010.

As I've said before, I've been watching a lot of Buffy the Vampire Slayer recently (well, if "a lot" means "when I'm not reading or dead tired from work"). It always seemed a little odd to me that Buffy had time to go to school, do enough homework to pass her classes, perform her slayer duties, hang out with her friends at the Bronze, see Angel and sleep. Willow also, she does more homework than Buffy, but still has a boyfriend, goes to the Bronze, practices her witchcraft, all sorts of stuff.

Granted, this is a television show, and specific episodes are only a snapshot of the fictional lives of these characters, but I've never been able to figure out how they can do so much. Maybe it's because they never watch tv. Maybe it's because it's television and they never have to clean or eat or shower, except when it feeds the script. Maybe they just have energy I'll never have.

It's funny that it takes watching a tv show about people who don't watch television to make you think about how much else you could be doing.

009.

Last Wednesday I bought a pair of shoes (the Berlin by Star Ling). I am so excited; they're my first pair of 'grown up' shoes, and I think they're a good investment. The leather is so soft, and I love the cut of the heel strap--it's so sensual (for lack of a better word).

When I realized I have never walked with them on hard ground, I started wondering if they're a soft heel or hard. Most people wear rubber-soled shoes everyday (especially on a college campus), so their footprints, while noticeable, are not as pronounced as Foley artists make them seem in movies. Hard-soled heels, however, can make an incredible racket (especially in a tunnel or between to tall buildings when the sound reverberates). Whenever I wear my boots I can just feel everyone staring, wondering why that girl is calling attention to herself through sound. (Consequently, I never wear those boots when I know I'll be walking alone at night.)

Sometimes the uniformity (and utter lack of ability to think of anything but) in the way people dress astounds me.

008.

I just started reading The Omnivore's Dilemma, inspired by a passing comment from photographer D on Thursday. While I've only read to page 71, Michael Pollan's point has already wormed its way into my head (and I don't think it's going anywhere).

Perhaps the reason this book has so much influence on me is that I just returned from two days on a farm. I never grew up around agriculture (except for the occasional season of hay across the street), and being able to see the enormous amount of love and passion that goes into even a small farm makes my heart break for the farmers in Iowa who futilely grow corn for the rest of us (or at least for the system).

To see such down-to-earth and lovely people exploited for the gains of whoever ('cause it's definitely not the nutritional gains of the final consumer) sets me on edge. Grr.

007.

At the farm, in the midst of the most gorgeous garden, is a Japanese maple. It is thirty years old, and one of the most magnificent trees I've ever seen.

The two days I spent on the farm did more to diminish four years of worrying than any amount of logic. You see, I have been terrified of aging. I know that with age comes wisdom (hopefully), but the thought of losing my memory or being betrayed by my body again, becoming as helpless (or even more so) as a child again...it scares me. But that farm, it wouldn't be what it is without the time it's been established. The garden wouldn't be as lush, or the people as calm (all the rough edges worn away).

Even my mentors, the writer S and the photographer D, hada friendship and camaraderie and one-ness that only comes with time (and a deep compatibility). I hope to achieve that level of rapport with someone someday.

I learned this week that time isn't an enemy. It isn't a thief. Time simply is, and is required for many of the qualities I admire in people.

006.

On returning from a visit to the largest blueberry farm in Oregon, I feel strangely creative, like if I don't do start a project, it'll come oozing out of my pores and get my life all sticky. I learned so much these past two days about myself, about farming and blueberries and farmers, about photography and questions and writing. Learning like this always inspires something in me.

But there was another factor, the away-ness of the farm. The house was a little island amidst blueberry fields, with the most splendid garden I've seen in person and a little pond ringed with yellow irises. There were three swans and a signet, a heron, a bluejay, so many reminders of a world so much bigger and more perfect than myself. And the people, they were so calm, even though the busiest 6 weeks of their year is right around the corner; grounded, I think they learn from their farm and their fruit.

I am inspired by people who genuinely love their work, who take no bullshit, who connect with what is truly real and intransitory. My mind is spinning.

005.

It always makes sense in theory, but the idea of getting inspiration for the way one dresses from a book or movie always baffles me in practice. Well, it did. Now I understand it.

Take, for instance, the season two finale of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Drusilla, Spike and Angel are all wearing black and red (oooh, how very vampire of them). And Buffy always wears cross necklaces, as any Slayer should.

I found my own cross necklace (which I previously would never wear because I hate the connotations it has with girls who wear them but don't act Christlike) and started wearing it because fandom is cool. I bought a red dress at Nordstrom Rack the other day, and wore that with the cross and black tights. Voila, instant outfit inspiration. And it didn't feel costumey or dorky or forced.

I suppose it's like watching Gossip Girl and wearing a headband, only applied to more clothing.

004.

End of quarter exhaustion is a curious thing, especially when it is coupled with a huge relief as one turns in a final project.

Sometimes, I feel like a marionette and the only thing holding me up are my strings to heaven.

003.

Inspired by the last of Dr Krug's class, I started going through all my old school notebooks and making a list of all the books in the margins (whenever a professor mentions a book that sounds interesting and isn't part of the curriculum, I write it down for possible future perusal). I've gotten an entire front-and-back in my journal so far, and it's only the first notebook.

Krug wanted to make sure his point hit home, and asked us to make a list of 100 books (and 100 pieces of music, 50 artists, 20 philosophers) that we think we need to know, and read those. He's big into reading; every class was essentially him telling us that we need to think for ourselves (which is probably why so many people think he's crazy). He is crazy, but in a very good way. Honestly, his class struck the balance between kick-in-the-pants (read! get involved! seek alternative sources!) and new things. He genuinely cares about us, and I think that helped his message a lot.

He definitely inspired me to step up my game. I only wish the rest of the class listened.

002.

I caught a few minutes of the MTV movie awards last night, right as they were awarding Johnny Depp the "Most Comic Performance" award. He looked so bemused, and remarked on stage that he was not a funny person. I can't help but wonder what was going through his head...he's not a very MTV kind of person. The juxtaposition between my perception of Depp (intellectual, fanciful, deep) and MTV (and all MTVers nursing crushes on a smexy pirate) is really quite odd.