Friday, June 13, 2014

Pow! You Just Got Punched

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_____On Monday, my mother dearest and I went for an afternoon hiking trip at a local woodsy park; some of the trails there lie tangent to century-old mining facilities, and for the anthropology class I'm taking this summer, our teacher gave us the day off to go visit 'em. Momma opted to tag along--heck to the yeah, momma!

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_____Shortly after venturing chivalrously into the Kodak-moment-worthy woods, our faces began to gleam like freshly glazed donuts and our bodily temperatures rose due to the sticky Alabama humidity. As we scaled the low grade hills that wouldn't be the least bit challenging to an infant wearing rollerblades, our mighty lady calves bulged and buckled like those of muscled Spartan men. There were a few steep moments in the trails, but it was nothing to mother and I, for we are secretly mountain goats clad in human skins by dark fairy magic.

_____Yes. We are actually a clandestine wizard family. Be not too jealous.

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_____We scavenged the area like nut-deprived squirrels for about two hours (lol whut) and we were able to locate two of the decrepit mine shafts. I wish I could say we had ill fate and became woefully lost to add elements of desperation and emotional depth to our journey, but alas, that was never the case. The trails were easily identifiable with words and arrows, like some neat freak went print-crazy with a label maker and a perfectly chopped stack of 2x4s; plus, the paths were perfectly exposed and never meshed too well with the surrounding trees.

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Top: Charlotte Russe (exact)
Skirt: Know-Style (similar)
Booties: Chelsea Crew
Necklace: JCPenny
Socks: Target
Large gold cuff: Lulu*s
Earrings: vintage

Saturday, June 7, 2014

The Donuts Are Not As They Seem

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The Donuts Are Not As They Seem, Lithographic print, March 2014

______More printmaking things! More lithographs! MORE ALCHEMY!

______Witchy terminology aside, here are some more of my pastry-organism pals. The second one is a fairly tiny print, measuring the size of a plush-bunned hamburger or maybe 6x6 inches if you don't want to think about a print in terms of greasy noms.  Even as the semester dwindled to an end, I continued with my initial idea of crafting up an army of these delicate little creatures, even if doing so isn't the most innovative of art things I could have done.

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Mother and Child, Lithographic print, April 2014

______So I'm sure some of you have heard this via other social medias, but if not, get this: there was apparently a creepstah out there who made a Facebook profile using my pictures who was pretending to be me, but under a different name. Even more unnerving, there were captions under the pictures acting as if this person had experienced those very moments that I did. A lady contacted me (who found me through google-searching my stolen images since her younger daughters received a request from impostor-me) since she thought the account was extremely suspicious--which it was indeed! I'm so glad that there are people willing to make the world a better place out there. I know that I would do the same.

______Facebook rejected my requests to have the account removed, saying it wasn't an impersonation, which was a very bolonga-filled decision on their part. So bologna-filled that I am now convinced all some of the people behind the Book of Faces drive Oscar Mayer Weiner-mobiles around. I whipped up a strongly worded message to imposter-me and sent something more eloquently written than, but along the lines of, "Bruh, those are my pictures, and you're being absolutely creepy to impersonate me. My smorsgabord of friends have reported for you, so go ahead and delete before you are inevitably smitten."

______He was totally wigged out and deleted. Totally.

______It's a good thing I've got you guys to help me. Thanks so much again for those of you who did take a minute to report him. Girl power... holla!

Sunday, June 1, 2014

The Sky is Artificial Butter

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 ______This is a tale of the Northern Lights.

______Oh, no-no-no. Not those Northern Lights, mind. Not that shimmering light spectacle that dominates the night sky like cosine and sine waves interwoven in some prismatic mating ritual. Surreal and mind-blowing as that is, I'm talking about something completely different. I'm speaking of a befuddling person who I've dubbed "Northern Lights" in my head.

______You all know I'm an avid road biker. I bike each morning when the sun soaks the land with its citrine light, just before the humidity has time to saturate the air like a sweaty herd of wild armpits. On my rides, I often stumble across the same few folks: there's a trio of greying men who sport slick neon shirts and cheerily greet me with, "G'morning, girl!"; a serious young woman who whizzes by with nothing but a curt nod; and a few friendly dudes with excellently rendered butts who usually pass beside me from behind (which is why I know of their top notch man-buns.)

______However.

______There is one particular person, one man who I have yet to comprehend when our paths intersect. His approach is signaled from afar by a blinking light on the opposite side of the road. A blinking light that conjures the flickering patterns of the Northern Lights.

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______Blink-blink-blink, his light flashed to an invisible tune. Blink-moth-er-frick-in-blink-hell-yah-blink. This light is totally in tune with this dude. This dude is totally in tune with the light. There is a lot of tuning going on.

______The northern lights were flashing and moving closer. The man upon the bike sported dark shades and a spotted helmet that boasted years of road biking experience, and his tires spun confidently along the pavement. As he neared, he immediately turned his head toward me.

______"Good morning!" I instinctively hummed, waving an arm and tipping my helmet down and up in a swift and scientific biker nod. However, this man did not return my kind greeting with a head nod or friendly hand gesture like the other bikers; rather, his only response was to spread his arms to his sides. It looked as if he was preparing to lift from his bike and rise into the hazy blue stratosphere. What, was he some sort of bird man? I was equally parts amused and bewildered.

______He said something incomprehensible to me. Wind sloshed in the tunnels of my ears like thick soup in cans and cars zipped by noisily, and all I knew was that Northern Lights resembled a hawk with his outstretched arms. I could not hear him. As we passed one another, he shook his head dramatically, almost disappointedly. I delivered an incredulous look. What the huh? was all I could think.

______I gave him a snappy, "What?!" and he swerved toward the middle of the road, biking right between the yellow striped centerlines. He stuck out one finger and waved it back and forth in a deliberate "uh-uh-uh!" fashion. The kind that adults do to children when they've done something horrible, like scooping their sticky fingers in the bowl of raw cookie dough batter. Yet again, the man said something that I was unable to hear. I saw a flicker of a mouth that was partially grinning. He was smiling as he said this?

______The man biked back to his side of the road. I guffawed. What the heck, what even, who is this guy and what? was all I thought. There was no reason nor logic to his actions, and yet they seemed consistent. I was absolutely perplexed.

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______It was another week or so until we met again. Being an early Sunday morning, there was absolutely no traffic. I saw Northern Lights heading in my direction quicker than a famished trout toward a juicy worm. All right, I'll decode him this time, I assured myself.

______"What do you want?" I roared, not being able to help but grin at how ridiculous this entire scenario was. I intently strained my ears for a response.
______"You're going the wrong way!" Northern Lights shouted back to me. He only raised one arm up this time. Perhaps my shouting rendered his birdlike motions weak due to some sort of fear, or so I liked to imagine. Nonetheless, that was the first time I actually understood his words, so I choked on a reply.
______"I am not!" I said hastily, knowing that I was traveling in the proper direction: with traffic, not against it.  That was the way of the bikers, the rules of the road. So why would he point that out? He was just being silly here. I mimicked a frustrated version of his signature eagle arms, mocking him a little.
______"Well," Northern Lights retorted, perhaps sardonically, "You should be going this way!"

______He cycled past me for good and I turned my head as he flitted past, almost curving into the ditch as I did so. It was my first mini-conversation with Northern Lights, and I know there will be more as this summer progresses. Stay tuned and stay cool, folks.

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Dress: New York and Co.
Denim jacket: Kohl's (exact)
Heels: Jeffrey Campbell
Necklace: Charming Charlie
Earrings: Charming Charlie

Thursday, May 22, 2014

Becoming Ladyface

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 ______Centuries ago when I was but a wee sprout rooted in my childhood home, I was blessed with the roomiest closet in all the land. This closet spanned the length of a school bus and was just as wide minus the seats. Down the left side, my clothes hung in a tidy row; down the right, Polly Pocket kits, Lego sets, and what was basically Barbieville dominated the intersection of carpet and wall. My closet was a dreamy haven for a young girl.

 ______One day, I was stumbling through my mom's bathroom drawers, most likely searching fervently for a sensational nail polish with tiny foil stars in it; however, instead of stumbling across a glitzy nail covering, I unearthed a stack of those large winged pads for women. 

 ______I unwrapped one and studied it intently. 

 ______What were these objects?

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______Of course, I had not the faintest idea that they were feminine hygiene products meant to be shoved in underwear like some giant diaper sticker. Nope, the first thought that popped into my young head was, "Jackpot! Sleeping cots for my Barbies! BARBIE SLEEPOVER!" And so I snatched a few and dashed immediately to my closet like a sugar addict out of a bakery. 

______I plopped my Barbies on their fun new cots. Surely, my Barbies were absolutely elated that they could finally have a sleepover, 'cause there was no way they could have all fit in a single tiny Barbie bed. But now they had sleeping cots and could all chill in the same location. What a darn pleasant time. What a darn pleasant day. There was nothing quite like the highly saturated, pink-drenched world of Barbies, you guys.

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______Inevitably enough, one afternoon my mother stumbled into my closet and across the unsettling sight of her pads encompassing the Barbie bed in a well-spaced circle, like a Stone Henge crafted from pads and Barbies wearing cutely patterned sleepwear. She most likely presumed there was some ritualistic ceremony going down and that her daughter would soon be slinging dark curses and chants about, along with sporting hooded velvet robes and smudges of black around her eyes. My mother found me and questioned what exactly I was doing with them, and I sheepishly sputtered how they were just having a Barbie sleepover. I felt oddly guilty.

______That was when young Ali had an early lesson on what the true intentions of these unearthly cots were. Needless to say, I was absolutely horrified and my Barbies didn't partake in any more sleepovers after I learned where those pads were really meant to go.

______Have you guys ever had a misconception about something during your childhood?

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Dress: Know-Style (similar)
Necklace: idk I won it somehow on the interwebs
Booties: Charlotte Russe (similar)
Rose earrings: Charming Charlie
Stud bracelet: Charming Charlie (similar)