh boy, that was quite a rambling. But see, okay, in that signature assignment I was talking about, I wrote my signature on the back of some receipt, and then on my paper, blew it up so it was unrecognizable with thick black lines stretching beyond the paper...and from that I started working small bits around those huge lines...so forth... and the teacher told me to be rawer, more loose in my decisions, and "run wild." Well, okay, yeah, there's a great visceral feel in doing that but for what my drawing started to become, it didn't work. It wasn't working. So I tinkered around with it for another hour, and in following the teach's comments, I walked out of class disatisfied. And so, the hidden implication of the assignment, was that through your signature, you would reveal yourself and show "who you are" on paper for all to see. Argh. Urgh.
Maybe I shouldn't view what I do so analytically, let things come naturally, or, crash into the other extreme, go for broke and try all I can to reach beyond I beileve I can do using everything I got. Maybe a little bit of both?