8/22/2007

But I still wear makeup every time I leave the apartment

I’ve been in Austin for almost 3 months now and I feel pretty good. It’s nice to be in a new city with new people and new crickets. It’s even better to have not one, but TWO HEB stores on the same street that I live.

In fact, sometimes I forget that I’m in Austin because it feels a lot like Dallas when I’m walking around in Whole Foods with all the yuppies. And I’ve seen more Dallas Cowboy shirts than Evil Spurs shirts. But then I’ll see a pair of Birkenstocks or a “Keep Austin Weird” bumper sticker. Or one of my new friends will make some sort of subtle gibe about my shamelessly high maintenance ways. And it brings me right back down to Austin. God bless its crunchy heart. Yes, I said crunchy. Give me a break, I’m from Dallas – even normal feels crunchy to us.

Fortunately, chocolate doesn't have the same effect

Austin Java has a specialty coffee called “CafĂ© No Fun” which is actually a decaf espresso with steamed skim milk. It isn’t the first time I’ve heard my drink of choice being referred to as such. I’ve also heard it referred to as “What’s the point?” While I appreciate the cleverness and I’m the first to own up to being a big ol’ no-fun calorie/fat gram counter, I do have an answer to “What’s the point?” I DON’T LIKE HAVING PANIC EPISODES FOR NO REASON AT ALL. And that’s what happens to me when I drink caffeinated coffee.

If I’m going to have a panic episode, then Mother of Pete, it’s going to be for a reason. For a really good reason, such as that something really wonderful is happening. Like when I suddenly realize that I’m in a really good relationship with a really good man. Or when I commit to enrollment at an excellent school with an excellent program with excellent opportunities. Then there was the day that I met my sister-in-law’s entire family right before the wedding, because apparently, my subconscious felt that if my brother wasn’t going to panic on this happy day, then SOMEONE should.

But as fun as it is to write about it, I guarantee you that it is not at all fun when your brain knows that you really should be happy and excited, but the rest of your body is too busy grappling with the sudden onset of claustrophobia, dizziness, shortness of breath, and a racing heartbeat to listen to that damn, rational brain. And it’s even less fun when that damn, rational brain is just as confused as the rest of your body.

I don’t know about you, but I don’t often hear people ask their friends to meet for coffee; conversation; and claustrophobic, heart-racing shortness of breath and dizziness.

In the name of Perfect Teeth and Calorie Free Indulgences, Amen.

An iPod and its shuffling capabilities is a Godsend on long road trips. A road trip to Dallas, for example, means two chances for 3 straight hours of a little gay bar disco shuffled in with a handful of dirty hip-hop dance tossed in with some good head & hair-tossin’ rock mixed in, of course, with A WHOLE LOT of sweet, yummy girl pop.

I am completely aware of how weird (downright scandalous in certain circles) it is for a classically trained violinist to claim girl pop as one of the top 3 greatest loves of her life. But you see, I can still remember the very moment that I first heard Tiffany’s “I think we’re alone now” and experienced the tingling, pure joy of cotton candy for the ear.

And nobody consumes cotton candy because it’s sophisticated. Besides, the dentist doesn’t check your ears.

8/21/2007

A taste of stardom always wins

A couple of weeks ago, I mentioned the extent of my childhood shyness.

Which I guess is why I never spoke up about how getting in front of a child’s face during a game of basketball in PE and screaming at her to “BE AGGRESSIVE!!” does not make you an inspirational elementary school PE coach. Or that I didn’t agree that good art was a picture of smiling kids, neatly drawn and colored in with crayon and then outlined with black marker. Or that maybe my short story didn’t need an ending that explained everything so literally. Actually, I might not have spoken up about that because the story (with the added literal ending) won the city short story contest and I GOT TO BE ON TV! I was shy, not humble.

Shoutout to The One Who is MOVING TO AUSTIN!!

Congratulations to Supergirl who has landed a fantastic job as a meeting planner here in Austin and who gets to work at THE APPLE INC. CAMPUS! Supergirl, you absolutely deserve this and I’m more excited for you and ok, for me - I never said I’m not just a little selfish- than the time I bought my shiny red patent leather heels. Can’t wait for the lots & lots of drinks! (and do you think you can give me a tour of the Apple campus?)

8/12/2007

Conceptual Creativity Hangover

This is what you are experiencing when your brain could be a menu item at KFC and your apartment looks a lot like what your mother used to call “(bebe Me)’s Studio” because bless her heart, she didn’t quite know what to make of this little girl who could blithely exist within 10 feet of a seemingly unorganized explosion of paper, pencils, markers, crayons, glue, scissors and the like that took up an entire corner of the bedroom. (In the grown-up version, there is also a beautiful white macbook precariously balanced on top.)

But this weekend, as I cleaned up the residue of paper scraps, books and dried up glue sticks, while nursing the mouse-clicking induced pain in the tip of my index finger and my throbbing headache from the Last-week-of-class sleep deprivation, it hit me. I really am in the right place at the right time. Right about this time last year, I would wake up every morning with a heartful of reluctance and a stomachful of dread. My brain cells were swiftly withering away, having given up on any opportunities for ideation in ways other than figuring out how to keep my bitchiness at bay as I tried to differently word the same bourgeois platitudes to each unsuspecting client I encountered during each excruciating second of each agonizing 8-hour day.

A year later, I just finished 5 weeks of Creative Strategies and its slew of assignments during which I could easily spend 9 straight hours in flow*, ideating at last, with words and images in my own voice and sense of humor as I slowly began to understand and foster creativity in an even bigger way than looking pretty and sounding funny. Add in the fact that I got to use the topic of teen fiction to finally understand how to do proper academic research and I’d say that I’m looking at something for which it is absolutely worth waking up in the morning. Maybe it’s a result of my efforts and patience, maybe it’s luck. In any case, God is being especially good to me right now and my brain and I are feeling thankful for this blessing of a conceptual creativity hangover. Pain and all.

* defined by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi (I know, I know, but it’s somewhat impossible to be a grad student without sounding just a little bookish) as an activity that involves “painful, risky, difficult activities that stretched the person’s capacity and involved an element of novelty and discovery” and “the feeling when things were going well as an almost automatic, effortless, yet highly focused state of consciousness”

8/11/2007

What does pink mean?

I've mentioned it a few times so I thought I'd share it.

This, y'all. THIS is bebe Me's Life so far on an 11 x17 surface and the answer to "what does pink mean?"



Who knew?

8/10/2007

They are even more mutant than you think

I fell asleep with the TV on and had a dream that I was being killed by a tribe of violent, shrieking men. Right after my head got cut off by a sword, I screamed and jumped out of bed. And then I realized that those violent, shrieking men were now on the TV. With my heart still pounding and my body still shaking in my sequined, dragonfly pajamas, I looked at the TV to see what horrifying, hair-raising movie had encroached upon my slumber.

Only to find that it was THE TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLES.

What? I wasn’t scared or anything. I scream and jump out of bed like that all the time.

8/05/2007

Taking every opportunity to make my loyalties perfectly clear

Conversation at my advertising campaign group meeting:

“What’s the word we’re looking for to describe this guy?”

“Revolutionary?”

“Individualist?”

“I like the word ‘maverick.’” (me)

General agreement.

“Maybe because I love the Mavs.”

Groans all around.

“You know I like Houston, don’t you?” (the guy from Houston)

“But somehow, describing a nonconformist as a ‘ROCKET’ just doesn’t sound quite as good, does it?” (me)

Gleeful-perhaps obnoxiously gleeful- laughter. (from me. Only me)

8/02/2007

Something Smells Delicious

This is what satire looks like when it comes out of the oven perfectly baked.