Today marks the second annual celebration of Aladdin's Day. You might be thinking to yourself, "Aladdin's Day? I thought today was about puking your guts out on overly handsy couples", and it can be if you let it. You can sit and grumble about any one of the many reasons why this holiday exists and why it is the worst holiday ever. You can attend the "lonely hearts" get togethers around town, meet a cute person, and then realize exactly why they are still single as you shamefully hand them your phone number. Or you can do something entirely different.
Many adults forget that things can be made up and if you get a group of people to go along with you, they become real. This time last year, a group of friends, very bitter about past/current relationships, were angrily/sadly talking about their Valentine's Day plans. Most people in their situation typically do this. I have plenty of times and you're probably having similar thoughts right now (unless you are nauseatingly in love). At that same time, I was in a new relationship and happy, but it was way too early to be exchanging "I love you, Smoopty-woopty" cards. So we decided to change things and created Aladdin's Day.
It's not that I hate this Valentine holiday. I just hate that it's not all inclusive. I did have a large portion of friends confused about the new celebration. Too many heart shaped boxes of chocolates and their brains were unable to reason with any other idea, but Aladdin's Day celebrates the triumphs of our hero Aladdin. As well as his charm and good looks, magic carpet rides, and the Genie, of course. The benefit that makes this holiday is anyone can participate because everyone loves that darn street rat. There can't ever be too many people celebrating and no one has to be an odd one out. We celebrated by getting together to drink some good old Founders beer and passing out non-Valentines.
So today's date doesn't have to be about spreading singles awareness or any kind of Valentine dilemma. It can be about anything you want with your favorite people in the world. Just have fun celebrating.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Thursday, February 9, 2012
What I Wanted To Be Growing Up
When I was little I always wanted to grow up and become an artist. On the side I sometimes wanted to be a professional soccer player for Brazil's national team. I didn't really know that I had to live in Brazil. I thought that if I just tried really hard the president would just call my house one day and offer me a spot on the field. Luckily, I was a much better artist, but everyone always said that I'd never make any money off my art until I was dead no matter how great I was. I'd be a starving artist living in a box with my paintings. My first thought while listening was "rude", my second was "challenge excepted"! I would become a great artist and show them all.
The first time I can remember any creative thought was when my dad used to drop me off at daycare. Before he left, I would have him draw me a picture and it would only be a small array of objects, like a race car or my house. As he drew I was amazed at his skill to draw, in my eyes, photorealistic images with a Crayola. It was unbelievable and as he left I would attempt to copy his drawings.
In first grade I entered my first art show. It was a class show and my watercolored elephant, decorated with sequences stood out against a glued on macaroni landscape and cut out of who knows what, but that kid probably shouldn't have been holding a pair of scissors.
In first grade I entered my first art show. It was a class show and my watercolored elephant, decorated with sequences stood out against a glued on macaroni landscape and cut out of who knows what, but that kid probably shouldn't have been holding a pair of scissors.
My mom once told me during a parent teacher conference, my teacher was thrilled to tell them about a diorama I made with moving parts. She had never seen that in a kid my age. I vaguely remember the shoebox habitat, but I do remember pouring hours and hours into every opportunity to be creative.
I was the first one to perfect bubble letters a school and everyone just had to have me write their name in their school year book. I was taking every art class I could, including private lessons. My goal to become a snooty, turtleneck wearing artist was shaping up.
Until one day I stepped into my high school ceramics class. It was a total blow off class. Everyone new it. Plus I was a senior and already excepted into my college of choice. I went into the class thinking this would be an awesome opportunity to make some "cute" things to go in my college dorm room the following year. Our first project was to make a mug. While everyone else was struggling to construct a simple coil mug, I had drawn up some sketches of an underwater themed cup. It had fish, a sunken treasure, and a lady mermaid as the handle.
I took my sketch pad up to my teacher expecting stars to shoot out her eyes. I knew it wasn't a Grayson Perry by any means, but I also knew my competition was using spit to moisten their clay during class. She took a quick look and said "Your going to art school right?". I said "Yep" thinking she would praise me for my creativity and composition. Instead she scrunched her eyebrows together and said, "They are going to look at this and laugh at you. This is terrible."
Umm, what?! I thought, she can't say that to me, can she? I'm like good at art. It's totally my thing. It defines me as a person. I DRAW PERFECT BUBBLE LETTERS! I went back over to my chair and fumed for the remainder of the class. How could she insult me, the "art girl", infront of everyone? I was so embarrassed, my ego had been crushed, and I couldn't understand what was wrong with my mermaid paradise.
Eventually, in college, I figured out what she expected from me. She was raising the bar way higher then anyone had previously and it kicked me in my privileged, arrogant butt.
I won a few awards throughout high school and college. I got a degree in graphic design and I've been working at the same place for the last four year. I'm still not a famous artist. I don't even know if thats what I want anymore. I do know what I did do was much harder then I thought it would be. Thankfully I had a professor, on the first day of class, that made us write out a bubble chart. The goal was to write every talent, skill, and interest then link any related jobs. The more abstract the better. He topped it off with a little fact; only 1 of 3 students in class would even become professional designers after college. So if the famous designer doesn't work out, I thankfully know I have interest in being a tree planter/hugger, talk show host, or an amusement park employee.
Until one day I stepped into my high school ceramics class. It was a total blow off class. Everyone new it. Plus I was a senior and already excepted into my college of choice. I went into the class thinking this would be an awesome opportunity to make some "cute" things to go in my college dorm room the following year. Our first project was to make a mug. While everyone else was struggling to construct a simple coil mug, I had drawn up some sketches of an underwater themed cup. It had fish, a sunken treasure, and a lady mermaid as the handle.
I took my sketch pad up to my teacher expecting stars to shoot out her eyes. I knew it wasn't a Grayson Perry by any means, but I also knew my competition was using spit to moisten their clay during class. She took a quick look and said "Your going to art school right?". I said "Yep" thinking she would praise me for my creativity and composition. Instead she scrunched her eyebrows together and said, "They are going to look at this and laugh at you. This is terrible."
Umm, what?! I thought, she can't say that to me, can she? I'm like good at art. It's totally my thing. It defines me as a person. I DRAW PERFECT BUBBLE LETTERS! I went back over to my chair and fumed for the remainder of the class. How could she insult me, the "art girl", infront of everyone? I was so embarrassed, my ego had been crushed, and I couldn't understand what was wrong with my mermaid paradise.
Eventually, in college, I figured out what she expected from me. She was raising the bar way higher then anyone had previously and it kicked me in my privileged, arrogant butt.
I won a few awards throughout high school and college. I got a degree in graphic design and I've been working at the same place for the last four year. I'm still not a famous artist. I don't even know if thats what I want anymore. I do know what I did do was much harder then I thought it would be. Thankfully I had a professor, on the first day of class, that made us write out a bubble chart. The goal was to write every talent, skill, and interest then link any related jobs. The more abstract the better. He topped it off with a little fact; only 1 of 3 students in class would even become professional designers after college. So if the famous designer doesn't work out, I thankfully know I have interest in being a tree planter/hugger, talk show host, or an amusement park employee.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Punxsutawney Phil
He never seems to be right, but it is fun to believe in a little rodent that predicts the future. However, Michigan has been having a great winter run. We may have been dumped on by snow the past weekend but the other day it is was up to 55 degrees and I was rolling with the car windows down. I'm going to predict Michigan will play this winter dance with us a few more times. A lot of snow here, a lot of melting there, and repeat.
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