Last time I watched Mrs. Doubtfire I thought it was strange how Carrots and that Red-Pink dip was awe-worthy from the Mother.

But I have always wanted that meal, in some sort of way. Even though it'd be pretty bland.. just.. wanted to be near the shine and the meals, and the soft lighting.

Kim's groggy pants.

I am in a complex between "peace to everyone" and "genuinely accepting that you hate a person". i . e . roommate issues. The domestic life of course shouldn't be war, but as well, just because it ain't verbalized, it doesn't mean it ain't true.

And also, I let my niece solo knit this hat-gift, and she dropped 4 stitches, and the entire thing looks like a training job, and it just can't/won't do as a gift. So I'ma fucking start over. Which is fine, it's frustrating, but I like how I won't hand in a piece of shit.

But still.. it's all my fault and responsibility, yet realities that I just don't want to face.

So my night, even thought it's 150 AM is to drink a cup of wine and knit for 2 hours. And then all of Sunday. Fuck going out.

I love how angry I sound, but overall it was an okay day. Good, just I wasn't really.. with it. Whatever.

Le vent

It was actually quite nice today. I woke up at 6:15 local time and made myself breakfast. I found coffee and had some of that. I knitted for a bit, and also taught my mother how to complete a knit stitch and a purl stitch whilst in Tim Hortons. I had a doctor's appointment, turns out I have two different viruses inhibiting me on the inside and outside. I got my teeth cleaned, and it turns out I'm a 2-3/10 in terms of the health of my gums (flossing is needed for furthering my success). I had a 45 minute power nap after having a delicious lunch of sushi and bread and dip and a mini mini salad.

I got dropped off at my old work at 6:50, staying there until 12 or so, talking with Jamie. It is cold and misting outside, accompanied with rain. Being cold, at first I started to shuffle my feet into mid yogging at short intervals, so as to make my commute time shorter. I ended up going for 2 longer running periods, which was quite nice. At first I would start when I saw no cars, and then stop when they were in sight. Then I realized that I do not know these people and it doesn't matter whether they see me or not. I would cough here and there, but it felt nice. I ended up becoming so over heated that by my last running session I took off my hood and scarf, exposing my warm neck to the wind.

I became friends with the wind again. I remember standing in front of my yard at the age of 4 or 5 or so, and it was an overcast sky with an ambience of undistinguishable temperature. I was holding my arms out, palms facing up, and I was speaking to the wind. Certain that it was telepathically let's say, but I knew the wind knew my presence, and I spoke to it to let it know that I felt it. I let it know that I could feel it carry me, and press on me to lean about my stance. My eyes were shut at times, but mostly just looking out to the field in front of me.

As I was running down Southview, the wind gave me the encouragement to run at a longer pace, so I was covering grounds at a quicker pace. As I was turning onto Jeanette, the wind pushed against me so as to have me endure it's force. I knew it had my back, because why else would it challenge me out of friendly encouragement. Nearing up to my street, I picked up my pace to a faster sprint, and I thought it was interesting how at first I would think that I had no energy, but there I was, using far more than I knew I possessed.

I stretched, and came in. I can hear the wind's presence outside my window. It's got so much energy, and it never ceases to exist. I look forward to feeling it again.

: }

Blow Jobs

Whenever I read about blow jobs, or hear of them, I get this feeling of disgust and shame. I haven't wanted to give 'him' that sort of attention, I don't want to let him feel that way. Maybe it's because more males have hurt me than females, so I'm more psychologically comfortable with les demoiselles.

I think I have a lot of anger when it comes to these topics in general, and it's mostly uncomfortable when it comes to me reflecting on these issues. One day I do hope to really expel all that is I feel, and have received. I think it will create a really beautiful project (in the eye of I, the beholder). But the process itself will be so self-reflective, that what I will see that I have made will have internally grounded me. It's a coming to terms with these things.

There are so many things that could be psycho-analyzed in these statements, even in the pauses.

I think there is consciousness in all animals, because they hang out with their own species. So in ways they know what they look like and stuff.

Final Photography Project Reflection

I had presented my photography assignment yesterday, and lemme tell ya, it went on to be fabulous. Before I had presented it I had wondered if it would have come together to look like a series, and it did. I was doubting myself because I didn't know if it was coherent, and if it made sense, but it did, yeah.

I had a passage out from the Prophet in it (I didn't cite it, but I was standing there and I verbally cited it) and then I had arranged, randomly, but not, the 10 photographs of Jake, and then I had placed the 1 photograph of me (that Jake took) in the bottom right corner. So three rows, and 4 columns. I had three vertical-rectangle photographs, and the rest were landscape, the passage was its own rectangle, and then so was the photograph of me. So in order to have their dimensions not distract the overall presentation, I mounted them on 12 inch squared white board. That was a really good idea.

As I was walking up the stairs to the photography department, after I had purchased the mounting board, I was questioning whether it made sense to spend more money on this project. I thought to myself "Well, if my Dad and Mom are helping me with school, and they want me to do my best, should I not do my best?" Mounting the photos brought an overall look of cleanliness and order to the presentation. I knew the effect of the gray cork board underneath them would visually impede their effects, so yeah. I was imagining how I would want them presented if I were to exhibit them, and it would've been the same square foot idea.

The arrangement of photo experiments, and chop ups were all mingled in together. I had the photo pair of Jake and I across from each other on the bottomest left and right corners.

The arrangement of the grid enabled the viewer to focus on each of the photographs, instead of focus on the negative spaces between each mounted image.

It was really nice, because Matt spoke out "I think from what Kim's saying, how she's experimented with the photographs and cut up each portrait makes sense." And then he added, "These are my favourite series that I have seen today." And then 5 or more so people nodded with him in agreement. It was lovely, because Jasmine came to me twice and said "Kim, I just always love your photographs." Marena, and Olivia, and Kate all had given me their verbal praise and blessings, which just is wonderful.

I was extremely paranoid that I wouldn't make it, and worried that the glitches in each photograph would deter any visual value that they might carry. Surprisingly enough, my teacher only critiqued on the addition of the written text, but I failed to inform her that if I was planning on setting the overall attitude of the series. If that written text had no been there, then I wonder if the effect of the photographs would still read as something enjoyable and not.

My teacher, Lorraine, had said that the addition of my image, and the addition of the untouched portrait of Jake had cemented the visual strength of each distorted image, and their context.

I spoke honestly. I had instilled that my project had evolved from my first initial path of thought, and Lorraine was kind enough to read it out loud, "Disintegration, drugs." So I continued on with how I find it interesting how we each have these moments where we tend to destroy certain known or unknown aspects of ourselves. I said that it might've just been me, and that I've seen it happen in most people I know, and that I was quite sure that it must happen to most then. Lorraine was nodding and I was keeping eye contact with people and it was generally good spoken word. I wasn't shaking or fidgeting, and my voice was sturdy.

So anyways, I continued by saying how I had only one subject in mind, Jake. He is a friend, who I nostalgically admire, yet he has these characteristics which I don't admire. But I love him as a whole, yet despise him in a way. I made a connection with another girl's "Relationship between the artist and the muse" project, because Jake is my muse. I draw him, and photograph as easily as it gets. I felt fully supported by everyone in the room, and felt empowered as a photography artist. I felt very secure in my experimentations, and I really do feel proud of these accomplishments. Jasmine had asked me how I managed to create two of the photographs, to whom I happily described the process.

When I was putting them up, Lorraine asked if I needed any help, and I thanked her, but said no, for I was still seeing how to arrange them. When I was taking them down, she came to me and asked, "Kim, are you taking Intro to Photo next year?" And I said that I didn't know, even though I do want to learn and have access to all the school's photography department. It was further pleasant to see her photograph the series as a whole, yet go up to certain individual photographs which she liked, and document each on her digital camera. The class wondered how I managed to distort some of the images, and I said I did some on slants, and they were pleasantly in the know. One girl said, or two, including Marena, "You've shown me that there's more to photography, there's more that I don't know." Which I personally fricken love, because there is more.

I'm really really happy about it, and so proud. I'm forever grateful of the feedback I've received as it encourages me to go on happily to create and experiment more.

In the darkroom this Tuesday I saw some kid painting on the developer on his photographs, and I was like "HAHA!" Not that I know he saw my photographs of Olivia dreaming, or that it was the exact same technique, but I rather enjoyed seeing it. I admired how he was using a paintbrush to apply the developer, I hadn't controlled it like that in my last series.

There was also this other girl who was showed her experimentations to the class, but it was right after me, and she was frightfully defensive to the class. She kept on saying in a harsh tone, "So yeah, my photographs don't really make sense. I just cut up my negatives a bunch and went into experimenting with them. But I don't really care that they don't make sense, but that I had fun. So, yeah, whatever, I just care that I had fun." In my head I was like, "Oh man, 40% of the mark, and I can tell that you're not really that proud of them." I intentionally spoke of her photographs, and there were two that I rather enjoyed.. and yeah. I'm pretty sure I'm saying this so as to exemplify how my experimental series stood out as a whole (even though they weren't perfect) and how I am very very much proud of them. And then also I'm saying it because it reflected my first dream series. I had experimented without perfecting the technique. Whereas for this Jake series, it was a bit more accomplished, and overall sophisticated due to me mounting the images. It read as, "This person takes it a bit more seriously."

I love it, I've learned so much.

Before I thought, "Oh no, I don't think I can take photography, because it costs too much. Even though it's an interest, I don't think it's of me." Pffft, fuck that. I'm taking it.

Beautiful, anyways.

I hope I'm not being excessively proud. It just feels synonymous to when a person might relieve themselves of this pressing poop, and even still, 30 minutes later, they still feel euphoric.

But good night still. : ] Keep on keeping on, heh.

p.s. I won't be digitally uploading any of these images up onto the internet, because I figured I want people to see my stuff in person. I will not expose it so openly because that can be done when I'm dead. For now, it's up to people to people interactions and talk through mouth, to see if I can get up off of the ground.

Much lovess

So I had an appointment today for a tutor to go over and edit my paper for Writing for the Arts. The trouble is, I don't have anything to edit yet, as I'm currently still conjuring it up. So I was initially going to shove it under the rug and neither call nor go, yet when Marena came home she was confused as to my presence. "Yeah, I decided not to go because I don't have a paper for them to edit so it would be pointless," is how I told her. "Did you call them?" "No." "It's common courtesy." Well so then I did, even though the attempt to reach a point of courtesy had been thrown out of the window as I called in saying I wouldn't be needing the appointment any more 6 minutes past it's assigned time. I do experience guilt and shame, but nothing too overwhelming I suspect at the moment. It's reassuring to me to know that right now they know that I won't be coming in, rather than wondering why I am not there in the first place. The guy did the whole guilt thing "What about the student that called in this morning and wanted that appointment, and I said I couldn't give it to them? Are you sure you don't want it?" Yes I am sure, sure as I knew a sense of guilt would be administer by you. Well anyways, water under the boat and I'm not really sinking yet. C'est la vie. I of course feel slightly responsible for occupying the space of another more deserving of a tutor, but really - how down in the dumps shall I get over this petty thing? I am the one who suffers for my own actions, if I had conjured up a draft earlier on in the week, then I would've been able to go. But hey, if I never took up drawing in Kindergarten and instead followed the desire to study in Biology, I probably wouldn't have taken up that other student's space either, or maybe I would've. But I'm making a structure out of nothing concrete, thereby, these thoughts can harbor no guilt.

No see, it was easy to write that, and I believe I got my point across as I would normally do. But when it comes to writing.. it's like it has to be more than what I inadequately see my written skill as. Thanks to the underwhelming approvals of, wait, I shan't blame highschool teachers. There is no blame. Just me, writing this blog, instead of smoking a cigarette and writing this exhibition review. I have opinions, I bought the exhibition's book, and have read lightly into the artist's history. I can see what she's achieving and how the technical skill advances her efforts to communicate fragility in the strong and durable characteristics of metal.

I'll just write a bit of it out right now. It doesn't have to be perfect the first time, are there not multiple layers of images underneath the surface of one my drawings/paintings/books and whatever. So are there in these writings. Cool.

Well Kye-Yeon Son is a jeweler and crafts person, but primarily a metal smith. She has studied in Seoul, Korea (where Whopper's from I think) and furthered her education in the Indiana University, U.S. When it comes to Son's first works, one may easily pick up on the gestural qualities of the line she uses in her vessels. There are zig zag with clear and equal angles that ravel along the rim of a smooth and polished silver bowl, that then transform into an curve as smooth and arched as the rim of the vessel. What I like about Son is what I like about most sculptural artists. Instead of collecting dust atop of my imaginary shelf, is that their creations may be used, so that there is a utilitarian purpose behind their manifestation. Son though, takes it one step further in terms of describing to us what these functions may be. I have seen the works of ceramic sculptures bring their work into the dinning room as serve-ware, but never mention the emotion ties to these ceremonies that make the piece in question valuable. Son's Saki tea set are of traditional Korean culture, and are unique in their clear yet angled gesture, but furthermore describe their embodiment of emotions that also are prominent in the ceremony itself. For Promise is a hollowed out pen with an ink well constructed from fine and smaller-than-your-pinky-nail silver circles that create an empty volume. The technical skill of these pieces is quite refined. The hollowed pen is at first a flat sheet of really thin silver, but is curved in to join itself to create the body of the pen. There is a seam, but there is no visual proof of its existence, or of its procedure. The form she creates with metal with the help of her technical skill of the craft is (I'm getting slower now at producing ideas. I'll perchance go out for a smoke.. )

But the forms that she creates with these tiny metal lines, are visually easy to destroy. Luckily they are stored within acrylic cases, because either wise I would be extremely tempted to break the connection of at least one welded seam. I overheard another person at the show's reaction to one of her pieces. Loss is a hollowed form, it sorta looks like a blobbed figure as there are the visual references to a body slunched over, drooped like it was sad, but with one element that encapsulates the empty feeling of its onlookers. There is a gaping hole in the presumable stomach of the figure, wherein you can see that it's covered with sharp splintering fragments of metal that burn on the inside. The curve of the figure is so dramatic that if there figure were a person, which essentially I guess it is, it is clearly a conscious feeling of loss that they are experiencing. The time at which this piece was made was during (fuck I don't know the exact date, but I read it in a catalog that I could go and see right now, but fuck that, but anyways) the time when she was offered a position to teach at NSCAD. She had already 2 children (daughters I think) so she would have to leave them at home for their Dad to take care of, in Korea? Indiana? She didn't get the job until 1998, but this piece was made in 1996, so maybe it's a full-time/part-time thing. However, what she communicates here in these series of linear and gestural works is the transitional changes that are effective both her life in the art world, and in the traditional 'I'm married, I'm a Mom, I have no time other than being emotionally confined and artistically silenced.' Fucking kids and Husbands, eh. But so anyways, she accepted the position and moved to Halifax, saving up money so that she could go home every two months and visit her kids and hubby. But on that voiced by stander of whom I heard. Their reaction was verbalized through the question "Wow. Oh my god, wow. Does she have kids?" (At this moment in time I had no idea that this woman wasn't 22 or so, and I thought this woman was a tad uninformed.) Pfft, so wrong. Yes, she did have kids, two of them, and not being able to see them was eating away at her on her motherly insides. But alas, she's using her discipline to share this story to whoever is lucky enough to see, and listen, and understand.

Now after this point in time, she became interested in the cultural traditions of the Korean stone, and how the attention to the beach stone is also reflected here on the east coast. We've all picked up a couple of stones and here and there along bodies of water, and held them in our hands and invested so much Gonzo emotion into them, we essentially create a ceremonial tradition in matter of seconds. Son is the bridge here when she connects the two cultures attention to the beach stone by creating wishing vessels. Now a function of a serve-ware needs not to be limited to food, but also the emotional joy and satisfying experience that comes along with enjoying food with company. That's why the good China dishes are cherished. I love Son because she clearly defined the function of these wishing vessels to serve primarily as emotional serve-ware. There is a respect for the tactile quality of beach stones too, as she furthers her skill in manipulating metal and it's surface to emulate that of a stone. Painting with enamel! Woo!

God damnit, maybe it's her education of culture, through experiencing them that makes her works so clearly defined and strong. She's able to signify the sacred importance of 'things' in our life, how having them look aesthetic and delicate is in fact to reflect to their fragile importance in our emotional every day lives. These things serve as tools for our emotions to become expressed.

Which brings me along to another series of her works. Empty Vessels is what she calls them. (Yes, I know. At first I walked in and was like "Vessel. Vessel. Vessel. Whatever, I'm bored. Oh look, it looks like a stone. Oh look, it looks like... a bunch of metal stuck together.") But the story behind this series is the experience of the loss of her Father. Well, he died, he didn't really get.. lost. But anyways.. Whereas her children she could go back and visit every two months or so, it's not like she could jump on the River of Styx and go see her Pops every now and again. So the hollow and emptiness she creates with metal is extremely fragile. The technical care she's place into their bends and curves are quite astounding, because for as small as these pieces of silver are, their souldered bits should've been broken - but Son is extremely patient. Creating these pieces helped her with her grieving process. She manipulates the form of these structures to resemble that of a canoe, or a boat let's say. She said that the boat is a vessel (obviously) but for sending away emotions. Like the vikings would, set their dead on fire on a boat into the sea. So does Son, but the fire is limited to the electro-magnetizing process it takes to shape these empty vessels. (I'm not sure if that's the actual name of the process, but I'll ask this Jewelry girl in my class tomorrow.) So Son put in a lot of her loss, and emptiness into this Empty Vessels series, so much so that the sentiment is quite evident, even in terms of the fragility of their connected parts, to the fragility of human emotion as well. Hell, if/when my parents die, I'll be fucking crying up a storm louder than Hurricane Katrina until the next ice age, hopefully when my heart will then be froze over. For the next while, if I didn't say it earlier, her Dad died in 2002, so from then until 2009 she was working with the form of metal wires, and creating tiny and polished pieces that are about soup-bowl size, to a few that are rose-vase [vay.ze] size.

In that same magazine I read in the Gallery (god damnit I'll have to cite and shit) she had said how she was on a walk with her Mom here in Canada, and her Mom remarked on "You see the Trees here in the winter look dead, but they come back in the spring." God damn fucking wise I say. So Son, with the help of her Mom, started to become observant to the circle of life, death, and re-growth. Innate Gestures picks up on this cycle in nature, and uses it to define the challenge of human emotion to grieve and regroup, or even life, and how it must slow down in order to continue once more. Even though this series is an abstract of the death evident in nature, her ability to convince us that these metals are not copper and enamel, but are actually Branches from trees, covered in believable snow, is another advancement in her technical skill as a metal-smith. Soon she started to experience some regrowth, ol' Sonny gal. She started using colour on her branches, by using enamel but also by the process of heating copper, and polishing off at different stages. Little did I know before that one could change the colour of copper by thermal treatment and a little wrist grease.

After this exploration of death, empty form, and regrowth, Son did a little bit on making some necklaces. This is where she was able to, effectively I say, as I wanted to buy one ($1,500 ... never mind.) carry over these elemental qualities of nature, and to have them gracefully rest on your collarbone. They're very light, so their conscious reality is not a weight on the shoulders, you know. Baggage on Atlas.

Now she went for a year of Sabbatical teaching in Korea, and in 2011 she created this series of brooches titled Untitled. Is this a title? I don't know. Did she have any fun there? I'm guessing not. Was it anything worth experiencing? I don't think so. All of her other works have been so emotionally charged, and full of the significant value of cultural traditions and artifacts, that this series was a bit underwhelming. But what is life but like a body of water. It may rush into rapid currents, or slow down into a still pond, and it may sit there for a while, but it does not mean that the waterfall it approaches does not exist. So anyways, what I'm saying is.. that although I really did enjoy the emotional energy she used to create her past pieces.. I will respect the non-frontal attitude of this series. I didn't even mention what they were of.. Well, at first in the exhibition I couldn't see a thing that described what they were (Hmm, oh hey, importance of artist's statement.) So that initially go me all bummed out, and I saw them as a series that needn't even be there if they weren't even named, or had a description, or weren't even in that magazine that I read. The only description that explained their existence was written by Dr. Sandra Alfoldy, a professor in Craft History at NSCAD. So thank you Sandy D. They are representative of Bojagi in Korea, which are quilts made from irregular shapes of fabric stitched together. In the Gallery book I bought it was "the name for Korean quilts which are composed of delicate colours and simple, uneven textile squares, and thin, light fabric. She struggled to attain the gestural imperfection of the cut cloth squares, something virtually impossible to achieve in metal." But on Wikipedia, is says that it's used in ceremonies as wrapping clothes, or gift wrapping, or table clothes, or the covering for sutras. Hmm, whatever.

Anyways, so even though there's not the screaming emotion of death and loss, and the hopeful attention to growth - there still remains the attention to traditional Korean culture. In religion, the practice of praying/meditation whatever, or the practice of religion does serve as an emotional tool. It's tradition, and dogmatic, sometimes a bit mundane, but its routine gives peace of mind. It'd be odd to think of Son was still grieving over her father's death 9 years after the event.

In her recent series, Form Function, she made ceremonial objects that service as utilitarian, but are aesthetic, but also service as a memory of feelings. I think having these as the last series really brings to light the significance of her first works. One may read of the importance of ceremonial objects, and how they respect the life and loss of a loved one, and how it's important because it's important, but for me, personally, I think because of how well Son has communicated this/her experience, I carry it as my own right now. How the Service for Memory displayed, was right at diaphragm height. I can see myself holding the cup and pouring the wine and lighting the candles. This piece was made in 2002, and the photo in the book shows the candles in the candle holders unlit and totally new. When you see them in the Gallery, they are already lit and used. So it's evident that the utilitarian characteristic of the work is not merely said, but done. I think even seeing this further connects the synapses in my brain saying to me, you know what.. Son has experienced this shit, and it's felt like shit. I mean those first Gestural Figures of Loss and House Bound, and Ring Bound.. I hear that. To be stuck in a house just creatively clogged shut with laundry and whatever.. boring as fuck.

Son's first works straight outta Indiana University are of simple connections and bends and polished pieces. Then she went to curving sheets of metal and enameling them. Then to creating delicate forms through her patience and understanding the tolerance of her metals. Then to further experiment with metal as she discovers the hidden rainbow beneath copper wire, when treated wit a lil heat. Then to making a neurotic amount of tiny little rings from short pieces of metal, flattening them, then soldering them together, then bending it from a 2d form, into a 3d sculptural form. Then to hiding all craftly evidence by just pure refining of her skill. Then to replication of the visual characteristics of nature. Bringing in the use of wood, thereby not being limited to her conventional material of choice. (What Metal-smith should always use metal?) So she is explorative in emotion, form, technique, and material. And then even such with the Function of her last series. I looked up 'utilitarian' on this Mac Dictionary, and it says to be designed to be useful rather than attractive.. well. Son's works are not ugly. I'm not going to wear an ugly hat, over a pretty hat. They're both hats.. but which one will you love more. (Lol.. "Sure I will have 2 kids. I will have an ugly kid, but also a pretty kid.. but I'm not going to put the ugly kid's picture on the Christmas card.) [Bad joke.] So she effectively redefines utilitarian to me. A pretty thing will be cherished, even though it's a thing.

But anways.. My review is some what in there.. time to blow my nose, smoke a cig and.. make a wise! 11:11

Well I just had started writing a review for this movie called "JULIA" with T, S. something.. she was the evil witch in Narnia.. Tilda S. And then I ended up going back a couple of pages in my history.. yadda yadda, it was gone. Oh well.

I read my first entry to this blog today or last night, and it's a poem. I like it because of it's simplicity, and truth really. I wonder if I am able to this again.

***

I sit, always in my backyard. There is always this time I make for myself.

Peace through the routined nostalgia of having a smoke at night.

I breathe the cool air, as each inhale intoxicates my lungs with debris.

So little.

So little.

I pollute myself in the tiniest, yet ever so consistent methods,

I wonder if this is the only way in which I might accept myself.

Conflicting moments where comfort meets uncomfortable realities.

I desire the things which in the long and short term,

dehabilitiate me.

Plucking the bumps on my skin,

Malnourishing myself,

I contradict any notion of health that

I encourage myself to follow through.

Buy another pack.

Smoke 25 more cigarettes.

I watch as my puddling ashtray grows in these winter months.

It reassures me that I have not grown

away and apart from all that I have been.

The only thing I know of myself is my past.

My advice,

your past does not, and cannot dictate to you

who you are.

For as each moment that passes, brings a you into the new.

Yet, I have more cigarettes to smoke.

And a world without routine is a world,

my world, in chaos.

May peace b'wit'ye.

Love, Shakespeare.

I'm knitting a second hat, and I'm quicker and better than last time. I've messed up only once and the stitches are tight. My coughing has been dull and less phlegmy, and therefore unsatisfying.

Last night before I went to bed I went onto the computer and unblocked Andrew. I was curious and I wanted to lurk. After I had done so, I went to block him again and then it said that I had to wait 48 hours. Well, 12 hours ago he added me - coincidence. Crazy. Anyways, I have to wait another day or so.

Because of the knitting my middle finger on my right hand is killing me. I'm in a drone sort of mood, or have been today - which is fine I guess. I did some sketchbook drawings, watched some Dragon Ball Z. I attempted to print some photos but only accomplished 4 fails. Tomorrow I have school and I haven't done any homework for any of the classes. I have to think about and plan about what I have to do this week, for it's the last week that I may essentially do all my homework.

A good time to start knitting, eh? But hey, my stitches are finer and tighter, and I got about 2 inches done.

May peace b'wit'ye.

The Palace of the Kim Franks

I've been wanting to post this since Monday, but I got an A- on my last essay! And I also started and have now completed a "Where's Waldo" hat for Wayne. Wayne's Where Waldo hat, let's say :}. It's like I've had a giant to do list today, that has in fact been in thought for the last couple of weeks, and I just can't seem to fall asleep tonight. I knew that when Wayne's hat would be complete, I would have to start on my Mom's painting. My first attempt at falling asleep tonight left me getting up after 10 minutes to put on the back-red for the grass. I also managed to paint my cigarette piggy bank, and bring in my shit from the living room. I feel sorta bad, because I've pretty much been the only one in there for the last two weeks, so this week, I'm in my room. I will be painting, and sketchbooking and whatevering really. The next couple of things I want to do before I go to bed, if I don't become too sleepy, is to write out Sketchbook ideas for a good few pages, and then read a chapter of The Palace of the White Skunks by Reinaldo Arenas. I dropped the Anne Frank diary, but I do aim on picking it up again. I'll bring it with me to Oakville, and another Arenas book too. I will be so sad when I finish his Pentagonia or maybe even super thrilled, but still..

So I don't know what else to type except for that I have hunger. Speaking of such, it's interesting to see how in my head I'll propose restrictive diets in my head, but then two days later I say, "Kim, you can't do this, it's counter-productive to what you actually want to achieve, happiness." So then I drop it, but I don't think it's quite balanced. I wrote in my journal an hour or so ago, a list of things I want, and don't want. It was nice to see them manifest on the page.

It includes:

I DON'T WANT TO SMOKE

I DON'T WANT TO BITE MY NAILS

I WANT TO DRINK WATER

I WANT TO READ

I WANT TO DO WELL IN SCHOOL

I WANT TO EAT MORE VEGETABLES

I WANT TO EAT FRUIT

I WANT TO BE VEGAN ISH :)

I WANT OT WRITE LETTERS

I WANT TO GIVE MOM THAT PAINTING

I WANT TO GIVE MY DRAWINGS AWAY

I WANT TO GO BUY FEEDER MICE

AND I WANT TO GO TO SLEEP NOW

Of course I didn't manage to maintain my sleep status, as I am here right now.

But moreover I ended it with, "K. Love you Kim. Do what's right and be healthy." And with an arrow pointing to another scribble, "Your happiness is quite near."

Well I think that's an overall pleasing entry. It's a bit, well I don't know. I find it to be neither optimistic nor pessimistic. Well maybe it's generally upbeat, but the fact that I have to write it down.. meh, I'm not going to analyze why I wrote it down. I did because I wanted to see what I wanted and what I did not want.

Shame, there was another thing which I wanted to jot down, but instead of just staring at the ground trying to remember something, I'm going to get on that Sketchbook listing, and then the Chapter reading.

Wish me luck, and have a good one : )

p.s. Here's the hat, and my current face.

It was the first shot I took, the sound of the photo being taken startled me, so I muted it and then - voila.

p.p.s.! What I had forgotten to say was that I haven't been checking my horoscope since it read "A Special Day". For 2 reasons: 1. I want to assume that I am always being me every day. 2. It becomes depressing for me when I read "A Romantic Trouble" or something foreboding like such, and I voluntarily believe that that day will suck, and I will be a fool ever so sloppy and weak with my actions in my encounters with others, and so on. Furthermore when they're specific to a romantic partner, I don't know of whom I must substitute this, my roommate, my friends? So it's been nice not having to check it. My current home page is Knittinghelp.com which is cool. But yeah that was it. I'm learning to embrace me every day, and trying to not guess where the planets are and such.

K, much love m'love &nd G'd nyte : )

A Special Day

Today is free of transit affects. I am purely me today, which is unsettling, yet accomplishing. Better yet, to contradict myself, it's affirming for me to feel good about myself. Today is me, whole heartedly. Now I know how I am. I will wake up early, I will get ready for school. I will be ready, I will be funny, I will be serious. I will be friendly, and I will be firm. I will be flirtatious and a bit sick. I will cough, I will be strong, and I will give in. I will not indulge, but I will on Wasabi peas. I will do my laundry, but I won't put it all away at once. I will notice my snake, and pledge to feed it before I sleep tonight. I will learn many new things today, none of which are likely to stick. I will develop photos, and almost catch myself falling into crush mode. I reflect, and then I don't. I was a bit annoyed off about some things, but then I didn't end up letting my frustration show that much. It was boredom, and subtly letting people know that they are a nuisance.

Ahh well. I still have no real idea what I'm going to do about my photo project, but I do have photos handy. I have Jake, and then.. will it only be Jake? Or, 22 year old male, I guess I'll say. I need more shots. I was going to take some pictures of Julian tonight.. meaning, I didn't reply to his text for tonight. Because, well.. I just got home. And now I feel rude.

Do I even have film? Yes, I think.

Anyways, another product of my day:

Ahem. A rant.

Inadequacies are all around me today.

I brought no slingshot to school today - and I essentially dug myself into a deeper hole when I attempted, through the magic of improvisational words, to give them precedence. I.e. I was being pretentious. But so whatever.. under the rug, a part of me.

And then this kid was stereotyping me to his other Filipino friends, and hassled me for not knowing 'my own culture'. I said "Hey wait a minute, I'm Canadian." and he was jostling me, asking me if I had my rice for breakfast, and if I brought my rice cooker. He was speaking Tagalog words that I didn't know, and scrutinized me for not knowing what he was saying. I was becoming very shaky, angry, and hurt.

He approached me later being like "Hey, what's your name?" Kim, what's yours, yadda yadda. "I guess that stuff really offends you." Yeah it does, but I guess it's more about me. I was turning it on to me, thinking that I should be proud of where my mother's blood comes from. But then I realized, the only thing that pissed me right the fuck off, and still does, is that if it's not one thing, it's another. It's either I'm Korean, Filipino, from China, I must be Chinese. I should be well versed in Korean and Japanese, and know the differences between each character. I guess I should love fish and pork on Rice, I probably eat a lot of Sushi, every day. I must never hate any sort of fish or meat. It's Asian. Definitely, I must be Asian. Also awesome at Math and Engineering. But I also must be good at drawing anime - I've watched my fair share of the movies. Kim, definitely Korean.

Actually - I'm Canadian. Do not say you're not being prejudice when you're generalizing and concluded who I am, purely because of what I look like to you, resembling to what else you have seen. If I am getting angry, it's because you'ven't shut up yet for me to fucking talk. What marks my skin different to you? If I merely looked more tanned and with thicker hair, and a longer nose, you would relate me to something you had seen before. How are you not oppressing me right now? Why should I not just fight back and rip you apart?

If it's not one thing, it's another. What makes me the fuck-different to you, you fucking ass hole.

YUP

Tolerance and acceptance	***
Valid during many months: This influence will affect both your independence and well-earned recognition. Your tendency to play down your own achievements may now be strengthened leading you to feel somewhat depressed and inadequate. You tend to make great demands on yourself and you may fear that feelings of inadequacy and uncertainty may prevent you from fulfilling them. If your personality is more combative, your mood is likely to swing between aggressively wanting to protect your independence and freedom and times when you feel less capable which may shake your belief in your achievements and personal resolve. You are probably frustrated by your inability to change your spots and overcome your inhibitions and feelings of inadequacy. Your may feel that your vulnerability and uncertainty are holding you back and might prefer to forget that they exist. You may be reminded of some past event in which you felt rejected by your father or other figure of authority you looked up to. Such experiences can be hurtful and leave us feeling uncertain. You may have tried to use achievements to compensate for any feelings of inadequacy or erected strong emotional defences to prevent yourself from being hurt again. However, during this time old wound may reopen, calling your emotional defences into question. You now have the chance to break with old behaviour patterns and to confront any hurt you feel inside. Don't try to suppress your memories and vulnerability associated with them and try to accept them as being part of what you are. If you're able to do this you will develop a feeling of inner tranquillity which teaches us to accept that which we are unable to change. You will receive the recognition you long for when you feel able to accept your total being, including feelings of inadequacy and uncertainty.
The interpretation above is for your transit selected for today: Saturn Square Chiron, , activity period from 8 November 2011 until end of August 2012

It is nice to have more time to yourself, but it is not nice to be at home - not earning money.

Quel Blague. The first thing she says to me this morning is:

"This man's face." Shows me a face on her computer.

"Yeah, who is he?" I say, squinting.

"I don't know. I love how my homework is to look up faces on the computer." She closes.

Yep. I started no conversation yesterday. All that was said was "Hey." and "Hey." and "Kim, where did you..?" "What Marena?" She's looking in that metal snack holder we have. "What Marena?" She answers back very anxious. "Oh nevermind, I found it in here." Of course you fucking found it in there. Next time just look and don't ask/blame. Pfft, she didn't even open the door all the way, and it was still.. Where did you put it?!

And then I said Good night at 1130, same with her.

But now for today. I will do those two drawings after I have a cup of coffee and a smoke. How will I make this slingshot. I guess after the two drawings, I will see if the art store is open. Wait no, not the slingshot today, the Curating Statement, righttt.

Wish me luck!

Lolz. And then the second thing she says to me is "I have the greatest job in my group for video. I get to ask all these questions and have them answered." Or something other. I didn't even exhale for a pity reaction.

**Warning, do not procrastinate. And read your assignments thoroughly.

I just spent near to 3 movies on trying to make an origami soccer ball.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ijVkQ1KGy7U

Here's the damn video. I was becoming so incredulously frustrated, near the end of it I wanted to post a comment detailing how ridiculous the person was for making this video, and to let them know they failed to make an instructional video. Their editing was pissy and the addition of text to COVER the SHORT LIVED images was fucking ridiculous! .. any ways.. I was getting angrier by the moment.

Anything ANY THING was pissing me off. This movie Australia, Doris texting me, Jake saying he was hungover, Olivia thought I was making catapoltes, my bowel movement, how there was no water in my water canister, how Marena asked me if she could knock on the wall of our neighbours as a signal to turn their music down.. EVERY THING WAS PISSING ME OFF. Especially the movie though, FUCK Australia SUCKS!

At the back of every angry reaction to my environment.. the little voice in my head was reasoning with me "Kim, you're not paying attention to the complete movie so how could you dislike it?" "Doris is trying to be nice and reaching out, which I know is what you want Kim, give her the time to respond." "Good thing you've been drinking water! Your bowels are moving!" I wasn't calm or cool on the inside, I seemed collected, but yeah..

Now I figured out that these 3 spheres that I was working on, aren't even due until Nov. 8. So I'm going to go to bed tonight, and make the right sized origami soccer ball tomorrow. And I'm no longer freaking the shit out.

Wow, much rest is needed.

Good night : )

My Unedited Morning.

So this morning was a good day.

I stayed up last night until 2 AM finishing cutting cubes and what not. I was woken up by my two alarms.. yet slept through them. My class started at 8:30, and at 8:09 I came into reality and thought, OH SHIT, I gotta get to class. So whatever, I went over, ensuring I had washed my face and gathered my cubes into a bag and had a smoke for the way. I only ended up smoking about 2/5 of the smoke, tossing it when I had to retie my shoe. It wasn't bad, like I wasn't late for class or anything, seeing as I live across the street from it.

The class was exTREMEly dull for the first two or so hours, I dunno, maybe it was one hour. It felt like an eternity anyways. Talking dully about the photos we took of street constructed forms from last class. The only thing that was agitating me was the stool on which I sat, then of course my one runny nostril. I hated wiping it on my sweater (Olivia's sweater, sorry!) due to the close proximity we were sitting to one another, the class, I was becoming more and more self conscious of the viscosity of my snot. Any ways.. I couldn't leave and blow my nose, because I was in the mid-centre, and then I knew I had to speak, because I choose 3 different photos.. yadda yadda, I became an essential speaker to the photos which were inevitably going to show up.. so I held back.. snuffing and wiping, subtly, away..

And then, after the photos.. after, we as a class went to this Wig Wam, and I was the only one out of the three which remained whom spoke with the Elder Mic Maq.. And so when my teacher addressed those of whom who stayed longer.. what they had experience, I.E. MOTHERFUCKIN' ME... I had one last nostril inhale, so full of moist heat.. and spoke in my.. Mercury in Taurus voice, explaining the awkward things which occurred during my brief encounters with those indigenous folk.. and they were funny. The contrast of the three awful incidents I spoke of.. to the fucking long and boring slide show of uncomfortably sat stale photos.. made me sound incredibly funny. At least.. what I had said was the first light hearted and animated thing that had been done throughout the class, this morning. Of course.. I did ATTEMPT at a joke, and failed, thereafter.. ending up with only two exhaled and low laughs.. but whatever.

And so, we ended that bit, and started off to create structural forms and shadows using spot lights and our cubes as our next class activity. All, minus one person, had used the flat paper on which we were to project our shadows left on the table top. I instead folded instead, so that it was perpendicular to the horizon, and thereby created a shadow-scene. I was complimented on it.. this one guy said that it was 'so creative!', and two others gave praise or whatever. But that one guy, him and I ended up joking throughout the class. At first I was confused, because I don't know who this guy is, I like how he was joking, but I don't know.. a lot of pre cautionary steps.

Throughout the presentations of everyone else's cube-shadows, I had spoken out a lot. I was very free and had spoken out to pretty much everyone's piece. There was this one guy, not the compliment dude, but another guy from my drawing class, whom is very attractive... and anyways.. him and I were warming up to one another, in terms of conversation and standing by the other. In any case.. it's not like it was anything, but it was nice. Nicely subtly, so much so that it might'ven't existed in any sense, except mine own.

But anyways.. I joked with the first cube-shadow complimentary dude, and then warmed up to the one guy from my Drawing class.. and then ended up weaving in and out of connective glances and facial responses to the other males within my class. Not ALL of them.. but three more or so. Enough so that I went home and fucking showered twice, and bought a bottle of wine, had a glass, and had some spaghetti, I'm so friggin happy.

I was talking a fair bit, and was speaking a lot. For the stories of the TWO THAT GOT AWAY, I had TWO VERY VALID POINTS, I know it..one girl's art looked like vaginas.. and everyone was saying how sensual it was, and how soft it was, and how natural it was.. FUCKING VAGINAS! I wanted to say it so bad.. and i KNEW, i K N E W that everyone else was thinking that.. but alas.. I didn't. Also for this other kid's outlay of cubes.. it got dismantled due to the unexpected obstruction of another student's path.. tripping over the light chord.. messing shit up. And in any case.. he ended up almost crashing the lights to the ground.. yet still the cubes were the first and only things to fall.. so then the kid whose assignment this was.. ended up adapting and improvising out of his ass. But it worked fine. IN MY HEAD. I swear, I had the mother fucking answer to why he had to adapt to this, how his cubes' structures took form to his attitude, how it was a self reflective piece, how it was another step of an acceptive attitude for unexpected events, to expected chance, to planned happenings. How the unexpectedness of his outlay was in itself the only way in which his point would be validated.. rather than just stated on a static display of cubes.. and their shadows. His was the only project which brought up points of discussion, his was the only one in which we all became a bit aggressive and agitated so much that everyone ended up talking. Everyone had a valid point to say. I didn't say anything. All I had the chance to say was "I think.." and then only to be cut off. GOD DAMNIT, I wanted to say so much, but seeing as I had already said a lot, and these were only to be of one minute presentations.. his was becoming an eternity of fun.. we had to move on. I think that kid deserves an A. A fucking A PLUS + . Anyways.. the reason for which I find his quick and adaptively acceptive blurb so interesting and a thing for which to become enthusiastic is because of the 20 minute long and boring video we had watched at the beginning of the class.

The lady who was showcased for this video.. her work was detailed.. yet had barely any conceptual thinking to it. It was merely cut out pieces of paper, detailing intricate and narrative designs.. yet remained stale and blank. No thought, no conceptual reasoning behind anything.. At least that's what the general critiquing of the class had laid over her and her work.

This kid.. his was explosive in terms of unpredictability. He had no reason to focus on the perfectionistic design of his cubes.. but instead had all the power in the world to disturb conventional thought. It's not the work itself, it's the process on which it came to be. It's the ever-changing process.. he has no control over his work's environment, and why would he pretend to in any case?

His entitlement to creating some significant discussion out from mere sheets of paper is remarkable. His innate ingenuity hypnotizes me even within my silence.

Thank you, Kid.

Kim.

Astro.com

This would sum up my yesterday of just preferring to be alone, (I had written in my journal for class last night)

Thrifty and careful
Weak, transient effect: Tonight you may feel like being alone with your thoughts and feelings. Your mood is not usually bad or depressed, you simply desire to be calm and reflective. But you are probably not in the mood for frivolity. You prefer the company of serious people, if any, and you want the conversation to be about important topics. Under this influence you may feel the need to consult someone whose higher vantage point you respect. You are able to balance your emotional needs with your sense of duty and obligation. While you are aware of your feelings, you do not let them overwhelm you. In all proceedings you are thrifty and careful. You are also very careful and thorough in your approach to any kind of work now. It is not likely that you will have to do any task over, nor will anyone else have to clean up after you.
The interpretation above is for your transit selected for today: Moon Sextile Saturn, , exact at 21:40 activity period from 28 October 2011 to 29 October 2011 And then this is for me today. But I have yet to speak to people, so we'll see...

Deeper understanding
This quality of time will help you to develop a deeper understanding of those psychological areas that are connected with the experience of pain, suffering and rejection. This influence is especially well suited to so deepening the understanding of these interrelations that the first inklings of how to carry out a healing can be perceived. During this phase it is important to talk to other people who are interested in this theme. This time is well suited to penetrating the complicated connections and dependencies between human behavior, the psyche and early injuries - to differentiate between cause and effect -, whether for yourself or for someone who has confided in you.
The interpretation above is for your transit selected for today: Mercury Trine Chiron, , exact at 11:08 activity period from 28 October 2011 to 30 October 2011 [http://www.astro.com/cgi/hk.cgi?;cid=sbofilezTRviP-u1285390507;hnx=-1]

Oo we will never die.

This goes on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on..

Now that I've decided not to stay.

I can feel me start to fade away.

Everything is back where it belongs,

I will be beside you before long, and on, and on.

This goes on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on.

: ) : ) : ) : ) : )

Beside you in time - Nine inch Nails.

Little do they know that the pictures do not do justice.

I don't know where to start first, but I know I must finish it all.

There is no rush, but my not doing anything does put haste on a lot of things.

I want to tell Andrew that I am sorry, but I just cannot talk to him any more.

I want to apologize to myself, for not being where I promised to be right now.

But I thank everyone who's helped.

Nostaligic Ephemera

I hold an unopened package of pens. There are three of them: red, black and blue. I see that the blue pen does not face forward, but to the side. I let my fingers graze the protective plastic, knowing that they should start tearing. My memory flickers to the seasonal back-to-school shopping. I have piles of these unopened, packaged in plastic, beauties. I take the clean pens and pencils, highlighters and sharpeners, white-out and tape, and put them into their new plastic-fabric home. I am overwhelmed by the idea of how all those packaged beauties now fit into this measly little pencil case. The pleasure of knowing their secret of hidden cleanliness makes me protective and possessive over them. During the first few months of school I try to maintain its glory, ensuring that no bits break off of anything. Yet, when the first lead breaks, the first coloured pencil snaps, and the bits of wood from the sharpener fall out, and all these variables come together, the visual mess takes over me. I give up and let this carry on.

That mess that will be there until years later, when I gather all my utensils out from their coffin cases. I will dust them off, and polish them up, sharpen them all, and put them into a new arrangement.

My Astro.com Horoscope

A defiant tone	*
Valid during many months: You identify very strongly with your ideas and opinions at this time, and you are rather inclined to be argumentative. If someone disagrees with you, it seems like a personal affront. You may get into pointless arguments by defending a position that doesn't need to be defended. You put forth your ideas with considerable vigor at this time, which may provoke others. Even your routine communications may take on a defiant tone, especially if you feel that others have had the upper hand at other times. On the other hand, if you have to "sell" an idea of yours to someone in your job or anywhere else, this is a good time to do it. As long as you refrain from giving people the impression that you are attacking them, you will impress them by the power with which you state your ideas.
The interpretation above is for your transit selected for today: Mars in the 3rd House, 3, from 13:42 activity period from 16 October 2011 until end of May 2012

Everyone on my Facebook disgusts me.

Well, I was just masturbating, when I came to thinking about rape. How is it that most females whom were sexually assaulted are the ones who end up masturbating later on? So much information is there, and I always try to wonder the reason why it is. When I was masturbating I was imagining being raped, and how confusing it would be of two different sensations to process. One would both be experiencing a sexual sensation, yet being traumatized by the shock of what is actually happening to you.

Then I thought it would be best explained by the usage of narcotics and other destabilizing drugs. Of course they're both related too, the more fucked up you are, the more drugs you take to run away, or if you have been sexually abused, the only thing some times to do is to go out and repeat that abuse again. How is it so therapeutic though? Is it therapy?

Therapy: treatment intended to relieve or heal a disorder. (From my Mac's Dictionary)

It temporarily relieves stress... but only for the time during the act. Yet right afterwards, for me at least, I feel ashamed of what I had just done to myself. Would that be raping oneself?

How if you found one thing that gets the job done, in terms of self abuse, you stick to it.

** And then this morning sucked too. My roommate just can't control her anger - but I've heard that women at 7x more likely to have heart attacks if they don't release their anger. So what am I doing saving her in this moment, not training her how to act through my own anger, and making her live long and not me.

This is bullshit. All of it.

"You work very hard, and want to. We are proud of you, Kim"

I feel most comfortable even when reading the titles of NIN songs. Yet, since I am probably categorized as being less invested with the group/Trent, due to my age, I feel out of place when sharing my interest of them. All of this because I wasn't born and listening to them pre-1990's. Don't you hate that? When the world... calls you something, and you can not step out and away from it. You are forever categorized as what the world describes as "Asian", you are forever a "Girl", forever a .. thing. Who can truly know you? Could a world without opinions ever exist? But we do need acceptance by others and ourselves daily. But without them, your fellow brothers and sisters, elders and strange ones with the same amount of limbs and organs, yet different customs.. even vice versa.. they're still here affecting you.

A world to yourself would be nice. Free of inhibitions. I need not worry about anything.

Desirable.

Free of fears, free of worries of what another person may be thinking, free of worrying about the importance of your own thoughts, your own existence. If it is all absurd, if it is all worth nothing, but only what you make of it.. why not end it? Why; is my equally opposite question/answer./?

When you're without any inhibitions, you're free.. obviously. But, on MDMA dancing in the night sky. Alone, silence is around you, yet - nothing but everything. You're happy and not, avidly observant, yet devoid of any focus. When you're off of it, you have thoughts of regret. "What did I do last night? Does this mean I'm manically depressed? Do I know myself?" And you wonder of the importance of your analyzing the importance of your own importance. Value.

Do you scare yourself every day, by means of surpassing what you thought you were capable of? How can you fall in love without trying? How can you learn to swim without diving in? How can you dance, without moving? Is it really Mind over Matter? I have loved, I know what it is; I have swam, I know how it feels; I have danced, I've felt its release.

Censored.

And then you wonder, if any one else has the same problem. But what would it matter, you could never tell.

Always

For some reason, when it comes down to smoking weed... I'm cautious about it. I'll only do so when it's with some people I don't care about how they think of me, partly due to me having already been drinking. Also when it's someone like Shane, or Olivia. It just is ultra comfort where there's no longer any reason to be self conscious. We can do nothing or any thing, and it would all be cool and fine.

As for me, I can drink wine most times of day. So I will have a cup of wine. Partly because I have a piece to write for my studio practice, and I just want to sound it all over and through pre- and post- having a cup of wine.

Repetition & Trace

But what does hair signify to you? Why should you feel the need to cut it? Cut down to the basics, down to the skeleton of what you want to get at. These are the things that made me wonder. Why is it such a big deal to cut hair? I know I can. I know I must, but why do I have to wait for it?

I'm truly quite some person whom is so sensitive, and reactive to their environment, sometimes I wonder who I am. If all of my identity is merely how I've seen the world reflect me. Would I ever have liked blue if it weren't for my older brother? Would I have cut my hair short if it weren't for the idea that I'm more gorgeous to men with it on? Do I like myself more with it?

I like feeling my head. I like there being no restrictions on how I would like to express appreciation for myself. I wanted to initially call this piece.. "Hair, cutting." And then after having heard the critiquing of everyone else's titles, I became self doubting, unconfident. I was leaning on to what I had wanted other people to like of it. "Here's the title, I named it this because I thought you all would like it! : ). "

When I caught myself thinking along that line of thought, I became disconnected with what was going on around me. I wasn't that involved in the works of my fellow classmates', but I couldn't focus. What was I doing? I am doing this for me. I can't believe I endeavored to let this hair grow so long - for longer than it should've.

When you wake up after a dream, after a dreadful eternity-like state, after you step out of it you feel taller and above what you had experienced. The hill isn't as big when you look down it. Dualistically I suppose, you must have a hill in order to conquer it. That's why I must be here. It takes two hundred and forty months of life to accumulate to twenty years.

This morning I woke up later than expected for school. Although I was 2 minutes early for class, I took my time this morning. I didn't put my hair up. I let it down to feel the wind. I adored its length and its health. A beautiful shine. But it soon became uncomfortable. In the way. Sticky and moist, stuck onto the back of my neck. A burden was always there. And to think, I would ask people "Hey, do you think I should get rid of this burden? Do you like it? I want to get rid of it!" And they would reply, "Your burden is beautiful. It's gorgeous, and it makes you better and me like you more. Self-loathing is a beautiful thing Kim, and your burden suits you very much."

"Okay." So impassive. I've been so shy lately, less expressive. Less alive. I stop myself from getting angry, I stop myself from getting happy. I stop myself from defending my friends, I stop myself from being friendly. I stop myself from liking myself, and I stop myself from knowing what I want. Or at least listening to what I want in these moments which pass me by, and which is the only time spent alive.

Do I take myself for granted?

As I walk up to the podium, I am shaking. I know I want to draw the attention of their eyes onto the scissors - so I force their attention on it by the sound they make when slammed onto the podium. I don't want to struggle to get up onto the podium, I want to walk up straight, but it is high. Their attention has been brought to the scissors, the sound hopefully still rhythmic in their ears and this gives me the chance to break away and grab a chair I had seen before.

My hands are shaking and I know I want them to hear me exhale; I've been practicing how to calm down all day. The first snip is light and quick, but I can see my knuckles shaking in the light. I want strong hands, but I have to have a strong heart, so I must calm down again, and exhale this bad energy. It's not the cutting that gets me out-of-whack, it's how my hair is still touching me. I can still feel it past my shoulders. I'm so indulgent, I consciously remind myself to slow down and feel the richness of each sound, snap, and release.

The sound gives the movement of the scissors life; the blades run against each other - snapping each individual strand so their sounds coalesce into one singular scream. Over and over. Breathing cries of release. The hair falls softly, and I can see individual strands, float up around me. They are caught by the slightest air movement in this still and dark room. I loved seeing their weightless bodies float around me, beautiful like snow.

My hair was encased within this protective shelter of aesthetics. Although it was beautiful and long and curly, dark and rich, no split ends, no dry spots - it was the most restrictive and unjustifiably praised cap onto my expression. I feared cutting it because it would be short! I would be less pretty and therefore less loved, yet less free.

I then came to my big chunk of hair which I wanted OFF of my head, and my scissors wouldn't give. I had such loathsome feelings towards this chunk of hair, but I loved the effect of the scissors not being able to make it through. Cutting hair can be easy, but why did it feel hard for me to do? As I cut, I let out hate. I feel lighter, I feel in control, and I'm still ever so shaky.

Watching the hair fall was as soothing as watching the waves come in and pull out into the ocean. The subtle rhythm of tug and pull, watching the shiny curved lines fall and then disappear. Seeing my rhythmic creations reflecting light, then go and fade into darkness.

I couldn't help from smiling a little, I was feeling relieved. I knew I was cutting my hair, but I knew I was cutting down to reveal my skeleton. What do I want, do I want to be me, who/what is this Kim Watson?

At times I stretched my shoulders out, to represent this entire release from what ever had bound me before. At times I couldn't help but to breath in as much as I could, it was nice to find an old friend. When I would look down at the chair which place marked where my eyes would meet the projected image's eyes, I couldn't stay in that position for long. It was too angled down to linger, and I had to stand up straight.

By pulling the hair and getting the excess out, I wanted the audience to know that this was also an aggressive and violent act in itself. There were times I would've screamed. But the exhale does do fine, as does the sound of the scissors.

I thought I would switch over the scissors to my right hand, so as to let some hair fall onto the left side of the floor. I tried once but they felt more natural in their original grip. I also saw that I was holding the scissors with my fingers in the wrong loops - but that's the scissor telling me where I should hold them.

I consistently pull at my hair's length. When it's short enough for me to massage my scalp with the palms of my hands, euphoria is felt. Full loving grasps, I've longed for this feeling since it was gone. I let my eyes shut, I want my audience to know that this is where I want to be, and it does feel this good.

After the performance some said it gripped them with angst, and others said it was pride. My hair wasn't hair to me; I did not see it as a true asset. I saw it as a burden, as a sentence. I had to grow out my hair. It was too uncomfortable to let down, too ugly to have it put up, growing it was my own self torture, and depending on others' judgments of its value was making me fricken insane. And very angry.

Cutting my hair, watching it fall, feeling its lift and release from my hands, having my brian see this was dominating. Those whom I felt entrapped by their petty judgments are the ones who entrap themselves. They wouldn't dare to wear socks and sandals as they depend on the world's approval, to instruct them where to go. That was me.

I feel strong. With my hair no longer on my shoulders, I can now pull them back and raise up my clavicles. My neck is longer.

The pre-presenting thought of cutting hair was a dreadful one. I told so many people what I was going to do; I was excited and scared at the same time. Even the live-presentation aspect was disquieting too. How do I carry myself? Can I be serious? What do I want to say? How do I want to feel? My ideas were evolving right up until the exit, when instead of turning to the right, and into the room to the side of the wall being projected, I instead left as I had entered. Stepping my foot down, putting the scissors down, and without even giving it the full respect of a stare, merely turned to it and walk away. I went back around the audience, looking no-one in the eyes, I just needed to hear that door shut.

The one thing that I could've done better, which Anna said, was to not sell my audience short of their reactions. To not doubt myself in how well I could perform, and to not think less or expect lesser of reactions to my performance. She had said that if I had even just walked out of the room and let them sit there to digest what they had just seen, it would've been fine too.

I like that because it meant I actually had something to say, and they had heard it.

I was thinking of naming it "Less".

Kim with many pony tails.

Brain storming for Trace / Repetition

There were 3 ideas at the start.

1. To narrate how to create an ever growing pile of laundry on your bed. / Easy.

2. To hang out with people, collect the ashes from their repetitious smoking, and draw an overall picture of them smoking, with their ashes. / Moderate - Interdisciplinary

3. To coalesce the responses which people give when I say I am going to cut my hair, then to have my ha

ir cut by either these persons, the class, me, or all 3. Then to save the hair in a tupperware container. Easy / yet Moderate / yet Useful / yet a push. Yet nothing at all.

I'm drinking wine right now - and trying to envision this piece. What if, I were angry. Or sad. Or happy... jolly. I really want an audio component. I could video tape myself talking, sending a message to my other account on facebook, and play that through some speakers... yes.

What would I be saying. I would be saying what others have said - I would say what I thought,

I would maybe say why I'm cutting my hair off, or why it's difficult. I may digress, I may end it quick, or have it linger on and on and on.

Should I be drinking?

Could I fake drink?

Yes I could fake drink. I could predrink too, pre drink the empty bottle which I would bring. The trace of me thinking about this, this could even be printed out, or said out loud, or recorded. HOly shit. So many options.

But which one, would have them, or better yet, which one would have me understand what that is I am doing. Is that sentence even correct?

I do like that Video Message Idea.. because I could play it on the speakers behind the class, and then I would be against the wall.. so it'd be.. Me sitting by the wall, then the class.. standing? Should I be elevated? Then the message playing. They would hear the thoughts in my head. I should try not to censor. I censor a lot.

Something too real, that I wouldn't even be able to carry myself the next day. Luckily, I don't have any school on Tuesdays though.

But what you put in, you get out, right?

What goes up, must come down, where there's a will, there's a way! (I typed will instead of 'way' and it sounded redundant and therefore funny.)

Kk

Step by step / Repetition / Trace

0. Ask the class to tie your hair into 5 each strands of ponytails - so as to keep your hair all neat, together, and linear after its cut. (They'll be able to watch the ponytails which they made become separate and lifeless.)

1. Send message to oneself, why / how / about the topic at hand which withholds you, confuses you, you covet. Encouraged to gravitate to the steps which got you there/here in the first place.

2. Play the message which you had previously recorded, set the lights. Start cutting.

If it doesn't fall through, at least my repetition project would be my class mates tying my hair back, and then me having all these pony tails. BAM! Take that Studio practice / Anna, haha.

Anyways, have a good night