Purging and Selling

Does anyone know anyone who enjoys collecting Disney trinkets?

I’m selling my old Mrs. Potts Tea Set as part of the great pre-move purging of stuff.

I actually have a lot of junk that I’m going through to see what’s ebay-worthy. I thought my parents were going to have a yard sale, but they seemed put out by the idea, and I have a lot of junk that is good, usable useless-junk, just stuff I don’t want anymore.

Like my dart board, or my lava lamp, or my ooze-tube. Stuff like that. However, I can’t really see anyone buying an ooze-tube off of ebay (what would they search for??), and such an item isn’t exactly something you donate to the Goodwill. BUT, I know there are young ones like I used to be who think such items are the coolest things ever, and would gladly take them off my hands.

So if anyone has an idea for how to get such items into such peoples’ hands, let me know!


Hello Internet!

I wanted to share with you all a thing. Do you know of this?

It’s an online service that gives you remote access to the files on your PC via the interwebs (assuming your PC is on and connected to the internet). I wish this would have existed when I was in college, for those “Oh crap I need this file but it’s on my computer back in my rooooom!” moments, but I know I could still find it rather useful these days.

My coworker here showed it to me, and I asked him about its security. He said that many of the guys that work for the company that handles our networking here at school use it, and that they consider it quite safe. They are general the super-secure sorts themselves. I am curious about its inner workings, though.

What do you guys think?


Today’s quote is…

“Yesterday is but a dream, tomorrow is only a vision.
But a today well-lived makes every yesterday a dream of happiness,
and every tomorrow a vision of hope..”

Now that I’m mostly cooking for myself, I more easily leave things out of my diet. Red meat, I have noticed, has all but vanished. I decided to get myself a little filet for dinner tonight, since I have been known to have problems with the anemia from time to time.

(In my defense, the last time I donated platelets, the lady said that I had a very high iron count…for a girl. So there!)

Hey, do you want to hear something kind of disgusting? Wheeler said that it was also adorable, but I think it’s mostly just disgusting.

Sometimes when I have a steak that is particularly delicious, but that I know is too big for me to finish, I will cut bites of it off and chew them like gum.

When all the flavor is gone, I spit it back out onto the plate, and get another bite. I do this until the entire steak has been sufficiently gnawed (rest assured, I also never do this in public, or even when anyone else is around, even Scott).

The resulting pile of masticated meat always makes me amazed at how much a stomach can hold.


I stopped by the cemetery this evening to see Nancy, for Mother’s Day.

Slipping through the halls of the mausoleum to find her place was like walking through some invisible emotional shell flayer, and I cried for a long time when I got there. Chris and Rachel must have visited that day as well, because there were two bouquets there.

I guess that’s the sort of thing that shows you that you’re not healed yet.

I am wondering and worrying a bit if I am healing correctly, and if I should be doing something differently, or something extra, to help myself along.


My parents are planning to move out of their house, so the last few weeks have been a huge ordeal of cleaning and purging excess junk (most of which seems to belong to me).

I brought home a couple of boxes of glass and paintings the other day (which is to say, I brought them home and they are still sitting in my trunk until I muster the energy to carry them upstairs) and I’m rearranging my own apartment to make room for a little bit of storage.

Most of the paintings I brought home are figure studies, mostly on masonite but a few on canvas. I’m wondering what to do with them. They are just rough studies, some in preparation for larger works, some just as exercises, and I don’t feel they’re very impressive. As in, I don’t think anyone would want to buy them.

I’m thinking if anything I can just paint over them, so as not to waste good masonite. It would be a nice goal for myself, “You have to make this number of for-real paintings in these pre-decided sizes. Go!”

A few of them are fairly decent portraits that I would feel kind of guilty painting over. I dunno, it’ s a debate, one way or the other.

In other news, 3 months ago I rearranged my room, and made a policy that if I could keep a particular corner totally clean for a month, then I would buy myself a drafting table and easel to put there. 3 months later and the corner is spotless, so I guess I should follow through with my reward, yeah?

Glass stuff

Tonight I went down to the First Friday Gallery Hop. Actually, that’s kind of a lie, because I really just went to glassworks to watch Ken do a demo.

Ken is awesome! He made a giant mint julip, complete with ice cubes and snazzy hot-sculpted mint leaf. It was very cool, and I got to see a lot of the Centre Underground while I was there.

It made me miss glassblowing a lot. I loved glassblowing, yes? All things about it – the art within time constraint, the fire and heat, all that stuff. I think the thing I loved the most about it was its basis in movement.

Contrary to popular belief, I do not believe I am primarily a visual-spatial thinker. I think I’m mostly a kinesthetic thinker. For example, the reason I took copious notes in lectures, never looked at them again, and retained knowledge was because the knowledge was somehow implanted in my brain via the movement of taking notes. Even with painting, I don’t foresee color and composition so much as I feel strokes. It is strange to explain.

There is so much movement involved in glassblowing, and I don’t mean just hoisting the pipe about and constantly turning it and whatnot. I remember when I started to learn how to tell when a piece was on center, or how to tell when the glass was too hot or too cold or juuust where I needed it to be, or when I learned how long to flash a piece. These are all things grounded in subtle movement, and working in such a way is almost intoxicating. It is just so very delightful!

The problem, I guess, is that I never felt the need to produce (except to complete assignments, make presents, and churn out a senior show in somewhat of a panic) so much as the need to just work with glass. This line of thinking is not conducive to being a glassblower, apparently, or so I’d convinced myself. I miss it badly.

And if anyone says “But Lisa, if you are such a kinesthetic thinker, then why don’t you dance,” I will kinesthet them right in the face.