Thank you for not damaging me.

I am continuing to work on the ankle-deep paper trail called graduate school applications. However, I am finishing the last few essays and applications to UNT and TWU as I write this. Wish me luck.

Lots of bits and pieces are in the mix. I've been reading like a maniac and just completed This Book is Overdue! by Marilyn Johnson. It is a book on librarianship, specifically contemporary issues and practices within librarianship. I flew through this book, loving the chance to absorb all the aspects of librarianship that will become part of my future. Enlightening, as much as informative, I don't know if I've ever become more confident about a decision. Specifically, this book made me realize the positive decision to pursue library science in graduate school. Perhaps I will change my mind once I'm in the crux of the degree. However, half the battle was getting up the proverbial mountain to see the next valley to conquer. I'm proud to put a flag at the top before descending into the newness of graduate school.

I'm still working on a new project based around my experiences in the information world. This will include, hopefully, a zine of my own creation, a new blog, and links to information of interest in the world of library science. Stay tuned, I hope to develop this into the summer.

I have also been working on creating some handmade books. A new design below is based on the soil stratigraphy I studied in archaeology as an undergraduate student. This should be coming to Etsy very soon, once I develop a few more designs.

See Jane make books!



Thank you for encouraging me.

Dearly Devoted Girlfriends

This past week was marked with two diametrically different music shows for me. The first show was Black Rebel Motorcycle Club at House of Blues and the second was The Dillinger Escape Plan at The Granada. Of course while enjoying the shows, I could not help but do a little people-watching.

Seen at House of Blues:

A guy in a red shirt near me swaying so violently to the music, I thought he was about to head butt me to the floor. I kept inching backwards onto some unsuspecting girl in fear of getting the lights knocked out of me. During the middle of the show, the same guy's girlfriend appears out of nowhere holding onto a cocktail in a plastic cup. She practically climbs around him like a stripper pole, facing me and sneering at me with painted black eyelids. She's also not only taller than me but her boyfriend and her stripper antics almost prevent me from seeing some of the songs in the show. Needless to say, I was not amused when she disappeared and then pulled the same thing later in the show. Same pose, same sneer.

At least the 6-foot something Dude Bros at the beginning of the show who thought nothing of standing on me moved further away, despite not noticing my petite stature squinting up at them in disdain.

Seen at The Granada:

A doe-eyed and petite redhead with a nose ring holding her boyfriend's shirt and jacket while in the testosterone-fueled pit. She remains unflinching to the people shoved in her way and she cowers once or twice to prevent an accidental blow to the face. She is sympathetic to her boyfriend even when he throws himself to the crowd. He emerges from the swirling chaos back to her, looking like he's about to vomit. She pats his long-haired head affectionately, which belies the emotionless look on her face. I am standing behind the barrier right next to the pit, a step above the spinning assortment of people. Yet here she is, in her summer weather clothing looking tiny and pixie-like in the storm. As the smoke machine spills out off the stage, she looks frightened and concerned about her boyfriend who re-emerges from the mist looking battle-worn. She whispers something into his ear and he nods, before putting his head between his knees. She exits, but returns with a red plastic cup filled with water and two straws. He drinks gratefully and sweetly brushes her hair away from her eyes.

A precious scene in a moment that lacks all preciousness.

Sparkles on Horses

I rarely write blogs about musicians, but I am saddened by the apparent suicide of Mark Linkous, also known as Sparklehorse. The music is quirky, sometimes dark, sometimes sad, but generally intricate little gems of songs. I never had the opportunity to see Sparklehorse live. It's hard to even classify myself a raving fan. With that said, I don't mind a few vulnerable moments to explain that Sparklehorse affected me profoundly during some dark times.

When I was a freshman in college, I had a rough first semester. I think generally, most freshmen have a difficult time due to college acclimation, especially first year art school students. I worked myself ragged juggling a job and full-time college. I was taking the art basics, but the ones with multiple projects that weed out future art school students. Needless to say, I did not get the freshman 15, I lost weight. I had permanent purple bags under my eyes. I fell sick after the first semester with horrible tension headaches and an earache that would not leave. I was elated to have a month off for the winter holiday, but found myself deeply depressed and physically hurting.

Part of me was unsure of my art school path, while the other part was just recovering from all the stress. I used to sit in the bathtub for hours at a time and just cry. I would drag a stereo to my bathroom and let it sit on the toilet while I sat in the tub. It's a Wonderful Life had come out the year before and it was on heavy rotation on that stereo. It's easy for me, in retrospect, to make allusions to Margot Tenenbaum telling her mother Etheline that her TV was tied to the radiator when it was pointed out that it might be unsafe. Regardless, the stereo sat on the toilet next to my bathtub, allowing me to hear music that let me relieve all the stress and pain I was feeling. "Sea of Teeth" and "Eyepennies" became themes for what I was feeling: lonely, hurt, rejected, tired, but hopeful. I was hopeful to move beyond the discomfort physically and emotionally.

As the new year approached, I began to see a brighter future. On New Year's Eve, I wrote a long note about exorcising my pains and dark feelings. I burned it up in my sink with a lighter and collected the ashes in an envelope. At the stroke of midnight, I flung open the back door to let the old year out and released the ashes into the night. I opened the front door to let the new year in and breathed in the cold air, feeling relief.

A year later, it's the end of the first semester of my sophomore year and I've completed my first painting course, a beginning watercolor class. The studio is peaceful and clean, with skylights that allow the watercolors to appear gorgeous and rich in the natural light. I'd made some friends in the class and found myself more artistically, perhaps a direction that I had hoped to improve in the future. My last class, a sunny but cold day, I'm walking to my car with the north wind blowing my hair into tangles, I begin to feel sad yet again. With another winter holiday approaching and little opportunity to explore my art, I was afraid to let myself fall into yet another winter depression. I get into my car and crank up the heater and begin to blast a Sparklehorse song that was both appropriate and humbling: "Sick of Goodbyes". The song allows me to drum my fingers on the steering wheel and sing the lyrics at the top of my lungs. Catharsis for my raging inner self.

Years later, I'm out of college and on a road trip to Lubbock. I typically make compilations for my travels, especially road trips, where the drives are long, monotonous, and lonely. I was angry about rejection again, but glad to be on the road. For a pure sense of irony, I'd put "Someday I Will Treat You Good" on my compilation. It's a catchy song, despite the deadpan lyrics and reminded me of the emotional strain I had been feeling for months.

This past summer when I had an opportunity to hear and see the collaboration between Sparklehorse, Danger Mouse, and David Lynch via NPR, I was saddened that it was in a label dispute and would not be available for release until the details were worked out. However, having the chance to hear the MP3s, I was once again reminded of the genius of Sparklehorse. Some of the songs echoed in my head all summer, reminding me of the past, reminding me that I had grown so much as a person.

The reasoning for why people do the things they do can be unclear. However, I don't mind admitting that Sparklehorse was a part of my burgeoning adult livelihood. Despite the sadness of losing a frustrated but magical musician, it is in my hopes that Sparklehorse not live in nostalgia, but in those who continue to appreciate the music and the man behind the music. It will remind me of my past, but also of my future that has yet to come.

It's initial.

With March comes a lot of new things: more paperwork to be completed for graduate school, saving money, working on art, and somehow squeezing in a social life in the process.

My brain has been "go-go gadget" lately and it is yet another time to hit the ground running.

First things first, I have successfully completed the initial evaluation of whether or not I met the basic requirements for graduate school at UNT. Somehow it tickles me that this was the last school where I submitted my application.

In other news, I've been working on creating some hand-bound books by starting off with simple journals. Slowly, some new concepts are coming to the surface and a changeover on both Etsy and blog-wise should be expected during the year.

I have some pursuits outside art, but unfortunately, I have to keep the lid on them until it is all finalized in the next few months.

Otherwise, amidst the artistic endeavors, I've been reading Just Kids by Patti Smith. The book has been a fantastic bedside table read. I only like to read a few chapters at a time to absorb it all. Essentially, the book is about the relationship between Smith and Robert Mapplethorpe and living in New York beginning in the late 60s. I have yet to complete it, but what I've read thus far is magical. It recalls so many aspects of the quintessential bohemian artist. However, it does not generalize the attitude, it specifies the need to create, the freedom of dress, the importance of what you read and conversations you have with others.

The book reminds me that many artistic individuals have been down the same path before and it's a well-worn road, but with room for other traveling souls looking for answers and a place to make things and share them.

My solace of late has been reminding myself that I've been able to keep it all together and continue to pursue what is important to me. There is a romanticized vision of artists who stay up at all hours working on their art, despite the day job and life's obligations. Perhaps I entrust myself to this vision, perhaps I oblige it occasionally. Regardless, it's a skeleton outline of the life I've created for myself and will continue to create.