Goodbye, 3D!

After three tedious days, the moving process is finally complete. I walked down those three flights of stairs for the final time today. Goodbye squeaky floors. Goodbye green carpet. Goodbye leaky fridge. Hello, HHWW!

There's still a bit of settling and nesting to do, but the moving part is done. My anxiety has been so high for the past three (ok, four) days and so today I'm doing taking it slow. I can finally address those summer classes I've been ignoring during my move.

Goodbye after 3 years.

Guess what I've been doing for the past week?

Packing. I have a lot of stuff, to be sure, but I honestly thought I'd have more. Half of those boxes are kitchen stuff and then another third are books. The books are what make my room seem so cluttered. I can't keep myself from buying more. That's why I got a Nook. Now I don't have to curb my habit, but it will take up a lot less space. Unfortunately, there is no alternative to jigsaw puzzles. I have way too many of those. I'm not exactly sure how many I have, but it's probably in the ballpark of a gagillion. It's pretty bad. And no, I will not give any of them away. Yes, I'm the kind of person who does the same puzzle several times.

The move officially happens tomorrow as I make my way from 10th Street to 4th Street. Of course, the weatherman predicts rain for tomorrow. At least that means it won't be so stifling hot? Wish me luck! I'm strangely excited about a change of scenery. Also, good riddance to those noisy neighbors!

Remembering.

I like to remember things.

(...Wow, what a lame sentence to start with. Duh. Everyone remembers things. How do you expect to have a worthwhile blog with introductory sentences like that? Ok, let's expand on that idea and maybe we can redeem ourselves.)

Sometimes, moments from my past pop into my head and I will spend that next half hour or so just remembering that specific time.

(That's already better!)

Most often, it's places I've been and specific things I've done. For instance, two summers ago I spent a month in LA helping my mom clean out my grandmother's house after she passed away. I didn't really have much connection to that house and it wasn't an enjoyable time being there. Yet, every time I think about it I get this feeling like someone is standing on my chest and I am overwhelmingly sad. I get this feeling a lot when I think about the past. Maybe it's because I will never see that house again. Even if I did, it looks totally different now because new people moved in. That particular aspect of my past (and my mother's past) is gone forever. Maybe that feeling is because that time in my life was very stressful and my anxiety level was high. I had to fly alone for the first time all the way across the country. That alone sent me into an anxiety attack. Also, my poor mom had been in LA for months and was also anxious so that made me anxious.  Maybe remembering that time makes me remember that high level of anxiety.

Anyway, that's not the only time when I get this feeling. Any time I remember something from my past, like past places I've lived or vacations I had, I feel that crushing feeling. Surely I'm not the only one who is painfully reminiscent?

In a similar thread, I am terrified of forgetting things. I mean, our memories are crucial. Without them, it's like we're empty people. Our past is what makes us interesting. Sometimes I forget things that I previously knew so well. Like the address to that house in LA. I could have told you easily a year ago. Now, I can't remember. What if I forget something that only I remember? It's gone.

(Ok, calm down. Sheesh. A few more sentences and you would have gone emo on us! This isn't livejournal! Or that secret diary you keep on your shelf next to the Tolkien!)

The Art of Thank You Notes.

Now that is a beautiful sight. Finally I'm doing another name draft weaving. I've got about 3 or so more inches before I throw in a hem and cut off this beauty. I've really got to talk Robin into letting me weave just once more I have to give up my key. I love this stuff!

In other news, I just had to write thank you notes for graduation gifts. Thank you notes are always awkward. They start out with "hey so-and-so, thanks for the gift!" And then you're like, "crap. What now? I mean, that's the key point here." So, being the internet addicted person that I am, I googled how to write proper thank you notes. Turns out, the way the internet instructs me is the exact way I've been writing them for years. Apparently it's the most trusted formula. Thanks, Mom! I guess my 15 year-old self owes you an apology. Also, I sealed all my envelopes with Hello Kitty stickers. At first I thought to myself, "Leah, you're 23. Shouldn't you be over that phase by now?" Then I reminded myself, "Hell no! I've always loved Hello Kitty and I'm not stopping now!" I've got to stay true to my childlike heart and love of kittens. Childlike isn't a synonym for immature, is it? I'm willing to toe that line.

A Beautiful Sight

This is where I have spent most of my time for the past 2 years:

After this weaving is done, I have to leave the loom room forever. Unless my professor will let me sneak in and do a few more this summer. I have to start saving up for a loom of my own. As Richard said, "once you've known weaving, you can never not weave." So true. Even if I go into a field totally unrelated to art, I have to keep weaving. I love it.

I know that weaving looks weird right now, but wait until I weave the weft in. Pre-woven painted warps aren't my speciality, but I wanted to try it one more time. Also, you'll notice that I used orange! A first! I promised my professor that I would use bright colors just once before I graduated.

You've Been Warned.

This blog will probably be boring. I'm pretty average in all respects. But, this blog may just prove me wrong if I actually take the time to document what I do with my life.

At this moment in my life, I am one summer session away from graduating with my BFA in Textile Art. That means that I have to actually start looking for a real "big girl job". Unfortunately, no one is hiring weavers. Or artists, for that matter. I know what you're thinking. "Why did you get an art degree if you know that there are so few art jobs?' Well, I like art. It's been fun. I haven't had to pull all-nighters writing ridiculous papers or spend weeks cramming for a huge exam. I've actually had fun making lovely things. In the end, one degree isn't that different from another degree. I was once told that it didn't matter what that piece of paper said, as long as I had one. Well, in about a month I will have one.

Now what the hell am I supposed to do now? Anyone need a weaver?