Tag Archives: Art

Cupcake.

8 Aug

Cupcake. by Me

Inspired by the American artist, Wayne Thiebaud.

His works are rendered in generous impasto, almost seeming to be heaped with color and paint; they literally project from the painting giving dimension to the work. A favorite subject of Thiebaud’s, desserts, look to be topped with actual frosting, suggesting the notion of indulgence and abundance.

© Copyright 2012 hairsprayandhemingway

Merge Left for Marriage

18 Jul

Photo by Anthony Delgado

At what age do we become real grown-ups? Is there an invisible boundary between twenty-four and twenty-five that activates the marriage and mother gene? If so, was I absent that day?

It seems everywhere I look; I am surrounded by Bugaboo strollers and blinded by bright, shiny engagement rings. The really strange part about it is I know some of these strollees and diamond slinging offenders. It’s as if I woke up and suddenly there is this Domesticity Partition separating the marrieds from unmarrieds, the yes-I-want-kids from the yes-I-want-to-travels.

My best friend and engaged traitor, Shayla, has been moved over the Partition, and now attends grown-up soirees for New Years and receives fancy thousand dollar plates as engagement gifts. As a sort of a UN peace ambassador between the two sides, Shayla gracefully balances between her life affianced and her friendship with me, student and poor person.

“But tell me this” I asked her over the phone, “when did it become normal to talk about diapers and poop for hours? No one bats an eyelash! They just keep talking and talking about puke and poop as if it’s the most natural thing in the world”

“Well, no one wants to hear about your child’s poop. They should know that. They probably were never very interesting to begin with” she told me.

“But it’s true! People that are only four years older than me have these completely alien lives, they have kids and husbands and I can’t even pay my phone bill on time”.

It was then that she went into a long story about her favorite aunt and uncle who had it all. They traveled, had kids, and retained their ability to relate to people without kids. But it just seemed so distant to what I had experienced, like a sort of fairy tale ending. She popped out a kid, went back to work, and then they traveled the globe. The End. No poop.

I told her about how earlier that day, I leaned over the balcony in the mall that overlooks the kids play area. The loop of multi-colored plastic couches were crowded with moms watching their children slide through tubes and jump into a sea of red, yellow, and green plastic spheres. The women were all probably a few years older than me, but no more than five or ten years. As I watched them sip their four dollar lattes and smooth the imaginary wrinkles from their perfectly coordinated track suits, I wondered, am I the strange one?

What happened to making a friend in the sandbox when you were five or later proclaiming lifelong friendships over too many beers? Are those days over, to be filed away with old yearbooks and Hanson CDs?

“Yes, you are weird” she said. “You call breast implants enlarged mammary glands; you’re weird. But I promise, when I have kids, I won’t talk about their poop. I’ll probably want to forget that I ever cleaned it anyway.”

That’s what I love about Shayla, no matter how far we get from our 18 and 22 year old selves, we’ll always be kindred, even if she does enjoy doing laundry and I haven’t had my car washed in two months.

So with that, I resign peacefully to my half of the partition with the comfort of knowing that maybe we don’t have to pick a side.

© Copyright 2012 hairsprayandhemingway

Thoughts from the Makeup Chair

16 Jul

“The optimist sees the donut, the pessimist sees the hole.”

― Oscar Wilde

Artist Wayne Thiebaud’s work Cupcakes and Donuts

One of the difficult paradoxes of being educated is the realization of how little you actually know. On the first day of my second year of college, a professor of mine divulged an interesting study conducted at UC Berkeley. They monitored the self-esteem of a group of admitted freshman throughout their collegiate career. Upon admittance, the students all displayed exceptionally high confidence, pride, and self-regard. However, during sophomore and junior years students nearly universally displayed an increase in insecurity and the measureable data indicating self-esteem dramatically slumped only to return upon graduation.

I can personally attest to this slump in confidence. Perhaps it’s the onset of a quarter-life-crisis or maybe it’s the uncomfortable widening of self-awareness, the knowledge that the world is just a wee larger than my little Jessica biome. It’s a little scary. What is it about knowledge and exploration that elicits such a frightening effect?

On Saturday, one of my co-workers called me saying that she had had a 12-hr nose bleed and had to go to the E.R. When our manager arrived to relieve her, a very irritated man greeted her at the door, wishing to procure a refund for a liter of body wash and shampoo that failed to meet his expectations. It came to pass that the man had purchased his products in an area with differing sales tax to our own, shorting his refund by $1.38. Infuriated, he hurled insults at our manager while all the while my co-worker stood next to him, soaked bloody towels pressed to her face, waiting to be taken to the hospital.

This seems to me, anecdotal evidence that supports UC Berkeley’s study. This man’s ignorance has clearly reduced his awareness to only himself, arming him with a surreal quality of angry self-confidence and inflated self-worth that enabled him to prioritize his $1.38 refund over a clear emergency happening three feet away.

I heard once, the more time you spend by yourself, the crazier you become. I think that’s because you lose perspective. Much like the hoarders that we all quickly click past on TV, people become buried in their own garbage. But for some, perhaps its mental garbage. Thoughts or ideas that without the ability to be placed in the context of global reality become personal truths, however far off they may be.

Maybe, we can all learn a lesson on perspective from the angry-tax-man who spent a little too much time home alone…

© Copyright 2012 hairsprayandhemingway

Bubbles and the Sea

19 Jun

Bubbles and the Sea by Me

© Copyright 2012 hairsprayandhemingway

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