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!