May 17, 2011

Tuesday

12:30 pm

      This semester has been…emotional.  From deciding to leave FIT to going through a diabetes scare to losing a roommate and gaining two more to getting my first real job to meeting my first real love to facing the reality of my best friend moving back home to realizing, as my sophomore year of college comes to a close, almost nothing is the same as it was this time last year - I’ve experienced my fair share of ups and downs. 

            One thing, however, that has remained constant, and will continue to remain constant is my diary.  From my first entry on February 3rd, 2010 until my most recent, written on a teary night not so long ago, I’ve grown to learn how much I need a creative outlet.  It doesn’t matter if I’m writing, “Sometimes I like the plastic-y taste of water bottles because it reminds me of field day in elementary school (Tuesday, September 21, 2010, 3:51pm)” or a dissertation on love, loss, and what it means to be happy (almost every other entry), my diary listens to me. 

            My diary listens to me and helps me sort and helps me think and helps me try to come up with a solution.  To any problem life has lobbed my way.  How lucky I am to have found a friend that never gets sick of my bullshit, my drama, my frustration, my equal parts self-absorption and self-consciousness. 

            The process of mine I was able to study began at the beginning of this semester.  In one of our early classes, we discussed the importance of writing in regard to exposing the creative self.  We learned about Julia Cameron’s “morning pages” - a practice used to uncover creativity in which one must wake up every morning and write.  Three pages worth, ten minutes worth, the guidelines differed, but the suggestion remained the same.  Keep it consistent.  Keep it ongoing.  Keep it uninhibited. 

            We also discussed studies that showed that writing about scary, upsetting, negative, and dark subjects could not only improve one’s mood, but diminish stress and lower blood pressure over time. 

            I was interested in this lesson because, well, I already had most of that down.  I wrote all the time about my fears.  I wrote all the time about being pissed off.  I wrote all the time about my weaknesses and my worries and my temper and my inabilities.  In fact, I took pride in how honest I could be with my diary.  I had never felt I could talk to anyone as openly.  And I did believe that it was majorly therapeutic.             

            The problem I recognized this semester was that I wasn’t writing on a regular basis.  One week, I’d write multiple times a day, furiously.  The next, I’d write one entry consisting of one sentence consisting of something of little importance.  My idea was, for one semester, to try and write seven days a week.  I didn’t limit myself to the morning, but I did make it a point to write every day.  

            What I discovered was that I began to write about more positive things. I realized I can’t just use my diary when I’m upset along with the occasional non-sequitur (“The Great Debate: COO-pon vs. Q-pon” Tuesday, March 15, 2011, 6:47pm), but must also write when I’m celebrating, when I am having a seriously amazing train of thought, when I’m feeling so optimistic I know I can do anything I want.  This is what I found out from writing every day (added bonus: when I die famous and my diaries are published posthumously, my fans won’t think I was just another tortured Hollywood psychopath).

            And aside from the benefit of realizing I had far fewer depressing thoughts than I had previously assumed, I found an improvement in my writing.  Writing about all aspects of my life - the good and the bad - made me realize I didn’t have to be indignant or distressed to create work I was proud of.

            I studied Lisa Lebofsky for my case study and, when comparing oneself to an artist like her, it’s hard to imagine oneself as creative at all.  Fine artists tend to seem like they have a monopoly on beauty.  This semester’s worth of journal writing has helped me see otherwise.

internat:

Snow in Greenpoint, Brooklyn, USA

I like how this looks like a still photograph, where only the snow is moving.

Why did MenuPages think this was an appropriate suggestion for a coffeehouse today?

Yeah??

I really do like iPhoto’s Face Recognition Feature.  It provides me with hours (minutes) of fun and laughs.  And, often times, actually amazes me.  Anyway, this screenshot captures what I love most about the feature - when it’s wrong.  So, without further ado, here’s my GPOYW - iPhoto Face Recognition Fail Edition.  

EDIT: The two in the left column are actually me.

GPOYW - Orlando’s Made Me A LookBook Edition.

Shove It (feat. Spank Rock) by Santigold

What I’ll be listening to on the N train today.  On repeat.

GPOYW - Orlando Draws Me A Lot Edition.

Just took this sick Color Career Counselor quiz that’s supposed to be super accurate or whatever.  I got the Creator.  How dope?  Click on the image to take it yourself.  Oh, and it doesn’t work well with Safari.  Took me awhile to figure that out….

Today is my birthday (yes, this is an invitation to write on my Facebook wall).  And here’s what I found outside my window.  Thanks, Spring, for the beautiful gift.  Now, on to midterm studying and nursing my cold.

Is it weird to anyone else that, at CVS, Corn Nuts are more expensive than Oreos, Ritz Bits, OR Nutter Butters?

Just further evidence that the story of my prior post is accurate and, perhaps, even more sad because I documented just about every bit of it.