love this.

I think there are all of these people who grew up loving Sesame Street and sometimes have to find an outlet for it.

Mr. Oizo - Flat Beat from Spoon on Vimeo.

making waves.

My ad campaign for the Nissan Cube. I actually enjoyed working on it.

Environmental ads:

design.

There are so many reasons why I haven't been blogging much lately. Blogs are not for making announcements. Much is happening in my little Provo life and it will have to seep into the whole of my personage in order to affect the way I write here.

But still, one of the biggest contributing is factors is that I love design. Unlike last semester, my head is now totally in the game. Nothing I'm doing feels like homework because I wouldn't choose to be doing anything else.

I was walking into the HFAC last week when a guy tried to hand me a neon green flier advertising his comedy sports act. He extended his arm toward me with some force, entirely certain that I'd take it out of his hand.
"Sorry...I just..."
There wasn't really time to explain and I'm sure he didn't care. He was busy recruiting an audience.

What I would've said is that I don't like comedy sports and never have. And I am so occupied with obligations that I'm not sure I could attend even if my best friend were performing in it.

As I thought more about the interaction, I started to feel great gratitude that if I am someday a successful designer, I would never have to hand out fliers in order to get peoples' attention. My ideas would be communicated in a manner where nobody would gather to witness my work; I'd never have to point it out at all; it would be enjoyed quietly. Or maybe it wouldn't be noticed all because of its innate appeal in the ease of its use/the function of its form.

Design feels more service oriented than painting or theater or film or music because it goes beyond entertainment to make mundane things beautiful and easier to use. You always consider your audience first. I love it so much.

exorbitance purge.

This quote feels like one of the most important themes of my life right now. C.S. Lews, Mere Christianity p. 108:

"What we call 'being in love' is a glorious state, and, in several ways, good for us. It helps to make us generous and courageous, it opens our eyes not only to the beauty of the beloved but to all beauty, and it subordinates (especially at first) our merely animal sexuality; in that sense, love is the great conqueror of lust. No one in his senses would deny that being in love is far better than either common sensuality or cold self-centredness. But, as I said before, 'the most dangerous thing you can do is to take any one impulse of our own nature and set it up as the thing you ought to follow at all costs'. Being in love is a good thing, but it is not the best thing. There are many things below it, but there are also things above it. You cannot make it the basis of a whole life. It is a noble feeling, but it is still a feeling. Now no feeling can be relied on to last in its full intensity, or even to last at all. Knowledge can last, principles can last, habits can last; but feelings come and go. And in fact, whatever people say, the state called 'being in love' usually does not last. If the old fairy-tale ending 'They lived happily ever after' is taken to mean 'They felt for the next fifty years exactly as they felt the day before they were married,' then it says what probably never was nor ever would be true, and would be highly undesirable if it were. Who could bear to live in that excitement for even five years? What would become of your work, your appetite, your sleep, your friendships? But, of course, ceasing to be 'in love' need not mean ceasing to love. Love in this second sense-love as distinct from 'being in love'-is not merely a feeling. It is a deep unity, maintained by the will and deliberately strengthened by habit; reinforced by (in Christian marriages) the grace which both partners ask, and receive, from God. They can have this love for each other even at those moments when they do not like each other; as you love yourself even when you do not like yourself. They can retain this love even when each would easily, if they allowed themselves, be 'in love' with someone else. 'Being in love' first moved them to promise fidelity: this quieter love enables them to keep the promise. It is on this love that the engine of marriage is run: being in love was the explosion that started it."

I think the "quieter love" that C.S. Lewis speaks of that is "maintained by the will and deliberately strengthened by habit" is the type of love I receive from my very best of friends and family members. I've lived most of my life out of balance, making raw emotion and impulse the fuel for many desired destinations; especially within my romantic relationships. My new conclusion: Emotion means little unless it is backed up by sincere and consistent action.

the love of a hacker.

My email account was hacked at around 2:30a.m. on Tuesday morning by someone with the English skills of a Chinese High School student. It was sent to everyone I've ever emailed, including bosses, art galleries I had to contact when I was working as a TA, and lengthy lists of BYU kids from my classes. It read:

hi
How is everything going?
I want to share something with you ： http://www.kcnshop.com/
On this website ,you can find many new and origianl electronic
products .Because of New Year 2010, they are holding sales promotion
activity, all the product are sold at a discount.
And i have bought some products from this web, low cost and good
quality ,and the delivery is on time .
If you need some, visit this website . Hurry up,because the promotion
activity only keeps 1 month .
Hope everything goes well.
Greetings!

It ilicited many interesting responses that actually made me feel really loved, including:

hey did you send me this or did somebody hack themselves into your account? hope you are well...: )

and:

virus? sorry girl.

via chat:

are you awake for rlz? Oh, no just a chinese high school student hacked into your account.

from the mother of an old friend:

I know you didn't send this strange email about some camera shop...Someone with more computer knowledge than me can tell you what is going on. Otherwise, I hope things are going well for you. Maybe I'll see you around Provo or on campus, if you're still there.

From a beloved co-worker:

quick heads up. got a mass e-mail from you around 2:30 am for kcnshop.com. as it's 2:30, and i'm very tired, i didn't think much of it until after stopping by the site and then thinking to myself... "wait... does this really seem reasonable?"

anyway, if you did send the e-mails, no worries. if not, you may want to check your gmail account as it may have been hacked.

hope all is well, friend. we should do lunch sometime.

your friend,
mos def.

from one of my design professors:

this was in my email. are you in a new line of work?

my response: Ha! Yes, someone hacked my email last night. I changed my password this morning and I think that should take care it. Thanks.

His reply: you might want to reconsider. it could be quite lucrative.

A lot of people who only scanned it thought that I actually wrote it. One girl in my design classes thought I was linking her to some really sweet design site. Ha! It still makes me laugh.

It's funny how someone in a foreign country sent out a dishonest reminder to the world that I exist and that many people so lovingly responded.

So here's a small thanks to the hacker, wherever they are; but with hopes they don't try to steal my identity or money.

over easy.

Mike Alger recently explained something important to me over a plate of eggs.

"I don't like runny yolks because I don't like my food to mix-- didn't I recently have a big conversation with you about this? I think the way people approach food mimics their work style. I like to eat one thing on my plate until its gone and then move onto the next item. I'm the same with work. I finish one thing before I move on to the next."

"Bo-ring. I love runny yolks. I love the way it tastes when mixed with jam. I love the way it tastes when mixed with syrup."

The next morning I'm paddling in a pool with my beginning swimming class. I'm on yard 40 of the total 50 that my super-cute, freckly, brunette coach commanded us to swim. Everyone else is finished and waiting near the side; all eyes on me.

"Don't even worry, everyone wants a little break", I'm told when I reach the rest of them at last.

I am one of three girls in my swim class this semester. The rest are men. They are not freshman. They are not skinny. Some are soccer players; some are in the ROTC. The other girls offer no comfort whatsoever. One of them runs 5 miles every morning, the other swims laps daily at the gym. They are both lean and muscly and blonde.

After swimming is Spanish. My teacher is blonde, but rotund. Her Spanish is beautiful and spoken with great ease. Everyday feels like a strain to remember the vocabulary I learned from previous semesters. Sometimes I get lost listening to the sound of her voice as the meaning glides over my head.

Next: Motion graphics. After Effects. Technology and computers. I purposefully sit at the iMac closest to the teacher to watch his every mouse click so I don't get lost.

I'm trying to choose comfortable projects in my design classes this semester to balance things out a bit. I am relabeling some ginger beer and choosing a more playful magazine to redesign.

I eat eggs most at nights in Provo since I moved out. They are tasty and cheap. I even learned how to make a cheap muffin recipe to have something to soak up the yolk with.

always go to the funeral.

There is one "This I Believe" essay that had moved me to action more than any other:

Here it is.

It has inspired me to attend all kinds of events that I would normally avoid: baby and bridal showers, birthday parties, etc.

I had the opportunity to attend a funeral today. My sister-in-law's father died abruptly of a heart attack on New Year's Eve. Although I did not know him well, I was eager to indicate any support I could offer through my attendance at such a formal gathering.

There is, of course, another virtue in attending funerals that stood strongly in my mind today. They are a great equalizing force that reminds us of our inevitable fate to continue to experience encounters with death as time moves forward. This is humbling and connects me to all humankind. It makes me want to give more hugs, to speak more loving words, to offer more appreciation and forgiveness, to allow more people within the inner nucleus walls of my life. It makes me happy to refer to everyone as "Brother" or "Sister" at church.

When I was married the first time, we had a very small and quiet celebration. Instead of a reception, we held a luncheon at a restaurant. Only those included in the wedding party were invited to attend.

At my next wedding, (when and if this ever happens) I want to invite everyone. Classmates, friends of friends, old primary teachers, my sister-in-law's in-laws; everyone. I no longer see such life-changing occasions as being about individuals. We are all members of a human network, linked by human experience, blood, births, love, marriage, tears, and death.

i want a portfolio so much more deperately than i want a boyfriend.

back from the dead.

Provo haunts me. Not so much BYU campus; Adam and I only went there together a few times and I always felt like a foreigner with him there anyway. It's the grocery stores, the shops, the boutiques, the restaurants; the streets where we longboarded. They feel spooky, like they should be covered with decay, like there should barbed-wire fences propped up around the spots where my most painful memories occurred. Sometimes I recognize my own irrational amazement that everything looks exactly the same here.

I moved back on Friday. Instead of buying a new car after my head-on collision, I've decided to walk to BYU campus everyday from a remote location.

I am moving 15 miles away from my mother's delicious vegetarian cuisine (that she so lovingly prepares just for me.) I am moving 15 miles away from the snowy fields that greet me on my way home. I am moving 15 miles away from the chickens that sleep in the lilac bush outside my window. I am moving 15 miles away from the only place I knew to go when I had nothing.

It will be okay. I will make new memories here to replace the old ones.