When the world zigs, I ZAG

My car : )

So, I used to be a really bad driver. I've actually gotten better since then, but I am still forced to live with the scars of the sharp turns I took last year (note: I have never been involved in an accident with a moving vehicle). One of the worst accidents I had last year required duct tape. Silver is super boring, so I decided to go with tie dye. Even though it apparently looks funny to passerby, I'm always having the last laugh! Who says your canvas can't be your car?

Joyous driving

I was driving down Greenville Ave., lookin' around, waiting at a light, bored. Then I heard music blasting. It was coming from a car near me. When I looked in that direction, I found this bowm chicka MAMA rockin' out to her tunes. I wish more people were as unafraid to let their voices be heard and their freak dances be seen.

This encounter acts for me as a reminder to try to enjoy every single minute of life. To never waste a second. To appreciate everything. Even things small as songs : )

Optimists be cautioned

I am worried. Not for me, but for my grandchildren and
I am worried that as American’s we have lost our passion and voice.

I am worried that ‘Generation Y’ is not asking the simplest, yet most powerful question ‘Why’, as our predecessors have. 

I am worried that we have the tools for so much, and the restraint for so little.

I am worried that like a young, spoiled child…we need a spanking.  

And like a spoiled child, no one is there to give it to us. That is until we leave our gated neighborhood to realize the rest of the world wants this life more than we do.

I am worried we have seen the best of America.

The amount of guilt we should feel, if we are the generation which allows the slogan, “American made” to sail off into the distant sunrise of the East, is tremendous. 

People sacrificed everything for an opportunity at freedom of speech, something my generation has known nothing different than. 

Rather, my generation gets paid to share opinions and are now surrounded by the constant Tweeting and sharing of thoughts.

We can look up how to make an atomic bomb in under 1-second from our phones, but only have the attention span for ‘LOLcatz’ comics.

In order to increase this focus time, we are prescribed ‘necessary’ amphetamines rather than figure out what makes you want to focus.  It seems we need a change of heart, not a change of policy.   

I am so worried.

A place of hope, a place of joy

I have heard many artists say their creativity comes from a place of pain.

For me, artwork comes from a place of joy, not of suffering.

I am too afraid of unlocking secret hurt with art.

Art is about painting a dream world, the world in which you wish you could exist. It is about escape, not revisiting. It is about letting go, not holding on.

I want endless joy in my life, so that is what my art tends to focus on.

Doodling dreams

One of my in-class doodles- Austin, TX: DREAM CITY

Diversity is not necessarily the first thing that comes to mind when talking about Texas.  But through my two years in the Lonestar state, I have discovered more diversity in a 200-mile radius than I had in my previous 18 years of traveling within the contingent U.S.A. 

Just a 3-hour drive on South I-35 allows you to traverse the state from a cosmopolitan hub to a natural, low-key city built around a college campus and state capital. I find my personality being an intersection of South I-35 as these two cities are able to fulfill both sides of my personality. Not one could do this alone. But if I were smack dab in Waco with my foot on the U-haul truck, I think I would have to go keep truckin' south towards Austin. This is where my heart is. 

Finally something in Greek life that I can get behind: cooler decoration

The side of the cooler: "Bowl for Two" lyrics

A sketch of what will be going on the cooler's front

The cooler's cover

I love giving presents, personalizing things for others, and obviously, I love art. So naturally, the Greek tradition of decorating coolers is one of my favorites. I am not Greek, but my boyfriend is, so I still get to experience a couple things Greek life. What you see above is the cooler I have been slaving over for him for the past semester. Ha... let me reword that: What you see above is the cooler I have been slaving over for my own enjoyment, and for him. Clay (the boyfriend) keeps telling me to stop working so hard on the cooler, that it's already good enough. But what is "good enough" for Clay in this case, is not good enough for me. I have a vision for his cooler, and I intend to see it finished! 

But why continue to work, when the gift's recipient is satisfied? Because I cannot call something that I am doing complete until it has met my standards. Anal-retentive? Maybe to some. A perfectionist? Ok. Determined to see vision come to fruition? Absolutely.


For me ideas are like gold. If you have them, don't waste them. And definitely don't just sit on them. Do something with them, let them appreciate. Also like gold, the more I let information marinate, the better my idea. Auto-thought. It's how I get my best work done.

The Pink Dress Challenge

I have one pink article of clothing, and that is it. I purchased it about three years ago, and it has never been worn.

A shot of my closet. Note the one pink dress

It's not that I don't like pink; pink is a fine color, I guess. It's just that wearing pink, to me, means many more things than just enjoying the color. Pink's supreme association with femininity makes me uncomfortable. During the few times I tried to wear pink, it made me feel vulnerable, like a "dumb girl." I felt like everyone was looking at me, and taking me far less seriously. I felt like "fair game" for all the guys. I did not feel in control, and I definitely did not feel sexy.

When I see other women in pink, I usually admire their ability to rock the color with confidence. I actually wonder what it would be like to be one of those pink-wearing, planner-obsessed girls. So, I did an experiment.

I challenged myself to ONE NIGHT OUT in my one and only pink dress, just to see how it would feel.

Before stepping out on the town in PINK

Getting ready proved a bit more difficult than usual. I tried to add edgier accessories to the dress in order to harden the softer look, but nothing black and spiky looks good with pink unless you're aiming for punk. I am not aiming for punk.

I eventually settled on the ensemble you see above, and left to meet up with my friends. I was nervous walking in the door, as I knew people would react to me wearing pink. Sure enough, everyone freaked out; they couldn't believe they were seeing me in hot, HOT pink!

As the night continued, I relaxed a little bit in my new color. I convinced myself to own it like it was a pair of combat boots. By the time I returned home, I was feeling confident, and feminine, a combination I haven't experienced too much before.

All in all, pink isn't so bad. But, it's not for me. I'm glad I gave it a shot, but why not stick to what I love? Not wearing pink is part of who I am. And I'm not changin' for anyone : )