Feeling the Burn

The tragic events of this weekend tell me that I was never meant to be a ravens fan.

This past week I devoted myself to finishing this ridiculous piece of art in time for the game on Sunday.

I even skipped work on Wednesday. They were cutting hours so I agreed to forgo my shift that day in hopes that I would sell enough prints to make up for the lost hours. I spend a majority of the day painting and tweaking it in photoshop to get it perfect.

On Friday I drove a half an hour just to get them printed in time and threw down $60. I truly became a ravens fan and could not wait to beat the Steelers. Game Day rolled around. I brought the prints to a tailgate outside the stadium in two sealed envelopes in a large paper bag along with my beloved Orioles prints and awaited the results.

We lost.

I still had every intention of selling the prints. I stood by a fire as I listened to fans in mourning. There were still 70,000 (?) people in that stadium and most of them hated the Steelers. I had 6 prints to sell so I didn't think it would be that difficult.

Then a tragedy occurred that upset me more than our loss.

I saw a bag I recognized in the fire.

Isn't that Makenna's bag someone yelled...

I saw my name go up in flames.

I watched as my hard work slowly burned to ash.

I watched $99 dollars and a potential profit of $195 disappear.

It was like watching your own child burn before your eyes.

And what do you do when you see a child burning?

You cry like a child.

I think I cried for two days.

It was so much more than the money, although this could have been what I need to be able to afford to buy soap and other basic hygiene necessities.

The only thing I can do is write about it. It is a good story at best. The tears have subsided. They are merely prints. They can be reproduced. Just not now because I have important things to buy like toilet paper. We are almost out. Until then, I will be punching holes in my wall with my fists.

Actually that is a lie. I want to get my security deposit back when I move out.

I've Missed You

Dear blog readers,

I know it's been over a month since we last saw each other, but I just needed some space. I took some time to think about 'us' and I realized I was incomplete without you. I hope you will forgive me. I hope you will keep reading.

Deepest apologies,
Makenna

So while I was away, I tried to keep busy:

Halloween came and went. I know it's healthy to eat salad, but I think it is healthier to be a salad. Here I am with my friend, bacon. I designed both of the dresses and people just ate them up including my boyfriend who was dressed as a fork (not what it sounds like):

I painted a picture of a giraffe licking a lollipop:

I watched my roommate created a sculpture of dirty dishes in the sink:

I made and sold paintings of a bird pooping:

I published an article in whatweekly (click to see it!)

I painted a tree for my cousin. Each panel is a season:

I almost accepted a job as a 'sign artist' at a hardware store, but quickly realized they were just looking for a fast scribbler. I submitted a few pieces to TROVH on the avenue. They politely rejected my artwork by saying that they were not the right fit for me. I don't think they appreciated my bird poop art too much. I rang up thousands of groceries and put lots of soup varieties on the shelf, I  ate many a spaghetti squash, I sat on some babies, I saw an obese ghost in my room, I had a dream I was in a car crash and the car was a pumpkin.... 

I did a lot of things, but I have not forgotten about you. 

So You're Telling Me There's a Chance....

Yes, I am the artus of the above picture. Seven years young. 

 In 1995 I wanted to be a gymnast. In 1995 I was unaware that I would grow up to have the coordination of a blind cow on a slip n slide. However,  I have already fulfilled my alempike champin dreams based on my proximity to the pool Michael Phelps used to train.  I once dangled my foot in the water in this pool, so I pretty much think of Michael's success as my own success.

The famess artus part is a work in progress. No one told me this in 1995, but most artusts aren't famess until they are dead.  My semi-annual visits to Patient First tell me that I am not invincible and I have a pretty good chance of dying. 

Therefore, there is a small chance I will fulfill this dream as well. 

Happy Yom Kippur!

Today I worked on a banner for the band "Missing Stacy"on a 5' by 3' piece of fabric. The fabric was completely white at this time yesterday. I would like to thank Yom Kippur for getting this completed so quickly. Due to this lovely holiday, I didn't have to babysit and I don't  go into work until 6 pm which is when normal people are leaving work and doing fun things. Not that I don't love working until midnight four nights a week. I am excited to spend another happy hour with frozen bags of broccoli and cans of tuna. really. 

I am currently waiting for it to dry and praying to god my roommates dog hasn't peed on it. Yeah, I should probably check on that, but here it is....or was...i will find out in a second...

For Charles

Hi I'm Charles. I lost my phone number. Can I have yours?

Look at this man. His fu manchu is purple, his glasses are pink, he is wearing a green leisure suit, but somehow it works. Meet Charles V. Pub, second most interesting man in the world. Charles does what he wants. Actually, he does what I want because I designed him in photoshop. 

Back in February a local bar Charles Village Pub (CVP)  hosted a contest to design the Charles character. I frequented CVP in college particularly on thursday nights where ladies drink for five dollars. Ladies get to wear a cool paper wristband, get pushed around by strangers in a crowded bar, and then spend a few hours begging for their drink. It's fun!

Your night is at the mercy of the bartenders, all people that have tried out for the jersey shore and didn't quite make the cut. They still sport tans and go to the gym, but instead of making millions on reality television, they are pouring you watered down versions of your favorite drink.

I really wanted to design a jersey shore character, but I thought this might be insulting. Also, there are two CVP's. One is in baltimore city and I imagined the jersey shore characters were less frequent at this location. I imagined they all wore shades with suits and seduced women by quoting literature, instead of grunting and pouring their drink on them. 

I worked really hard into the wee hours of the night just to get it finished by the deadline. I think the sun was rising and the mice were singing "cinderelly" to me when I finished it. I also may have gotten sick the next day. Regardless, I felt accomplished and hoped no one would say no to my beloved purple haired Charles. 

A week and I didn't hear anything. 

Two weeks. 

Then, they announced it.. 

They cancelled the contest. 

Poor Charles. He never got a chance.

Purple haired Charles has sat in my computer for months reciting pickup lines that he will never use. His beer is skunked and warm. Lines form at his eyes under his rose glasses, a think layer of dust grows on his leisure suit, but somehow he manages to keep his composure.

He is no longer the second most interesting man in the world. He didn't want me to tell you this, but he has dropped down to fifty second most interesting man. I keep telling him his time will come, maybe one day someone will notice him. 

The other day he noticed that I was blogging and told me to showcase him on my blog. So here he is out of the depths of my computer. 

The Charles V. Pub that never was. 

Cover Your Medulla

In the spirit of the DIY movement, I have decided to make my own business cards. Although it took a lot of time to make them, it didn't cost anything. Fortunately, the price of time is still within my budget:

The Rap Strength Training Station on Pandora has been a great source of inspiration this week. Although it was meant to motivate three-hundred pound men to bench press mounds of metal, it has also proved to motivate new pieces of art:

This painting was inspired by lyrics in "We Takin' Over" by Dj Khaled. Please rap the following lyrics in an Arnold Schwarzenegger voice: "I have more jewels than your jeweler. Touch and I will bust your medulla. That's a bullethole, it is not a tumor." This painting portrays a tenacious young man about to bust your medulla by throwing his jewels at you.

Baltimornings, GrandTheft Auto, A Jackhammer

View from my window. 

I love mid September. I love that you don't need your don't need your heat or your air conditioning;  just a good fleece, a good book, and a warm cup of coffee. The chartreuse leaves float from the trees and tango with buildings. They are a perfect contrast to a crisp blue sky that hasn't been informed that fall is on its way. 

I almost feel like I am in a Nicolas Sparks novel. Only if I were in a Nicolas Sparks novel, I would not wake up to a jackhammer outside my window.

I want to tap the jackhammer operator on his shoulder and tell him that I want my life to be a Nicolas Sparks novel and he will have to stay outside of my radius. 

Also, I am super sleepy, I just worked a midnight shift, and I think he should come back in an hour. 

Now he is throwing cement into a metal truck at varying intervals to make sure I am awake.

I am awake! You can go home now!

Now I hear yelling. I guess the neighbor is telling them she is super sleepy? Perhaps another domestic dispute? But what idiot would have a domestic dispute with jackhammers going off all around? I feel like people that have domestic disputes on the streets would coordinate with construction. There is probably a signup sheet for loud noises to wake people at the crack of dawn. It is probably full. 

Is it bad that I assumed it wasn't a construction worker because it was a woman's voice? There aren't many women construction workers. And if you are a woman construction worker I think that is great. Also I just looked outside: all men workers. Leaf me alone (fall joke. Also the result of sleep deprivation)

I also found out that a majority of my views for this blog are from a youtube video. It is called " Grand Theft Auto 4: The Ballad of Gay Tony DLC Walkthrough Gameplay Part 12 - Never Shuts Up"

Somehow this gamer spammed viewers onto my blog. I don't really understand how this works, but I guess there are robots reading my blog and no actual humans.

At this point, I am just going to have to do this for myself. Some people do crossword puzzles to keep their brains sharp, some people blog about jackhammers and grand theft auto. 

Happy Monday, robots! 

While I Was Studying

As I have mentioned before, my beloved MacBook is beyond its golden years. Death is approaching. As she (since my computer is an extension of myself, we will say it is a woman) approaches her resting place, I like to reminisce about all the good times we had together.

We spent four quality years together in college. She was with me in that nook of the library as I funneled coffee and fell asleep on her keyboard. She was there through breakups and breakthroughs. She guided my hands across her keyboards to express facebook statuses to the world and to vent my private frustrations on Word documents.

She almost died in Europe that time I accidently sent her down the wrong security lane  at the airport....and that time I brought her into studio while I was oil painting....and that time I stepped on her...and that time with the coffee..and....well..nevermind...

She saw me at my worst. She saw me when I was supposed to be studying in the wee hours of the night. I would often sneak onto photo booth look her in the eyes and make a funny face. They were often taken during all nighters just as the sun was rising and I usually look like a sleep deprived robot version of Harry from Dumb and Dumber.

I'm sure anyone who went to college with a MacBook has a ton of these type of pictures. Probably (hopefully) less disturbing than mine. I think it would be hilarious to compile a book of all of these photos. People could submit pictures from their college years and there could be representatives from different colleges. If you have some you should let go of your foolish pride and send me a few.

The book could be called While I Was Studying.. or  The Academic Achiever... something like that. Here would be my submission as a representative of Towson (In college I was a proud Anti Kissy Face activist, but I think this secret collection of photos says otherwise):

Looking back, I could also have a series titled Glamor Shots and The Post Bar Experience, but I will save those for another day.

Yes these pictures are a glimpse of insanity; a sad attempt to amuse myself in the wee hours of the night. I am not smiling or sucking in my stomach. These pictures are the real deal. Hundreds of years from now historians will look at pictures like this as a reflection of society in 2012. 

You don't get this with regular cameras. When you are on the brink of exhaustion you don't  think to whip out your camera and take pictures of yourself. Photobooth, however,  is the ultimate laziness. You simply click on the icon at the bottom of the screen and there it is. Hence this wonderful series of pictures. 

When people tell you you need an expensive camera to be a photographer, tell them they are wrong. All you need is an expensive computer.

Pocket Change

Look at this lovely light fixture I acquired over the weekend. It smells of rich mahogany and is a great accessory to my bookcase containing many leather bound books.

This light fixture marks the beginning of economic power for the Qing Dynasty of imperial China. It is made of the ivory of an albino elephant and hand carved by Quixilon, one of the most prominent artists during this period of economic prosperity.

I happened to be at an auction house in Philadelphia on Saturday where this piece caught my eye. It was starting at five grand; easily the hot item of the day.

Luckily I had just received two weeks worth of pay from my grocery store field work. Although I don't enjoy bagging groceries, the company pays me pretty well. Even the highest bid on a light fixture like this is pocket change.

Maybe I am lying.

Maybe these are actually paper plates.


Here have another look (disregard dead bulb. He refused to cooperate for the photo shoot):

If you understand how to make a circle, I can show you how I did it. If Quixilon existed, I'm sure he would be impressed:

Standard Monday Entry

The astronomical amount of money I just spent in car repairs has zapped my creativity. I assumed that the automobile fairy would wave her wand and stop that horrible noise in my car that sounded like a bunch of marbles dancing to reggae music. Nope not today. The rasta marbles have won.

Days That Start with T

I have decided that days that start with "t" are sacred. Therefore, I will be writing on days that begin with M, W, and F. Three of my favorite letters.

Not blogging on "t" days will also give me more time to practice karate and create art. All about balance here. When you feel imbalanced you make adjustments. If your broccoli diet isn't working out, for instance, try adding some celery to your diet. You can't survive on broccoli alone. When you think you are blogging too much, try mixing it up. Go out and chop some wood with your hands or do some coloring books.

And no this is not because I have ran out of material. I have plenty of space left in my brain. Please refer to the white abyss in my brain model. Plenty of room:

The microscopic community has plenty of room to colonize the white abyss, but they choose not to. Since this picture was taken they have chosen to colonize common sense, proper grammar (please note how the last sentence ended in a preposition), how to walk, and social skills.

SIDE NOTE: while updating this blog my computer flirted with death. I thought it was the end. I was innocently typing away and the screen gradually faded to white. Once it was almost as white as this page, it snapped to black with lines crossing the screen like the TV in "The Ring".

I felt like Alice falling down the rabbit hole. I was witnessing a gradual descent to an unknown destination.

The destination I feared was death.

This is cruel way to kill a computer. Quick and painless is the way to go out! Just turn the screen to black. I really wasn't feeling the gradual fade. Did an Apple designer create the death of a Mac computer? If so, this designer is a sick man and I hope he steps in a rabbit hole and twists his ankle.

Luckily, I unplugged it, and turned it back on. Good as new.

I have a feeling my computer is going to die soon though. I can only hope the death can be fixed with duct tape. When you are poor, this is how you fix things.

Something I Wish I Invented But Did Not

I have to be honest here. I have never been good at coloring books. I color so violently that the crayons always break. When I announce my frustration "!@#*ing crayons. THESE CRAYONS ARE WEAK!!!! " my point is always lost because  I pronounce crayon the wrong way. I say crown. I have always said crown. Apparently vocal chords are too lazy for Cray-ons. 

It is a painful process, but once I get started I become lost in a coloring book time warp. It is a spiritual journey. This is a period of reevaluation and enlightenment. In the end of my mind is liberated and I have formed a new self identity. 

This is my most recent coloring book endeavor. Whilst coloring I discovered my true self: A monarch butterfly. I had been living life in a cocoon and this coloring page was the inspiration I needed to break free. I only broke one crown. It was on my tooth:

I am usually baby sitting when I color, so my subject matter is limited. Clearly my exceptional intellectual ability and spiritual maturity has surpassed the traditional coloring book. This is why I was overjoyed  to discover Coloring For Grownups! I wish I had invented this, but sadly I did not. Here are a few of my favorite. There are many more on the above website to occupy your free time: 

Baltimore: City with a Napoleon Complex

Dear Baltimore,

We need to talk about something.

You have these benches scattered around your city proclaiming you are "The Greatest City in America." Although I love you dearly, you simply can't say things like this.

I feel like you are aware of your shortcomings. Are trying to make up for this with these benches? In that case the benches should say "City with a Napoleon Complex"

And even if you are the greatest, your benches just make you look like a real asshole. You are that guy that only wants to talk about his accomplishments on the first date. You may have cured cancer, but that doesn't make you any less of an asshole.

Also, pretentious statements like this can only lead to one thing: mockery. When you say you are the best, people love to watch you fail.

Take a look at the following picture a friend lovingly found on thatguysonherion.com:

Since I am now a  hipster (refer to Book Review) I take great joy in the irony of the above picture. Joke's on you Baltimore!

Don't get too down on your self. I just want to keep you in check. I can only hope you will continue to pose for the pictures I paint. You are a lovely model:

No benches in this picture! You don't need them.

I hope we can still be friends.

Love ya,

Greatest Woman with Two Legs Makenna

Happy Monday!

Happy Monday! I am about to go into work! If I end every sentence with an exclamation point, it creates a false sense of enthusiasm! This is where I want to be right now! The colorful old ladies are who I want to be! 

August Book Review

Banana on cover of Tattoo a Banana

Today I went to the library. I never go into the library with a specific goal. I am like cicada to your porch light. I generally fly to the book with the brightest color. These bright colored books tend to have lines like "He snapped my bra like a Concord taking off, and I was unhooked for love". Since I am sober, I usually throw the book back on the shelf. I have never been drunk at a library, but if I was I imagine I would enjoy this kind of book. 

I attempt to clear my brain with other books. The Towson library does all of the dirty work for you by showcasing books other people like. If other people like them, they must be good. I classify myself as a person that would jump off of a bridge if everyone else did, so I grab a bunch of these.

I also head to the workout video section. The types of workouts I get depend on the amount of coffee I have drank that day.
one cup=yoga video
two cups=standard workout video
three cups=workout for people who are insane or angry video
four cups=killer boot camp that might make you have a heart attack video
five cups=killer boot camp that guarantees a heart attack video
six cups=didn't make it to library. having a heart attack somewhere.                                                
                                                              

I have opted out of the books on tape (BOT) section because I would listen to BOT in my car. I began paying more attention to the story, than traffic patterns such as red lights. I think BOT are more dangerous than drinking and driving.

Then I check out

Here are the results of my recent library conquest:

Tattoo a Banana by Phil Hansen-I once tattooed a banana on a slow day at work. It didn't look like the beautiful banana on the cover.  I wanted to figure out the authors secret.

Breakfast of Champions by Kurt Vonnegut- I heard that reading Vonnegut would make me a hipster. As an aspiring hipster, I thought i'd give it a try.  I plan on reading this book on my back porch while I  chain smoke in non prescription glasses. Also I do enjoy breakfast. Maybe I will read this at breakfast. Would that be ironic? Probably not.

Ripe by Cheryl Sternman Rule-This book had a huge peach on the cover. I was hungry for peaches. After skimming at the red light on the ride home, I discovered that there weren't many peaches in this book. The light turned green and someone honked as I was reading about yams. I do love yams.

Jillian Micheals Buns of Steel-I have tried Jillian's buns of magnesium. Jillian did not do her research. Although magnesium is a strong light weight metal, it tarnishes slightly when exposed to air. My buns were tarnishing and getting everywhere. I had to wear long pants because of it. I then tried buns of titanium, which was somewhat successful. It took a while to get used to the loud clank I made everytime I had to sat down. I am told steel is rust resistant and has good weildibility so I will give it a try*

*I was misinformed. It is actually Killer Buns & Thighs. I think Buns of Steel was overused in the 80's so this takes it up a notch. Killer > Steel. I will let you know how it goes.

Everyday Flowers by Paula Pryke-. Nope, no sign of intelligent life in this bag of books.

A bunch of random CD's with pretty cover art. I know I am not a fan of Bassnectar for instance, but the   cover art was so compelling I went ahead and rented it out. I know you are not supposed to judge a book by its cover, but I don't think this applies to CD's. 

So this is my library conquest. Next time you see me I will have an elaborately decorated banana to show you. Bring some mace because my buns & thighs might try and kill you. We can go thrifting in our best flannels while listening to obscure music. It will be fun. 

Salting Slugs and Bieber Fever

This is me on picture day at age twelve before the operation. It was an awkward time in my life.

Apparently my roommate is disturbed by this picture as I have found it turned around on our mantel. I think I will do the polite thing and try to sell it. I will also do the impolite thing and use the money to paint something larger and more disturbing. Perhaps a picture of my eight year old self?

Displaying art and living with roommates is often challenging. Not everyone appreciates my taste, so I try and keep in mind that I am living in a shared space. But often times I forget....

For example, last Christmas I won a Justin Bieber calendar in a gift exchange. In a fit of excitement, I placed the pictures around the house: Bieber in the bookshelf. Bieber above the sink. Hey, Bieber is watching you pee!

My fantasies of  twelve year old boys hanging around my house were fulfilled until I went on vacation. When I  returned, the walls were bare. Apparently my roommates did not share in my fantasy. I then concluded that Bieber fever is not contagious and would have to limit Bieber to my bedroom.

In college, I lived with a medical major for quite some time. When she was not having a blinking contest with her textbook (she always won), she preferred to stare at a white wall. She claimed to have an allergy to bright colors. Epilepsy perhaps?  We both knew she just wasn't very fond of my art.

One day, I decided to paint a mural on a wall. I was so inspired in the moment that I did not do the respectful thing and ask her first. When she got home and saw the mural, she looked at me like I had just salted a slug that she had just announced was her Great Aunt Bertha reincarnated. (slugs=theme of the week)

If that doesn't make sense try this: She looked at me like I had killed a baby. This look was also the face she used to express joy, so I am not sure how she really felt, but I assumed the former. (just kidding. If you are reading, I will buy you a fancy cocktail next time I see you<3)

I was upset in the moment, but she did tolerate my sketches of naked-overweight-middle-age-men that graced our shared bedroom wall (from my anatomy drawing class in case you were wondering). This wall also housed pictures of cows from my gluttony project as well.

To me the pictures provided comic relief to a stressful course load, but experience has taught me that people don't always share in my humor. Maybe I should just stick to neutral subject matter. Maybe I should paint pictures of flowers. But then I think about Georgia O'Keeffee. She tried to remain neutral, but everyone just called her a pervert. Sometimes you can't win.

In conclusion, if I ever live on my own, I plan on doing a Justin Beiber-duck mural on my wall. It will be huge and take up the whole house. The fact that I am convinced every house I live in is haunted, every sound of the ice maker is a serial killer, and generally like having people around makes me pretty sure I will never live on my own. This mural will probably never exist.

Adventures in Grocery: Death to Sluggo

So the androgynous hippopotamus is back. Her herpes have cleared up, but she will remain a hippopotamus forever. In case it's not clear, that pink thing on her right ear is a bluetooth...

Here is another Adventures in Grocery. This is a message to all the people that love to hear themselves talk: