Within the last three days, I've managed to be approached by two different people to be photographed for portfolios. A woman went on and on about how expressive my face was and how I would be perfect for the headshots she needs before her big conference. Today, a guy I've known for awhile at work interrupted me and asked how tall I was when I wasn't wearing my 3-inch heels. He then decided that I was perfect. He'd been looking for a tall, slender woman to complement the male model he'd had picked out for weeks for his photography portfolio to get into a design college. The woman is expecting my call this week. I have a tentative shoot on Sunday for the photography portfolio. I've done this sort of thing before but I had assumed that my modeling days were over. It's all kind of exciting.
The only question I have...I've been living off junk food and caffiene for the last few weeks...should I stick to this diet as it seems to be working or should I go all 'model' and start eating carrot sticks and drinking water?
Eh, screw it...Bring on the twinkies!
Monday, April 30, 2007
Sunday, April 29, 2007
My summer of possibilities
While I have only one week left in the semester and I should OBVIOUSLY be so overjoyed that it rivals only winning the powerball (the 3 dollar one, not the jackpot...I don't think anything would make me happier than the jackpot. Seriously. Hook me up, people.) I'm actually getting a little anxious about the summer. I get into such a workaholic mode that I'm worried I'm going to get bored. I've already thought up art projects I want to work on, I'm possibly getting a second job, but I can't help thinking that I'm going to get stir-crazy. Lately, even days off drive me borderline nuts. I get all twitchy and weird and just feel the need to get out and do something.
Maybe I'll start training for a marathon or something.
Maybe I'll start training for a marathon or something.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
and that's when my eyes fell out of my head
I pulled an all-nighter last night. I'm tired. I had mashed potatoes and pie for lunch. Now I'm tired and going into a food coma. While attempting to stay awake, I've been catching up on my blog-reading.
Sizzle linked me. Yeah, that's right...THEE Sizzle. It's like having a celebrity make eye contact with you while you're blowing your nose. I'm not sure whether to wave or look away real quick and hope no one reads my end-of-the-semester boring posts.
Maybe I'll just have her autograph my kleenexes...
Sizzle linked me. Yeah, that's right...THEE Sizzle. It's like having a celebrity make eye contact with you while you're blowing your nose. I'm not sure whether to wave or look away real quick and hope no one reads my end-of-the-semester boring posts.
Maybe I'll just have her autograph my kleenexes...
Sunday, April 22, 2007
a Timeless SomethingOrOther
Every year, Iowa State decides to hold a little celebration they call Veisha. In years past, student riots and the occasional stabbing marred the history of this fine thing. Last year, I managed to miss it because I was moving back from Kansas City (its been a year, can you believe it?!). This year, I decided I was NOT going to pass it up. These are the highlights...
1) All you can eat pancake breakfast. Now with SAUSAGE. Be still my heart. Literally.
2) While waiting in line for said pancakes, some guy started laughing at my new aviator sunglasses and then asked me if I was " The Law". I'll admit, they're hilarious. I only bought them because they made me laugh. And yes, I am The Law.
3) Got my picture taken with a girl dressed in a Cherry costume. Her counterpart wears a sign that says how many of the famous Veisha cherry pies are left. They also had a fantastic routine where he would sing "This is why she's hot, this is why she's hot" while she interpretive danced around. They should get hired on automatically for next year.
4) The Parade. Words cannot describe how hokey, ridiculous, funny, and absurd a Veisha parade is. Where else will you see a Bullwinkle balloon, goose hunting float, and a marching 'band' that plays lawn chairs all at the same time?
5)I got recruited to paint faces of wee little childrens. Yes, I don't particularly like them but for some reason, I like them when they're in costume. I developed a puppydog face that became the staple of our band of merry facepainters. It was superdupercute. I couldn't stop giggling long enough to get a picture of one of them.
6) Fooooooood. It's like the state fair only not.
7) And lastly, the Sunburn. My arms and nose are a charming lobsteresque pink. No, I didn't wear sunscreen. Yes, I'm borderline stupid. Eh, it was the first major outing of the year, I'm allowed to be an idiot.
So endeth my break from schoolwork...back to the grind:(
1) All you can eat pancake breakfast. Now with SAUSAGE. Be still my heart. Literally.
2) While waiting in line for said pancakes, some guy started laughing at my new aviator sunglasses and then asked me if I was " The Law". I'll admit, they're hilarious. I only bought them because they made me laugh. And yes, I am The Law.
3) Got my picture taken with a girl dressed in a Cherry costume. Her counterpart wears a sign that says how many of the famous Veisha cherry pies are left. They also had a fantastic routine where he would sing "This is why she's hot, this is why she's hot" while she interpretive danced around. They should get hired on automatically for next year.
4) The Parade. Words cannot describe how hokey, ridiculous, funny, and absurd a Veisha parade is. Where else will you see a Bullwinkle balloon, goose hunting float, and a marching 'band' that plays lawn chairs all at the same time?
5)I got recruited to paint faces of wee little childrens. Yes, I don't particularly like them but for some reason, I like them when they're in costume. I developed a puppydog face that became the staple of our band of merry facepainters. It was superdupercute. I couldn't stop giggling long enough to get a picture of one of them.
6) Fooooooood. It's like the state fair only not.
7) And lastly, the Sunburn. My arms and nose are a charming lobsteresque pink. No, I didn't wear sunscreen. Yes, I'm borderline stupid. Eh, it was the first major outing of the year, I'm allowed to be an idiot.
So endeth my break from schoolwork...back to the grind:(
Friday, April 20, 2007
Stalking may be an option
Yesterday, I got my hair cut. Now, I’m sure this doesn’t seem like something too tragic but my regular stylist has disappeared. DISAPPEARED. I see you need some background to understand the tragedy of this event.
A few months ago, I was in an unfamiliar salon buying shampoo. On a whim, my mother decided she wanted her haircut. I was also due for a trim so decided to try out someone new. My old stylist was an old friend from high school and I had been seeing her more out of obligation than out of amazement with her work. When I tried out the new stylist, it was like love at first sight. She knew exactly what I wanted but altered it just perfectly to fit my face shape and hair type. She was confident in her ability. Her chitchat wasn’t contrived or forced. She was perfect. I left that day in complete awe. I was petting my hair for hours, if I remember correctly.
I had been seeing Laura for months and months, overjoyed with her work. A week ago, I called to make an appointment when the snarky receptionist told me that “Laura no longer works here”. My exact words in a low horrified tone were “Oh…my…god…”. I was in shock. Snarky Receptionist informed me I would be seeing Margo instead. MARGO. NOT LAURA. I hung up the phone terrified. That night, I couldn’t sleep wondering where my stylist had gone. The next day, I googled her to no avail. I decided that maybe, just maybe Margo would be fine.
Margo is not fine. I arrived for my appointment and Margo came out to greet me. NOT LAURA. She was overly cheery, overly touchy, and her chitchat was overbearing. I spent the whole time thinking that as long as the cut was good, I could stand the chitchat. The cut was not good. Margo kept asking my opinion on things. She was not confident. She wasn’t sure what would work with my hair. Or my face shape. She asked me 15 million times if I wanted something to drink…even after I told her 14.9 million times that I didn’t, I really didn’t, just please god let this get over with so I can go home and find a hat.
So I don’t know what to do. I’m forlorn that I’ve lost my perfect stylist. The stylist I’ve looked for my entire life. I’ve determined that I’m going to have to call every single salon in the area until I find her. She’s worth it. My only fear is that she was so good that some celebrity stole her to make her into their BFF ala Kevin Paves. Things would get ugly. Uglier than this blah haircut.
Come back Laura, please. I miss you.
A few months ago, I was in an unfamiliar salon buying shampoo. On a whim, my mother decided she wanted her haircut. I was also due for a trim so decided to try out someone new. My old stylist was an old friend from high school and I had been seeing her more out of obligation than out of amazement with her work. When I tried out the new stylist, it was like love at first sight. She knew exactly what I wanted but altered it just perfectly to fit my face shape and hair type. She was confident in her ability. Her chitchat wasn’t contrived or forced. She was perfect. I left that day in complete awe. I was petting my hair for hours, if I remember correctly.
I had been seeing Laura for months and months, overjoyed with her work. A week ago, I called to make an appointment when the snarky receptionist told me that “Laura no longer works here”. My exact words in a low horrified tone were “Oh…my…god…”. I was in shock. Snarky Receptionist informed me I would be seeing Margo instead. MARGO. NOT LAURA. I hung up the phone terrified. That night, I couldn’t sleep wondering where my stylist had gone. The next day, I googled her to no avail. I decided that maybe, just maybe Margo would be fine.
Margo is not fine. I arrived for my appointment and Margo came out to greet me. NOT LAURA. She was overly cheery, overly touchy, and her chitchat was overbearing. I spent the whole time thinking that as long as the cut was good, I could stand the chitchat. The cut was not good. Margo kept asking my opinion on things. She was not confident. She wasn’t sure what would work with my hair. Or my face shape. She asked me 15 million times if I wanted something to drink…even after I told her 14.9 million times that I didn’t, I really didn’t, just please god let this get over with so I can go home and find a hat.
So I don’t know what to do. I’m forlorn that I’ve lost my perfect stylist. The stylist I’ve looked for my entire life. I’ve determined that I’m going to have to call every single salon in the area until I find her. She’s worth it. My only fear is that she was so good that some celebrity stole her to make her into their BFF ala Kevin Paves. Things would get ugly. Uglier than this blah haircut.
Come back Laura, please. I miss you.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
a life of balance
Since determining that life is worth living, even life during the final weeks of a semester, I've been trying to keep things in perspective by doing little things to retain my sanity. It's managed to bring my stress level down quite a bit, even if I'm not being my most productive self. Examples of the little things that keep me happy...
Pizza: Simple, elegant, it can do no wrong
Skipping that lecture where the dude rehashes everything and I'm getting 115% in the class so far
At least an hour of worthless, mindnumbing television a night
Listening to all of the Finals Week compilation Cds I've made in the past. I had no idea I had such a weird habit of making them when I was in college last time.
Driving aimlessly listening to said cds
Drinking. A lot.
Okay, maybe not that last one, although I've noticed it seems to be a favorite among the younger crowd. I can only imagine the heinous bitch I would be were I stressed AND hungover. Best I spare the world.
I could come up with more but the timer just rang on the pizza...
Pizza: Simple, elegant, it can do no wrong
Skipping that lecture where the dude rehashes everything and I'm getting 115% in the class so far
At least an hour of worthless, mindnumbing television a night
Listening to all of the Finals Week compilation Cds I've made in the past. I had no idea I had such a weird habit of making them when I was in college last time.
Driving aimlessly listening to said cds
Drinking. A lot.
Okay, maybe not that last one, although I've noticed it seems to be a favorite among the younger crowd. I can only imagine the heinous bitch I would be were I stressed AND hungover. Best I spare the world.
I could come up with more but the timer just rang on the pizza...
Monday, April 16, 2007
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Remembering where I come from
Lately, I haven't been quite myself. I've been stressed and angry and very focused on minutae. Tonight, while managing some posts, I decided to go back and read the ones from my previous blog, NotDorothy. These were from when I was married and living in Kansas City. I have them stashed away should I ever feel the need to do what I did tonight. Reading through them was so good for me. It was good to see that I have a sense of humor that isn't cutting and cynical all the time. It was good to see that I found humor in the day to day things that happened at work and at home. It was really good to see that I am still the same person, even though I live somewhere different, doing something different, with different people. I'm proud to know that I'm making progress in having a real life. I'm proud that I still talk to the man I was married to and we still laugh on a weekly basis. For all the change that has happened since that blog, it's so good to know that much of me has stayed the same. I really miss the people in Kansas City. I miss the ones I considered family. I miss having an apartment. I miss having days off. I know that someday, I'll regain some of these things. So maybe NotDorothy and Mellow aren't as different as I thought they were. Maybe they're chapters of the same book, after all.
Saturday, April 14, 2007
Mason jars and angry Minnesotans
Thursday night was deemed worthy of what we call in my family a "Stress Management Meeting". These typically involve groups of friends, large quantities of beer, and endless smartass remarks.
The participants: Me, an art major buddy, and her sister.
The venue: Trailer Trash Night at a local bar.
The highlight of the evening had to be the arrival of the band. Granted, I have a little bit of a rockstar fetish but these guys didn't really fit that particular build. What made their arrival so great was the hour long parallel parking fiasco that took place right outside the window where we were sitting. Hour. Long. There was curb jumping, bumper tapping, the back-forth-back-forth-no-progress-shuffle, and they even gave up once just to come around the block and try it again. Because the space most assuredly got larger while they were cruising. Ultimately, other bandies walked up and they switched the malfunctioning driver out for a good one. Much to his embarassment, Dude 2 aced it in a heartbeat to the roaring applause of the bar. Or at least our booth.
After that entertainment ended, we were blessed with delightful chap who heard our parking-related mirth and decided to give us a visit. He wandered over, all 5 feet of him, half-filled pitcher of mystery liquid in hand (with two straws for rapid consumption). I caught an accent and asked, innocently of course, where he was from. Upon answering "minnesota", I caught the accent and, again INNOCENTLY, poked fun at the 'o'. Instantly, he became defensive and explained how horrendous the Iowa accent was. Apparently, we click in the back of our throats when we say things like "click", "buck", and "chick". I couldn't tell any difference between the two accents but he became so disgusted that he told us to "quit making that gross noise". Finally, I broke down and employed one of his friends to remove him from the table. I could hear him walking away still complaining about our nasty accents. I've decided that his anger stems from when his Iowa-native ice skating coach said he would never make it in professional speed skating because of his abnormally small thighs. It's just a theory.
And so ended our delightful evening. I've left out several details that involve hookers, noise makers, and the disappearance of the month of July but I'm not sure that it would make any real sense to anyone else. Perhaps when you're older...
The participants: Me, an art major buddy, and her sister.
The venue: Trailer Trash Night at a local bar.
The highlight of the evening had to be the arrival of the band. Granted, I have a little bit of a rockstar fetish but these guys didn't really fit that particular build. What made their arrival so great was the hour long parallel parking fiasco that took place right outside the window where we were sitting. Hour. Long. There was curb jumping, bumper tapping, the back-forth-back-forth-no-progress-shuffle, and they even gave up once just to come around the block and try it again. Because the space most assuredly got larger while they were cruising. Ultimately, other bandies walked up and they switched the malfunctioning driver out for a good one. Much to his embarassment, Dude 2 aced it in a heartbeat to the roaring applause of the bar. Or at least our booth.
After that entertainment ended, we were blessed with delightful chap who heard our parking-related mirth and decided to give us a visit. He wandered over, all 5 feet of him, half-filled pitcher of mystery liquid in hand (with two straws for rapid consumption). I caught an accent and asked, innocently of course, where he was from. Upon answering "minnesota", I caught the accent and, again INNOCENTLY, poked fun at the 'o'. Instantly, he became defensive and explained how horrendous the Iowa accent was. Apparently, we click in the back of our throats when we say things like "click", "buck", and "chick". I couldn't tell any difference between the two accents but he became so disgusted that he told us to "quit making that gross noise". Finally, I broke down and employed one of his friends to remove him from the table. I could hear him walking away still complaining about our nasty accents. I've decided that his anger stems from when his Iowa-native ice skating coach said he would never make it in professional speed skating because of his abnormally small thighs. It's just a theory.
And so ended our delightful evening. I've left out several details that involve hookers, noise makers, and the disappearance of the month of July but I'm not sure that it would make any real sense to anyone else. Perhaps when you're older...
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
At some point
That phrase has popped into my head constantly for the past week or two. Walking to class, eating a bagel, working on a drawing...there it is.
At some point.
It's typically open ended like that but I catch myself wondering what the rest of it could be. There are so many options but none of them stand out as why it's become a weird little mantra. Regardless of why it's bouncing around in my head, I've decided I kinda like it. There's a promise of something better in it. Granted, there could be something bad in there too but I suppose that's why life is so darned amazing, right?
At some point.
It's typically open ended like that but I catch myself wondering what the rest of it could be. There are so many options but none of them stand out as why it's become a weird little mantra. Regardless of why it's bouncing around in my head, I've decided I kinda like it. There's a promise of something better in it. Granted, there could be something bad in there too but I suppose that's why life is so darned amazing, right?
Friday, April 06, 2007
It's been...fun?
For about 6 months, I'd seriously considered getting back into the dating thing. Since my divorce, I've seen a few people and briefly tried an online matchmaking thing (a good friend met her 'soulmate' there and is determined that it would work for me). The whole endeavor left me perplexed. I don't remember dating being this stupid before. There seems to be an overabundance of mind games and extreme contrasts in neediness. The younger men want no-strings attached and the older ones are looking to get married in 6 months. I've become more than a little cynical.
Talking to my aforementioned friend, she's convinced that the man of my dreams is just around the corner. If I just keep looking, she's sure I'll find him. I remain wholly unconvinced. Granted, I see where she's coming from. She speaks with the voice of someone who is zealously in love. My voice of reason does little to pierce her armor. I know myself. I know I'm a difficult person. I know that it will take an insanely incredible person to be able to put up with me. I know they may not exist.
I've decided that for now, I'm better off alone. My friend thinks I'm being defeatist and depressing. I see it completely different. I get to enjoy my time by myself. I get to figure out what I really want out of life. I get to make decisions without considering how they may affect other people. There is so much I still have to learn about myself. I've been through a lot in the last couple years and I don't think another person could fully appreciate it.
So Dating, it was nice seeing you again. You've changed a bit but I'll try not to hold it against you. Perhaps in a year or two we can talk again. But for the love of god, don't call me, I'll call you.
Talking to my aforementioned friend, she's convinced that the man of my dreams is just around the corner. If I just keep looking, she's sure I'll find him. I remain wholly unconvinced. Granted, I see where she's coming from. She speaks with the voice of someone who is zealously in love. My voice of reason does little to pierce her armor. I know myself. I know I'm a difficult person. I know that it will take an insanely incredible person to be able to put up with me. I know they may not exist.
I've decided that for now, I'm better off alone. My friend thinks I'm being defeatist and depressing. I see it completely different. I get to enjoy my time by myself. I get to figure out what I really want out of life. I get to make decisions without considering how they may affect other people. There is so much I still have to learn about myself. I've been through a lot in the last couple years and I don't think another person could fully appreciate it.
So Dating, it was nice seeing you again. You've changed a bit but I'll try not to hold it against you. Perhaps in a year or two we can talk again. But for the love of god, don't call me, I'll call you.
Thursday, April 05, 2007
Crunchtime
I'm down to the last month of this semester.
What does that mean?
1) Major projects to finish
2) Revisions and resubmissions of previous work for better grades
3) Papers to write
4) Final exams to take
5) A portfolio of all my work from this semester to be described and compiled and THEN an essay to be written about my design process all of which determines whether or not I'll be able to continue my collegiate career.
I'm officially into over-stressed, anal-retentive, superfreak mode. Bring me coffee or get out of my way.
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