A little cloud called job lovely...

Rise and shine! Here goes my work day: I get in my cute Neon and get on the highway and join the population known as the workforce commute. Since I have been in school or working retail for the past million years, I have kept odd hours. I find it absolutely bizarre to be a part of this clockwork migration. But there I am, participating in "the morning rush." Funny.

So I drive down the highway until I am at the brink of "city." I usually get off the highway an exit or two early even though the highway lets off right by my job, so that I can be engulfed in buildings and just stare at stuff. Downtown is beautiful in the morning when the light is strong and everyone is buzzing around and my to-go coffee is piping hot.
So my work is in the River Market, and the river is likerighttherebut I can't see it! There's an overgrown lot, a fence, a ginormous billboard and some electric poles in the way. These things annoy me. I did see the river from a bridge today and it looked relatively full and happy.
So at this point I have said little about my actual job, so here are some things I do when I finish dreaming my way through downtown: install art, work with our membership database, design print materials, write press releases, plan events (our big art auction fundraiser is February 18), work on the website, work with artists about coordinating shows, etc, etc. I am also the lucky one that gets the mail, answers the phone and serves food/wine at openings. It is really a catch of a job!!

Happy New Year!

Happy Birthday to Me (I am officially old now)!

Finally!

Yes, it is true, I did the graduation bit like a good little pilgrim. First and foremost, the costumes were hilarious. Mine consisted of the classic ginormous black cloak, black hat, honor cords and a little doily/maxipad thing for a collar. What I don't understand is that only the girls had to wear the little collars. Why? To protect our cloaks from our globby make-up? To distinguish our feminine form in a formless cloak? I just cannot figure this one out.
The boys, free from these add-on collars, were instructed to wear a collared shirt; some of them didn't. Also, those that did go for a collar didn't wear uniformly white.
So in addition to being just silly and sexist, this little doily business caused me trouble from minute one. Polyester on polyester, for sure, is a slippery combination... and even more so with a chunk of nylon cords thrown in the mix. Everything kept nearly-but-not-quite falling off my neck during the ceremony. So while my alma mater's Dean blabbed "just think about all those single ladies in the ceremony this evening who are off to get married!" -- seriously, I am not kidding-- while this crap flowed in my ears, I was adjusting the non-adhesive maxipad about my neck.
Saving graces during and after the ceremony include: 1) my knowledge that the Dean looked more retardedly decorated than most in the auditorium 2) a bagpiper 3) my studio girls, 4) alcohawl, and 5) what the hell, a sombrero.

CHEERS

upcoming:
A little cloud called Job Lovely
The true purpose of Retail during Christmas.

Hello to my dear blog readers! I am getting ready to graduate - finally! I pick up my cap and gown and those cords that people wear tomorrow. And then I walk on Friday evening. And then I drink. High five to me!
So this also means that I am pretty much done with my torturous printmaking, all that is left is to put my little pretties in their mats. Yay.
Cheers!

Relaxation, your eyes don't work on me anymore.

Hi!

My update goes as such (again I'll make use of a list format. For some reason I cannot formulate coherent paragraphs at the moment... I can make no promises on correct punctuation either):

1. My new job started on Thursday and it is Saturday and so I have been learning and working and meeting great people and going to KC's River Market neighborhood downtown for three days. I have a lot of stuff to learn, andI'm very very excited about the Coalition. It is a beautiful organization in a beautiful space. I couldn't have asked for a more wonderful job. Thanks, lucky stars!

2. I still get my Nature fix because the river goes right by my work. I'm excited to spout about the river in my blog. And I'm driving to Maryville again for:

3. Just a wee bit of school left, which is stressful. Stress is bad. I scribbled a stress-poem the other day which is maybe terrible and it rhymes (inspired by Doug) because this is what the hell a girl do who wants to smoke a mass quantity of cigarettes might do. Scribble. And the last line (the only part I like) is the title of this post.

So I am excited for Dec. 24-Jan. 4 when I will have off from work and will be done with school and will be done commuting and there will be peace and my birthday and good times.

Julie

Dr. Bart Wears Corduroy Without Elbow Patches as He Punctuates "'New'"

So the second lecture by Dr. Bart in St. Joseph dealt with concepts of the sublime as viewed by Schopenhauer and Nietzsche. Very nice. I prefer his first lecture on the "'New'" a little more because it has a clearer contemporary context and deals more specifically to the integration of the arts and communication in general. And it specifically called out the term "new" as an overdramatization of sorts, which Maryville definitely needed to hear. So, Bill is The grand winner.
In addition to being impressed by Dr. Bart's articles, I was impressed by his method of wearing the corduroy jacket. Brown, without elbow patches, pressed... very articulate. In fact, I don't know who ever decided elbow patches were so great. They only say: I've worn out my clothes, but if I put a big oval of fabric over it, possibly even in a contrasting color or texture to the majority of the garment, no one will ever know. I especially don't understand elbow patches for the sake of elbow patches, like on a brand new item. I feel like patches on jeans are more acceptable.
Thanks to Theresa, one of the great minds of the NWMSU Fine Arts Hall of Power, for driving us down to St. Joseph in her Cow-rolla and being my co-groupie of Bart.
Incidentally, I was told that Bart is a pretty common name in Belgium.

Hope everyone had a delightful Thanksgiving!

Dear ladies and gents,
Julie is on vacation. Actually, she is hibernating in a basement art studio. Actually, she is not hibernating, because hibernating implies sleeping, and that is definitely not happening currently. In addition to not-hibernating, Julie is fighting the urge to smoke one million cigarettes. I, I mean she, misses those beautiful cigarettes. Blast.

Her forthcoming post will be:

Dr. Bart Wears Corduroy Without Elbow Patches as He Punctuates "'New'"

Good tidings all.

5 items, oooh la la

1. My update from Nature was that all of the fields have been shaved of their corn! The hills look so silly and naked. And relieved.

2. My last day of work at the magical/evil jewelry store was Saturday. It was bittersweet to leave my coworkers. I am, however, easily getting over this sentiment of sadness as I relish in how I get to take a break from driving this week.

3. Which means I am stuck in Maryville. You can send Care packages if you feel so inclined. Aww, remember Care packages?

4. Maryville can sometimes surprise, like when we have exciting Native American Powwows. I just attended a lecture which was one such gem of an occasion: Dr. Bart Vandenabeele of Universiteit Gent in Belgium presented his delightful and thoughtful "'New' Media, Art, and Intercultural Communication" to an overflowing conference room (I sat on the floor in the front). Everything about this event rocked my Monday! I might as well have been hoop-dancing. I am going to hear him lecture again on Wednesday in St. Joseph.

5. Who knew things happened in St. Joseph?

Odometer

Can I tell you how much I have driven in the past 2.5 months? Approximately ten weeks of commuting, two two-hour trips per week, 210 miles roundtrip times ten is 2100 miles. Is that right?
By now I am an expert at loading my suitcase into the trunk with the lift-and-toss method. My car has been wonderful, my little Neon that goes to and fro! Last week I gave her two new tires (badly needed), an oil change, and new windshield wipers. What a champ! My Neon is the cutest.
So on the drive I have been watching Nature turn seasons, and that is cool considering I get an update every three days. While it is no Colorado, the landscape in NW Missouri has a certain unembellished beauty that is ripe with texture. I enjoy it. I also know the location of every hill, mini-pond, or anything interesting such as horses on highway 71. And man, have I seen my fair share of roadkill recently (it is quite a feat that I, in my pretty car, have not caused any roadkill)!

Speaking of roadkill, I learned the German word for "squirrel's tail" today and it was such a finely crafted word! What was it?

In summation, although I am in love with landscape, I can't wait to be located semi-permanently in one place. I have no idea how gypsies do it. If only there were a book about gypsies that I could read...

Career Lady Seeking Roller Skates

I got my dream job! It is for the position of Assistant Director at the Kansas City Artists Coalition, an arts non-profit and gallery. I will start training Dec. 1st-- and I graduate on Dec. 16th! And then I'll move into the position full time. I am so thrilled. I will be doing publicity, design, editing publications, installing shows, hosting gallery events and workshops, and generally assisting the Executive Director. I will also meet and work with a bunch of artists and creative folk. The Coalition is an impressive organization! Check out www.kansascityartistscoalition.org. Also, there is an opening/lecture this Tuesday, Nov. 8th if you are in KC and in the mood.

Coincidentally, around the very same time I was interviewing, my photo appeared on www.jobs4gems.com. These photos were taken at my jewelry store in rich-people land, and I feel they truly capture the evil that comes from staring at sparkly expensive things all day and listening to songs with lyrics such as "when we make love..."

When you get right down to it, I am so excited to be graduating after all this double-major hocus pocus AND to be getting a job in my field-- I just want to go roller skating!!! I am seeing about having my graduation to-do at Skateland, a beautiful collision of fun and freedom.

Torture Devices

Well, happy first of November! I am in the art building working on my printmaking whilst waiting anxiously to hear from the KCAC about the hopefulness of my future employment. I have a copper plate etching currently in a vat of acid. After the exposed metal is violently eaten away by the acid, I will remove the wax ground from the plate, ink it, and run it through the press with georgeously thick white paper. The press has approximately one millions pounds of pressure per square inch and looks like some crazy torture device with all its toothy gears. And it will flatten you like a pancake. Or like Kansas.
The plumbing issue at my apartment continues to be investigated by my new buddies, Tom and Travis Nelson of Nelson Plumbing. These lovely middle-aged townies came into my house at 7:45 this morning to look at the pipes!! I was still sleeping! I don't think they were or are on track with daylight savings. Needless to say, I was very bitchy to them as they tested the faucets and argued between themselves: which point is higher, the shower or the stool?
I am really counting on and looking forward to your musical arrangements.

Latrine, Video Installation, and Wickletisch: Bathroom's Greatest Hits

If you don't understand its meaning, "wickletisch" sounds hilarious --and if you stretch it, kinky. It actually means "changing table," as I learned in the bathroom in Arby's in Hays, KS. Additionally, even though the word was printed on an actual changing table, Ruth and I still consulted a German-speaker or two for their expert translation.

Another distinctive road-trip break was the one spent in the facility at the Denver Museum of Contemporary Art. My art-consuming experience was interrupted by the sudden and urgent need to do the opposite of consumption. This was probably a response to Truss Thrust's video installation called something like "Little Man"... or to Chipotle. One experience or the other reminded me necessarily of the objectivity of my physical being.

Other hits like the trail latrines and the all-American rest-stops are deserving of more than these little words can offer. Perhaps a score from one of you musical folk? Bill, what do you have up your poncho?

Another reason I would truly appreciate your contribution of a celebratory plumbing song is because I spent a large portion of today keeping my apartment in Maryville from flooding toilet-first. Fuck! It's in a basement, and for no reason at all, the toilet began filling up with water, and I had the joy of scooping it out into a bucket. Fuck again! So, if you would be so generous...

Happy Halloween! Boo!

The Fastest Karma is when you write a nasty post about someone and they do a very nice thing for you within that very week and you feel bad. Rip-off girl, from here on out, is named Amber. She is actually quite nice (I've always known this). And that is why, when faced with the dilemma of how to get two carless Austrians to Kansas City from Maryville, I called Amber. She commutes to St. Joseph (the half-way point)daily, and when I got her on the horn, she of course was more than willing to cart the Austrians to St. Joe so that I could meet them and take them to Colorado. We met Thursday night at Perkins- oooh la la! And chatted at length over coffee, until... (sappy music now please) I realized that I actually liked Amber-- as a person!
Additionally, I am slowly getting over my urge to horde ideas from the world. It makes my brain hurt. It is much nicer, I think, in dialogue.
By the by, I have my first real job interview tomorrow morning at the Kansas City Artists Coalition. I am excited!
Cheers.

Very Rocky Mountains

Can I tell you that my space bar is stuck? I can use it only with strained effort. I have to abuse my keyboard in a very special way to whip out these words. I am reminded of music lessons about the importance of the rests as a vital part of the sound. I never worked so hard to make not-words.
So I have returned from an adventure in Estes Park, Colorado. I went with Ruth, Bill, Ruth's Australian friend Alana, and two Austrians from my art class, Herbert and Josef. We stayed in Ruth's (legendary) condo which was fantastic. I enjoyed waking up there to the sight of Aspen leaves fluttering and to the sound of a georgeous brook.
We all hiked and climbed a bit. I liked the climbing on rocks more than is socially or physically acceptable. I gave in to the rocks once the first day and twice the second day. They wanted me to play with them!
The mountains were breathtaking as well. Truly. I had a distinct bout with lightheadedness as we went up to 11,000 ft. or so. When we hit the Alpine Tundra I was definitely experiencing the scenery on a different level. Everything was totally georgeous and mind-boggling. Alana (very cool girl) said her brain felt squished. Or was it squishy? Basically, Mountains=not much air= Kansas girl got high in the Rockies. I alternated between 1) enjoying the mountains almost too reverently and 2)being internally paranoid that I would pass out or just plain not survive. My heart was pumping so hard. Good times!!

Please look forward to the following episodes:

"The Fastest Karma: Rip-off Girl Saves the Day"

"Latrine, Video Installation, and Wickletisch: Bathroom's Greatest Hits"

And please visit Jen's blog, it is beautiful!

How do you get 2 Austrians with a velocity of zero from position A to destination B, which is approximately 92 miles from position A? Certainly I would not suggest the Greyhound.
Peace.

"That's Why You Get Paid the Big Bucks:" How to Make Your Nude Model Feel Slutty

All you have to do to make a nude model feel slutty is to remind them that they are being paid very well by the hour to do what you want them to do. Spread eagle, whatever. That's what $10 an hour in Maryville will buy you. Now keep in mind that this job is the highest paid job on campus. Also, I think people are under the impression that nude modeling is easy. Well, it is actually quite strenuous to hold yourself still. I've tried it. And if anyone ever talked to me while I was naked the way I talked to the nude guy last week, I'd think I was in a red light district.
Julie: Allright, let's try a new pose.
model (chunky guy named Sam): Ok. I'm feeling kind of tired today. I might be getting sick.
Julie: Do you want to do a reclining pose on the couch?
model (excitedly): Yes!
model arranges himself in static, corpse-like position
model: Is this okay?
Julie: Well, could you maybe twist your spine a bit and rest your head on one arm?
model: well maybe not for the whole time (25 little minutes!). It would fall asleep.
Julie: Well, THAT'S WHY YOU GET PAID THE BIG BUCKS!
grumbling and gasping ensues until model gives in and admits that he feels like a prostitute.

THE END

Someone is Stealing My Subject Matter

The following post comes with the disclaimer that I am terribly snobby when it comes to art but I don't care because I'm usually accurate. If you have not figured out yet by my informative profile, I am currently an art and English student.

At any rate there is a girl in the art department who is ripping off my work and I hate her for that. The imagery in her photography is identical to the imagery I have been working with. What really burns me about this is that I put at least two semesters of crazy thinking and reading, blah, "development" into the selection of my imagery. Then she saw My stuff in My studio. She fawned over it in hideously stupid terms, to the tune of "Wow, Julie, these photos give me the warm-and-fuzzies!" Within a week, voila! Her sucky renditions were blatant. Even though she apologized to me after the fact for "using" my idea, she continues her quest to imitate.

This initial instance happened over a year ago, and we have been having little art wars ever since. Whose work is more innovative? Luckily and unluckily for me, she is stupid. So my photos/drawings are usually better. But it has happened that I received credit for her work --which is really my work anyway, right? And we are back to vomiting in unison. Especially vomitous was her mid-term work in which she copied from my newest work. Double, triple copying. Sorry no visual is available at this time.

Would it be so difficult for her to do her own fucking research and copy an established artist? As far as my own rules of conduct, I have no idea what type of action is or isn't appropriate in this scenario. I am trying to follow the line "you can't control the world, you can only control yourself" and ignore her, but it isn't working. If this were in English-land, she'd be a plagiarist and kicked out of school! I want to take back what she stole but I can't. She sucks and I want her and her "warm and fuzzies" to hop in the suck-mobile and take advantage of open enrollment at a little school for little people. What to do?

Thanks Bill for hyping up my shit. Incidentally, your blog is fantastic. If I knew how to make a link to your blog, I certainly would. I am still waiting for Ruth, my blog-mother, to teach my blog how to be cool.
I am doing something I'm not supposed to be doing, and that is posting on my blog instead of preparing for Mid-term critiques. Ah, Mid-term, doesn't everyone love that word? Let's say it all together now, Mid-Term. Or, we could vomit in unison.
I am in the Fine Arts Building (where I really live) trying to incite an art-making revolution. Tonight this building will bear the address of my soul!! Ay, Ay!
I must presently get to work. Please look forward to the following episodes:

Someone is Stealing My Subject Matter

"That's Why You Get Paid the Big Bucks": How to Make Your Nude Model Feel Slutty

Is this where the title goes?
Hi. Looking back at the first post, I see sentences I could have shortened or eliminated. Can you find them?

I hope you are having a delightful Sunday afternoon. I shopped at Keith Coldsnow art supplies today and yesterday. Christmas two days in a row!

DAY ONE (lunch break):
As I pulled into the parking lot on my Saturday lunch break, I realized the supplies shop is right next to a Ma and Pa deli called Hoagie's Hero. 105th and Metcalf in OP for the record. I used to frequent this deli with my Mom from the ages 0f 12-15; she would buy me a 3-cheese hoagie after my French horn lesson every Saturday. The shop owner even knew us by name! So I decided to eat there for sentiment's sake before the art-shopping. Turns out...

Ahora en el restaurante se vende la comida Mexicana y las sandwiches tambien! The menu was half Spanish, half English. The cuisine included hoagies and tacos. Like the shop owner had tried to expand his clientele while still remaining true to the art of the hoagie. Or he started dating an hispanic senorita. Who knows.

I ordered my 3-cheese hoagie and the girl charged me for three sandwiches. So I ordered in Spanish, then she understood. Additionally, there was no soda fountain as there used to be. No Coke or Sprite. Nada. I chewed my shittily crafted sandwich in a stupor of Pineapple soda and Dos Mundos.

I think I took the total destruction of my fond memories and the reconstruction of these memories into their new distorted reality quite well. Bye bye precious cheeses, crisp pickle. Hello, salsa. Can they really still call it Hoagie's Hero? When was doing something "for old times sake" ever glorious?
After this cultural experience, I roamed around in Keith Coldsnow's to cleanse my mind and purchased magical drawing pens.
DAY TWO: More art supplies!!!!!

You are now reading the product of Ruth's screaming "Blog, Julie!"-- while holding her hand to my head in a very threatening fake-gun fashion. Super-thanks to you, dearest. I must admit I am having a bit of first blog-posting jitters. What will it feel like? Who should I tell and when?Will everyone tomorrow be able to tell I've blogged by my special glow? I hope so.

Today is Thursday, the day of the nomad. I woke up where I am schooling in a very small and isolated Maryville, MO, fed my cat, shuddered at my meth dealer neighbors. They have three Rottweilers tied in the backyard and a separated sofa sectional in the front lawn. I'm talking a good ten feet from the house, smack in the middle of the sidewalk (incidentally, thinking back on it, I should have filed a complaint about the sofa which could have had drug traces on it which could have led to the downfall of their regime). Then I drove 1.5 hours through Nature to my weekend job in KC, rather in Johnson County-land. Ooh, scary! Nary a lady comes into my magical jewelry store without salon-perfection and Coach accessories (no offense to Coach accesories). Our store also subsribes to a magazine of high society with real-life debutantes and their fiances and their poodles. By far Thursdays are my least favorite day; its only redemption is watching the sun come up in the country.