Crazy Craft Lady

It's a new semester.

This means a few things: I had a break, my school work load is lighter (for now) than at the end of last semester and I am interning at an art museum instead of student teaching. I actually really miss teaching, even the fifth graders who I ended up really coming to like just in time to leave them. Working in an office again has brought back some of those old restless feelings. That extra energy coupled with not having to plan lessons and face 24 children everyday has led me to take up a drastic habit...

extremely random crafts!

It started on break with popsicle sticks. My boyfriend had a box of them that were deemed important enough to make the move with us. In the few elmer's glue soaked weeks that I was "sticking" (as I believe it is called on the streets) I made a bunch of pencil holders which now litter our apartment. However, my popsicle masterpiece is Horace the Owl. Horace had an accident a little while ago in which he fell off a high shelf and had one of his eyes unraveled by the cat so forgive his slightly gimpy appearance:

I love him. The End.

I then moved onto pop-up paper sculptures. I am still making these somewhat compulsively. Here are some:

love and alcohol

hard at work

and an ode to Newman the cat

OK...the workload should kick in soon. Hopefully before these overrun the apartment.

So, it has come to this.

I am now wearing a backpack.

I seem to be incapable of not carrying my entire world with me in a bag at all times.  Up until a few months ago I carried giant messenger bags filled to capacity with me everywhere I went. 

Then in November I had sudden shooting pains in my chest and arm and went to the ER convinced I was having a heart attack.  Turns out I had probably pinched a nerve in my shoulder and pulled a muscle near my ribcage from lugging around a giant bag since I was 13.  The prescription: no more one-shoulder bags.  

Since then I have been wearing a "lumbar pack" (glorified fanny pack) which was working for a while but it has been steadily accumulating weight (I plead total ignorance on this one,  I have no idea how all my bags end up so heavy. Bag Gremlins?).  Yesterday I noticed a slight bruising on my waist and began to worry for all the important internal organs in my abdomen.  Plus I was starting to carry a shoulder bag for all my school books and that was also getting pretty heavy.

So ... backpack.  My reluctance to wear a backpack stems the fact that it will make me look even more like a 12-year old than I do already but I feel like I'm out of alternatives.  

This morning I dug out an old black Easpack ("The leader of the pack" says the Double-Dare announcer in my head) from middle school.  It has miraculously emerged from that time unscathed by purple marker drawings of peace signs, ying-yangs, or flowers.  To offset the 12-year-old factor I decided to pair it with a granny cardigan today.   My roommate assures me that the sweater and the backpack average out to make me look my age.  

After my fist backpack commute in over 10 years I will say this: padded shoulder straps are pretty sweet.

Also if anyone knows of a cool (and inexpensive) backpack-type-concept let me know.  I am looking to upgrade the Eastpack.  

Right Decision

OK.  So everyone at my graphic design job now knows that I will be leaving to go back to school for museum education.

I feel totally secure in my decision.  Furthering this sense that I truly belong working with children is the fact that this Gawker post sent me into a fit of giggles at my desk yesterday: 

The New York Times' Arts Beat Twitter feed was hijacked last night. Granted access to the feed's 2,500 followers, what message did the interloper choose to send? "Pooping."

AHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHA... I am 5.

The Big Stuff

Yesterday I saw Up.  Beyond its ability to accurately portray a dog's thought pattern (squirrel!), Up also beautifully illustrated a few big picture life issues that have been on my mind lately.  

In a mostly silent opening sequence we see a couple (Ellie and Carl) meet, marry, and grow old together.  They think of having kids, find out they cannot and revive an old life dream to travel. They save money in a jar that is broken open prematurely several times when the money is more urgently needed for life's little emergencies (broken legs, tree falling on roof...).  Time slips on and Ellie dies without having ever gotten around to her original dream.  

I bawled. In 3D.

I have been crying a lot lately (for some of it I blame hormones).   I have been crying about the Big Things.  Everyone I love will eventually die.  We have such a short time here, how do we not lose track of the big plans.  

I think maybe it's because I'm at a point in my life where I can sort of, kind of, almost peak at what my future might look like and I can begin to envision life's big milestones and they are awesome and terrifying and amazing and tragic.  Which is the ultimate message in the film: all of life is an adventure. 

I wonder how young viewers responded to these themes in Up.  Is there any part of them which understands transition and end?  Does a 60 year old wonder that same thing about me?

Anyway... Go see Up.  If you're anything like me you'll cry and then you'll laugh that super giddy laugh that comes after crying and then you'll nap.  

I... might be 4 years old.