In fits and starts.

And here's why I missed New Year's Eve:

I was in the hospital! Hooray!

Christmas weekend, I was working at the barn by myself. My boss was on vacation, which I guess she's allowed to do once in awhile, so I was in charge of a bunch of horses, a bunch of cats and chickens, a llama and a cow. I can barely take care of myself for an extended length of time, so all that responsibility for two whole days really took a lot out of me. Sunday night, at home, my tonsil started to hurt. This isn't out of the ordinary, I have a lot of tonsil problems and sometimes before I get a cold or something they tighten up and get mad and then settle down. I took some Nyquil and tylenol and called it a night. It still felt bad on Monday morning, so I went about my business but made plans to go to the doctor the next day. Tuesday came and it was even worse, so I had my mom take me to the ER. I had two peritonsillar abscesses and it sucked! I had a very bad time partly because of my roommate's very annoying, very loud, and VERY Midwestern daytime (and once, at 11 pm) visitors, and the fact that I was on a clear-liquids-only diet because I could barely swallow my own spit. But my mom visited me every day, and my friends Katie, Julie, Jarred, and Dawn took time out from their lives to visit me too. My boss at the barn and her daughter rode my horse, my mom took care of Frankie for me, and I really appreciate everyone's kind words, thoughts, and actions during that time.

I basically spent a week in the hospital, trying to get better. I was stuck in a no-man's-medical-land, where I wasn't quite "better" enough to go home, but not bad enough to commit to a surgery. So I stayed in and got pumped full of fluids and antibiotics and steroids and now I have a big fat huge hospital bill and have to make an appointment to take out these tonsils - which I can't afford. Hooray.

Also, I got dumped while I was in the hospital, and that was awesome, and by awesome I mean, 'what the fuck is wrong with people?'

But here's some good news, guys.

I rule.

Here are some examples:

In my brand-new Drawing 1 class, our first assignment is to draw a lightbulb. Prof told us if we thought we were "good" at drawing to choose one of the translucent bulbs instead of the opaque ones. I did. I asked him if I could do something to jazz up the drawing, like include my hand. He looked at me a little funny and said "Uhh, sure. It'll be hard though..." and I shrugged and said "have a little faith in me!" Well, I showed him my compositional sketch:



and he said: "Wow. I didn't think you'd be able to do that. Hands are difficult to draw. You can draw, though. And you can draw hands. We're going to have fun this semester!" I did tell him that I'm fairly good at drawing what I see, but I have problems with unlocking my pretty vivid imagination and making my hands draw from that, rather from my eyes. So he said he'll work with me on to develop that. Color me happy.

For my painting class, I'm not displeased with my first project. I'm NOT a painter, I'm not good at it, I don't understand paints, they don't understand me. Apart from this being a required course for my major, I'd like to develop my painting skills *a little.*

It's not the greatest still life, but it's not the worst, I think. Also, it's my first still life painting, ever. So there's that!



Here's another reason I rule:
I've been doing awesome on my resolutions. I have tried to be creative every day, in some way shape or form. It hasn't always been awesome, but every little bit counts. I shopped locally/handmade - I went to a few Detroit small-businesses to get stuff to send to my lovely Sharon in New York, and I supported local (and national) artists like Perfect Laughter at 323 East. I've been more appreciative of things and people in my life. I've tried new things (an okra/split pea fritter at Slows, different kinds of nigiri sushi I've never thought to try before like scallops, yellowtail, red snapper, eel), and made something new at home (maple glazed salmon with ossau iraty risotto and garlic asparagus - see pic below!). I've been saying "I'm sorry" less and less. I donated batteries and hand sanitizer to the Art Department's supply drive for the Humane Society in the first week.

And I haven't fallen for anyone yet. Though I do have a few crushes. That's nothing new.

It's gonna be a good year.

delicious foods

New Year's Real Solutions.

So, I'm kind of a week late because I kind of missed out on doing New Year's Eve (that's for another entry yet, I promise). Tonight I did a do-over NYE, continuing a family-and-friend tradition that's gone on for the past 18 years, at least: the kids I used to babysit come over and we get buffet food and go to Meijer and load up on more sugar and snacks, we go play video games and board games, and ring in the New Year with confetti. It's no raucous party, it's no explosive celebration, but it is my New Year's. This year we did it without the confetti, because I didn't feel like cleaning up the mess (and it gets verymessy), but the rest of night was the same so now I'm officially considering it 2010.

New years mean new starts!

Here are some resolutions. Some real ones. Real solutions. Wow, that worked out handily, didn't it? Some are new, some are old, like the ones that spring up every year but maybe with some slight changes so as to differentiate them from previous, unsuccessful years, and some work in concert with each other: similar concepts with different end-results.

*be creative(outside of school) EVERY day. Doesn't matter how small a show it is. Sit down and write a very short short story. Draw a doodle. Make a craft. Something. Somehow. It doesn't take long. I need to get over my creative blocks and realize that just because I'm in art school doesn't mean I can't make art outside of it.

*contribute in some way or another, every week, to the new Detroit blog my mom and I set up: http://detroitbitbybit.blogspot.com. (though this also falls under the creativity umbrella, it's got an actual purpose in my mind's eye, so it warrants a separate resolution)

*be more active as a Metro-Detroiter, for Detroit's sake. In the past year I've made a ton of new friends who are really devoted to Detroit, and my love affair with the city is going through a renaissance. I've been really lucky to have these people in my life and moreover, to have this city in my life, even though she and I haven't always seen eye to eye.

*add more "handmade" into my life, buying *and* selling (locally, etsy, etc) and reduce my commercial consumerism.

*be more grateful/appreciative, for all the myriad wonderful things in my life. Too often, I get bogged down in the bad times, the bad things. I don't say thank you enough. Thank you. I said it. It's a start.

*become more active in some aspects online (blogging, finally setting up a real website for blogging and arts/creative stuff, etc.) and less in some aspects (uhm, Bejeweled Blitz on facebook? Looking up questions to the random, pointless questions that race through my brain at any minute? Unnecessary.)

*stop saying sorry so much, and think about why I'm saying it when I do use it.

*cook more, goshdarnit, and use locally-grown/locally-produced ingredients whenever possible. I'm not a *talented* cook, but I have faith I can learn. When not cooking at home (and, well, even when cooking at home) try new things! After an involuntary week of a clear-liquids-only diet, my taste buds are crying out for new experiences. Who am I to deprive them? Foodie-land, here I come. My palate has expanded considerably just in the past year, and there's no reason to stop where I'm at now. Old dog, new tricks.

*be healthier overall. Normally I want to lose xx amounts of pounds, and though I'm not 100% happy with my weight right now, I'm generally feeling pretty good & confident about my body. As long as I'm making a concerted effort to get out and do more/run more/whatever more/and take in less, then I'm not going to worry about the numbers on the scales. I have 2 mostly-working legs, a paid-for membership at my school's gym, a dog who loves to run, and a horse who needs riding. It'll work itself out.

*ACTUALLY keep track of every book I read this year, and write at least a few sentences about what I thought about it. I've tried this every year for the past 3 years and each time peter out at the halfway mark, it seems. I'm always reading, I always have a notebook with me, and it takes like four seconds to write a few sentences.

*do not fall for just anyone. This is the most important. I feel like this could be a big year for falling, so I don't want to waste it. I've done that enough the past few years. You won't fool me again.

*I almost forgot this one, but it's kind of silly. Maybe not. The art department at my school is running a supply drive for the Michigan Humane Society, in memory of a former art supervisor. I'm making it my goal to donate at least one thing, once a week, till the drive is over at the end of the semester. Baby steps to greatness.

What are yours? Do you bother? I do every year and fail every year. I suppose my last one should be:

*do not fail at the resolutions this year.

the grades came in.

I'm working in retrograde this week. The last few weeks, even last month of December was a trip and a half, but not the best kind where it's all expenses-paid to the Bahamas or Sandals or something. More like the trip where you end up in some podunk town with twelve bucks on you and an empty gas tank and six hundred miles left to go before you're home safe and sound. Such is life.

So instead of talking about the bad things of the past few weeks, just right this second, just for you now, I'll instead let you know that:

You guys. I pretty much owned my first semester at art school*, as you expected.

After missing one assignment out of seventeen, I knew I had to work pretty ridiculously hard to get a good grade on my final so I could get away with a B in my design class. So I did... just, I did it in the eleventh hour. Or, at least, the thirty-first through the eleventh hours. The project I chose was pixelating a photo and then gridding an illustration board and painting the pixelated image on it. I'm not good at math, not in the least, no how, but I did manage to figure out that the 8x10 photo of a kid in a lemonade stand, manipulated to 5 pixels per inch and blown up to 20x25, was going to be 2000 half-inch squares. I knew when I started the project, two weeks before it was due, that 2000 squares was a shit lot of squares. I didn't realize exactly HOW MANY SHIT LOT OF SQUARES that was till the day before it was due, after I had lunch with a friend and went home around 4pm to get down to brass tacks on the painting, which had only been about 12% done up to that point.

Well, I got to work, for twenty hours straight - mostly. I took three naps totalling two hours, and in each of those naps, my brain treated me to a magically rendered, tedious dream of my hand mixing colour. Like those work dreams where you're working for the entire 8 hours you sleep. It was fun. And that was an egregious lie.

I twitpic'd some of my progress:
20% done: http://twitpic.com/t59g6
30.95%: http://twitpic.com/ter9j
41.9%: http://twitpic.com/tfv3m
50% and change: http://twitpic.com/tgg47
60%: http://twitpic.com/th1yg
and the end result: http://twitpic.com/tmv70

I finished at 1 pm; class was at 3 pm with about a half hour of travel and parking and walking-to-class time to factor in. I had enough time to shower, grab a sub on campus and get to class and poop myself, but it was worth it for that A+ on the final, which gave me an A- in the class.

Not too shabby for missing one whole assignment**.

My other class, Astronomy (for my Physical Science req), I was really worried about, but thanks to it being a large LARGE online class with a huge HUGE curve, I managed to walk away with a not-entirely-deserved-but-you-bet-I-will-take-it B+. Thanks for somehow sucking worse than me, everyone else in the class!

So Monday starts the cycle of school again, with the culprits this time being: Art History 1, Drawing 1, Oil Painting 1, Nutrition (online), and a Nutrition lab.

Full-time art, here I come!
And also I will update you on the very very inauspicious beginnings of my 2010. Next time. Trust me. They are worth an update of their very very very own.

*Nevermind that I only took one art class this semester.
**Which I actually HAD ready to hand in for the "make-up assignments" period, but since that class period was actually a work-on-your-final period and my final was too big to fit into my portfolio, I left the whole thing at home, missing assignment and all... so it's my own damn fault for not getting an A or A+.

part-time-art.

I still really don't have the time, but I want you to know I'm alive and well, and in some respects, extra-well. Other respects could surely use a boost in the wellness department, but all in due time, I like to think.

Being a part-time art student is weird and wonderful; I wish I'd been blogging about it these past few months. I guess I could still write about the experiences I've had, but that seems wrong, going back in the past. I'm supposed to be moving forward. I wanted to do some kind of a comic about it, but obviously that didn't happen. Hmph.

In just 2 short months, I'll be making the transition to full-time art student. Scary. Wonderful. Scary. I can't wait. I have to wait.

In the meantime, would you like to see some of my projects from my (one) art class this semester? Or would you rather wait till my final project is completed and graded, and final grades are in, so you can all bask in my awesomeness and inherent glory, and eagerly await January whateverth when classes start again? Your call... less than a month till this semester is over and done with.

See the thing is... I just don't have the time. :/

Girls will be boys will be girls will be boys.

Apparently, I am not a girly girl. I think I might be a man's lady. Or, alternately, a dudely girl.

Right?

I love pink. I love flowers. Baby animals. Stuffed animals. Baby babies. Chick flicks/chick lit. Scented candles. Fruity drinks (hi, new love of my life, Framboise). Fancy scented lotions and creams. Skirts. Dresses. Fancy underpanties. Silky things. Nail polish. Mascara. Getting my hair 'did.' The whole nine yards.

But I also really really love blue. Beer. Burgers. Baseball and hockey. Dude flicks (The Big Lebowski remains my favourite, most-watched, most-quoted movie). Robots. Graphic novels. Video games. Simplicity. Pants. Being stubborn. Being confusing. Being stupid. All very dudely qualities. (No offense, dudes, but... you own the patent on those last couple of things. I'll cop to women being crazy (see later on in this post where I elucidate my own crazy) but dudes broke ground on the stupid/confusing/stubborn front, built a foundation, and erected* a skyscraper upon it. Own it.)

When I google-imaged "stupid skyscraper" this came up. Seems pretty apt.

I squee (heavily) at cute things, but I also scoff at people falling down or getting hurt or (especially) getting hit in the nuts. I want a baby (someday), but I want a baby boy first, dammit and he is going to grow up playing baseball in the park if I have to be the best single mother in the world ever**. My hips swing when I walk, but I curse like a sailor, when I'm not at work***.

I have a handful of close-ish female friends, the most I've had since I went to an all-girls Catholic high school a million**** years ago and little to no choice to have at least a coterie of girlfriends (especially ones who had boyfriends at the all-boys school next door, so I could acquire some much-needed dude friends). But my closest friends, the ones I consistently turn to when grumpy, needing a drink, or need help dissecting matters of the heart, are resoundingly male. I grump to my lady friends, but I always feel a disconnect, like they're not getting all of the story because I'm forgetting vital parts of it, mostly because I probably am.

I also don't get invited out "with the girls" as much as I do with the guys, probably due to my propensity for drinking too much beer, swearing too loudly, and making lewd jokes at every opportunity. The retort "This is why we can't have nice things" basically applies to me and intangible things: I will never be able to serenely sip from a Cosmopolitan or Sex on the Beach in a sophisticated dress. I will be the girl in jeans in the corner, playing darts or pool and drinking pint after pint with the guys, telling highly inappropriate tales and guffawing at theirs. I've only recently found a little niche of girls who somehow, for some reason, like me and want to hang out with me, even if I am too loud and too brash.

I do love dresses and skirts, and I use girly perfumes with names like Seductive Goddess, and I like***** being a girl, but I like hanging out with the dudes, because on the whole they are so much fun to be around, except when they are being TRULY dudely and mucking up everything around them. Which is often. Very often.

I might just be metro-Detroit's version of Sweet Dee, only fatter and shorter and browner-haireder. If I found a baby in the dumpster, I'd probably call it DB too.

Last week, I spent a few hours at my friend Darin's house, with a couple other dudes, watching the tiebreaker game for the AL Central Division. I got teased, mercilessly, about something that came up during a no-holds-barred game of Balderdash last year - something highly inappropriate, that I can't even share with you, internet, other than to say that it rhymes with boatmucking, sorta. Anyway, it was crass and crude and I blushed and demurred and fobbed it off ("I still have some decency left," says the girl who once explained something that rhymes with mukakke to a bunch of dudes who, in retrospect, probably knew what it was and just wanted to see if I would get embarrassed talking about it. Note: I did not get embarrassed) but I still took that goodnatured verbal abuse and rolled with it. Because I'm The Girl Guys Can Talk About (Really, Super) Gross Stuff With. I think.

Later that night, though, I found myself out and about with three of my wonderful lady friends, for an event I like to call "lady burgers," if only because it sounds a little bit perverted (again, that's a pretty dudely quality). I'd left Darin's house still on a game high, since it was only the bottom of the seventh and I would've loved for the Tigs to clinch the pennant, even if we didn't stand a chance against the Yankees in the league playoffs. We girls sat in a booth far away from a television and I strained to see the game, while the Tigers struggled through twelve long innings. Not being able to see the score or anything really except for dots of white and grey and blue and black on a field of green, I determined what was going on in the game on the enthusiasm of those seated far closer, and provided such helpful commentary to my boothmates as "They're fighting? I think it's a happy fight. There are people still on the field and they're just standing there so it can't be over." I almost got kicked out of 'Ladies Night'/the girls club when I demonstrated my too-vast knowledge of sports****** ("Baseball was invented in Cooperstown!"), but quickly regained my hold by being adorable. I think.

Basically, it was a weird night. I was almost too girly to hang out with the dudes, and almost too dudely to hang out with the girls. Catch-22.

My friend Jon once drunkenly told me "I don't know why you don't have a boyfriend. You're so awesome. You get along so well with dudes - you're like one of us," and then decided that that was actually probably the problem.

The problem is actually that while I am in many ways, shapes, and forms very dudegirly, I have the unwieldy and totally out-of-control emotions of a girly-girl. A pretty vulnerable girl who sometimes always tries too hard and is a champion natural-born-worrier and invents elaborate scenarios in which people screw her over relentlessly just for bragging rights. I overthink, I overanalyze, I worry 92 hours of the day, I think you don't like me, I think I screwed up, and it's mostly a self-fulfilling prophecy. Bonnie says I have to "rein in the Rebecca." But that Rebecca, she's a headstrong one. It's a dirty job. (PS Mike Rowe, you are welcome to help me.)

I am trying really hard to not let that happen this time. It's a slippery slope, with wicked turns at breakneck speeds. I've gotten "good" enough to know when I start slipping, but not good enough to know how to stop once I've started down that hill. I pump the brakes and tell myself I'm entering a world of pain, a world of pain, but it's no use. I'm there, I'm on it, I ride it out as best I can. I've recognized it this time, and am working on stopping that vehicle of destruction, and I'm trying to chill the fuck out and maintain the best parts of me, both girly and dudely (please see the opening paragraphs) because they are me and I am pretty awesome, if you must know, so if you are reading this, please realize this! I acknowledge my faults, am working to mend them, so hopefully you let my ludicrous overreactiony (but quickly-realized, remember! Remember!) antics get in the way of your enjoying my out and out awesomeness, which is plentiful and intense.

It's funny, because I started this entry a few months ago, with no real idea of where it was going, until the universe spelled it out for me recently in no uncertain terms. Keep being a dudely girl, but chill down on the crazy girly-girl emotion bullshit. Okay? Okay.

Rebecca is trying to abide.

Rebecca abides.

She's calmer than you are.

Far out, man.

*okay, so yeah, 'erected'? I LOL'ed at that when I was typing it, and left it in for comic relief, for myself. For real.
**which will probably happen, as I'm not convinced that anyone will ever be stupid enough to want to marry me, given my extreme levels of fucked-up-ness.
***mostly.
****ten
*****This was originally "I love being a girl" but then I remembered periods and how much they suck and how every month they cost me money, sanity, and normal human contact as I sequester myself from humanity so as not to lose all my friends when my hormones raise their nasty, ugly, many-tentacled heads.
******here is me being a girl: when my friends Ron and Eric start talking about sports (mostly college and pro football) too much around me, my eyes glaze over and I stare off into the distance until I can't take it anymore and just blurt out "sports." That's usually their cue to talk about something different. An acceptable segue is cupcakes, since sometimes they talk about cupcakes in relation to college football, a connection I haven't yet figured out, but might have to look more into. I'll suffer college football for some cupcakes, you know? Mmmmm... cupcakes.

I am terrible at blogging lately. Between a new barn, new barn job, regular job, new school (!!) and new boy (!!!!!), I have no time, motivation, or inclination to write sometimes.

I have lots to say! I'm going through lots of awesome things! But that's all I feel like saying right now. Maybe this week I'll have a few minutes to sit down and type up something right and proper. Maybe.

(no guarantees)