category: college
Starcraft MemoriesFrom: Diana
Sent: Friday, September 05, 2008 4:13 PM
To: sheryls
Subject: RE: o man
Oh, it was fantastic playing Starcraft with the guys at RCC. We’d go to Kreischer-Compton lab after-hours during the summer, hack the imaged PCs so we could network the game, and play Starcraft in the dark using cloned discs. Jamie would always be the Zerg, and Jamie's Phish-loving friend Josh would always be the Protoss. And I’d always be Human, and there were other people who’d rotate in and out, like Kirkum and Gerbil. But one of the humans would finally get nukes, and launch them at Jamie’s Zerg, and everyone’s computer would calmly say, “Nuclear launch detected.” And Jamie would ALWAYS half-stand up and say, “WHAT THE FUCK?!” And we’d all look for the tiny red dot that tells you where the nuke’s going to land.
Good times. :-D
RCC Commercial, August 2001
I bought a new toy this weekend: a Mini DV camera. Why Mini DV instead of some other format? For the express purpose of getting the above video out to the masses.
This was filmed and edited by Yours Truly during late July and early August of 2001. This video was to be aired on the closed-circuit campus cable channel during and shortly after move-in weekend, for the purpose of educating the on-campus student body Residence Life Staff about the purpose of Residential Computing Connection (RCC).
When I was done editing and distributing the finished product, I did two things. First, I created an "outtake reel" of all the funnies that happened during filming. Second, I output the final commercial onto the end of the source tape, and snagged said Mini DV tape for my own. I've carried that tape around with me for the past six and a half years, waiting to get my hands on a Mini DV camera (or deck).
The first thing I did when I got my new camera home this weekend was hook it up to the HDTV and watch ye olde RCC commercial. I'd forgotten most of the details of the filming, and it was great to see some of my old RCC friends as I remember them. It was also heartwarming to see the late Tim King again, and hear his voice.
I was disappointed to find that I had not, as I had thought, output the outtake reel to tape. Apparently, I only had it on the server, which has (hopefully) long since been replaced and put to pasture. I guess it's a good thing I still have the source material... ;-)
RCC folk, both old and new, are encouraged to comment here or on the Google Video page. I'd love to hear people's reactions almost seven years later.
My Weight History
I got to thinking about the home videos I digitized from back in 1999, and how the first thing that pops into my mind when I see that image of myself is how fat I was. I was 23 years old, in a stable relationship, living with a roommate who had become my best friend, spending the holidays with my family, generally happy overall — and all I can see now, looking back, is my weight.
That's sad on so many levels...
read more...Home On The Range
We go camping at Harrison Lake tomorrow afternoon. Neither myself nor Aaron have been really camping since Scouts back in elementary school 1, so this should be fun.
We've got our s'mores action going on, our new king-size air mattress to go in our never-used dome tent we got as a wedding present back in 2003, our lawn chairs and bug spray and swimsuits and sunscreen and everything (hopefully) to help us get our camping fun on.
I hope this doesn't suck. This is more of a trial run, hence why we're only camping for one night. If we enjoy camping, maybe we'll do it more often. Until we're sure, though, 3pm Sunday through noonish Monday should be a sufficient getaway.
Update, Sunday @ noon: It's been raining since 8am. Chance of scattered thunderstorms all afternoon, all evening, and all night. Prospects aren't looking good... but maybe we'll pack up the car and head out, anyway, to see what Harrison Lake is like. We'll see how things pan out....
1 This, of course, is not including the ill-fated October camping trip of the girls of 2nd floor Kohl Hall back in 1999. Amy and I were the only people with competent fire-building skills, and our RA had to purchase firewood from a neighboring RV camper. An unseasonably warm October turned coats that night, and none of us got any sleep that chilly autumn night. What had started as an "I don't want to *know* if you have alcohol in your tent, *wink-wink*" party night ended as a 5am "Let's get back to the dorm and get some sleep" morning.
Motivation
Back when I was in college, I had a hard time making myself go to class. (Hence that 7-year Bachelors Degree that should have taken four.) Once I got to my Sophomore or Junior year, I started a juvenile but helpful system to reinforce good behavior: I printed out a monthly calendar, with my class schedule listed on each weekday, and stuck a small happy-face sticker on each day where I went to all my scheduled classes. If, by the end of the week, I had happy-face stickers on every day, I would stick a large "Special Sticker" to the calendar as a reward and a reminder that I had succeeded for that week. Sometimes it would be a sticker of my own, but sometimes my roommate Amy would present me with my Special Sticker for the week, if she was duly impressed.
As I recall, I rarely got Special Stickers -- maybe once a month, if that. Even so, the sticker system really did help me go to more classes. I'd look at my calendar and remind myself that if I could just make myself sit through [insert pointless 2:30 class here], I'd get my sticker for the day. Seems silly, but it worked. Even when I didn't get a Special Sticker for the week, I could see the classes I'd ticked off on each day and say, well, I was only one class away from a Special Sticker this week!
Well, with me trying to focus on only a few things at a time these days, I decided that I would revisit the calendar-sticker strategy. I have a calendar by my desk with a list of daily to-do items: work on my portfolio, follow up with job apps, do one daily chore, wash dishes, walk for 45 minutes, and aikido once a week. I've pruned back a little, since I wasn't able to do everything I wanted to do in an evening -- now I'll either work on my portfolio or follow up on a job app, for instance, but not both. Yet, I hadn't gotten a daily sticker after over a week of trying my new-old system of reinforcement.
Last night, I looked at my daily list, and realized that I just had to do a daily chore and I'd get a sticker. So, pretty late at night, by the time I should have been having my Quiet Time and getting ready for bed, I cleared the remainder of the crap out of the suitcase that's been sitting by my bed for two months, put it away, and counted my chore complete. Yay, sticker!!
Sure, it seems small and silly and childish... but, if it works, I'm all for it. It shouldn't have been such an impetus ten years ago, either, but it was. It's all part of taking joy in the small things, I suppose.
After I finish my new portfolio and secure a new job, I can shift to a new focus: writing, or genealogy, or whatever strikes my fancy in another month or so. Then I'll set myself another reachable goal, lay out daily mini-goals like I have now, rinse and repeat. Eventually, I shouldn't need my sticker system to keep me focused on-task. That's the hope, anyway.
Goodbye, Saddlemire
Courtesy of the BG News: University says farewell to Saddlemire
This was the building where I bought my books every semester. This was the building where I sold those same books back every semester. This was the building that was supposedly shaped like a slide projector.
Apparently, the Saddlemire Student Services Building is being demolished, in preparation for an addition to the theater department. I'll grant the theater department that they could use some more space, that's for sure. An additional 500-seat theater, among other facilities, will definitely be a welcome addition to campus.
Still, though... it's weird, watching my university change over time. Granted, it's all for the better, but it's still unsettling.
Smells Like Spring
I realized just now that the smell of spring reminds me of living off-campus during the summers at BGSU. Particularly, the upstairs apartment/duplex on Troup Street, across from the TV station. The one with the unusually short screen door that Aaron would bash his head on every damn weekend. That was the summer of... 2000, I believe.
Of course, this same spring breeze also reminds me of sitting on the porch swing of my efficiency apartment back in 1999; or laying on the top bunk of a borrowed futon-loft in the room I rented in 1998, at 2am with the window open. Spring, to me, smells like standing alone, feeling grown-up, being responsible, but without feeling the weight that true responsibility carries.
Someday, when different memories are fresh in my mind, maybe spring will smell like something else to me — gardening, or travelling, or having the kids home from school. That's a long way off, though.
The smell of spring makes me feel alive, like something new and different is around the corner, and I'm not quite sure why. Maybe it's because I prefer warm spring weather over the cold of winter, or because spring means the daylight hours are longer, or because spring meant the end of school for so many of my formative years. Or maybe it's simply because the greenery finally makes its appearance.
At any rate, this 60-plus-degree weather is fantastic... even though I know it won't last the week.
Dr. Timothy D. King, 1949-2007
Timothy D. King 57, of Bowling Green, Ohio died Friday (February 9, 2007) at Wood County Hospital. He was born July 3, 1949 in Cheverly, Maryland to Thomas & Annie (Kilburn) King. He was married to Patricia (Brown) on December 19, 1970; they were married for thirty years.read more...He is survived by his sons, David (Hillary) of Chicago and Brian of Denver; daughter, Ellen King of Bowling Green; former wife and close friend Patricia; brother, William (Patty) of Piedmont, Ca.; and special friend Carol Berman of Orchard Park, N.Y.
Mr. King was the Associate Director of Residence Life at B.G.S.U. He received his BA from Macalester College, Master's (1973) & PHD (1978) from the University of Minnesota. He was a leader with Cub Scout pack #358 and a member of the Maumee Valley Unitarian Universalist Congregation. He was an avid cook, a loving father and was known throughout the community for his generosity and witty humor.
(read the full obituary at Dunn Funeral Homes)
For Diana's Listening Pleasure
I found out pretty early on in our relationship that Aaron was a big music fan. We went to Ann Arbor for our third date, a triple-date with Mary/Drew and Heather/Garza. Aaron definitely tended to gravitate toward the record stores while we were there, and was bummed that he didn't have more money to spend on records (especially since I was jobless and had made him pay for my lunch at Amer's). So, naturally, I was curious about the music he was listening to, as I had never heard of ANY of it.
Before Spring Break, he made me a mixtape. The spine of the insert read: "For Diana's Listening Pleasure: selections from Aaron's CD collection." On the tape were the following songs:
Side A:
- Wally Pleasant - Stupid Day Job
- Sugar - Your Favorite Thing
- Frank Black - Fazer Eyes
- Catherine Wheel - I Want To Touch You
- Pure - Lemonade
- Mighty Mighty Bosstones - Someday I Suppose
- Ash - Jack Names The Planets
- Jon Spencer Blues Explosion - Blue X Man
- Pixies - All Over The World
- Man or Astro-Man? - Sferic Waves
- Sebadoh - Magnet's Coil
Side B:
- Dirty Three - Better Go Home Now
- Folk Implosion - Lo-Fi Suicide
- Pavement - Give It A Day
- Clutch - Big News I
- Henry Rollins - Breaking Up Is Hard To Do
- Rollins Band - Right Here Too Much
- The Amps - Tipp City
- Afghan Whigs - Debonair
- Sentridoh - Perfect Excuse
- 24 Gone - Girl Of Colours
- Sugar - Explode And Make Up
I listened to this tape nonstop during my week of Spring Break in Parma, so much so that my step-Gary would often get up without saying a word and just hit the stop button on my boom box, then quietly sit back down again.
Over the years, I continued to listen to this tape. This tape was so much a staple of my listening repertoire that I frantically performed cassette tape surgery with scotch tape when it got caught in my aging boom box. After that, I hesitated to play it very often, just in case the Afghan Whigs would get caught in the heads of my tape player again. I eventually stored the tape away with my other tapes, listening instead to the follow-up tapes of Rollins spoken word and Sugar and 24 Gone and Afghan Whigs and Catherine Wheel.
A few weeks ago, I unearthed the tape from a box in the bottom of a closet, and spent a couple of days hunting down digital versions of the mixtape songs. And now, I'm sharing all 100MB of 90's goodness with you:
[music_sampler.zip - 103MB]
I didn't include the Rollins spoken word, but everything else is there, in the exact version I have on tape. (Note: Three files are in iTunes .m4a format; the rest are mp3s.)
I now have this set up as a playlist on my iPod. Funny how things change. Funny how all things old are new again.
You Asked For It...
...And here it is. A sampling of photos taken during the Spring of 1996, hosted on Flickr as a photoset. These photos feature myself, Mary, Liz, Heather, Garza, Drew, Steve, and Aaron. Last names have been omitted to protect the innocent and those currently in the teaching profession. :-)
Feel free to comment either here or on Flickr. Feel free to sign up for your own free Flickr account and upload your own photos of our craziness! The more, the merrier.
Update, 9:45pm: As for a Where Are They Now sort of thing, I just wanted to mention that Steve appears to be an instructor at Ohio Technical College (as revealed by a Google search). This was as of June 2005.
Update: 10:00pm: Further Googling reveals that Liz was a grad student in theater design at the University of Louisiana at Monroe in the Fall of 1999. I believe I already knew that at some point, though, as I once found her e-mail address and contacted her, only to be smacked down with a "I hate that all my old friends are happy" e-mail. I haven't been able to find any more recent information about Liz.
Ten Years Ago Today
In the Spring of 1996, I had just returned to BGSU after a semester of Academic Suspension. I was assigned to live in Rodgers Hall, and my randomly selected roommate was Mary.
This is important. Follow this.
Mary was attending BGSU because she had followed her boyfriend, Andrew, up from the University of Dayton. Andrew was originally from Toledo and had returned there after he had — flunked out? Quit? My memory isn't quite sure of which. At any rate, he came home and his girlfriend came along, to be near him. And I was rooming with her.
Mary had recently gone to a party where a couple of Andrew's high school buddies were in attendance. Apparently, she had told one of the guys that he dressed like he was gay. This, of course, had pissed the guy off, and made him not want to be at any parties with his buddy's girlfriend anymore.
When Mary found out about my parentage (can girls be bastards?), she remembered an amusing anecdote about the young man she'd offended, and how he had mentioned that he needed to find a girl without a father. She decided to hook us up, kind of as an apology for telling him he dressed gay. At Mary's request, Andrew gave her Aaron's e-mail address to give to me.
And the rest is history. ^_^
Ten years ago today, I wrote about this new boyfriend of mine, and what we did and how I felt. I was fairly graphic, as I didn't want to forget any single moment, so there will be some judicious editing of explicit things that I (and Aaron, I'm sure) would not be comfortable sharing with the internet.
As a final aside before I get into the journal entry: at this point in my life, I still considered myself Mormon, but inactive. I was, in fact, a virgin, and I am not at ALL ashamed to admit that. Aaron, on the other hand, was totally wanting some nookie (by our third date), but got derailed when I told him that I was a Mormon and didn't have sex. Yet.
So, with all the backstory out of the way, on with our story:
read more...BGSU Alumni: How do I know this name?
The name sounds familiar, but the face — even the older, early-to-mid 90s pictures — really doesn't ring a bell. I've been going through his site and his archives, trying to decide if he had a younger sibling, or if I just heard his name somewhere. Did he write for the BG News? Was he in band? Did I hear his name because he worked for UCS / ITS (University Computing Services, which later became Information Technology Services)?
He went to BGSU between 1992 and 1997, and went to St. John's before that. —Aaron? Is this one of your St. John's cronies I've heard spoken of? Maybe that's it.
Anyway, I know I've heard this person's name before, and it's driving me nuts.
Lachesis
One afternoon in early September 1999, shortly after we moved back into Kohl Hall for our third year as roommates, Amy and I discovered this interloper living just outside our window. We named her Lachesis, after one of the Fates (Clotho, the weaver; Lachesis, who measured the cloth; and Atropos, who cut the thread — rightfully, she should have been Clotho, but Lachesis just sounded cooler).
We and Lachesis lived in harmony for at least a week, until one morning she and her web had vanished. Amy and I maintain that she must have been power-washed off of our windowsill.
College Weirdness
As I was rifling through a box of old papers the other day, I came across some amusing documentation of college that hadn't yet made it into a scrapbook: the never-completed Amy & Diana FAQ, circa 1997, for all those fluffies in the dorm who wondered aloud outside our dorm room door what the fuck we were all about; The Rules of Life, also circa 1997, recorded as necessary on a piece of notebook paper just inside our dorm room door; and All The Rooms In Hell, recorded on a piece of notebook paper next to The Rules of Life.
These snippets of my bizarre college life I will now share with you.
read more...Hunter S. Thompson, 1937-2005
LOS ANGELES (Reuters) - Hunter S. Thompson, a renegade journalist whose "gonzo" style threw out any pretense at objectivity and established the hard-living writer as a counter-culture icon, fatally shot himself at his Colorado home on Sunday night, police said. He was 67.Thompson's son, Juan, released a statement saying he had found his father dead from a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head at the writer's Owl Creek farm near Aspen.
Thompson, famed for such adrenaline-packed narratives as "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas," turned his drug and alcohol-fueled clashes with authority into a central theme of his work, challenging the quieter norms of established journalism in the process.
I'd never even heard of Hunter S. Thompson before that Fantasy Lit class that Amy and I took back in... '97? '98? Anyway, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas was on our reading list when we first bought our books for the semester, although we weren't slated to actually read it until much later in the syllabus.
I remember Aaron coming into the dorm room Amy and I shared, and seeing my copy of Fear and Loathing sitting atop a stack of books—probably on the floor, rather than on my desk. I think his first exclamation was, "Have you read that?!" When we answered that it was on our reading list for later in the semester, he asked if he could borrow it. Sure, no problem. Enjoy. I figured it must be a pretty good book if Aaron was that excited about checking it out, even if it was required reading.
Boy, was I right.
I loved that Fantasy Lit class: we got to read a lot of books that one wouldn't generally consider "fantasy," including Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, some ill-received Robert Blake poetry, The Time Machine by H.G. Wells, and, of course, Fear and Loathing. And, since Amy and I were taking the class together, we got to have our own discussions about the books before the class discussions, which made things a little more interesting. Not that the class discussions weren't interesting in themselves, with the enlightened yet pleasantly cynical Brit, Iain, running the class.
Anyway, once we finally got to read Fear and Loathing, we understood why Aaron was so excited to read it himself. Thompson's state of mind, his imagery, and his surprisingly lucid thoughts on society in general really drew us in. I'd say that was one of my favorite books I read that semester.
Shortly thereafter, we heard that there was going to be a movie made from the book. We decided it would be worth seeing, even though there's no way they could possibly capture all the fantastic imagery and weird trips—and Johnny Depp was playing Hunter S. Thompson? Oh, boy.
Again, we were in for a surprise.
It turned out to be a great movie, using cinematic tricks and CG and fantastic acting to portray the book as near-perfect as a book-to-movie translation could possibly be. Years later, Aaron now owns the Criterion Edition of the DVD, in addition to having downloaded several of Thompson's Spoken Word shows.
So, Hunter S. Thompson, I salute you. I wish you would have told us why you felt the need to finally give in to your self-destruction, though—maybe left us one last note in your classic gonzo style, telling us why you thought you had to escape this fucked-up place.
This sucks.
Merry Christmas 2001
As I was digging through old VHS tapes, I found a tape of this-n-that from my Media 100® workshops and video classes. I watched through it, just for shits and giggles... and then I found a video I'd forgotten I'd made.
Back in 2001, I was about to graduate college, living in an apartment on my own, and I was really broke. That Christmas was a creative one, mainly making gifts for my family and friends instead of buying them. And, for Amy, I made a video of our four-year Reign of Terror at BGSU. I didn't have time to copy it for her; I barely managed to squeak enough lab time to create the video and drop it to tape in the first place. But, when she came to visit and exchange presents, I showed it to her.
Then, tonight, I found it again.
So, now that we have a capture card, I am encoding it and posting it here for your viewing pleasure. Amy, of course, will enjoy it the most... but I think most of you will certainly appreciate it.
small version (10.2MB) | large version (33.5MB)
The Bad Old Days
I've been spending my breaks and lunches at work thinking about my novel / story / whatever, scribbling down one-page scenes and ideas and such. My main plot is currently being overshadowed by my romantic subplot, since I don't know yet how to really get into the thick of my main plot. I've figured out how it goes at the end, pretty much, but I don't know how my protagonist manages to even get into the seedy underworld he needs to in order to solve the mystery, much less how he ends up actually solving it.
So, anyway, I came up with a romantic subplot, one that strengthens the other subplots involving my MC's ethnic heritage and his morality and why he's at university, et cetera. This subplot involves playing one woman against another—or, at least, neglecting one woman while thoroughly enjoying another's company, then feeling like a total ass about it and not knowing how to rectify the situation.
In order to give myself some perspective on how it feels to be in such a situation, I pulled out a couple of my old journals. It wasn't something I was looking forward to, because those times in my life were some of the worst and most stressful and depressing times I've ever experienced... but I figured that remembering how that felt would improve the believability of my writing.
Flashback: Spring semester, 1995. I was such a ho. Not literally, of course, and perhaps not in the view of others; but even looking back on it now, I agree that I was quite the virgin ho. During this semester, I "went out" with four guys (not including Ted, aka "Mr. Winkie"). And, yes, all four (or five) of these guys I met on the BGSU IRC. All names and nicks will be withheld to protect the innocent and the guilty stupid.
Guy #1 was seven or eight years older than me, quite the Christian boy—and, like me, had never french-kissed before. He just had too many mental issues, though, and was even more socially inept than I was (and, honestly, his face wasn't very aesthetically pleasing). We ended up being "just friends" after not going much farther than kissing.
Guy #2 was my age, and was really the Boyfriend Starter Kit for me. Unfortunate, though, as the thing I most remember about him at that time was that he thought my shoes were ratty. At the time, all we really did was look over each other's academic papers and make out. After a month, he decided that he didn't have time for a relationship, and we decided to be "just friends."
Guy #3 was the bassist in a local college band, and pretty much ended up being a fuck-buddy (minus the actual fucking). Every few days we'd get together, be silly with a friend or friends, then he and I would go up to his room and have make-out-like-monkeys time. This was usually either prefaced or concluded with him sticking his socky old feet in my lap while he played his guitar. And I liked it.
After Spring Break, Guy #3 "broke up" with me over IRC, saying he had been interested in another girl for a good three weeks before he and I had gotten together. Unfortunately for him, this other girl didn't want anything to do with him, but he wasn't giving up the chase. Strangely enough, even though our relationship was mainly physical, that breakup really shook me bad—for about an hour, that is, until Guy #2 showed up (in person, not over IRC) and we ended up deciding to have an "open relationship." Confusing, but still not entirely bad.
Not even two days later, Guy #4 enters the scene. Slightly older than me, more mature than the other types I'd been seeing, and the first to really make my heart do a little pitter-patter. I had more in common with him than with Guys #1 through 3, and I figured... hell, Guy #2 wants to see other people, so here I go, seeing other people. Only thing is, after several hours-long dates and hours-long phone calls, Guy #4 admitted that the only thing that would really piss him off would be cheating.
So much for the open relationship with Guy #2.
Guy #4 was SO much cooler than him. I ended up totally blowing off Guy #2, never calling him, never e-mailing him, in favor of Guy #4. Until Guy #2 called and wanted to go to Cosmo's with me. I was so torn, and I felt so bad for doing this, but at the end of the evening, I told Guy #2 all about Guy #4 and how he made me feel. And Guy #2 was surprisingly understanding about the whole thing. Agreed to remain friends. Even gave me some friendly advice, telling me that if Guy #4 had a problem with me having guy friends, then he was just a pain in the ass and he wasn't worth it. I agreed with that.
Not even a week later, Guy #2 declared that he wanted me back. Which confused the shit out of me. And we were both horny bastards, so I let him spend the night in my room. (Incidentally, neither of my Freshman year roommates actually *lived* in our room.) That little fling really cemented the fact that I preferred Guy #4 over Guy #2, though. Their personalities and styles were just so different, and I knew who I preferred.
Not even a week after *that*, Guy #4 told me (over IRC) that he wasn't ready for a relationship.
Good grief.
So, to avoid dragging this whole soap opera out any longer, here's the Reader's Digest Condensed Version of the rest: I told Guy #2 what happened—and after some "am I only second best?" rhetoric, we agreed to "try to make it work." I went to Guy #4's frat party as a "friend," and had to correct everyone who asked if I was his girlfriend. Guy #3 managed to make a repeat appearance during the last night of the semester when I agreed to one last make-out session in my room "for old times' sake."
Then I spent the summer in drumcorps, and the fall at home in Parma under Academic Suspension. When I finally returned to BGSU, I learned that Guy #2 had gotten himself another girlfriend without having the decency to break up with me first. No big loss, though, as it left me unfettered during the pivotal Spring 1996 semester (when I met Aaron).
Why am I spilling my guts like this? Good question. It's actually kind of awkward, now that I think about it, though it's also a touch cathartic. Getting in touch with my former ho-ness, all for the sake of my art.
Point being, in the end, that between all the crazy, fucked-up feelings I had that semester, I can certainly remember one that would be appropriate to what my main character will be feeling when he realizes that he's cheated on his girlfriend back home.
website update
Why won't my LJ client upload my entry?! Gah. Must resort to posting from the LJ website.
Anyway, just so y'all know...
- my LJ is now integrated into the.details
- my gardening section is now up
- the photos from the U-Haul moving debacle aftermath are posted
And here's a little something for Sheryl.
Bye Bye, Blue...
Step one of the website overhaul is accomplished: I have changed the color palette for the entire damn site. It doesn't have as much contrast as the last version, and I may have to do something about that. The dynamic contrast was what kept the site visually interesting for me, despite some sub-par header graphics from time to time, and I'll miss that if I don't re-implement it somehow.
My Mom always used to say to me, before I would go out with my friends, "Just remember who you are and where you come from." At the time, it was a pleasantly sappy way for Mom to remind me to be good, and I took it as such. Remember, people know you're a Mormon, and are watching you, so don't mess up. That sort of thing. But recently, I find I've forgotten Mom's advice (which, incidentally, was given to her as a youth by Memaw). I frequently forget who I am: web designer, amateur photographer, et cetera, and how I got to be where (and who) I am today. It's not until I get into conversations with people who don't know who I really am that I remind myself.
There's a guy at work, name's Mike, newest member of our department (about a month newer than me, though he's worked for Sky longer). I think some people think him simplistic or goofy or whatnot, but I find him pleasant and honest and funny and forthright, which is refreshing in the corporate environment. He's maybe a couple few years younger than me, I'd guess. Anyway, we always end up taking our morning break at the same time: around 9:45am, I'll go into the break room to read whatever book I've brought with me that day—and shortly thereafter, Mike will come in to buy his can of Mountain Dew. We don't plan it that way, and it doesn't always coincide like that... but when it does, Mike's quite the talker. :-)
Today, through a series of random topic changes, we managed to start talking about my time at BGSU. I'd mentioned that I had supervisory experience, but that I was no good at disciplining employees (Sheryl... ahem). He asked about my job there, and I explained how I moved up through the ranks of RCC, from peon to supervisor, but had to leave when I graduated. Mike was surprized and amused that I knew more about computers than I'd let on. (When at Sky did I have the opportunity to flaunt my computer skills, I wonder?) He wanted to know why I never tried to get into the techie programming section of Sky, and I had to explain that I'm more of a designer than a programmer. I ticked off the media qualifications I got with my VCT degree: web design, photography, multimedia, video, print...
And I remembered who I was and where I came from. And I was ashamed that I had forgotten.
OMG Gibby...
Ahh... sitting at my computer—no, make that my computers—listening to mp3's, with Outlook Express open, posting to my LJ. Cheerfully ignoring my external Mac CD burner giving me a tracking error; remaining happy nevertheless. Trying to decide what to work on next. Thrilling in the quick response of mouse and keyboard and a two-point-something GHz processor.
So, work has been so slow that I've been frequenting all the news sites: CNN, MSNBC, ABC News, Channel 13 out of Toledo. See, news sites are allowed, while blogging is not. Amanda almost got canned when she tried it, but only because our supervisor saw and tattled on her. Not from any sort of monitoring, which makes me feel a little better.
Anyway, I found an article that you might find... intriguing. About binge drinking and its effect on brain functions. An excerpt reads:
Brain scans show clear damage, and tests of reading, balance and other function show people who drink more than 100 drinks a month have some problems, the researchers said.
Now, this might seem like a lot, but think about it in terms of college party-goers. One hundred drinks a month equals out to 25 drinks in a weekend. For the average college student (of the heavy partying variety), the "weekend" consists of Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights. Heavy binge drinking would then be about 8 or 9 drinks in a night. That's completely within the realm of possibility. That's about how much I drank at my bachelorette party, although I can count on one hand how many times I've been that drunk. Some people really do get that trashed every weekend, though (and Amy and I used to live nextdoor to some of them in the dorms).
Doesn't this explain some things?
"Oh my God, Gibby, we're not brain damaged! Why won't you wake up? You're passed out in your own vomit!"
Ah, the memories...
Staying Current
While updating my online portfolio, I sifted through my old VCT projects and located my Director portfolio from 2001. What fun! I'd forgotten that I knew how to do cool things. Shit was changing color, flying around the screen, zooming in and out — and I'd made some cool-ass icon graphics to illustrate. I made them! I didn't steal them. Sure, some of the stuff didn't work, and you could tell where I started running out of time to complete the project, because objects on-screen didn't do as many cool things anymore, and there were some flubbed links to movies and such... but, damn, I forgot that I knew something cool!
Pathetically enough, whenever I think of cool things I've managed to throw together, my thoughts usually turn to Tim Schavitz. Yeah, yeah, I know... I shouldn't have to compare myself to anyone... but sometimes, you just need a yardstick to measure up with. Back in college, when I felt like academia was dragging me down, and my lack of creativity was dragging me down, Tim was one of the only design influences who pulled me up.
He and I had enough classes together during my last year at BGSU that we compared notes and fed off of each other. ...OK, truth is, I fed off of him. He was everyone's starchild, and rightly so, although he'd deny it if given the chance. Anyway, we'd look at other people's projects, and critique them privately amongst ourselves, and wonder in amazement at how many of our classmates were sub-par designers (though, in retrospect, given the VCT curriculum and focus, it's not surprizing).
Among what you would expect from design students — that is, lumping VCT students in with Graphic Design students — I'd have given most VCT students in our general age range at the time a 4 out of 10. Myself, I'd give a 7 out of 10. Tim, 9 out of 10. Most Intro Graphic Design students and Typography students I studied with, I'd give them a 6 or 7 out of 10. Some rated a 5, some rated an 8 or 9. Graphic Design students just seemed more immersed in design than VCT students, who were more immersed in the mechanics and process of "how" than the overall plan and scheme of "what." Like Sean used to say, you can't make chicken salad out of chicken shit. You need good ideas, good media, good footage, to produce a good product. Ideally, anyway.
Usually at this point in the "I suck and I should be destroyed" rant, Aaron (or whoever's handy) will smack me around and say, "You don't suck! Look at the shit I made! Now that sucks!" Very well. I will accept your compliments with thanks, and continue with my rant.
So, looking back on all this — my Director portfolio, my designs, my wares in general — I have decided that I need to find more foo-foo projects to embark upon, to sharpen my skills. Now, Tim used to do this all the time, making funky Flash stuff that didn't really mean anything too deep, or do anything too amazing, but it was cool to look at and probably fun to make. With that in mind, I sought out a source of design inspiration... and came up frighteningly short. All the old, bleeding-edge style that used to make our entire group of self-proclaimed VCT Elite spontaneously mess in our drawers — that stuff just doesn't do it for me anymore. 2advanced, meh. I'm having a hard time finding anything that takes my designer's breath away these days. And if I can't find it, if I can't even identify what it would be, how am I to produce it?
Links I've found to mildly get my juices flowing:
+ Designs by Mark (great Photoshop tutorials)
+ THREE.OH: Digital Design Journal
+ We're Here: Intelligent Design & Development
+ The Shodown Forum: Graphics & Web Dev
P.S. - I know I had another weird dream last night, but I forgot it before I could write it down.
