The Photo Essay and Steel Dragon

As I just mentioned in the previous post, I have a crapload of work to do this month.

One thing I just finished is a photo essay, which I accidentally made into like, my diary. We presented in class today. Today, everyone seemed pleased that the class was finished. Although for the most part, it was one of the most engaging classes I've had at USM thusfar. It was only ten of us, and we met three times a week for over three hours a day. There was only one "token" traditional student in the class, everyone else was older, transferred or whatever and we all had our ridiculous life stories to share. Our discussions were lively, bordering on rowdy, and it's safe to say at least half of the class left today as better, more well-rounded students.

I found a site that would let me share the power point presentation that I made. The only reason I'm doing this is to juxtapose it with the presentation that happened right before mine. Malcolm's essay was more of a wham-bam movie about his life-long connection with Sebago Lake, including old family photos, history of the lake and history of his Armenian family. His presentation had the feel of a summer blockbuster movie trailer. My presentation actually killed the conversation when it was finished.

Here is the song accompanying Malcolm's presentation. You only have to listen for about a minute or two to get the gist.



And here's my sad, silent presentation. It helps if you click the full screen mode. The quality isn't great, but I'm no technology wizard. Here you go:

My Photo Essay

Fluff: It's What's for Dinner

Here's one for all you foodies.

It's summer, a time for goofing off, hitting the pool, the beach. Drinking margaritas, mojitos, and other refreshing adult beverages brought to us frigid New England bitches* from warmer climates. Instead, I am trying really hard to graduate in May, and part of gittin' er done means two four week classes. While I'm working 20 hours a week at my work-study job, writing crazy letters to the editor, make it to the beach, and fulfill many wedding-related obligations. Oh, and the Bachelorette. I'm bummed Ames is gone, but I'm really starting to root for JP. What? She's from the County. Gotta keep it real.

Let me break it down for you. Each semester is 15 weeks. So taking one class during a four-week session is the roughly the equivalent of taking three. Taking two is like taking six, which is eighteen credits. A normal student takes between 12 and 15 credits. Over 18 is considered "an overload." That's what I'm doing now. During summer. But I guess it's technically finals week and I'm able to write this blog... so....

One time, I also found myself taking 15 credits and working a part time job. I was probably as poor then as I am now, though back then I was under 21 and still a non-drinker. At Montserrat College of Art, somehow, I didn't understand financial aid, credit hours, or the fact that I was moving away to go to college at a place that didn't have a fucking cafeteria. WTF, Montserrat? It was kind of insane, now that I think about it. Probably more work than I've ever done in my life. Drawing and painting homework has the propensity to take way, way longer than writing a paper or reading a book. Trust me. I've never stayed up until 3:00 a.m. because I felt like an essay wasn't done. Or because I wouldn't have the right light to finish the essay in the morning.

But because I'd never lived away from home and therefore had never really prepared any of my own meals, let alone gone shopping for them, my food became like, abstract art or something. Here's a recipe for something I ate all the time.

Prep time:
5 min
Ingredients:
2 slices Pepperidge Farm Cinnamon Swirl Raisin Bread
1/3 cucumber, peeled and sliced thin.
1 tbsp Marshmallow Fluff
1 slice cheddar cheese
Directions:
Carefully slather Fluff unto both slices of bread. Arrange cucumbers on one slice, cover with cheese, then the other slice. Firmly press the sandwich down with your clean hand, as Fluff and cucumbers are slippery. Enjoy!

I'm not kidding. Pepperidge Farm was like, a luxury that I didn't know I could afford myself. We bought local at my house, sort of. Country Kitchen all the way.

It's hard to say whether I could ingest this marvelous concoction today. I'll let you know if I decide to try.

*a genuine Southern gentleman said that to me once, about women here; instead of comforting him, I laughed and said it was true.

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I'm not even sure how I started following this guy.

Boy Band Crushes

I hate talking about dreams. I mean, I really hate it. Unless you can sum it up to two sentences, or somehow make it relevant to something tangible, seriously. Shut up about it.

I'm going to break that rule right now, sort of, in order to tell you that a few nights ago I dreamed that I was walking down the corridor of the Portland Jetport, which looked more like the atrium of a giant mall than an airport. I saw Justin Timberlake waiting in line in a small office. He was in disguise with a dark, curly afro wig. He winked at me.

Then I saw this: Reasons Why Boybands Were Better in the 90s via Hairpin, and remembered that dream. I realized that in the 90s, I always had a difficult time figuring out which member of N'Sync was actually the most attractive. That's because none of them were. Like a good wine, Timberlake got better with age and and some incredibly funny skits on Saturday Night Live.

  (Don't hate- they were all over MTV, which was the center of my universe then. I didn't find out about the Velvet Underground or the Magnetic Fields until I was well into my 20s.)

 I think I'm going to have some funny/awesome stories for you all soon, I promise. #pleasedonthate #iknowmyblogkindasucksnow #tthroughthebestoftimesthroughtheworstoftimes #throughnixonandthroughbush

Albert Maysles: Ladykiller

For those of you who don't get the opportunity to spend a lot of time with me in real life, sometimes I'm incredibly sensitive. Like, cry at a Kleenex commercial sensitive. Mandy likes to point out the time Spirited Away left me almost hysterical, when a train didn't stop for the little girl, it just blew right by. It happens once in a while when I find something poinient or particularly moving, and these days if I start crying for no real reason, I just get excited because my contacts will last another hour. It just happened again, but this time it was a really touching, awesome story and I thought I might share.

I'm taking a full course load this summer, which means this summer is the opposite of last summer. Last summer was the beach, partying, eating out, lazing around,  and this summer I'm inside almost all the time. Either in class, at my work study job, or doing computer-centric homework. Tonight, I'm listening to interviews with famed documentary filmmaker Albert Maysles for a research project.

Albert, currently

Albert (left), David (right) during the filming of Salesmen

Albert and his late brother David are responsible for Grey Gardens, Gimme Shelter, Muhammad and Larry, as well as one of the first feature documentaries Salesman, and like five films about Christo and Jeanne-Claude, who I love. I picked the Maysles out of a hat, and it was really lucky. Not only are the subjects of their films actually of interest to me (I met Muhammad Ali once, and I'm currently in the middle of Keith Richards's autobiography), but Albert seems like a really great role model, a stand up guy and he's from Boston. There is a website called Albert Maysles's Glasses, dedicated to how awesome his signature frames are (Barney's even issued a limited edition Albert Maysles's frame.) Here are two quotes from interviews I've been listening to from ViceTV and NPR:

“In this culture of ours which is supposed to be so open and so open-minded, I think that we have this protective instinct. If someone is going to open their hearts and minds to another person then they’re vulnerable. ‘Oh my god, oh my god they’re vulnerable! They’re going to get hurt.’ I think the healthiest thing you can do is share your thoughts with another person.”  

“I’ve ended up with all of these films and over the years, they’ve all held up. There are so many things that documentaries can teach us.”

Anyway, he was talking about how Salesman, his first feature with his brother didn't get any deals or whatever, so they rented a movie theater in order to have a screening. This is in the 60s, there was no March of the Penguins, Bowling for Columbine or whatever, even before opening weekends were a thing. Documentaries didn't have a place yet. So after the film David and Albert, Al to his friends, were standing at the exit. Everyone was coming by to shake hands and congratulate them on such a fine job with the film. Al noticed there was one person, a woman lingering in the theater, the very last to leave. Then he noticed that she had been crying, a lot. THEN he was struck by how attractive she was... and that's how he met his wife. NO JOKE! She was moved to tears by how amazing his film was and then they got married.

Sometimes I wish my life was so simple.... actually, that means I'd probably be married to this guy.

I hope everyone is having a slightly more enjoyable, slightly less productive summer than I am.