Before the semester started, I had no clue what a blog was. I'd only heard of it in passing. Stereotypically, I thought it was a self made soap-box for people who felt they knew more than others, therefore everyone should read what they think. I assumed there was a strong degree of self-indulgence and arrogance involved. As usual, stereotypes and assumptions are fair from the truth, in my experience. Through the semester, I found it was more about creating and sharing and less about getting people to jump on your bandwagon - whatever your bandwagon may be. As a class, we grew closer just by viewing the layout and color choices of our peers. We gained insight into their thoughts, and caught a glimpse of their personalities while at it. I must admit, I despise such self advertisement sites such as facebook and myspace (yuck). Our blogs were much different than those, though. It was a casual, more open area. I was a little intimated when we first found out classmates would have access to our writings through our blogs. The initial fear faded fast, especially because everyone in class was so kind (thanks guys!).
And now... this is it: the (dun dunna dun) final blog. It was a neat experience. I don't think I will continue on on this Internet venture - I'm more of face to face kinda gal - but it was fun. I'm glad I can at least say I've done it; it's good to try everything once. And I no longer feel I did when I started... I think they call that learning. Hmm...good times. sweet ass. peace out guys!
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Creation Station
I'm getting so into my event creation ... it's a little crazy. My idea is a benefit concert called Rock For Wishes. All proceeds from the event will go to the Make-A-Wish Foundation. The Foundation grants wishes for kids suffering from life-threatening diseases. The kids get to live out a dream and forget about their daily battle to survive. I visited the their website (http://www.wish.org/) to do some research. I was psyched to see one of the bands, My Chemical Romance, I had chosen to 'rock for wishes' is an active participant with the foundation. My Chemical Romance has granted eight kids with wishes already! So cool! I picked a slew of other rock/alternative bands that would please a wide variety of potential audience members. I'm so into the project that I've already sketched out a logo and designed apparel to add to the fundraising effort. As soon as I figure out how to get it on my computer (don't hold your breath), I'll post it up for you guys to see.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
ARG, Matey!
I read an article about the recent influx of pirate activity. CNN sited five different incidents of vessels from different countries being seized by pirates. For one Chinese ship noted, the government payed a whopping $2 million ransom for the release of the crew and boat.
This might be a terrible tragedy to most (let me apologize now for my light-hearted nature) but I found it utterly fascinating. The romanticized savages of the sea are still stealing ye booty!
Although criminal in nature, I love the idea of pirates and everything about them. They travel the ocean freely on a ship with a band of brothers, er, siblings (p.c.). An undetermined destination awaits. Their territory can bare no lines yet they protect it furiously. Clothes are tattered from manning the ship and possibly the occasional sword fight. No bills to pay or alarms to set. Your bank balance and 401-k are below deck in wooden chest. In my mind, it is mandatory for at least one crew member aboard to have a patched eye. The pillaging is a Darwinian right. The woman are always beautiful and the men are undoubtedly brawn. My commercialized images are probably far from reality - unless you live in Disney World.
The real wondrous aspect of it all is despite the Internet, globalization and scientific technology, some in this world live within a far different reality. If my ship ever got seized by pirates, I'd let 'em take it - as long as I could join them, say 'ARG' relentlessly and drink stolen whiskey from a jug.
This might be a terrible tragedy to most (let me apologize now for my light-hearted nature) but I found it utterly fascinating. The romanticized savages of the sea are still stealing ye booty!
Although criminal in nature, I love the idea of pirates and everything about them. They travel the ocean freely on a ship with a band of brothers, er, siblings (p.c.). An undetermined destination awaits. Their territory can bare no lines yet they protect it furiously. Clothes are tattered from manning the ship and possibly the occasional sword fight. No bills to pay or alarms to set. Your bank balance and 401-k are below deck in wooden chest. In my mind, it is mandatory for at least one crew member aboard to have a patched eye. The pillaging is a Darwinian right. The woman are always beautiful and the men are undoubtedly brawn. My commercialized images are probably far from reality - unless you live in Disney World.
The real wondrous aspect of it all is despite the Internet, globalization and scientific technology, some in this world live within a far different reality. If my ship ever got seized by pirates, I'd let 'em take it - as long as I could join them, say 'ARG' relentlessly and drink stolen whiskey from a jug.
"What do you want to be?"
For as long as I can remember, my biggest fear is answering this direct, absolute question. The blaring reality in my life is that I wander, am constantly restless, change on a whim and feel uncertain where I’ll land when X marks the “what you are” spot. My spontaneous series of relocations, three times re-entering college and enduring six years at UNH (both Durham and Manchester) has only mounted the pressure.
I don’t understand the people that are born passionate about one thing - like they always knew what they were. To me, this is not logical. How do you emerge from the womb a teacher or a doctor? I emerged a great many things. Maybe, their nurture feeds their direction. For as long as the ambiguous question has been posed to me, I have been directionless.
I firmly believe I am very fortunate for not having such a narrow path. From moving, going in and out of school and enduring the harsh realities of supporting myself, I have gained more knowledge and understanding of life than any cap and gown could signify. These life experiences made me the individual I am today and will bring me strongly to my future.
Humility and humanity are built on life experiences of embarrassment, pain and fighting. The strength and struggle of people can only be understood through open, empathetic eyes . To view people with respect and dignity despite their educational or socio-economic level is what has brought me to where I am today. My lack of direction taught more than anything else in life - who I want to be and who I will never be.
I don’t want to be ignorant, cruel or judgmental. I don’t want to demean anyone. I want to applaud the janitor, the factory worker, the dishwasher, the unappreciated.
I don’t want to be fearful or silenced. I don’t want to be taken too seriously. I want to be heard.
I want to make people laugh at themselves, each other and life. I want my presence to be lively, fun and confident. I want to enlighten and make people question, discover and re-evaluate. I want to never lose touch with the lessons I learned.
I love people, talking, informing and entertaining.
In short, it’s taken me a while to answer the only question that leaves me speechless. I want to be a broadcaster or somewhere within that communication realm. I want my career to be adventurous, exciting and fun.
I don’t understand the people that are born passionate about one thing - like they always knew what they were. To me, this is not logical. How do you emerge from the womb a teacher or a doctor? I emerged a great many things. Maybe, their nurture feeds their direction. For as long as the ambiguous question has been posed to me, I have been directionless.
I firmly believe I am very fortunate for not having such a narrow path. From moving, going in and out of school and enduring the harsh realities of supporting myself, I have gained more knowledge and understanding of life than any cap and gown could signify. These life experiences made me the individual I am today and will bring me strongly to my future.
Humility and humanity are built on life experiences of embarrassment, pain and fighting. The strength and struggle of people can only be understood through open, empathetic eyes . To view people with respect and dignity despite their educational or socio-economic level is what has brought me to where I am today. My lack of direction taught more than anything else in life - who I want to be and who I will never be.
I don’t want to be ignorant, cruel or judgmental. I don’t want to demean anyone. I want to applaud the janitor, the factory worker, the dishwasher, the unappreciated.
I don’t want to be fearful or silenced. I don’t want to be taken too seriously. I want to be heard.
I want to make people laugh at themselves, each other and life. I want my presence to be lively, fun and confident. I want to enlighten and make people question, discover and re-evaluate. I want to never lose touch with the lessons I learned.
I love people, talking, informing and entertaining.
In short, it’s taken me a while to answer the only question that leaves me speechless. I want to be a broadcaster or somewhere within that communication realm. I want my career to be adventurous, exciting and fun.
Barren Soil Soul
Drilling For Oil by Lisa Rae Winant
24 x 14/ Oil on Panel
Use by permission of artist
You can�t will to be what doesn�t exist. It can�t just be alive in my head. I keep going as far as I can. I dig to my deepest. The stops are all pulled. I�m at the end of rope which has lead me to the edge. I thought you�d be standing at the lip of the cliff. Can you see where I am - so far from where I started. Maybe you�re with me on this journey. It should be ours, not just mine. This path was made for two and I can�t walk it alone.Here we are. Going along as we do. The hills of the path are littered with tree roots. The weight of your baggage slows your pace and I wait as you lag.
I see my future in your eyes and my home in your arms. But I am come to realize, I am only digging for oil in the barren soil of your soul.
I see my future in your eyes and my home in your arms. But I am come to realize, I am only digging for oil in the barren soil of your soul.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Backyard Bonfire
Orange, purple translucent flames dance above the heterogeneous wood. A mixture of sizes, shapes and species fueling the warm energy that glows on your face. The sparks fly up to the dark sky like nature's fireworks. A spectacle of light draws us all into a mesmerized circle. A common warmth, light, drink feeds us all. My soul is filled full by this warm September night. All of our worries and problems melt away as our skin becomes blushed by the heat. I wish life was more like a Saturday night bonfire out in the woods.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
My View
Every morning I step out the front of my apartment into the energy of the city. But everyday I step out to face heated controversy. Before me, the sight of an unassuming building partially shielded by a tall wooden fence. The building is plain and lacks windows and ornamentation. It seems quiet. The crowd that gathers at its parking lot entrance is not. A group assembles six days per week to display their pro-life opposition to the Planned Parenthood. The routine nature of the scene does not soften the tense atmosphere it creates.
The facility's patients unavoidably are faced with their unknown adversaries. The picketers clumsily stumble across the entrance. Their purposefully slow pace halts the patients in pursuit of their doctors appointments. The pause in entry is the window of persuasion for picketers. They begin to state their argument to the patients. The 1994 Freedom Access to Clinic Entrance (F.A.C.E) Act prohibits obstruction to the facility, so they move as slowly as possible over to the sides. The oversized posters in the protestors hands and propted up on the curb. The pictures are of babies with errie, doe faces. The head picketer has her signiture Virgin Mary framed portrait. Rosary beads are tangled in her tight grip and hang over the goudy, gold frame.
She says the same thing to each woman, "Your baby is a child of God. You can't kill His child!"
By then, the vehicle or pediestrian has just enough room to slowly slide into the lot. The head picketer shadows the patient just a few steps in one last hope in preventing her appointment, her sin. The walk from the vehicle to the door is filled with voices from the sidewalk. As she enters, regretting the fight lost, the group reassembles to their moving blob until the next patient. When the confrontation can begin again.
This is my view. The view from my home is decades of ideological controversary. The 1973 Supreme Court ruling of Roe v Wade provided women the right to choose, still under heated debate and protest by Pro-Lifers. The professionalization provided safe, well equiped facilities dramatically reducing injuries and deaths due to procedures. Violence and harrassment from Pro-Lifers became prevelant. When violence escalated to murder in 1994, federal penelaties were enacted for crimes, threats and obstruction of abortion facilities.
From my window, I can see the tense dissagreement of thirty-five years. Privacy and protection teeters in controversy. Is a right ever without scrutiny, judgement, ridicule? Privacy is measured in degrees of intrusion, while freedom in the number of injustices. My view is lack of progress.
Sources:
http://www.plannedparenthood.org/health-topics/abortion-4260.html
http://www.prochoice.org/about_abortion/history_abortion.html
The facility's patients unavoidably are faced with their unknown adversaries. The picketers clumsily stumble across the entrance. Their purposefully slow pace halts the patients in pursuit of their doctors appointments. The pause in entry is the window of persuasion for picketers. They begin to state their argument to the patients. The 1994 Freedom Access to Clinic Entrance (F.A.C.E) Act prohibits obstruction to the facility, so they move as slowly as possible over to the sides. The oversized posters in the protestors hands and propted up on the curb. The pictures are of babies with errie, doe faces. The head picketer has her signiture Virgin Mary framed portrait. Rosary beads are tangled in her tight grip and hang over the goudy, gold frame.
She says the same thing to each woman, "Your baby is a child of God. You can't kill His child!"
By then, the vehicle or pediestrian has just enough room to slowly slide into the lot. The head picketer shadows the patient just a few steps in one last hope in preventing her appointment, her sin. The walk from the vehicle to the door is filled with voices from the sidewalk. As she enters, regretting the fight lost, the group reassembles to their moving blob until the next patient. When the confrontation can begin again.
This is my view. The view from my home is decades of ideological controversary. The 1973 Supreme Court ruling of Roe v Wade provided women the right to choose, still under heated debate and protest by Pro-Lifers. The professionalization provided safe, well equiped facilities dramatically reducing injuries and deaths due to procedures. Violence and harrassment from Pro-Lifers became prevelant. When violence escalated to murder in 1994, federal penelaties were enacted for crimes, threats and obstruction of abortion facilities.
From my window, I can see the tense dissagreement of thirty-five years. Privacy and protection teeters in controversy. Is a right ever without scrutiny, judgement, ridicule? Privacy is measured in degrees of intrusion, while freedom in the number of injustices. My view is lack of progress.
Sources:
http://www.plannedparenthood.org/health-topics/abortion-4260.html
http://www.prochoice.org/about_abortion/history_abortion.html
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