I will keep this brief, because I am attempting to be asleep before 2 am (a task I have been epic failing at all week).

Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Latte, even with Soy milk, isn’t vegan (the syrup has milk in it).  So…dammit.  But thank the good lord above for soy eggnog.  And the fact that I’m baking a pumpkin pie next week, just because….well, why ON EARTH not?

I am contemplating what I want to do for Thanksgiving this year, as I think I’d like to avoid the family thing (and actually, haven’t spent it with blood relations for the last 2 years…so maybe that should be my new tradition.  Stay at home, eat some seitan and paint a pretty picture of a living turkey.  Oh, and I can stay in my pajamas and watch movies.)

I kinda hit on a Top Chef contestant (from a few years back) tonight at an art show opening, to no avail.  Epic fail #2.

Project Organization and Decoration of Allison’s Tiny Studio is going swimmingly…I’ve gotten a few new items (all given to me by excessively generous friends and loved ones) who needed to get rid of  them anyways…This place is slowly but surely becoming the dream home I always wanted for myself, ever since I first started living by myself (even though it doesn’t have a full kitchen or a bathtub, but…eh).  Pictures will come soon.

Oh, and while aimlessly surfing Facebook, I came across one of those 25 Random Things About Me things I wrote in February.  And this one caught my eye:

8. I’ve recently learned that my warm nature and open heart are often misconstrued as “desperation” or even “easy”, both in friendship and dating. It is very frustrating, and I’m starting wonder if I have to become a colder person just to gain people’s respect.

The more things change, the more they stay the same.  However:
15. I got 99 problems but a bitch aint one.

Well, I have some work cut out for me.

I went to see a counselor at school today to figure out my next steps now that I know what I want my major to be.  I’ve already started my pre-requisites to get into Graphic Design 1, and have completed 2 of my gen. ed courses (over the course of a year and a half, go me!*insert sarcasm here*)

The majority of graphic designers I have met only have Associate degrees (AA).  You can usually break into the field with just that (depending on what area you want to work in, obviously), so I have been considering just getting my AA, so I can actually get started doing what it is that I want to do (after working for 6 years at dead end jobs, I don’t know how much longer I can do that for.), and THEN deciding whether I want to continue on and get my bachelors.  Because you need an AA to transfer anyways, right?

WRONG.

Apparently, only certain community colleges do it that way, lay out the credits and course so that everyone who transfers “graduates” with an AA.  My friends Elaine and Geo both graduated from PCC with an AA, and then transferred to CSUN immediately for their bachelors.  But at LAVC (my college), it doesn’t work that way.  Either you do “Plan A” (a general education certificate for transfer to a Cal State) or “Plan B” (an associate degree).  There is no Plan C.

So I have to do both.

Basically, if I want to enter into the field I want to work in before getting my bachelors, I’ll need to complete what is needed for an AA, in addition to my transferrable credits.  Which means more work (about 16 more units).  Luckily, I can craft my curriculum so that most of the “general ed” courses I take can fulfill both.  But it also means a lot of extra work in the art and media design field to get my AA, about half of which are classes I will have to take AGAIN when I go to CSUN (if that is where I end up going, though it is looking more and more that way, because they are nearby and have a good graphic design program).

I COULD just wait to get my bachelors.  But I can’t.  As it is, I don’t know how long its going to take me just to get my AA.  I’m 24 years old.  It’s taken me this long to decide what I want my focus to be (hell, I didn’t even go back to school until I was 22).  I have few regrets in regards to the choices I have made or the path that life has taken me.  It has made me who I am, and being older and wiser, doing well in school means SO MUCH MORE to me than it would have when I was 18, 19, 20.  I also have years of work experience that many of my peers do not.  Even today, it’s amazing how many people my age need help crafting a resume, or looking for an apartment, or even learning how to cook for themselves.

But regardless, now that I DO know…I want to get going already.  And if that means extra work…then so be it, it means extra work.  And as for the bachelors…part of it is making more money down the line, but mostly?  I just want to be the most well rounded person I can be, and getting a bachelors degree will help that.

After my meeting, I went to Financial Aid to follow up on my grant paperwork.  Because I had a shaky start when initially going back to school (signing up for a heavier courseload than I could handle and dropping a course, and then getting a D in Art History later that year, when my brain was just…not in a school mindset), I have to write an appeal.  In addition, I somehow made too MUCH money last year (even while being out of work for 4 months), so I have to fill out paperwork so they can adjust it.

(Excuse me while I rant for a minute:  After the age of 24, you are considered an independent.  Before that, even if you live on your own, don’t get financial help from your parents, nada, they still base any financial aid on what your parents make, which is moronic.

Now, as I am 24, they WILL consider me an independent, but because I made a living wage, I’m being penalized.  Which pisses me off, because they don’t factor in rent, bills, etc.  Therefore, the OTHER 24 + students who still live with mommy and daddy, and only work 10 hours a week because they don’t NEED to, will qualify for the aid.  It is exceptionally unfair, and really pisses me off.  And LAVC is FILLED with these people.  they are the same girls that walk into class a 1/2 hour late, and spend the whole time talking to their firiends.  Maybe this is unfair on my part, to lump people in.  I just wish financial aid would factor in rent and general cost of living IN LOS ANGELES in a realistic fashion).

Whats funny about all of this is, usually, when faced with a looming goal, I get really stressed out.  About how it is too much, how am I going to be able to do it all, etc etc.  But I now have a clearer idea of what it is I need to do.  And that makes me oddly serene.

I’m a genius.  That is all.

(However, NOT when it comes to computer hardware or refrigerators, both of which have decided to stop working properly RIGHT when I have no income to pay for repairs.  Dammit.)

Sometimes when I can’t sleep…

I climb onto my couch and peruse my bookshelves, trying to decide what I want to read.  I have 20 + books that I have yet to read, about half of them non-fiction…but yet none of them seem to be calling to me.  Subsequently, I end up pulling 8 titles from my shelves that I’m going to try and sell at The Iliad tomorrow (and will try VERY hard to choose cash over the store credit).  I have a hard time getting rid of my books, even after I’ve already read them, and know that I will most likely never read them again.  When I was younger, my book purchases were entirely at the whim of my parents, so maybe once a month I would get a new book, which i would of course, devour immediately.  When going to the library, I would walk out with a STACK of books, which would sit in a stack by my bed, a comfort…that after I finished this book, there would be 7 others just WAITING for me.

My bookshelves currently span a little more than half of my widest wall (they have recently grown again, after a couple more wine crates became available for me.  I now have 13 crates, and approx 18 “cube spaces”, in addition to my other bookshelf that was already built into the wall before I moved in.).   Them being filled with books is a security blanket, something that makes me happy just looking at it.  I would much rather look at a wall of books everyday than a particularly pretty paint color, or a framed poster.  My dream for the longest time was to live in a home where one whole wall was just bookshelves (like those distinguished New York apartments you see in movies and television)

Also, I greatly enjoy lending my books to people. When a new friend comes over and see my bookshelves, if they are any sort of a reader, their eye usually picks a title and inquires about it. Nothing gives me more pleasure than lending a friend a book (though, on occasion, I fail to get it back, either because we lose touch, or I forget. I should probably start writing these things down). I know that when I enter someone’s home, I immediately look at their books.

But, like I said…I have issues with getting rid of them. Its selfish, I know. regardless, I did pull about 8 books that I will try to sell, because, well…I need the money. Sure, I enjoyed Stephen King’s “Pet Sematary”, but I’m not a huge King nut, and it’s not his best. Now, “It”, however? The only book I have ever read that made me genuinely afraid to fall asleep. I’m keeping that. I also have a couple indulgent “chick-lit” novels that I bought several years ago, and have re-read occasionally when I wanted to read something but wanted to give my brain a break. I’m getting rid of those (but keeping Pamela Ribon’s books, because I love her and have been following Pamie.com for years).

Books like “Suite Francaise” I probably won’t read again…but I like having it there. It was a bit more difficult to read, and having it on my shelf is sort of a…reminder that I did, in fact, finish it. And then I have books like “Pride and Prejudice”, “Franny and Zooey”, and a book on the history of candy, all of which I have started and stopped several times. But I keep them, I remain hopeful…and someday I will actually finish them(“Rebecca” by Daphne Du Maurier was one of those books, that I have been trying to finish since 8th grade, and I finally read and finished earlier this year).

Wow, i just spent an hour writing about my BOOKSHELVES. I should really go to bed.  But dammit, I still haven’t decided what I want to read…

A discussion about marijuana between 2 non pot smokers:

Tera : I mean if you’re gonna have a vice, at least there’s a large amount of artists who were alcoholics.
There’s an entire art around drinks
But pot?

Allison : haha. Meh. I mean, I know people who smoke pot and who are productive. I don’t understand it at all, though.  Hence why I don’t smoke.

Tera : Everyone I know who’s been a pothead has done nothing but sit around and laugh idiotically at nothing. They seriously become a waste of space.

Allison : Well, I know people who use it to help them sleep.

Tera : ohhhhhh.  that makes sense.  I still would rather be an alcoholic than a pothead.  Alcoholics are badass.  Like Bukowski!

Allison: HAHAHAHA.  Tera I love you

“I, I thought of that old joke, y’know, the, this… this guy goes to a psychiatrist and says, “Doc, uh, my brother’s crazy; he thinks he’s a chicken.” And, uh, the doctor says, “Well, why don’t you turn him in?” The guy says, “I would, but I need the eggs.” Well, I guess that’s pretty much now how I feel about relationships; y’know, they’re totally irrational, and crazy, and absurd, and… but, uh, I guess we keep goin’ through it because, uh, most of us… need the eggs.”

– Annie Hall

I had an epiphany today.

This morning I went to Pasadena for my orientation to become a volunteer tutor for School on Wheels, an organization that tutors homeless children.  It went very well, and as soon as my references clear, I’ll be assigned a child one day a week.  I cannot wait to get started, to make a difference on that kind of level (most of the volunteering I do these days is for animal rights, and thus, I don’t get the kind of instant gratification/effect that I will by tutoring a child and watching them grow and succeed.)  What was most impressive was that, with the exception of a few college students needing volunteer hours, and couple of retired folks, the majority of them were people like me, who worked full time (there were a couple lawyers in the group, believe it or not, who work WAYYY more than I do, even WITH school), had school at night/families to take care of, but were taking time out of their busy schedules to give back.  To make a difference.

I puttered around Pasadena for another hour, then headed home, and did more puttering around the house.  Washed some dishes, watched some tv, started working on my next mini house project ( specific pictures edited and put in frames, nothing too exciting).

My friend Kolby took me to see a renowned classical guitarist later in the evening, a performance she was going to for her own guitar classes she was taking, and she knew I used to play guitar (a gazillion years ago).

It was truly awe inspiring.  I’ve always had an immense amount of respect for  classical guitar, but this man was out of this world.  With just a clip here or there, and a twitch of the wrist, it sounded like an entirely different instrument.  An African influenced number, it sounded like a tribal drum.  A jazzy number, his steel stringed(!) classical guitar sounded just like an upright bass.

And throughout both the orientation and the concert later in the evening, the same thought kept occuring to me;  “Where did all my passion go?”.

I am, no doubt, a passionate person.  Anyone who has spent more than 10 minutes speaking to me can tell you that.  But I’ve realized that over the last few months, I’ve been passionate about the wrong things.  The petty day to day.  Everything that directly effects my little universe (work, my schoolwork, my relationships with friends, family and dating, etc).

Mind you, I’m not talking about just being self involved.  We are ALL self involved (myself especially from time to time).  What I’m talking about specifically is passion.  What drives us, day to day, other than what exists in our immediate universe (that goes for our problems, our friends problems, what we are eating for dinner that night, etc.)

For years, survival was my M.O.  Just getting through the day, making sure I had a roof over my head, that I had friends, food, a book to read.  As I grew older, I started becoming more and more passionate about things that had nothing to do with me personally, but that were important.  That were bigger than me.  And I find that lately I’ve been more inwardly focused than is healthy (it’s probably why I’ve been so unhappy lately.), only focusing on the minutiae, not focusing on all the things that once aroused and excited me, like animal rights and literature, art and culture…the desire to learn new things constantly.  It’s a big big world out there, and there are so many things out there to adopt and take on to enrich your life.

This post may make no sense, because it’s late, and I haven’t gotten a full nights sleep in at least 6 nights..but I’ll say this:  to have your life mean nothing other than what exists in your orbit…thats not living. That’s just surviving.  And really, what kind of life is that?

I feel good right now.

These days, I would much prefer a pet dinosaur to a boyfriend.

I’ve been a bit of a loner lately.  Going from being stressed and stretched thin for months, only to suddenly have more free time than i know what to do with has kicked me into Productivity Allison.   The last few days I’ve been writing long, detailed lists of things that I want/need to be doing (projects around the house, calls I need to make, repairs and errands I have been putting off, etc.), and knocking them off one by one.  Job hunting and resume sending only takes up so much time (especially now, where there just aren’t as many jobs out there.).  So when I’m not scrolling endlessly through Craigslist or working on art projects, I’m working on improving Allison-land.

This week alone I have cleaned every square inch of my apartment, reorganized my closet, thrown away/sold/given awaty tons of clothes, books, etc.  I’ve reformatted both of my computers and figured out why my toilet was making that weird noise.  Sent my resume out more times than I can possibly count.  And drew a bitchin’ aerial city view:

(it was voted the 3rd favorite in the class – though I personally thought I was better than #2   )

But what I’m most proud of is my kitchen.

Since I live in a studio sized back house, it didn’t actually COME with kitchen.  So I got a used silver prep table (like they have in restaurant kitchens), and brought in my own fridge and microwave, and bought a camp stove that runs on small propane tanks.  However, as someone who used to have a rather LARGE kitchen, I had a lot of stuff and, more often than not, nowhere to put it (especially if I had just finished cooking and was feeling lazy).

It was bad guys.

But FINALLY, after a gift from the shelving fairy (who goes by the name of my buddy Sean), and a trip to Target, my kitchen actually looks like somewhere people would want to prepare food!

Since it’s the first thing you see when you come in, just having this area neat and clean makes my whole place look better.  I’m such a fan of shelving.  The biggest cause of my messiness has always been that I like having things within easy reach, without having to look around for things, or put it “away”.  Shelving makes everything look neat, yet also means I can SEE it, which suits my addled, forgetful brain extremely well.

Next (big) project:  Desk area!  (which is almost done, but won’t post pictures until it’s exactly how I want it, which may be awhile, since that involves getting a new monitor).

… who is having a trial and error night with charcoal.

Who has spent the last two nights designing abstract shape layouts and cutting tiny meticulous pieces of paper.

Who drove to Walgreens at 9:30 at night to buy the right shade of blue for construction paper (I ended up just buying a blue folder and cutting it up). In her pajamas.

Who finished her muthaflippin design project, bitches!

Who needs some work with her charcoal technique (This may not be the finished product, I’m gonna see how I feel in the morning).

Who forgot to eat twice today. Oops.

Who gets to spend more of her dwindling finances on painters wash for class tomorrow.

Whose roommate told her today that “when you were thin, your head looked too big for your body.”

Who is nervous about what tomorrow may bring.

Who is feeling like sleep is kinda overrated.

I was sitting on my lunch break reading “Trying To Save Piggy Sneed”, and for some reason this question popped into my head: “If you were to meet John Irving, what would you say?”. So I wrote this:

Dear Mr. Irving,

You are my favorite author.

Now I’m sure you have heard this many times before in your years of writing, whats one more time from some 24 year old girl in L.A? But let me explain the enormity of this statement.

I rarely, if ever, can claim a favorite ANYTHING. Sure, I can claim favoriteS (plural), but my ever changing tastes coupled with my inability to make decisions makess the task of choosing ONE an impossible task. Some have come close, and live in the favoriteS list (Jhumpa Lahiri, Wally Lamb, David Sedaris, just recently Kurt Vonnegut, to name a few), but no other author’s works have touched me so profoundly and consistently than yours.

When I was 13, my father rented the movie of “The World According to Garp” because he thought I would enjoy. And I did. I enjoyed the characters, the story, found the dark humor exceptionally appealing (and 10 years later remains my humor of choice). Knowing what a bookworm I was, in addition to him loving to educate me on the backstory of most movies he exposed me to, my father informed me that it was based on a book.

“Oh really? I should read it!”

“I don’t know, Alli. It’s pretty…complicated. It jumps around a lot. You may not like it.”

Well, that was pretty much all I needed to hear. As Stephen King once said (and he may have been quoting someone else, I’m not sure), “If anyone tells you NOT to read a book, RUN, dont walk, to your nearest library and find out what they don’t want you to know”.

Now, I dont think that my father was trying to shield me from all the sex and adult ideas that Garp is full of. He simply thought that the book itself, your writing style specifically, would be a little too advanced for me. But of course, there is nothing I like more than proving people wring, especially when it is in regards to my capabilities.

So as I entered 8th grade, in a new school and in a new town where I didn’t know anyone, I devoured “Garp”. I read it during lunch breaks by myself, and even in a few classes when I should have been paying attention to the teacher.

And I loved it more than any book I had read prior, or since. There was nothing up in the air, nothing to speculate. Here was this man’s life, and the people around him, laid out in such a naked, intimate fashion…I felt as if I knew them better than my own family members. You showed (and continue to show in all of your novels), the entirety of a human life, as far as going into 5 pages about someone who only passes through the protaganist’s life only fleetingly. Your writing is 3 dimensional, and occasionally all over the place, but moves with such fluidity, I never even notice. I’m just along for the ride. And for someone whose own brain was (and is) all over the place, i felt as if I’d found a kindred spirit.

Additionally, you showed in painstaking detail how deeply flawed every single human is. At the time of reading “Garp”, I was in the middle of my parent’s ugly and painful divorce, and being shown how flawed they, and adult relationships are. Understanding that as a universal truth was a rather large stepping stone in becoming an adult (even at that young an age).

I’ve since read almost every book you have ever written, and have loved every single one (with the exception of “Hotel New Hampshire” which, I’m sorry to say, struck me as insincere and an almost “Irving parody”. I tried to like it, really I did.). For someone who enjoys reading as much as I , my memory fails me when it comes to recalling certain details of most books I’ve read. But certain scenes, certain descriptions, analogies, jokes from your books stick with me. They come up months and years later, coming to me at the oddest times, churning around in my head. They somehow fit in my fast moving, scattered brain. They seem to make sense in there. They work.

What I find so impressive about your work is that, while many themes show up heavily in most of your books (Austria, wrestling, prostitution, New England…occasionally bears), I never feel like I am reading the same book. You write what you know, and it works.

Over a decade later, Garp remains my favorite book. I have gone through 5 or so copies (some to wear and tear, others to constant moving, some from lending them to people who never gave them back), and I’ve read it at least 30 times, catching something new with almost every read. It’s my comfort food. As as someone who is disappointed in the endings to most books and film, the epilogue is the most perfect, complete ending to a book I have ever read (I’ve been known to say “If the epilogue to “Garp” was a person, I would hug it”). I recommend it to everyone.

So thank you, Mr. Irving, for being such a wonderful writer. For giving me a style of prose that gives me a profound sense of comfort while I’m reading it. For helping me develop my tastes and playing a hand in crafting the type of reader I am today.