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So, I have to keep a design blog for class. It's a place to post my work, respond to others' work, and post interesting things about design-y stuff.

I'm excited and yet terrified that this will end up another "I meant to post but just never got around to it" kind of thing. I mean, I have to post the required items, but will I take it to the next level? Will I make it more?

I want to. Just like I want to become a great guitarist or write a best-selling novel. I have the urge, but the time flies out from under my feet. I find now that I'm almost 30 and haven't really, truly accomplished much of note in the eyes of the world.

So, what have I done with my life? A lot of it, unfortunately, has been wasted on silly things. But there are a few people I'd like to think would say I've somehow helped them out in some small way. I guess this is the most important thing, and I keep reminding myself of that.

It's just that I want to make my mark somehow. Someway. Maybe now is the time...



Proving myself...

I'm serious about this posting thing.  Really, I am.  I actually tried to post something a couple nights ago, but I couldn't remember my password. 

Yes, that's how long it's been.  Anyway, on to the real meat of the post...

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On a chance meeting in a bridal shop...

Irony is a face reaching forward to slap your memory, but it's a cold,
sopping-wet-rag kind of slap.  It plops and slurps its way
across that dead-I-thought memory like a dirty mop,
unable to pick up, only able to leave behind. 

Water runs down through synapses and nerve
endings to collect gradually into a once dried-up memory pool. 
The initial slap is quick (despite its sloppiness) and then over, but the sliver of a face 
remains reflected back from the depths,
flashing into consciousness at unexpected moments.  

Forgetting is pretending someone doesn't exist until memory believes they don't exist.
But like a sadistic tormentor lulling a child to sleep with promises of rainbows and sparkles,
irony waits and watches and picks the vulnerable spot: 
I once more a bridesmaid, and there he is with his bride. 

The memory pool gradually dries up, but the image
imprints into the brain's lining - one more layer of irony
(happy birthday to me) to prove wet slaps come 'round here regularly.

Writenite... uhhh...

Yeah, spent the entire evening doing mag editing homework... so much for Writenite.  Maybe next week...

Writenite II... sort of...

I spent this evening's Writenite doing Mag Editing homework.  It's not a whole lot of fun, but the reading has actually motivated me even more to keep practicing my writing.  That's what Writenite is all about, really.  Read more...Collapse )

Random Pirsig thoughts...

Quality is a thing that exists through experience.  Unless we experience an event/object, we cannot understand its quality.  We can only be TOLD of its quality.  The more experience we have with something, the better judge of true quality we become.  Read more...Collapse )

Life's Lessons

Today, I thought I saw someone I used to care about a lot, or rather, more appropriately, someone I thought used to care a lot about me. 

And so it begins... again.

Today is the first day of yet another semester of classes. I took the summer off with the idea that I would give myself a break and be ready for another year of attempting to figure out what the heck it is I'm trying to accomplish here. Read more...Collapse )

WriteNite Numero Uno

So tonight is the beginning of WriteNite -

Feeling the urge to write again...

It hasn't happened in quite a while. I think I just needed some time to de-stress. It's a little disheartening, though, because I'm about to start the stress all over again - classes start in two weeks. It's an editing class, so I'm hoping it won't be that hard, but it's also going to have that ridiculous graduate project component that I so hate. Please, please, PLEASE let it NOT be a group project. I have yet to take a J-school class that hasn't had at least one group project.

I thought perhaps, for my first writing project, that I would start with an attempt at a generic fiction piece, but I don't really know now. Perhaps I should just start...