A Good Friday, Indeed

I've decided to take a break from panic mode to write about how grateful I am today.

A Friday morning that started with a sun was extremely welcomed after weeks of dreary, cold, windy and down right muggy crap weather. But the sun alone did not single out this glorious day.

Since I still remain confused about my career, a friend and I decided to get as many creative directors and copywriters in front of us. Thus far, two wonderful people from local agencies and one freelance copywriter was kind enough to offer answers to our notebooks beaming with questions.

Along with the questions, we would offer each person a packet of portfolio samples with a casual staple in the top left corner. As I slid my mini portfolio across the desk today, I couldn't help but feel more anxious than usual. It's not an interview, what have I to worry about? I spent 5 minutes throwing the campaigns together, I've been through plenty of critiques.
My skin is thick.

After a grin or two, he flipped to the cover page once more and looked up at me.
I bit my tongue.

"This is impressive."

"This is the same caliber as people who have been in the business for years."

"Thank you." I bit my tongue again to keep my legs from springing up.


As for current gratefulness, I am grateful for grateful clients.
It is an intoxicating feeling when a client emails you about the great job you're doing. Considering about 78.5% of the time, clients don't like a certain blue, keep changing their minds and ideas. Good news reassures that you are, in fact, not a design impostor and should be cast out.

A word on keeping your foot down

It's not my nature to allow (mentally) abusive friendships to go further than a few insults. I've had a boyfriend to teach me that valuable lesson several years ago. So when I hear gruesome tales of unfortunate conversation or interaction, I can't help but feel the need to strap on my boxing gloves and have a go at the perpetrator's face. One doesn't need to surround themselves with crap to feel fulfilled. It seems obvious that you'll just become full of shit yourself. All the while, you may have an occasional laugh or a jolly ol' time watching the mall walkers, the exaggerated judgements passed upon your music taste or the color of your hair should not be tolerated.

1. Back out of the room slowly, but firmly.Breaking up with a friend is awkward. Though you didn't see each other naked, running into them might be worse than seeing an ex.
Shit, I'm starting to sound like cosmavogue.

2. Communication BreakdownNot that anyone calls anymore— but just don't do that. And texting, hell no. The problem with texting is that it's too damn simple. You can compose a text on the toilet, in your sleep, the shower, driving, eating, drinking...
Let's just get that contact out of the phone altogether.
Oh and social media, what a disaster. You can concoct a dossier based on your grandma's facebook page. Although it is amusing to watch people over-expose themselves to the internet.

3. The Last StandListen, I don't think we should hang out anymore. I've sent this through facebook before. I wasn't especially fond of the person, so I didn't feel a scrap of indignity.

My Communist, My Villian

I spent most of the day alone, without music, people or movies.

And I've figured something out. A question many fellow art students may have wondered several times.

"What's with all the Communist paraphernalia?"—shirts, hats, posters, art, ideas...

It was endless, or so I thought.

I figured it out when it started to dissolve. When I stopped looking for pins, books...etc.

I like to exploit the population's irrational fears.

Not that I'm done doing this. The propaganda style still dominants my empty canvas.

It's just that I've been studying another feared group. Here's a hint. I picked up the Qu'ran, I'm writing about transnational feminism, I know the difference between Shi'ite and Sunni.

That's right, I'm playing on Islamophobia.

The Communist thing just made me laugh, this time I'm stocking my arsenal for future ignorance.

The Veil

Let me get this straight. As a female, there are a lot of things in this world that make me roll my eyes or turn my stomach when it comes to women's rights. Until about a week ago, the perspective of the veil was one of oppression. And like many humans, I chose to make my own mind about it without searching further into the matter.

Lately, I have been working against this habit accepted by so many. It's not easy to undo 20 years of accepting that Arabs are out to get Americans because they hate 'freedom'. Especially after 9/11, as a 13 year old... the confusion and media takes over; it was so simple to ease into it.

I knew nothing about them, not even in "world" history had we even geographically come close to talking about the middle east. World history was WWII. Nothing happened before 1939.

Never had I considered where this "hatred for freedom" had come from.

What I found was quite the opposite. Like any other religion, culture or race, they longed for freedom.

The faulty alliances made for oil nearly forced me to pack my bags that moment...

Wait, I'm suppose to be talking about the veil—anywho...

I found that eastern femininity and western femininity are quite different.

For now, I've only scratched the surface or this topic— more to come later.

Boylan, Round I

Half page AD

Root beer.

Notes to my Mother—

Root Beer Co.

I don't put my copywriting up. Although very unlikely the company finds this, loves it and steals it— I'm taking a leap.

Below is some long copy, something found on the side of the bottle or packaging.

My question is: Who is speaking?

I was an accident. Part of an experiment trying to create an elixir, Boylan made me, Boylan. The best stuff comes from the ground and that’s all he had. Extracted from the Yucca plant mixed in with yeast and pure cane sugar, there I was; a dark, sweet, bubbly foam overflowing test tubes. For over 100 years, the strong, frothy blend hasn’t changed. And there wasn’t any reason to.

Not bad for a pharmacist.