Being immersed in the artsy fartsy bourgeois world is really great. I get invited to gallery and museum openings all the time, where I get to look glamorous and eat fabulous cocktail weenies.
Martini in hand, I glide from artwork to artwork with a critical eye.
Tomorrow I'm going to an opening at the MoMA (for a show about comic art) and I'm looking forward to it.
My friend Lydia visited me last March and told me that I live a charmed life. I suppose that's true to an extent. My school is in a huge mansion on 5th Avenue, I go to cocktail parties, I'm invited to lots of elitist art events, I'm part of an artistic subculture, and I get to travel a lot.
Some people probably wonder why I'm so depressed. I know I'm lucky and that there are people much worse off than I. For that, I can't help but feel guilty... which is probably why I've been donating so much to the homeless lately.
It's scary to go to sleep and not know how I'm going to feel the next day.
Dramatic switch in topic: I think Andy Warhol is really great. I don't just mean his art- I love everything that came out of that guy's mouth. If I was alive in the 60s and living in New York I'd "totally be crushin.'" (that was a reference to Teen Girl Squad).
Comic con was fun, tiring, and productive. I got a lot of business cards out to some cool/important people.
They had a WACOM booth, and I totally want this 2500 dollar tablet/monitor. It's really lovely.
I bought some ridiculous looking hats which my friend dared me to wear to school, and by golly I plan on it. If I muster up the energy I'll take pictures of me wearing these silly hats and post them here.
There was also a corset booth at the con, so I tried on a corset. Apparently my waist is 24 inches, which means my corset size is 20- which means that I can be tight laced to have a 20 inch waist. It looks really freakish. I bet if I tight laced everyday for the next year, I could probably be one of those weird fetish people that have 14-16 inch waists. Maybe I can bind my feet and get a circumcision while I'm at it.
I weighed myself again because I thought I gained weight, but I actually lost more. To give you an idea of how unhealthy this is- right before I left California on Dec. 31st, I weighed about 124-125 pounds. Now I weigh 113 pounds (I'm 5'5"). My friends and therapist have given me tips on what kinds of foods I can make that take minimum preparation effort, so I hope that helps. I started by buying granola bars, which I hate with a passion. I'm eating them anyway.
She was crying when you walked back into the room. You sat next to her, caressing her arm and stroking her hair, trying to calm her down. She asked you, "Why did this happen to me?" but you didn't know what to say. Instead you placed your hand under her cheek, your palm becoming the well for her tears.
I'm going to the New York City Comic Con this Saturday. I'm not tabling, but I'll be walking around for most of the day. If any of you New Yorkers are going, see if you can find me- feel free to say what's up. I'll be wearing my black plastic rim glasses, jeans, and most likely a tie- b/c like I said before... I look awesome in ties. My "About" section on this web site has an almost 3 year old picture of me (at my UCLA graduation), but I pretty much look the same. Just imagine me with glasses and a slightly thinner face.
Today I got my jeans back from being hemmed at Uniqlo (a great Japanese clothing chain) and I can't wait to wear them. They look great.
I also got my hieroglyph flashcards in the mail today- they make learning hieroglyphs FUN!!
Sorry for the late update.
Today I felt like an empty shell. Last night I completely freaked out and panicked at a cocktail party and one of my friends had to sit there and calm me down, which made me feel really pathetic and loserish. I woke up feeling really guilty, especially since I slept on my friend's bed while my friend slept on a flimsy air mattress on the floor.
Anyway, today is Chinese New Year's. My friend, who is Chinese- American, told me that one is supposed to wear brand new shoes on new year's so that you can step into it with your best foot forward. I wore some shoes that I bought right after Christmas, even though they're completely inappropriate for this weather.
I went church hoppin' today and sat in on part of a Catholic mass at St. Patrick's, but had to leave the minute they started talking about abortions and condoms. It was just too weird to listen to a priest talk about Roe vs. Wade and its effect on America.
I'm going to read comic books and drink hot cocoa.
My tour of the Egyptian wing went well, and everyone applauded when I was done.
I've been talking a lot with my therapist about my perception of self worth, and how I feel that I rely too much on the validation of others. I've also been telling him how as of late I've felt like I'm only appreciated for my appearance rather than my intellect, humor, work ethic, and creative abilities. He's helped me to straighten that out a bit.
Anyway, despite everything, I'm still functional- like I said, I gave a good tour and I turned in the first draft of my first MA thesis (we have to turn in two theses). There are times when I'm an anxious wreck and feel like a complete tool for having to rely on sleeping pills and a therapist, but to quote that song "People who need people [and sleeping pills] are the luckiest people in the world."
Today I'm giving a tour of the Egyptian wing at the Met. I'm a little nervous but I think I'll be ok.
Last night on the way to a gallery opening, some dude in a mini van tried to pick me up. First he rolled down his window a little bit and gestured to me to get in the car. I shook my head and declined. Then he rolled down his window more and started asking me to get in because it was cold out. I say "No it's ok, but thanks." He kept harrassing me and even offered to buy me a new coat, even though the coat I have is pretty nice and snazzy.
Anyway, what's up with losers like that trying to pick up women that are clearly out of their league?
I've been losing a lot of weight because I've been too sad or whatever to eat. I think I've lost almost 10 pounds. I didn't think it was all that noticeable until my super thin friend was like "Jesus Jen, you're lookin' skinny." I knew I must be looking really scrawny when my roommate was like "Jen- you look like an emaciated super model with a boob job." Don't worry- my first reaction wasn't "awesome!"
When I woke up yesterday morning and saw that I could kind of see my chest bones and rib cage, and that my stomach was sunken in like I had been tight lacing (b/c amazingly my boobs don't lose any fat, and my hips are rather wide) I realized that I have to make a more conscious effort at eating. So yesterday I had three full meals and drank 4 cans of regular Coke. Go me.
Yesterday liquid was spilled on my laptop. I took the battery out for a few hours and tried turning it on later. Everything worked except for the screen, which naturally freaked me out. I can't cartoon if i can't see wtf I'm doing. Though maybe that would make an interesting premise for something in the future...
Anyway, I dried out my laptop overnight and all is well again.
Saw Factory Girl and it was terribly bad- but so bad it was almost funny. I also saw Queen which I thought was disappointing.
This weekend I'm preparing for a lecture I'm giving on Friday in the Egyptian wing at the Met. I'm so nervousy.
He sat across from her and introduced himself.
He shyly tried to make conversation with her. Unsuccessfully.
He often watched her tuck her hair behind her ear. His eyes twinkled a bit and he always looked down and smiled to himself.
As he toddled across the room toward her chair, she heard the sound of his shuffling feet and dreaded the conversation he was about to initiate.
But one night the planets aligned and she kissed him.
He often stared at her, which made her blush. He would kiss her gently.
Then everything was gone. His eyes became dull, and her cheeks faded.
I was able to get my boss to pay me most of the money that he owes me- yay.
Today was unbearably cold and the wind felt like daggers.
These short stories I make up on the spot, and they're not very good- especially if you don't like sentimental junk. I often make up stories about people I watch on the street. Most of them stay in my head, where they probably belong.
Sometimes I have fantasies about taking a huge spear and running straight down Madison Avenue screaming as I shish-kabob as many New Yorkers as I can- usually when I'm angry, which surprisingly isn't very often.
My other fantasies include thinking of poetic and romantic ways of killing myself- like throwing myself off the second floor of my school's library and landing on the sculpture that Louise Bourgeois made of the building we're in. Unfortunately, about 80% of the other students have thought of committing suicide this way so it's not very original. This just goes to show you how grad school is a miserable, horrible institution.
This isn't completely true of course. I for the most part like grad school- it's just a lot of pressure and competition.
There's this rather attractive, intelligent, older gay man at my school who I adore because he's a good dresser, is German, and is incredibly melancholy. He's always talking about how he's going to shoot himself. At the same time, he really enjoys campy movies and talking to me about art theory. I think he mainly likes me because I make him laugh. He trusts me because I'm just as miserable as he is.
They found a secluded knoll in the park that overlooked the lake.
He laid down under the large oak tree and folded his arms behind his head, gazing at the leaves gently waving in the warm breeze. The sky was blue and tranquil and one could barely make out the tops of the buildings that line Central Park West.
He said to her, with his eyes still fixated on the leaves,"Come lie next to me. It's gorgeous."
She slowly reclined beside him and cautiously rested her head on his shoulder.
"Yes it is."
Sometimes when I wake up I feel as if I'm going through this purposeless monotonous routine. I'm sure everyone feels this way, but I didn't use to- at least not since I graduated from high school, when obnoxious bells dictated how I spent my time.
It reminds me of the title of that Gauguin painting I don't particularly like: "Where do we come from? What are we? Where are we going?"
I guess right now I feel like I'm not necessarily living for myself or my sake, but for the sake of others- and that really sucks.
Nonetheless, my therapist told me this week that he's impressed with my independence and rationality. That despite whatever depressing thoughts I might have, he sees that I am someone who seeks to change what is wrong, and to actively do so.
By the way, I've always thought of myself as a Hufflepuff (sorry if you don't read Harry Potter), and according to some online test, I belong in that house 95%. (69% Ravenclaw, 65% Gryffindor, 36% Slytherin)
"You may belong in Hufflepuff, where they are just and loyal, those patient Hufflepuffs are true and unafraid of toil."
They stood on the platform waiting for the train. It was cold. She was wiping her nose because it was runny and you were rubbing your hands together to try to keep warm. Your breath mingled with hers with every exhale.
She wanted to tell you so many things, but she couldn't find the words. She blamed it on the temperature and the loud clacking of the rails.
Then you pointed out a rat maneuvering its way along the tracks, which you know she always looks out for because it's a good omen. Yet at the same time your cruetly resonated in her mind.
The train came and they parted ways.
A tear rolled down her cheek.
How is it possible to hate someone but love them at the same time?
So I decided that next time I'm at the gallery, which will hopefully be this Wednesday, I'm going to have a talk with my employer about my payment. Hopefully I'll be able to catch him.
If anyone's been praying for my productivity- please continue to do so. I think it's working. Sunday was a proud day for Jennifer Babcock, at least in terms of her thesis writing.
Emotional status right now? A dull melancholy.
Two comics up today- technical difficulties.
Decided to pamper myself with a pedicure- it got all botched up b/c I never know how long to let it dry. Give me a break though- this was only my second time doing it. It's just really weird having these servant like girls rub your feet and calves.
Feeling financial pressure right now which doesn't really help my situation. My boss hasn't paid me yet, and he owes me something like 600 dollars.
I have bills to pay, and I like to keep a comfortable buffer in my checking account so I can splurge on stuff like a 12 dollar pedicure or fresh fruit.
My credit card bill is due soon and I don't feel comfortable paying it until I get my money from my work. This is really getting me anxious and it's seemingly impossible to get a hold of my boss (he's always out of town, never reads his e-mails, etc.).
Time to hyperventilate in a bag.