Disclaimer

Hello everyone! Okay, I should have put a disclaimer on my last entry that I was severely sleep-deprived after creating a 26 page computerized portfolio in Photoshop for a design consultatation that I donated for a silent auction for St. Jude's Children's Research Hospital in two weekends. I literally went without sleep and even food (and this is me we are talking about!!!) to work a total of thirty-five hours in two weekends to create a portfolio that I hoped would inspire some high bidding in the name of charity. Clearly, I hit the point of insanity.

Well, two break-downs at Kinkos, an insane blog posting, and lots of screaming at Photoshop later, the portfolio was a success. The event was last night and my classmate who asked me for the donation said that it did great at the auction. She wasn't sure about the ending number for the bidding, but I know that I generated at least $100 because that is where they started the bids. I can't wait to hear from the winner. All I know about him is he's a guy. I can't wait to see his space and hear what he is thinking. I will keep all of you posted.

That being said, I had to scan all of my work from school and my free-lance work, so I will be posting a lot in the coming weeks for all of you to see why you never hear from me and I only come out of my hole in between semesters.

I thank all those who expressed concern about my well-being due to my last crazy posting. The men in white suits haven't shown up yet. (Although, I think Sean has been tempted to call them.) It's nice to know people love and care about me. I don't think I could get through the challenges of my hectic schedule without the support of those who are close to me!

Running with Scissors

I haven't felt torturous separation anxiety by having to put down a book that I was really into in quite some time. That is, until I read Running with Scissors! I guess I am behind the times on this one because all of my favorite reader friends responded with a big "duh" when I told them how enamored I was with this book. But, I am still going to give it a glowing post.

If you want to wipe away tears of laughter and step into the inane life of Augusten Burroughs, then pick up this off-the-wall memoir. Burroughs, who feels like your best friend by the end of the book with his frank honesty and endearing fallibilities, takes you through the chronicles of his crazy adventures. The fact that I was envious of his almost torturous existence is a testimony to the strength of his wit. Warning for more conservative readers, this book will most likely be a bit much for you because he tells us everything. And, I mean everything! But, for those of you who can appreciate a life less ordinary (or completely out of the ordinary), this book will have you in stitches.

Our House is a Very, Very Fine House. . .

Last weekend, I had my family over for a Mother's Day lunch. It wasn't a monumental day in the grand scheme of things. For me, though, it was a very special day.

Traveling and living in other places was an awesome experience, to say the least. But, even in the awe of new tastes, experiences, friends, cultures, etc, all I ever wanted was a place to call "home." No matter how many pictures I hung or homecooked meals that permeated the walls of the places I inhabited, no location I lived ever came close to the warmth and comfort of my childhood home.

So, one can imagine my surprise when I moved back to Chicago and felt like more of an outsider in the city of my youth and my parent's home than I did in Utah or even the ghetto. How could this have happened? Isn't this the place I longed for during years of, at times, extremely lonely travel?

Okay, granted I was 26 and living with my parents and had a rather, umm, "humble" amount of money in the bank; which was not how I envisioned myself at this point. I also had no idea what I wanted to be when I "grew up" and there were a lot of challenges happening with my family, at this time. ("Challenges" that opened up whole new levels of joy.) So, all I actually wanted was a one way ticket out of there. No offense to the "50 and over crowd", Mom and Dad.

I learned "home" was not crawling back to the womb. My parents house would always be a place of love, comfort, and belonging, but it no longer felt right to set up camp there. Home needed to be a place I created for myself. Home, for me, could no longer be built on a transient foundation. A true home was not a place of temporary stay. Home was something I was going make in my heart and in mind. My "home" would endure with me, even in times when I would get restless and have an overwhelming desire to flee.

I've known that I always wanted this crazy, cold, huge, lively, beautiful, quirky city of Chicago to be my home. The challenge was to redefine what I needed from this new home. Because the needs I had as a young girl of eighteen when I left the first time simply no longer applied.

So I can finally say, after almost exactly two years after I moved back to Chicago, I officially have a home. I have a home! I have a place that isn't just in my heart or in memories. I have a physical place that gives me a sense of safety in this chaotic world. I have matching plates and glasses. I have large scale artwork. I have bed linens and a dining room table. Hell, thanks to Sean, we have a flat screen TV. I've really moved up in the world!

I am not valuing these things because our materialistic society says that these are things that I need. These are simply signs of making a commitment and an investment to a place I love. Painting the walls and adding special touches show that Sean and I love where we live. I have a refuge where I belong. I have four walls that are filled with memories and love.

I shared my special abode with my family for the first time on Mother's Day. It felt very special to be able to have them over (even if we were just eating turkey sandwiches.) I lit candles. Sean and I cleaned everything spotless. There were appetizers involved. It all felt very "adult."

I'm starting to think maybe growing up ain't so bad because I am truly grateful right now to be close to my family and, at the same time, have my own life and a beautiful home in this grand city of Chicago!

Look Who's Back, back again!

Yes, I have been the real slim shady lately when it comes to my Blog. I knew this would happen at some point and apologize for my lack of writing.

Admittedly, though, my life has been pretty insane the past few weeks. I finished my finals last week and have been promoted at work without my previous position being filled. So, I have been a busy gal without a moment to spare. Did I also mention that I got the wild hair to paint my whole apartment? Pictures and final projects to be posted soon.

So, with this whole promotion thing, I am now the proud owner of my first ever cubicle. Yay me! With this new space, comes a new design challenge. My question to all of you is, "how have you decorated your cubicles/work spaces so that you are able to finish your work AND create a calming atmosphere amidst the chaos of an office atmosphere?

As I research this via the internet, I will keep you all posted on what I find. But, I'd like to hear your suggestions since I am extremely interested in Commercial Design as opposed to residential design. I find it so interesting that we spend the majority of our time at work and seem to invest nothing in making it an enjoyable and aesthetic atmosphere for ourselves. But, this is also coming from the girl who is devising a color scheme and planning on creating cubicle art for my workspace (Note: I'm a nerd.)

More to come. . .

To All My Ladies

One of my most favorite things about my life is I have never been without companionship. No, I am not one of those girls who always has a boyfriend. I am one of those girls who “dates” her female friends! Therefore, I have never been without someone to call on speed dial to share my triumphs, a cup of tea to sip on while I share my heartache, and growth through the keen observations of another. I am so lucky!

All my life, I have known the most wonderful women! My friends have been my beacons, my road maps, my soul mates. Each of my close girlfriends has mirrored back to me such a beautiful version of myself when I look in their eyes. I can truly say I would not be half as confident as I am today if I wasn’t inspired by the boldness, ambition, and beautiful spirits of my ladies.

So, as Women’s Month comes to an end, I would like to personally thank each of the gorgeous women in my life. I will not put names, but I am fairly certain, oh friends of past and present, you will know who you are. I hope you recognize my gratitude for the unique gifts you have brought to my life. So, in no particular order. . .

Thank you for teaching me perseverance and that it’s funny how people will first notice your smile and laughter above anything else. Thank you for showing me that loving unabashedly is the only way to go. Thank you for setting such an example of a self-made woman that I couldn’t help but follow for a while. Thank you for FUN. Thank you for sharing your musical talent with me and thoughtfulness I could only hope to achieve. Thank you for teaching me to never forget the kid in me and showing me that the world can be my playground. I hope we meet somewhere over the rainbow again. Thank you for showing me refinement, dignity, and cool calmness in a chaotic place. You will always be family. Thank you for showing me it’s okay to appreciate things solely for their beauty. You seem to find beauty wherever you go (even in me). I hope your refinement rubs off on me. Thank you for creativity, kindness, and revealing slowly that there is more to you than meets the eye. Thank you for freely sharing your tenderness. You will never be able to be anything than who you are and I love that! Your humor and honesty are so refreshing. Thank you for your insane sense of humor and jokes that never get old. Thank you for a deep appreciation of nature and your ability to put a positive spin on most anything and everything—and god knows, we have discussed most everything. Never lose your tenacious spirit. I count on it. Thank you for teaching me what it means to be mature even though you are years younger than me and for wearing your beauty in the most admirable way. You’re a hero and don’t forget it, Super Woman. Thank you for laughs, inane goofiness, and the service you have given the world. Thank you for your pureness of heart. I only "knew" you for four months and I know you better than friends I've had for years. Thank you for your belief in my creativity. We will be design partners one day! Thank you for loving me like a sister when all I saw was awkwardness. What amazing women we have become! Thank you for the laughs you gave me. You refreshed my soul when it was in a really murky place. Thank you for being down to earth and reminding me that fun is very important. I couldn’t get through the grind without you. Thank you for your funkiness and how fabulous I feel when I am near you. Thank you for being my hetero life partner, my support, and a true constant in my life. Your example is a standard I hold myself to. Thank you for your free spirit and vast depths. Thank you for fierce loyalty many years later. May our friendship last a life-time. Thank you for believing in me and my art. Thank you for your positivity despite what is happening in your life and your quirkiness. I look forward to the future of our friendship. Thank you for your confidence, sexiness, and your drive. It is contagious. Thank you for showing me the beauty of simple dreams. Thank you for sharing an intelligent mind I can’t imagine having. Thank you for giving me life, my creativity, your creativity, and unwavering love and support. You are my biggest fan and I don’t know how I would get through life without my own personal cheering section. Thank you for your sense of humor. Can anyone else tell a story the way you do? Thank you for showing me what it means to be hard-working, taking care of me in a foreign country, and seriously making me want to wet my pants with laughter. Thank you for showing me what it means to have unwavering faith. Thank you for speaking so candidly with me and never letting our differences come between us. Thank you for always believing in love even when it beat you up and left you in a gutter. I knew it would eventually raise you up. I wish you knew how cool you are.

And, I guess that last line goes for all of you!

“Experience the joy and the adventure of being the woman who is beyond the image reflected in the mirror.” –Paulo Coehlo

Eat, Pray, Love

Again, I will reiterate that sometimes I do put forth the effort to discover books, movies, music, etc. on my own. And, sometimes, I'm lazy and I go into a bookshop on a Friday after getting paid my meager wage and want to treat myself with a new book and I'm tired after a long day of work and I just go on what my friends recommend or what has been on the NY Times Best-Seller list. (At least I frequent local book shops. I've got that going for me.)

Anyways, I bought Eat, Pray, Love last Friday on the recommendation that it might just change my life. My friend wouldn't even let me borrow her copy. Not out of selfishness, but embarrassment that she has written all over the margins and highlighted passages all throughout. And, though, I have been feeling quite content these days finally going to school for something I love and living with a man I love, I have never been one to turn down an opportunity for reincarnation. Plus, I couldn't help but be intrigued; I love highlighting books and making notes! I was an English major afterall.

And, I have to say, the can of worms I knew this book would open has not only caused several crying jags and an existential crisis, but also bizarre dreams combining emotions from several places and times in my life. Even my subconscious can't get away from Elizabeth Gilbert's powerful prose. (I choose the word, "prose" because of this book's poetic and poignant nature.)

She speaks to the reader (and my soul) like you are sitting in the local coffee shop talking about everything and nothing at all.

I can't help but feel haunted by the parallels of my life compared to hers and am currently navigating how I incorporate my previous "lives" with the one I am currently living. No, I am not getting all Shirley McClain on you folks. By "previous lives," I mean the many incarnations I have gone through (see "Scarves" Post below.) How does one take a life less ordinary and come to peace with the ordinary?

It's so easy to see beauty around you when you are traveling and seeing things with fresh eyes and a completely clean-slated heart. But, how do you keep this open-minded perspective when seeing things you have known your whole life?

This has been a struggle for me since I have moved home to Chicago, started my first requisite nine-to-five job, a serious relationship, and the rebuilding of friendships I left high and dry for years. Commitments sprouting up everywhere--when I was used to running in open fields of freedom for years.

It feels like I have been spinning my tires on ice trying to get away from the present reality of my life without actually going anywhere. (Not unlike trying to get my car that was frozen in ice in front of my apartment building for a month to move--thanks for the metaphor, my sweet Cirrus.) And, I haven't quite understood where that inclination was coming from. I see now from this book and some meditation on my life that I have been living in frantic fear and anxiety. I've been thinking thoughts like "this is it, this is the rest of your life." (Insert ominous echoing voice over.) I actually wrote my best friend last night that I hoped I wouldn't regret making the choice to move home when I turn forty and look at my life.

PS, that's in TWELVE years! Who the hell can predict what they are going to be thinking twelve years down the line? TWELVE years ago I had just had my first real kiss from my first real boyfriend (Who was shorter than me at the time. Our dance pictures are awesome.) If you asked that awkward sixteen year old what she would be like when she was twenty-eight, she couldn't have possibly conceived how cool and interesting her life would become. Not even close.

So, if anything, Eat Pray Love has reaffirmed to me once again how important it is to question everything and really listen to the answers, the neccesity of suffering to insight growth, to let go of fear and fill that void with faith, and to become secure with my inherent human flaws. It's okay to not have everything figured out and it's best sometimes to just stop and quiet yourself.

Please read this book all of you. If, for nothing else, than to do a little Spring Soul Cleaning. Daylight savings time is this Sunday afterall.

"It's a sacrifice to let [thoughts] go, of course. It's a loss of old habits, comforting old grudges and familiar vignettes. Of course this all takes practice and effort. It's not a teaching you can hear once and then expect to master immediately. It's constant vigilence and I want to do it." -Elizabeth Gilbert








(The picture is me, circa 1996.)

Scarves

Anyone who knows me, knows that I have a slight obsession with neck “bling.” And, I’m not talking gold oversized jewelry. I’m talking scarves. It is a very rare occasion that my neck is exposed—about as rare as the leap year that will be happening tomorrow or the eclipse that happened last week.

I would like to say, I have no idea why I am so enamored by my little throat-hugging friends and that maybe I am always just really cold. But the fact is, I am quite aware of why I covet scarves so much. And, it has nothing to do with the chill in the air.

I recall with fondness the first scarf that sparked my instant love affair. It was a cheap striped red, orange, grey, and purple winter scarf that I bought in Ireland while studying abroad. A couple weeks after I bought it, I was elated when an Irish family stopped me on the street and asked me for directions because they thought I was a native. Now it could have been the freckles all over my face but, at the time, I attributed it all to the scarf. I felt like it instantly gave the air of sophistication and exoticism that is Europe. I wore that scarf for years after I came back (I still have it and wear it from time to time.)

I look at my vast collection of scarves and they tell me the story of where I’ve been. I am reminded of the many phases/transformations I have gone through. The places I have seen. I have my European scarves that remind me of writing in my journal and sipping tea in Ireland, Paris, London, etc. I have my pseudo “fancy” scarves that I used to wear bar hopping in college (“Were those pretzels I was wearing?”) My “thrift shop find” scarves from Baltimore that I bought because I was so poor and hanging out with my “hipster” artsy friends while entering the dark abyss known as inner-city American life on a daily basis. I have my scarves from Asia. I swear I can smell the streets and open markets of China when I put them on. My African scarves—beautiful native prints that elicit visions of that sunrise over the Indian Ocean. And, then there are my pseudo-hippie scarves that I donned in Utah. The one from my best friend that she knitted while doing Peace Corps; which is about twenty feet long—a testament to how much time she had living in a small African Village. I wore it almost every day I bartended in that quaint mountain town. And, my current scarf collection. . .what says artist more than a decorative scarf?! Perhaps, it’s because scarves are more form over function just like art, itself. Or maybe artists are just colder than the average person. (Probably not.) Regardless, I wrap my scarves around my neck every morning and it makes me feel like I am about to go my artist’s studio and create all day as light filters in through windows with sills covered in old bottles stained by paintbrushes. (Not going to my mind-numbing administrative assistant job answering phones and staring at Excel all day.)

My scarves are my life. They are my past. They are what I hope to be one day. So, much more than an accessory--they are a part of me.

My New Thing

My new thing is always having a “new thing.”

“New things” that will make my life feel less hectic and more fulfilling. I engage in an activity that feels meaningful and reminds me that life is supposed to be enjoyed. Then, I always resolve that I am going to do “insert inspiring endeavor here” more.

But, inevitably, I get caught up and those more pleasurable activities (i.e. painting, writing, meditating, time with my boyfriend, home-cooked meals) fall to the wayside.

I have become a victim of the plague facing our society today—the stress plague. It seems this is a topic everyone is talking about, so I thought I would put in my two cents.

I can’t speak for everyone in society but I think most people my age put a lot of undo pressure on themselves to do it all because we have been taught we can do it all. Making lists. Resolutions. Running from here to there. Multi-tasking. They are a way of life.

I know I am a REPEAT offender. In my world, it seems like it is all about the end rather than the means. Seeing that little check next to the task on my list of things to do and knowing that I can move onto the next thing. Even if it something I want to do like getting together with friends.

I remember telling my best friend a couple years ago that I felt like I could never relax. The same best friend who has told me upon many occasions that I am the one who taught her how to have fun. What happened to that young mischievous girl I once was? The girl who was forcing her best friend to drink a warm Old Style in her parent’s basement and laughing about everything and nothing all at the same time? The girl I used to be?

Is this what it means to turn from a girl into a woman? Being an adult equals stress?

Then I think this may simply be an attribute of a continuing education student. I’ve floundered for years and finally found my passion and just want to live it. Making up for “lost” time. The time in which my mantra was “not all those who wander are lost.” (J.R.R Tolkien) Sometimes, I wish the next year and half would get lost, so I can just relax with my degree in hand.

But, the reality is, I probably won’t feel calm then either. And I think to myself, when am I just going to be able to slow down and enjoy life? Because, the next stage of life is looming around the corner and it will most likely involve a career and lots of Huggies, Teletubbies, and a constant flow of Wet Ones. Aahhh!

One of my biggest resolutions in life (possibly the biggest), the one “thing” I always promised myself is that I would never be that haggard mom who has let herself go. And, I think this may be where a big part of my inward pressure comes from. I spent my whole life thus far wanting my parents to be proud of me. After all, they provided me with a warm strong foundation and I’ve wanted to show them I can build a beautiful life on top of it. Now I so badly want to pay it forward and I feel like I have to have it all together before I can even think about bringing a child into my world. I want my children to have a mother who teaches them that their mom can do it all. And, enjoy it all calmly and gracefully. A superwoman who wears power suits under her aprons as she dances around the kitchen in stilettos serving up soufflés (all organic ingredients of course). Totally realistic. Perfection. No pressure there.

The reality this day and age, though, is relaxation needs to be a habit. A relaxation routine, if you will. (And, I will!) Unlike easily acquired habits (caffeine, refined sugar, bad reality television shows about models)—it’s a habit that needs to be cultivated and nurtured. And, no one activity is going to be the supreme outlet to dealing with life’s pressures. It’s going to take a whole lot more than one yoga class to find inner balance.

It’s going to be a culmination of many simple stress solutions that will be the basis for a fulfilling life.

So, as my outlook reminder ironically pops up to tell me to “just relax” with a picture of my niece’s little belly here at my work computer (I swear, that just happened)—I will probably continue to resolve to do creative things to remind myself what is important in life. Constant “new things.” And, that’s okay.

Because making time for long bike rides, blowing bubbles, journaling, sipping tea, bubble baths, craft days, playing with my nieces, calling my grandma, making a painting for a friend, watching an old movie (etc!) may not solve all my life’s problems. In fact, they may be yet another thing to put on my list of things-to-do. But, if even for a brief moment, I get that tingly “I’m ALIVE” feeling—it’s worth the extra check on my list.

(PS, The image is of me in the desert in Southern Utah.)

To Know You is To Love You (And Vice-Versa)

Have you ever caught yourself harboring resentment towards someone you have never even spoken to?

I'm embarrassed to admit this, but it happens to me all the time. At stores. On public transportation. In restaurants or bars. When new people start at work. With my neighbors. I really find the most creative nuances to define as annoyances. I don't like someone because they wear flood pants. I can't stand this guys gel-filled hair. Look at her crooked teeth (by the way, my teeth are NOT straight.)

It could be that someone swaggering around. Why not just walk? I hate overconfidence and arrogance. I don't like that person. (Who defines a swagger anyways?)

And, it makes me wonder how I can be so completely shallow and closed-off. Small-minded at best! How is this possible when I have friends of all different ethnicities, backgrounds, etc? I have always worked in jobs where I have a lot of interaction with people. I have even lived in other countries and all around America. I did a year of Americorps, for Christ's sake. How can it be possible that I judge so many people?! I swear I am not a bad person.

And, then it hit me one day--I hate everyone I don't know and love everyone I do! What kind of sense does that make? As in, I hate people, but love persons.

This was especially made apparant when I taught English in China. As a whole, I would get extremely frustrated with the Chinese poplulation. But, one-on one, I made some of the dearest friendships I have ever had. Ones I still cherish to this day.

So, why do I do this?

Is it a defense mechanism? If I already dislike them, why would it matter if they don't like me? Latent behaviors from being picked on in grade school?

Is it pure intollerance? Willful ignorance? Yikes.

Please tell me I'm not the only one who is like this. Please tell me someone else has judged someone on their bad highlights and later came to find that said person is one of the most intriguing and wonderful friends ever--chunky highlights and all!

To all those people in the world who I have never talked to (and am probably irrationally judging right now), would you like to get a coffee?

(And, why is that random guy in the other room talking so loudly?! So annoying. . .)

Blog Intro

Successful design encompasses different dichotomies. Effective design takes convention and makes it innovation. Well-thought out and meticulously executed ideas translate into apparently simple and effortless design. That which is old is made new in a different context. Design should be practical, yet aesthetically pleasing. Universally understood yet uniquely presented. Succinct, but thought-provoking. The restraint it takes to design something well creates freedom for those encountering the design. Good design is inherently ironic. Mastering the paradoxes of design is going to be a life-long goal of my design career.

This is my design philosophy.

A little about me. . . I'm an Interior Design student in my fourth semester at Harrington College of Design located in downtown Chicago. I'm attending part-time, since I work full-time at the school in the admissions office. I already have a degree in English and Psychology. So, I'm hoping to make my writings a fusion of all of my interests--design, writing, studying the quirks and beauty of the human experience, etc. I am also interested in humor--specifically sarcasm.

I will be keeping track of all the fun, exciting, and most often tediously wonderful creations I get to work on for school and as freelance work as well as keeping running commentary on whatever subject seems to inspire me. More to come soon. . .