Inspiration

A little bit of what's inspiring and keeping me going lately. What inspires you?

Maira Kalman Lovely illustrations with remarkable lessons we sometimes forget.

The Ruby Press blog. Scroll through their archives for images like this!













Photo by ieve.

The Daily Heller Print Magazine blogger who provides a bevy of inspiration daily.

Faceout Books A new find thanks to the Daily Heller. This guy chronicles book cover design. So awesome. I think the bibliophiles here will love it.

Flickr. Nuf said.
















Photo by extrasupercutie

Electra Bikes Mama want.

Stranger than fiction

Way back in the summer I promised myself that I would photograph a complete stranger, and that, instead of sneaking a picture, I would approach* someone and ask permission. This winter I finally managed to walk up to someone and do just that. With a fabulous winter hat like hers, how could I resist? It's not a good picture. I post it more to say that the first hurdle is over.
























*I feel ridiculous walking up to someone with my little pink point-and-shoot.

Happy Valentine's Day

I love Valentine's Day. I have read plenty of articles and blog posts about how people are against the rampant consumerism it promotes, and I can definitely understand that. But how can you be against a holiday that encourages you to tell the people you care about most (friends, family, boos) how you feel about them and that they are special to you? I think it's an awesome opportunity to stop and smell those cliched roses. Besides, you can always avoid the aisles of $4.99 stuffed bears at Wal-Mart and try making some homemade Valentines.

Don't get me wrong. I wasn't always this understanding. Haha. I distinctly remember being 19 and much more set on the idea of having a Valentine celebration that looked like the love child of NBC and Hallmark. When I realized that my boyfriend at the time had not bothered to actually make reservations at the cute little Italian restaurant we were trying to go to and hadn't actually bought me a gift, I threw a bit of a hissy fit. Arguing on Valentine's Day is not attractive, and my much more laid back self looks back on that night with a bit of embarrassment.

Anyway, happy v-day. You guys (and you know who you are) are special to me :-)

An ode to doing other things

I love my job on most days. However, I'm also a complex person who has a
lot of other interests. After a long day of doing this and that and
saving this and that, there is often nothing I would rather do than go
home and paint or take pictures or cut paper or plan my next film or
volunteer at the Workhouse Art Center or...
Anyway, you get that I enjoy winding down in a lot of different ways.
Activism is emotionally draining because I sink my heart into it.
Oftentimes the last way I want to spend the precious free time I have is
having a beer and talking about rivers. I need to develop other parts of
me. It makes me a happier, better person. I don't expect you to
understand me, and I mostly assume you don't and don't give you the
opportunity to really know me. I know this is wrong of me.
So, if you ask if I plan on getting a beer after work with the group,
just know that it's me, not you. And, when I lie and say that it's
because I'm tired, just know that it's simply easier to say than the
truth.
--
Sent from my T-Mobile Sidekick®

What's in a name

The weirdest thing happened to me this past week. I had a voicemail at work from a casting agent in LA who was on the hunt for "real" Serenas. She said they were interested in talking to me about being in an ad for Gatorade opposite Serena Williams. After I stopped laughing, I packed up my things and headed home for the day. I just couldn't stop laughing, wondering who had managed to play this joke on me. When I got to work the next morning, there was an email from the same casting agent following up on her voicemail. The email contained the website for the casting agency and more details about the shoot, including the fact that it was a print ad, they would pay me $3,000, and fly me to LA.

I'm nothing if not a sucker for a good story, so I returned her phone call. Upon returning my phone call, she went into greater detail about the ad and what they wanted to convey. I tried explaining to her that I was not what they were looking for. No way in hell does Gatorade want me pimping their sport drink. Diet Coke? Maybe. Gatorade. Right. Anyway, she was persistent in that my "story" was a good one. She instructed me to email a paragraph and some pictures to the rest of the team. I sent two headshots and a full body shot and assumed that would be that.

Nope. I received a follow up call from her on Friday telling me that the producers had liked me and wanted to interview me for the ad. By this point, I've determined that the folks at Gatorade must be crazy, but again, I like a good story. So, guess who has an interview on Wednesday with the producers of an upcoming Gatorade ad. Yep. Me.

Tuesday night at the oasis

Speaking of traditions, a new tradition at the La Casa de Serena is Gilmore Girls Tuesday. It is one of my secret missions in life t0 introduce a little Gilmore Girls (GG) into everyone's life. If you happen to become addicted and take a Connecticut roadtrip in search of the real Stars Hollow (*cough* Scarlet), then all the better.* It was through my constant GG references and catching snippets of the occassional episode when stopping by my apartment that I was able to build my friend Ravena's interest in the show. We decided to work our way through GG from that first day at Chilton to the final goodbye under the rain-soaked tent. Most every Tuesday, Ravena will come over and either she or I will cook. We then settle down for a few hours of our own Gilmore Girls marathon.

I like sharing GG with someone else and just being able to hang with a friend in a low key way. Whether we are catching up on our gossip or I am once again explaining that his name is Jess and not Jesse or I am yelling at her to shut up so she doesn't miss a good line**, we have a good time. Needless to say, Tuesdays are now one of my favorite nights of the week.


*Not that I can be held responsible for Scarlet's addiction. I think she was a huge fan before I learned to embrace my own fanaticism.
**Because, yes, I have seen it enough to know where they all are.

Traditions are for bucking

Every year since I can remember, our family Christmases have been about our little traditions. Even after my brother and I moved away we would find our way home sometime before Christmas Eve. We weren’t around to decorate the family tree or try to find secret present stashes while my mom and grandmother were out buying groceries, but Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were familiar. Christmas Eve was always spent buying last minute little trinkets to shove in stockings (which we just pinned to the wall). After the last of the family got off work, we would all gather in the living room for a dinner that usually consisted of our version of hors d'oeuvres: little smokies, pigs in a blanket, chips and dip. Once we managed to choke down enough food to quell our growling stomachs, either my mom or grandma would play Santa’s elf and begin passing out presents. We would then play games like Phase 10, Parcheesi, and Rook with my brother honing our trash-talking skills over the years. On Christmas Day, we would sleep late while my mom and grandma prepared Christmas dinner. This day was all about resting, snacking and watching our favorite Christmas movies (Emmett Otter’s Jug Band Christmas, ya’ll).

This year tradition went out the window. This is the first Christmas since my grandmother went in the nursing home, and things had to be different. Christmas Eve was just that…the day before Christmas. We spent the day at the nursing home keeping my grandma company and waiting for my brother to get off work and drive down from Austin. Once my grandma drifted off to sleep we grabbed a pizza and sat on the couch chatting with Charlie. He played computer guru and made fun of my smelly feet, and I just reveled in the good feelings of seeing him again.

When everyone else went off to the nursing home the next morning, I took over the mantle of cooking Christmas dinner. They even left me to carve the ham myself. My mom was seriously lacking in common sense because she even gave me an electric carving knife. Evidently my Iron Chef butchering of the ham scared my brother because he immediately complained to my mom about my trimming every centimeter of fat off of ‘his’ ham. Haha. After I finished cooking, my mom came back and helped me back the dinner into Tupperware containers and haul it and the presents up to the nursing home. We ate. I played elf. We unwrapped. We made sure my grandma made it back into bed before her pain meds wore completely off. It was simple, nice. And, for the first time ever, I felt like I spent Christmas as an adult. I was no longer the child sitting on the living room floor anxiously awaiting the next present handed to me.

The only tradition that really mattered was spending time with family.

I have a butter knife in my pocket...

That's what I uttered to the police 10 minutes ago as they stood on my
front porch.
Perhaps I should start over. About an hour ago I was sitting on my couch
minding my own business and uploading photos. I had finally gotten the
family all tucked into bed and could catch up on my internet guilt free.
Suddenly, the front door bellwhimpers out a few bars of its musical
tune. I freeze knowing that (1) no one visits us and (2) no one would
ever visit us this late. Of course, no one in my house stirred, so I
thought our door bell had a short in it and must do this every so often.
Then it rang again.
I tried to slip quietly through the house (not) and make my way to the
front door. Cursing the lack of a peep hole, I went to one of the big
picture windows and peered outside. Sitting in front of my house was a
big white pickup. As I watched, the truck backed up and still stared at
our house. The driver of the truck then angled the truck so it pointed
at the part of the house where my grandfather's bedroom is and started
flashing the lights and honking the horn. After a couple of minutes of
this the truck pulled into my neighbor's driveway, but I couldn't see
what they did because it was dark and I was hidden behind a curtain.
Finally, the truck peeled away.
Well, that pretty much did me in. We've never lived in the best
neighborhood, and my mom constantly telling me work stories has
confirmed the societal dregs that live in this town. I grabbed a butter
knife and slid it into my fleece pocket and began making periodic rounds
of the house. Every so often I would look out the window again. Well,
guess what. I saw the truck pass our house again.
Not one to be fucked with, I woke my mom, explained to her what had
happened, and told her I was calling the cops. 15 minutes later San
Angelo's finest were on our porch listening to me rant. You'd be
proud...I managed to not use any curse words. They did ask me to keep my
hands where I could see them once I explained I had a butter knife on
me.
Honestly, my whole point in calling the cops was to have them come to
the house and send a message to fuck off to whoever kept driving by.
What we actually got were results. As I was typing this, the cops called
to tell me they had found the person, and that they had explained they
had had the wrong house. Props to the San Angelo police for actually
casing the neighborhood (and sending both a marked and unmarked car) and
finding the person. Very impressed.*

*I guess I should also be impressed that they didn't get trigger happy
and shoot me when I pulled a butter knife out of my pocket.
--
Sent from my T-Mobile Sidekick®

Rearview mirror

November seemed to pass in a whirlwind. Albeit a very good whirlwind. I
was bad at blogging November, which I will blame on a combination of
keeping myself very busy and simply being tired. I did made a large dent
in my '33 for 33' birthday list and am indeed grateful for the things I
did.
Here's a recap of the things I accomplished and was able to cross off
the list. Remember, this is what I DID. I've inserted editorial content
where necessary.
How I spent my November:
1. Make smores
4. Leap for joy
5. Kiss someone (shhh)
6. Submit an art proposal of some kind (I didn't technically submit one,
but I did identify one to submit on Dec 12 and picked my theme.)
7. Find a new photobooth (in Brambleton with Ravena...completely
accidental)
8. Try absinthe (with Steven...such a good boo for trying it with me)
10. Vote
11. Have Sticky Rice (twice!)
14. Eat at Lotus again
15. Go thrift store shopping
16. Shoot a roll of film (Minolta Hi-Matic)
17. Get a head start on holiday shopping (I at least bookmarked some
stuff)
18. Stay in a cabin (awesome birthday)
19. Build a fire (go Ali Rose!)
20. Take pictures of fall foliage
21. Sleep in (or go to bed super early)
22. Eat chicken fried steak
23. Make a list of things I'm thankful for (a nice way to end November)
29. Dance whenever the mood strikes (to Sing Star at 3am)
30. Retire flip flops for the season (very difficult to do but
done...after hiking up a hill in them)
32. Write a letter
33. Be grateful for even accomplishing some of these
Bring on Christmas!

--
Sent from my T-Mobile Sidekick®

Take me home. West Virginia. Mountain highways.

I should have known the weekend in Harper's Ferry would be memorable from its auspicious beginnings. When it was determined we would let a machine that had been dubbed Phyllis show us the way to KOA, I might have questioned the logic in not relying on our own skills to plot a path. When Phyllis had us passing signs clearly marked Harper's Ferry with a giant right arrow, I might have done more than shrug. I wasn't really made aware of the tenor the trip was going to take until we were hugging the curves on a teeny, tiny back road and Allie came mere inches from running her car (starting with the side carrying the precious birthday cargo that was me) into a tree boldly displaying its orange and red. The simultaneous intake of breath and exhalation of 'oh!' by Colva and me was followed nervous, yet freeing laughter at our brush with death. I didn't even have the capability to text Scarlet if we had crashed because large parts of West Virginia hates T-Mobile.

And so began our weekend.

The rest of the weekend followed in similar fashion. Lunch at The Anvil where our boisterous group scared the natives. Breaking into teams and racing through Wal-Mart gathering our supplies. My team (Ravena, Scarlet and Ali) were the clear winners. My convincing everyone to hike down the valley to the river while simultaneously warning them it would mean a return trip up. Colva sitting said hike out. Allie calling me grandma as I complained about my knee on the way down. Allie's fear of the setting sun and arrival night critters driving her to race back up the mountain. My solitary diet coke break on the trail.

Back at the cabin, there was drinking and board games and fire and grilling and drinking. Margarita shots where Allie tried to convince me her splash of margarita made the tequila less strong. Board games that required poetry and hand holding and hands on the ground. Scooter and Rooster and Scarlet's tears of laughter. Tice showing up after 9 in his mountain man hat. Scarlet later wearing said hat with her pajamas.

More drinking. Colva pulling a Serena. Tired campers getting ready for bed. Sitting on the dock of the pond with Tice. Being so cold on the air mattress I kept forcing Tice to cuddle with me. Sleeping like a baby once someone threw a sleeping bag over me. Being called mama and papa bear the next morning. Tice reminding me that I knocked his hat in the pond and not him. Accusing Scarlet of snoring when it was really Terra.

For more stories of the weekend, check out my old twitter updates and flickr.

It was a grand birthday.

Checking it twice...

So far this month I've been able to cross the following things off of my '33 for 33' list...

1. Make smores
5. Kiss someone
8. Try absinthe
10. Vote
11. Have Sticky Rice
18. Stay in a cabin
19. Build a fire
20. Take pictures of fall foliage

Plenty of days left in the month to accomplish more. I also promise a more complete post on cabin frolicking soon!

Goosebumps

This guy is pictured next to the word awesome in the dictionary.

Baggage claim

I would like to think I've remained pretty quiet this election season. I've only needled my friends with opposing viewpoints a little bit and even forgot to try to swing my mother's vote. The truth of the matter is that I was sure the last eight years killed my belief in the system and that politicians could and would make a positive difference. Cynicism began to take root November 7, 2000 as I stood at campaign headquarters in Nashville, TN all night riding the rollercoaster of poll results. The night didn't really end. We didn't leave headquarters and never made it to the victory party. Instead, we all know how that 200o election ended.

And so began my lack of faith in the system. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't so burnt out as to not vote (I voted!) or to not encourage others. I just lacked the excitement...the ability to truly care...the desire to do things like volunteer or go to rallies. I thought it was gone. Until today. I found myself sneaking some Washington Post articles in on my lunch break, and I found myself tearing up at the election stories. Now, the later it gets the more my anxiety seems to build and the more I seem to be caring. The flashbacks from eight years ago have started but so has my inability to walk away from cnn.com. My plans of ignoring the news and finding out the results when wake up tomorrow seem to being slipping through my fingers. I'm now watching the states report out and can't stop. I want to stop. Not caring is more fun.

Electioneering*

The streets of Northern Virginia were oddly quiet this morning. Every school I passed had lines wrapped around the block with people waiting to fulfill their civic duty and pick our next leader. The enterprising among us were out selling bagels and muffins and caffeine to those willing to brave early hours and long lines. Meanwhile, the highways were almost empty compared to what they normally are. The metro trains weren't as crowded, and fewer people hustled through the streets of DC. This is what happens when all the world decides to wait in line at once.

So thankful I voted early.


*Because it was a good title and worth stealing ;-)

I did it all for the nookie

This weekend's art show appears to have been a success. Getting up after only a little over 2 hours of sleep* to install the art just about killed me, but it was worth it. I loved seeing everyone's pictures up and looking pretty.









































*Thanks to Ravena's rockin' Halloween party.

Something wicked this way comes

I'm bummed I missed an opportunity to purchase this beautiful print. The arts community really put out some breathtaking campaign propaganda this election. So, in honor of the upcoming election, a busy couple of weeks, and internet issues at home, I bring you a list.

- I had a fun time as always with Miss Ravena this weekend. She once again helped a girl out and served as subject for her photoshoot.

- The art show is this Saturday and Sunday, so I've been keeping busy making sure I have everything that's needed (people's art, bios, signs, display materials) and my own art together. Stop by the Barn this weekend and check it out.

- Halloween is almost here! Costumes and decorating and imbibing...oh my!

- Next week I clock another year on my personal odometer. I'm excited for Harper's Ferry cabins and fire rings!

- DC Big Flea is this weekend. Anyone want to go?

- Oh! I also voted on Saturday! Stood in line for over an hour, but it was worth it. Hopefully I'll manage the political post brewing in my head this weekend. My own candidate side-by-side.

Rock-Scissors-Paper Food

I hate it when I get the idea in my head that I want to post about something less trivial than how I relate everything to Gilmore Girls. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that (1) I will not be able to do justice to what I want to talk about and (2) I will most certainly tire before I come close to finishing my thought. What I hate more than this, however, is deciding what to eat. I detest making grocery lists and honestly dread when lunch time rolls around. I can be found most frequently either skipping actual food and downing a Diet Coke at my desk or standing on the corner outside of my office building searching for some divine inspiration. I want to eat healthy. I do. I just have no idea how. I just want someone to pack up my meals each day and deliver me that health. I also have no idea how real people afford healthier stuff. It's hard to motivate oneself to spend extra money on healthy food when I can save money and spend that savings on things like roadtrips and etsy and art supplies. Seriously.

That said, there are a few things causing me to rethink my priorities. One of those is age. I'm not getting any younger, and every time my knees creak or I get winded going up a couple of flights of stairs my mind flashes to my grandmother. My health is important and will lead to my being much happier later in life. Yet another motivating factor is catching a flash of my ass as I pass my reflection. Finally, it's the belief that I can't continue to be part of the problem.

As I get older, I continue to narrow down my beliefs and values. Fine-tuning them to an inch of their life. I've come to believe that local is good. I've embraced the idea of the small. A recent clarion call by Michael Pollan to our presidential candidates, Farmer in Chief, in the New York Times Magazine pretty sums up my beliefs when it comes to food and the path I would like to follow. I want eat to consume less processed foods, preferably food that comes from my neck of the woods.

At the moment, I'm just at the 'want' stage, but I guess I'm hoping that by writing it out I'll hold myself more accountable.

Not a McDreamy in sight

I've been to the emergency room three times in 2008 with today being the third. I swear I heard the admitting nurses talking about naming a room after me.

As I sat there waiting to see a doctor, I began to worry that I might be a hypochondriac. I then realized that it can't really be true though. I hate going to doctors and hospitals and am definitely the kind of person who likes to wait until it gets worse or until I can't stand it. I waited days before going in for my infected thumb (stupid effing manicure place), and my labored breathing because of the kitties was apparent to all. Even today, I've had this poison ivy for almost a month. I even tried getting an appointment with a dermatologist today and was told by them "just to go to the emergency room".

I was a little annoyed with the doctor I saw today because she spent all of 45 seconds looking at and diagnosing me. I felt like I could have diagnosed and treated myself. Oh wait...I did. The visit was useful in that I finally found out why my record is flagged and why they now put a "contact precaution" sticker on my wrist band. Turns out that I had the MRSA (known as super staph?) strain of staph when my thumb got infected. The nurse said a bunch of people had died from it there for a while, and it was highly contagious. Gee...thanks for telling me months later. Guess the good news is that I don't have it any longer and that I lived. Haha.

We're not gonna take it

Twitter is a wonderful thing. Because of it, I was introduced to the interesting blog post by Seth Godin called 'Maybe You Can't Make Money Doing What You Love'. At first blush, I could feel my feathers starting to ruffle and the rebuttals forming in my meager brain. I have spent the better part of my adult life preaching the gospel of doing something that makes you happy when earning a living versus taking what the highest bidder if offering. Before I could get too far down this path, I decided I should actually read the post.

Godin puts forth an interesting premise. To seriously oversimplify his post, he contends that by focusing all of our energy on trying to make money doing what you love (he's speaking largely to those interested in creative fields) you lose the joy in doing said love by being forced to focus so heavily on making your product marketable. I was raising the roof at Godin's discussion of the ease in which people can put their art out there through venues like blogs, Flickr, deviantART, etc. and how people often mistake web traffic and popularity as something that can be metabolized into cashflow. The timing in my reading this was uncanny seeing as how I've been pondering the great lengths it seems a lot of bloggers are going to in order to make money. I'm not going to lie...at one point in time I had visions of landing a book deal with the girls from my other blog. We even entered into a marketing venture with a company that seemed a natural fit with us and our audience. It didn't work though. I found the more I concentrated on these things, the less I wanted to blog. I decided a while ago that wherever I was writing I wanted it to be for me. Something I was motivated to do. I like having the ability to forego blogging for extended periods of time.

Anyway, I've digressed. Godin's post is obviously one that will resonate with many in creative fields and has implications far broader than my little diatribe above. I suggest you stop reading this and go check out his post. He leaves you with hope, so don't stop until you've finished this quick read.

Gets my motor running...

These things get me kind of high. For the record, I want these.





















vintage royal typewriter <3

















Elsie Flannigan 'Abigail' Print




















Anna Sui goodness















...and a pink fridge to die for!