Bird of Paradise

Bird of Paradise
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

What a crazy flower. My first memory that has anything to do with this blossom is the singing flowers in the Tiki Room at Disneyland. The animatronic flowers had clacking beaks, just like the parrots.

I seem to be going into a dry spell. I sat down to write this afternoon and found there wasn't anything I wanted to write about. All I want to do is sleep and eat, and I don't crave anything that's good for me. Nope, it's Oreos and knock-off CheezIts all the way. The weather's been amazing this weekend, and I did get myself out of the house to enjoy it, but most of the time I just sat there watching people pass. So many cute dogs, so many children who've just learned to walk and always, in their zeal at upright forward motion, seem to be on the verge of taking a terrific header onto the pavement. So many delicious smells coming from dying blossoms I couldn't identify. So many bugs falling onto my shoulders and crawling down my shirt and landing in my hair. So much nature blowing into my nose and being forced back out with juicy sneezes.

I had a good time, but I didn't write a thing.

I suppose this counts, though.

Maybe the times when I don't have any desire to write are the best times to do so. I'm not so concerned about results, so I let my fingers wander where they will on the keyboard. I'll have to remember this feeling.

Fierce

Fierce
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

Back from Hawaii and a much-needed escape from NYC. Did some running around, did some sitting around, did some staring into the ocean, did some more sitting around, did a LOT of eating, did some weight-gaining (that will drop away, shortly, I'm sure, now that I'm paying for my own meals again). I think Kauai and Big Island are tied for my favorites. I loved Maui, but I love the solace and languid pace of Big Island and Kauai much more. A week of strolling and sitting around in either of those places would be a fantastic vacation. However, there are two more islands to be explored before that happens: Molokai and Lanai. After those two, I will have visited every island available to outsiders (Ni'ihau is owned by a single family and one must be invited in order to go there, although that may have changed).

Being back in the city isn't as awful as I thought it would be. It may be that it just hasn't hit me yet that I don't have a single vacation from work coming up in the next two or three months. I'm not a lazy person, I just need the occasional mental health break from the repetitive nature of my current temp assignment. I must admit that it was nice to come back to work on a Friday and know that I had two more days to adjust to city pace before a full five-day work week. At the beginning of this last Hawaii adventure, I kept realizing that I'd left my family in the dust whenever we walked somewhere, and I had to stop and purposefully slow down. My sister admonished, "You don't need to walk so fast here!" and I answered, "I thought I wasn't walking that fast!" By the end of the trip, I'd learned how to amble again.

The final thing I've taken from this vacation is that I need to take better care of myself. That doesn't mean pampering (at least not all the time). It means getting my butt to yoga. It means budgeting for dance class three times a week. It means finally buying a loft so my bed doesn't dominate my bedroom. It means making time for the activities (and they need to be active) that keep my brain out of the miry mush of the doldrums. I've been neglecting my body, and as a result, I've been neglecting my mind and spirit. Time to get moving, because, as they say, you've only failed if you fall down and stay there.

Who cares?

In these last few weeks, just like always, I've had impulses. The funny part is that I'm following more of them.

I had an audition last Friday (or was it Thursday?). It was a last minute, same-day thing (which is why I can't remember when it was). Whatever day it was, I had no time to stew over it, obsess over it, or chew on it nervously until I'd sucked all the flavor out. I woke up from a nap, rolled out of bed, and staggered down to the audition site. As I sat there, I looked around at the other women auditioning. Most were very young, or trying to look young. I felt old and grumpy. I thought, "What am I doing here? I'm probably not right for this part at all." But unlike most other situations in which my mind would then start spinning down into a pit of self-defeat, I thought, "Oh well. Who cares? I'm going to go in there and do what I want to do, regardless of whether or not it fits the audition criteria." And I did, and I made them laugh. Did they call me back? No. Doesn't matter. I walked out of the audition feeling like I'd done good work, even if it was only two minutes worth. Being an artist isn't always about is rarely about sealing the deal.

The other day, I asked my friend to give me a word or phrase to write about. I was casting about for blogging ideas. She didn't give me anything specific, but I realized that I could take anything she'd said that stuck out to me and turn it into a something. I now have a small list of words and phrases just begging to be used somehow. Will they be a story, a photo, a dance, or a recipe? Who knows? Isn't that the fun?

So, lately, I've been much more interested in following my own artistic whims, rather than letting others dictate who and what I should be as an artist. The best part is that I'm not rich and famous, and therefore have absolutely nothing to lose. I can make "weird" art, and as very few people are looking anyway, I only have to worry about pleasing me. This is a happy and pleasant turn of events. And really, who cares what I'm doing? As I've often heard said, people are much too concerned with who's looking at them to be worried about looking at you.

So, who cares?

Saturday in the Park

Saturday in the Park
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

What's better than the sun on your skin, a warm breeze ruffling your clothing, and cool green grass to stick your feet into?

Nothing, my friends.

We're on Day Two of The Beautiful: upper 80s, plenty of sunshine, and all day to enjoy it because The Beautiful finally fell on a weekend instead of popping up on a Thursday to taunt me. I spent the majority of the afternoon in Central Park, strolling under the cherry blossoms along the reservoir and watching all the dogs and people and bikers and bird watchers and toddling babies.

And now I'm going out again to fill my vitamin D reservoir before I get chained to the phone for eight hours for the next five days.

Ta!

And she surveyed all that she had accomplished, and pronounced it good.

I know budgets are tight, but please take a moment to donate to NaNoWriMo. The Office of Letters and Light is enabling, encouraging, and empowering writers like me all over the world. They do good work, and it would be awesome if they were around in 2009 to keep doing that work. $10 from everyone who reads this blog - and is able to spare $10 - would make a world of difference to them. (I'm going to send them $10, and Lord knows I have no money.)

If you leave a comment saying you donated, I'll send you a personalized photo of something spectacular and fun. You tell me your favorite color, food, and book (and address, obviously), and I'll take a nifty, artistic photo just for you! Please donate!

Oops

Oops
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

I rearranged last night. I moved my desk so that it faces the window. The motivation was less "I need something new" and more "I want the heat to actually radiate into the room and not just the side of my desk."

It's chilly outside. 30 degrees. I'm really boring today, kidlings. I think my novel has stolen all my words and ideas.

Actually, no. What happened is that I haven't been filling the well. Julia Cameron encourages artists to keep replenishing their "well of creativity." We can't keep running on empty, churning out work without suffering the consequences, i.e. burnout, writer's block, addictive behaviors.

The workshop was a source of creative energy for me, and now that it's over, I have to go elsewhere for creative juice. I haven't been doing that. I've been freaking out about my financial situation. I'm going to stop doing that now.

For today's refill, I think I'll walk in Central Park. (Yes, it's cold, but I'm from Minnesota and I'm not scurred.) I would love to watch a dance class, but you can't get into the dancing area of Broadway Dance Center without paying for a class. Maybe I could go to Port Authority bus station, go up to one of the upper levels and watch class at Alvin Ailey. Eh. Too much work. I would also like to bake something, but my oven is still not functioning. Poop.

What are you doing to fill your creative well?

Rhodes

Rhodes
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

Oh, the blank page.

The empty text box that pops up on Flickr for the "Blog This" function is intimidating today. I find that I'm not burning to say anything or expound on a photo or rant. That's a scary time, when there's nothing in the well. (Well, there's something in there, but it's frustration, and a feeling of being blocked at every turn, but that's not much fun to read, so I refrain.)

The blank page taunts me. It speaks in the voices of the doubters and cynics. It says, "Who do you think you are? What makes what you have to say so important?" I don't have an answer to that question. I don't. I only know that I'm compelled to keep doing this, keep putting one word after another, even if it's not anything anyone else wants to read or hear. I wish I had an explanation for the compulsion, because it would make me feel a whole lot better (*controlfreak*), but I don't. I write because I must. And when I don't write, something goes wrong inside that is equally impossible to explain.

The fear of the blank page is why I do NaNoWriMo. At least once every year I abandon the idea that I can only write when the muse strikes me. I hogtie the taunting voices. I toss aside the notion that every word has to be profound and just tell a story. It's a lurching, sometimes grotesque thing, the story that emerges, but NaNoWriMo doesn't care about pretty. Pretty and Perfect is boring. Grotesque gives me something to work with.

I'm feeling naked now. I think that's ok.

Archimedes

Archimedes
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

One of my few souvenirs from Europe. As mentioned before,I don't feel like buying a lot for no reason. This little guy called to me, though. I named him Archimedes after the owl in Sword & the Stone, a blustery, stuffy, fussy little fellow who was always something of a mess despite the exactitude he wished to project.

Autumn invigorates me. Winter slows everything down, spring makes me itchy, summer lulls me to sleep, and fall makes me want to run around in circles in a field until I fall down. I love fall. I love the clothes I get to wear in fall. Tights, wool skirts, sweaters, scarves. Like I said, I'm a romantic.

Sooo! I want to do NaNoWriMo this year, but I'm supposed to be studying for the LSAT as well. Hm. Can I do it? I really want to. I feel like the daily writing and sharing is good practice, and I want to keep up the habit. NaNoWriMo is a great way to do that. But I also know that I'm not one of the disciplined ones who writes her 1667 words each day. I delay and delay and delay and end up freaking out the second-to-last week of November thinking, "Holy crap! Where did the time go? I'm never going to finish! But I must!" And sometimes I do, and sometimes I don't. But if I want to write, I have to do the work, right? So I will do the work.

NaNoWriMo is great because you're given permission (by the "powers that be" over there somewhere in California, and thousands of other NaNoers) to write badly and without restraint. Of course, everyone would love for their novel to be brilliant, but no one's novel is brilliant on the first draft. So NaNo says, "Go ahead and be bad. Just get the story out. You can go back and edit later. Don't beat yourself up about the astronomical crappiness right now." I love that.

Bah. I've gotta get out of my house and enjoy this lovely autumn day. Ciao, chickens!

"That's the end?" - Janet Jackson

"That's the end?" - Janet Jackson
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

HAIR has been extended until September 7th! W00t! I'm going to try the line again on Tuesday morning. :D

In other news, my daily photos are going to go on hiatus for a while. The first reason for that is that I leave in a week for a three-week vacation and I'm not bringing my computer. The second reason is that I'm in need of new inspiration, and the objects are, more often than not, leaving me cold these days. I'm too self-conscious to do a daily self portrait, so I'm hoping other inspiration will strike.

And now, I must go to Borders. And then to work. Five more days. FIVE! MORE! DAYS!

Scuffed

Scuffed
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

I feel like a big coward today. I feel like a big coward because I get freaked out when I try to polish my resume, or when I flip through an LSAT book, or when I think about the impending mountain of rejections, or worse, no response at all.

Reading an older post from PilgrimGirl's blog, I felt humbled that I balk at what are simple tasks compared to what she's gone (and going) through. I'm ashamed of my fear.

But I still don't make any moves. It's easier, simpler, less taxing, to sit still.

Believe me: I wish I didn't think this way. I wish I didn't agonize over every little detail and feeling and impulse. I wish I was content to wake up, go to my 9 to 5 job, come home, watch tv or read, go to bed, and do the same thing over again the next day, and the next, and the next. But this feeling that I need more than that has been going on long enough that I know it's not just something I can "get over" and "get a real job." You can chalk it up to being immature, spoiled, self-centered, or selfish, but I know those explanations don't apply here. I'm driven by the impulse to create. I am, dare I proclaim it, an artist.

Artists are branded with a lot of stereoptypes in this country. Artists are "weird, lazy, flaky people who just don't want to do an honest day's work." Artists are "immature, impotent, homos." Artists are "crazy and broke." Artists are "just avoiding the realities of life." Maybe there have been artists who fall into those categories because, in one way or another, they've been told that being an artist isn't acceptable.

Our loved ones might not say it out loud, but if someone pursuing an artistic life, one that wasn't completely financially stable, decided to go get an MBA, you can bet that their loved ones would breathe a sigh of relief. The motivation for the relief is concern for the artist's well-being, but the message still comes through: art is not a "real job."

There's no reason why an artist can't have a full-time job. A lot of artists do. A full-time job can keep one sane. But they're still an artist who happens to have a full-time job. They're chasing that something, or, rather, letting creativity flow through them. They have somewhere to turn to let it out. They're not toiling in a day job that has become their life, sticking a cap on their creative well. The job is a means to an end.

Bringing it back around to me, I understand that full-time can balance with creativity. I just can't seem to shake the fear that when I interview for these day jobs they'll see right through me. They'll see that I'm not willing to give them all of me, or even the illusion of all of me. Companies seem to be a little insulted when they sense that you're not their priority, no matter how low-level the job.

So I guess what I'm saying is, "I'm awesome. Hire me and I'll be great, as long as you don't expect more of me than the body who occupies space in your office building between the hours of 9 to 5. So gimme a job."

(Yes, I'm being silly. Somewhat.)

(I blabbed a lot today.)

Antici................pation

Antici................pation
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

My contacts came. And they came with bubble wrap. YES.

Watched Spy Game this morning/afternoon while I twisted my hair. Pretty good movie, actually. Nothing too special, but a pretty good movie. Two handsome gents in the leads will do that.

It's still sunny and warm, although not as humid as yesterday. August is turning out to be less disappointing than I thought it was going to be.

Gotta get ready for work.

ETA: My sister shall henceforth be known as Princess. Princess Poopypants.

Pick-Me-Up

Pick-Me-Up
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

Went to Coney Island today. Didn't stay long. Neither of us was prepared for the strength of the sun. We walked through Astroland, then wandered down the boardwalk, away from the lights and noise. I took photos. You'll see them tomorrow.

Kisses.

I Should Do Product Photography, Huh?

I Should Do Product Photography, Huh?
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

I've been watching Alvin Ailey videos for the past hour, freaking out over the exquisite movement. I miss dancing.

I have a plan to write a thank you letter to one of my dance teachers in Minneapolis. I sucked in her class; absolutely sucked. But I did gain an appreciation for the movement and the difficulty of making it look effortless. I love that she pushed us, no matter how good some of the students were. I also want to thank her for not kicking me out of her class despite my persistent lateness and major suckitude. I miss that class.

It's thunderstorming. I don't think it's going to make the heat go away, though. August is my least favorite month.

Product Placement

Product Placement
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

I'm learning through this daily photo project of mine that not every photo is going to be a masterpiece. Not every photo can be a masterpiece. In fact, most of them are going to be disasters at best and boring at worst. The people who seem like they're cranking out masterpiece after masterpiece spend a lot of time laying big, fat, turdy duds. They just don't show the good stuff until it's ready.

I've chosen to show the good and bad. All too often all we see is the good. In today's media, everyone glitters, with every hair intact and not a pimple in sight. Even "wardrobe malfunctions" are calculated for maximum press coverage. No one wants to show the messy side. No one wants to show that they're human.

Because we never see human beings in the media, we come to expect that every public face will be a perfect one. The truth is, those people have an army of stylists to shellack their hair in place, and a dermatologist standing by with a big, fat needle full of cortisone to attack any and all pimples. Being perfect takes a lot of work.

So here I am. I'm showing the work. Maybe it's not as much fun for you, the viewer, but it is educational. Watch and learn, and maybe celebrate with me when I manage to stumble onto a masterpiece.

Still Wrapped

Still Wrapped
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

This pretty thing was a gift from a dear, selfless friend. I miss her. She's a busy woman with a lot of responsibilities.

The heat has finally backed off a touch. We slept without the a/c last night for the first time in a week.

I need to clean.

Blah blah blah workety schmurkety.

Frosty

Frosty
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

Gosh, it's hot.

Don't wanna move.

Don't wanna leave the house.

Just wanna lay here and catch up on So You Think You Can Dance.

They Look Like Such Strong Hands, Don't They?

They Look Like Such Strong Hands, Don't They?
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

I think this photo is going to become one of my favorites. I love it. And don't ask my how I got it. It'll ruin the magic for you.

I had written some blather about feeling such and such a way and introspection and happiness and blah blah blah and then I deleted it because I was doing exactly what I said I shouldn't be doing. At least not here.

So...uh...go look at some funny cat pictures. Yeah. Go do that. No funny here today.

I [heart] the Brooklyn Public Library

I [heart] the Brooklyn Public Library
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

I woke early yesterday morning. Six am to be exact. My upstairs neighbor was dragging furniture around. At six am. Who does that?

I wasn't sleepy anymore, so I hopped out of bed and got moving. I accomplished quite a bit yesterday morning. I finished unpacking, showered, and got my butt to the Central Library to check out some more books. As you can see, I got, um, a few. I went a little nuts. But they're free! Freeeeeee! After having to buy an unexpected plane ticket, I'm a little strapped for cash. Free books make me go crazy!

I left the library and wandered through Park Slope to catch the train. It is beautiful over there, with or without the Stroller Mafia. I passed a mansion and the thought occurred to me, "I could have that. If I really, truly wanted it and made it a goal, I could have that." It was an empowering thought. Right on its heels came the thought, "Do I really want it?" I'm not so sure I do.

What do I want? I want to get out of debt and stay out. I want a cozy, comfortable home without the worry of how I'm going to pay for it. I want a career in which I get to be as creative and variegated as I am when I'm not working. I want to do it all: write, act, direct, make films, create performance art, dance, photograph, produce, organize, design clothing, paint, daydream, learn, relax. I want adventure, whimsy, romance, good food, movement and color. And I want to get paid for it. I believe I can.

Fountain Pen

Fountain Pen
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

I'm a secret romantic. I think it's why I love steampunk and typewriters and especially fountain pens.

There's something so romantic about dipping a pen in ink. It's time-consuming and methodical. It forces one to think about what one writes before dashing it off on the page. There really isn't any "dashing it off" when every other word requires more ink on the tip of the pen. Every word takes on more meaning in that scenario. Maybe that's why letter-writing is an art.

You can have a picture of the fountain pen set tomorrow. After I unpack it.

Perfection

Perfection
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

I have a gorgeous friend.

She's also kind and generous. She came with me to the premiere last night and, as promised, held my hand as it started so I could calm down.

So, the premiere. I chose not to think about it all day. It was obvious, though, as I rushed around getting ready, snapping at my mother, that I was most definitely thinking about it. I was so nervous and I didn't want to be nervous and I was trying not to let it show but I'm sure my mother could tell and being the patient saint that she is just quietly went about her preparations and let me be messy without yelling back and then we got to the theatre and I had some wine. Whew. I needed that.

A few trailers and short films rolled before FADE, and then it started. Cori reached across my lap and gave my hand a squeeze. My heart was thudding in my chest, shaking my rib cage.

And it was good. It was really good. I relaxed. I watched myself without self-conscious judgment. I was able to enjoy the film and marvel at what Chris had created. I remembered rolling around in the weeds and getting bitten on the butt by horseflies and waiting for the sun and Scott just about dying having to wear the gas mask and how cold the water in the river was and how glorious the whole experience had been.

And then it was over, and Chris got lots of applause, and I could breathe again. I chatted with other cast members and casual viewers. Everyone was so generous and kind with their praise. I was humbled.

So thanks, Chris, for letting me be a part of your film. It's a lovely piece, and I'm proud of you.

Slippahs

Slippahs
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ISHY-GIRL! I always think of you when I make the mental switch from "flip flops" to "slippers." I hope you have a fun day. Do something nice for yourself!!

I'm going to get my new drivers license today. My last one expired, oh, six months ago.

Well, actually, I applied for a new one but never received it because they won't forward driver's licenses. Darn. It's fine, though. New York lets you trade your out-of-state license for a New York one, provided it expired within the last twelve months, and you have "proof of birth" (I think that wording is hilarious: isn't your physical presence "proof of birth"?), and your social security card.

Yeah, yesterday, I was all made up and dressed and ready for my photo. Got to the DMV. Didn't have my social security card. I tried to run back home to get it, but all I got was sweaty and a long wait for an A train that didn't come for 20 minutes. 20 minutes! In the middle of a weekday! That's RIDICULOUS. (Yeah, yeah, laugh if you want. I want my train when I want it!)

And now, I really must go. I'm trying to give myself two hours to wait at the DMV before I have to go to work. I figure that's enough time. I'm probably wrong, but let's keep our fingers crossed.

Unfinished

Cahier sketch
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

But how much is anything ever truly "finished"? One just decides to stop and move on to the next project. I decided to stop sketching and move on to the next project.

Which happens to be freaking out; the next project, that is. For FADE, the film I did two years ago, is having a premiere, two years later.

What: FADE
When: Friday, June 20th, 7:00pm
Where: Suburban World Theater, Uptown, Minneapolis


I'll admit it: I'm terrified. I haven't seen the film yet, so I have no idea what my performance is like. And that terrifies me.

I'm a control freak. I really am. I'm a Type A Control Freak. I like to have my hands on the reins/dials/levers/steering wheel and I don't want anyone else touching them. I won't throw open the shutters or pull all the stops or leave the cylinders wide open unless I know it's perfectly safe to do so. (This tendency sometimes makes me a bad actor.) This is absurd, of course, because I have absolutely no control over what other people are thinking or doing and my rational mind knows this, but I still prefer to live in the illusion that I AM IN CONTROL.

This premiere? Totally outside my control. I have to sit there, in the dark, with other people watching my performance and judging it, silently or vocally. I will have to sit there and take it and be ok with it and this is terrifying.

But it's a good lesson. It's an opportunity to practice doing something that scares me. I just might need someone to hold my hand while I do it.

Vandalism

Vandalism
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

I kinda thought Cameron Diaz's face needed a mustache. Not because I don't like her. Her picture needed a mustache, though.

I feel as though I'm sucking at my day job. This would ordinarily be cause for concern. Ordinarily, I might feel bad about sucking. But I don't. I'm happy to say that I suck at working for a corporation. I'm content to note that I do not fit into the cog-like structure of the corporate wage-slave. I'm too creative, too independent, too - dare I say it? I dare! - smart. I'm glad to have external motivation to get a jump on making my millions as an internationally renowned, multi-talented artist.

Rock on.

Beginnings of A Moleskine Collage

Beginnings of A Moleskine Collage
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

I spent most of my last hour at work last night cutting pictures out of a Real Simple magazine. Whatever interested me, compelled me, or grossed me out, I cut it out.

One of my Flickr groups is a photo pool of Moleskine owners. Others have collaged photos and bits from magazines in really interesting ways. I got inspired and decided to try it myself. I've also been wandering around Banksy's website, and I like the aesthetic of stenciled graphics in strange places.

This is all to say, I'm fooling around with art and I love it.