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Academia Depression

Well this semester is going to suck. My first class is a class on women in journalism. If I wanted to read about Katie Couric, I would have grabbed People Magazine. Ewww. Too bad I can’t drop it.

Then there’s the Einstein class - I already see myself drowning in work.

Then today I have my two other classes and I’m not sure how that will go. ALWJKWEL>

I really hope I can just manage. I already feel myself shutting down as usual when school comes around.

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I start school today.

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Loser

My grasp of modern culture is loose, at best. After flirting with the idea of television for two days, I decided I needed to read. A lot. School is coming up. But I’m bored with academia. Bored with English majors. Bored with Philosophy majors. Bored, bored, bored.

My best friend from high school is finally transferring to UTEP and all I have to offer is that the papers are short - the classes are sometimes interesting - all the people that actually attend class are the ones I’d never talk to and the only friend I made at the onset of my first fall semester, I made cry just a few weeks later.

My college life has been one where I drift in and out of halls and try as hard as I can to be invisible. I don’t speak up. I don’t raise a hand. I come home and type my papers, turn them in and walk out with my A. I’m not interested in human interaction. Sometimes I’m not even interested in the professor talking.

College has actually made me miss the forced seven classes a day of high school. I miss history. I miss science. Hell, sometimes I even miss PE and art. I find myself missing difficult math problems. Now I have to pay to whet my curiousity. I think that’s been a big part of why I haven’t finished yet. I started a semester ahead and now I’m one semester behind. I feel like I’ve spread myself too thin and can’t commit to a single subject major comfortably - but the prospect of having to stick around for two or more is taxing mentally and financially.

All of this has made me question whether or not I really want to get my doctorate and teach. Zizek kind of ruined this for me when he said it was the worst job he had had because I feel like I’d automatically feel exactly the same way after a day of doing it. So I’m back at square one.

Ideally, I’d drop out - travel, get some book published, travel, publish, travel, publish, travel.

When I was thirteen I wanted nothing more than to be a music journalist for Rolling Stone Magazine, way before Almost Famous came out and ruined it.

My work as is would never be published. There are apes running around with thousand dollar cameras calling themselves professionals, hogging up the glossy pages of pseudo art magazines. My writing? Too flighty. No one cares.

So what exactly do people care about?

The fact that Literati dropped from #2 in most played games to #18 in a year a half has me thinking it’s blonde, pink, sings and is named Hannah Montana.

Good grief.

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Important

“ The intellectual is a middle-class product; if he is not born into the class he must soon insert himself into it, in order to exist. He is the fine nervous flower of the bourgeoisie.”

Louise Bogan

“ There is an idea of a Patrick Bateman; some kind of abstraction. But there is no real me: only an entity, something illusory. And though I can hide my cold gaze, and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable… I simply am not there.”

Patrick Bateman, American Psycho

“ I’m afraid of losing my obscurity. Genuineness only thrives in the dark. Like celery.”

Aldous Huxley

“ The greatest challenge to any thinker is stating the problem in a way that will allow a solution.”

Bertrand Russell

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First Creepy E-Mail of the Year, THANKS!

So I received this this afternoon. I’m still floored so I’m not sure what response to give or to ignore and delete. Um.

Hello.

I like the skirt you have up for auction. May I ask why you are selling it?

Your model looks awesome wearing the skirt! Please tell her I think she looks really nice.

Would she be interested in fulfilling personal requests for photos? I’d e-mail a request and she would send the photos along when she has the time to complete them.

One request involves showing proper wear of a seat belt in a car. Other requests would be to see her wearing this skirt (which I would bid on) and, if interested, Damsel-in-Distress photos.

Please e-mail me and let me know. If she has a modeling fee, please include it in your response.

Thank you!
a—–@a–.com

Second e-mail:

Hi.

Photos would feature you wearing a leather skirt and the seat belts in your car (front and rear seats). If interested, other requests would involve Damsel-in-Distress scenes. These photos would involve having your wrists restrained behind your back, ankles secured and a strip of duct tape across your lips.

It would have to be TIGHT.

Face shots would be needed to see the tape across your lips unless you wear sunglasses.

Please e-mail me. My address is below.

Please send a few photos of yourself buckled up in the car. Make sure the seat belts are NOT TWISTED and remain visible (lap and shoulder belts). They should also be tightened up.

Photos taken with a standard digital camera would be fine. A friend or Spouse could take thew pics.

Thanks.

WHAT FRIEND OR SPOUSE WOULD AGREE TO THAT KIND OF PICTURE?

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On Photography

The limit of photographic knowledge of the world is that, while it can goad conscience, it can, finally, never be ethical or political knowledge. The knowledge gained through still photographs will always be some kind of sentimentalism, whether cynical or humanist. It will be a knowledge at bargain prices–a semblance of knowledge, a semblance of wisdom; as the act of taking pictures is a semblance of appropriation, a semblance of rape. The very muteness of what is, hypothetically, comprehensible in photographs is what what constitutes their attraction and provocativeness. The omnipresence of photographs has an incalculable effect on our ethical sensibility. By furnishing this already crowded world with a duplicate one of images, photography makes us feel that the world is more available than it really is.

Needing to have reality confirmed and experience enhanced by photographs is an aesthetic consumerism to which everyone is now addicted. Industrial societies turn their citizens into image-junkies; it is the most irresistible form of mental pollution. Poignant longing for beauty, for an end to probing below the surface, for a redemption and celebration of the body of the world–all these elements of erotic feeling are affirmed in the pleasure we take in photographs. But other, less liberating feelings are expressed as well. It would not be wrong to speak of people having a compulsion to photograph; to turn experience itself into a way of seeing. Ultimately, having an experience becomes identical with taking a photograph of it, and participating in a public event comes more and more to be equivalent to looking at it in photographed form. That most logical of nineteen-century aesthetes, Mallarme, said that everything in the world exists in order to end in a book. Today everything exists to end in a photograph.

-In Plato’s Cave; Susan Sontag

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Oh, Paul

Paul McCartney via Beatlesgirl7 on Flickr.

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Closing down - just a bit

Right as I had just finished designing a business card I arrived at the decision that selling on eBay is just far too stressful and I know that it’s one of the reasons I made my ulcer so much worse. What used to be a hobby, turned into a very high paced competitive business and I don’t have the heart to be cut throat. I don’t even condone fashion in general. I just like vintage clothing and didn’t mind selling it. Now I think I’m ready to go back into my own little hidden corner and not deal with all the prima donnas that pollute the vintage pool on a weekly basis. It’s just too much. I’m tired of the other catty sellers, tired of having to perform at eBay’s standards of what a good person does and I’m tired of having to do everything myself with sometimes little reward. I love you eBay, but you’re sucking the life out of me like a gluttonous leech. Some people like having a leech on their neck all the time (I call it greed) but I’ve gratefully had enough. I think I will reside from now on on etsy where the pace is slower and the people are much friendlier.

Plus with a fifteen hour schedule, I’ll be stressed out enough anyway. I guess that’s what I get at my age for wanting a real job. So here is my schedule as proof I will not have any time to waste on mundane, repetitive tasks that deal with clothing.

As of August 26th, all energy will be directed at trying to finish my degree and gather enough experience to eventually ace Wren’s course for the second time and put me as a frontrunner to be his TA. Unlikely since I will not be attending graduate school at UTEP, but for Wren - who knows. If he told me to go with him to Cuba, I’ve already got a bag packed (Sorry Tom!).  Robert Wren, besides Tom is the only man who has consistently blown my mind with his intellectual superiority to roughly 99% of lifeforms I have come in contact with. I feel a necessary obligation to submit myself to whatever piece of documentation he throws my way.

Honestly I miss my english classes. Which makes me question my Major but I still have some time left to waste time figuring that out. I’m mostly boycotting the department until they find a Russian Literature in Translation professor.

Anyway, all this drivel about school and work makes me feel itchy and antsy so I’m off to photograph what hopefully is the plateau before the dive of summer stock.

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A book in the works

I’m thinking about self publishing a small book of my photography in correlation to my writing. For those of you who don’t know me well - I’ve amassed a small portfolio of both over the past five years and in high school was the editor of a small creative writing publication and won a handful of small contests. I have yet to submit anywhere else but I feel like my work is slowly becoming a bit more rounded and ready for a more select audience.

The problem I have is that I feel like no one “gets” it. Or that I get passed over.

About a month and a half ago I submitted some work to F-Stop magazine and never heard back. Talk about getting the courage to submit and ending up with a deflated ego.

I think a big part of the reason my photography never gets noticed is that there is a lack of people in it. No girls dressed up in fancy outfits or sex. Shrug. It’s boring, like me.

And I think I like it that way.

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Vanity Check: Oak

I found Oak through Notcouture and I’m so impressed by their layout as well as pieces! Full of great colors and interesting designs. Well constructed. A little out of my league but I’m having fun going through the pages of clothing.

Check out those great Tom’s ($54) and those amazing Jeffrey Cambell flats ($138)

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Why eBay doesn’t work

I’ve been buying and selling off of eBay for four plus years dabbling in wholesale auto parts, shoes and lastly, vintage and over these years all of eBay’s little ugly faults have reared their head. It’s what made me leave for about a year after getting slammed by a girl who misread my auction and left me negative feedback. I’d had about enough. Yeah, just one, because I’m one of those sellers that takes their FeedBack personal and instead of shrugging it off like everyone else, I really think about it.

Now with 441 Feedback and at 100% positive with such nice customers I’m ready again. Why?

1. eBay doesn’t cater to the seller but the buyer, yet funny how the only reason eBay even exists is because of the profit made from sellers
2. PayPal blows. Heavy fees make me lose a lot of $
3. The new FeedBack policy. So not only can I NOT leave a negative Feedback, I can’t leave one at all. Because I’ll hurt someone’s feelings and ruin eBay’s chances of keeping a member. Give me a break and grow the fuck up.
4. Because no seller can leave negative FB, you can’t determine whether a buyer is legitimate and not scamming you. All of this just lets those Unpaid Items pile up.
5. Etc.

But the biggest reason is the sellers. Why? Today I had a good and bad experience. I bought a Valentine from a lady and she sent me an e-mail saying how cute it was and how excited she was to send it out to me. I like when sellers are confident in their items, so as usual I paid immediately and wrote her back. It’s just NICE. Visit Aunt Tink’s House for miscellaneous vintage finds.

Now the bad. A few months ago I started following this seller Bustown Modern on eBay. Nice, trendy. Great photo set up. Moderate prices. Not a fan of the models, they’re kind of… Anyway, then prices started going higher and higher. Fine, great. So I asked a question about a Halston dress. No reply. Uh. Fine, fuck you, I’ll pass on the dress. Good job getting $30 bucks for it, bitch.

So then some sandals came up. Being as I only like vintage sandals, you can imagine they aren’t the easiest to find in styles I want. But, she had some. So again, new message, new questions. After buying a pair at the local Savers and having the sole fall off, you can imagine my faith in 80’s sandals wasn’t present, so I asked about the sole and size fit and added that I didn’t appreciate not getting a response on the Halston dress. She replied this time with some lame excuse about getting 200 or so e-mails a day? (Really? Wow, someone must feel popular) and she didn’t know what to say anyway and that the shoes were fine basically. I also asked about her photo set up. “I’m a professional photographer.” Sorry guys, owning a Nikon D60 DOES NOT make you a pro. Neither does acting like a snob. I bid anyway and I didn’t win. Boohoo.

Now today, I find sandals. Same goddamn seller. Try to place a bid, what happens? I’m blocked. Oh my gawwwwwdddd. At this point I’d rather buy a dress from Sophia of Nasty Gal than have to deal with this douche again. Then I get this:

hey lady - my apologies! i have NO idea how you got on my blocked bidder list! maybe I accidentally added you last month somehow… maybe I pasted in the wrong name or something. Anyway, you’re totally removed and free to bid. My mistake - I’m so embarrassed! Sorry!

I’m mad. Why? Because mistakes like that don’t happen. A seller has to MANUALLY TYPE AND ADD in the name of a user to block them. I’m not buying it. Nice gesture, but no. You just lost a customer. The sandals are tempting but it just wasn’t nice at all.

To expand on my point: I recently started to peruse the Vintage Clothing and Accessories board and I’ve been pretty appalled by the behavior on there. Maybe it’s because everyone seems just a bit too American. What do I mean by that? Logical thought just isn’t comprehended easily and I find myself often frustrated by a lack of general understanding. On any topic. Not to mention that the majority of board members are about as solid as a bowl of jello in their opinions and accusations. They labeled the above seller “professional” and someone had the nerve to issue a new thread for an apology for a comment regarding her model but when it came to me being called out on a stupid dress for “miscategorization” for my title on a bad business thread regarding selling new items as vintage, no one even bothered to come to the rescue or apologize.

Same thing happened when a seller posted about flickr queen Liebemarlene selling a 50’s slip for $300, saying something along the lines of “congratulations, look what happens when you list in the right category!”. Uh, except, Liebemarlene often sells fucking kids clothes as adults and lists those said clothes as adults when they are really childrens? That same week she had like two or three girls dresses and that got glossed over and someone had the nerve to say “shame on you” when I brought it up?

Yet they start entire threads devoted to back handing other girls who miscategorize, myself included?

Does anyone see the irony? Not to mention the blatant and superfluous stupidity?

This reminds me a bit of the Zach Galifianakis character the “Pretentious Illiterate” - “Uh I told you, I don’t know how to read!”

I’ll also tell you that Vintage Dealers are some of the biggest fucking snobs I’ve ever had to read paragraphs from. Jesus Christ. Just because you shop all fucking day does NOT mean you have it made. You deal in CLOTHING. Funny little pieces of cloth, get real.

Being a trend seller fucking sucks. In order to survive on eBay you need a model. She has to be exceptionally pretty. You need a “professional” camera, but of course, no knowledge of photography whatsoever. You need awesome clothes you purchased off sellers like me to resell for $100 more. You need money and lots of it. These are all things I don’t have.

Just as I suspected, eBay has slowly begun to whittle smaller sellers like me away while the big girls take over. Making less than $2,000 a month you can imagine how flabbergasted I was when I saw that Nasty Gal Vintage makes $16,000 at the high end and Liebemarlene makes $5,000 A MONTH.

Just when I thought I was doing well, I realized that I was at the bottom of the totem pole.

Not really sure what I should do anymore but I know I will have to stop come August. Fifteen hours of classes isn’t going to be easy and I’d like to go back to caring about Nietzsche and Benjamin than whether or not this stupid dress will get me $50.

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Psycho Girlfriend

As a member of the female sex, I have a hard time determining whether it’s genetic or learned to be, well, as the title implies, a psycho. Having dabbled in and observed my share of relationships, I often wonder just why some girls are clearly more obsessed than others. Surely it can’t be some freak coincidence that whether we meet the last girl our current guy went out with, we just want to gouge they’re eyes out regardless. So is it Media? Family? Friends? Innate? Experience? Just like anything else, it seems like behaviour results from a whole mess of factors not to mention a plethora of psychology that is probably too deep right now to delve into. That still is far from explaining this question. Coming from the A.D.D generation, I find it hard to believe in monogamy nowadays. It’s not that I don’t believe I can fulfill it’s requirements, it’s just hard to believe a member of the opposite sex can. And to stab into the steak a little deeper - is that even humanly possible? My feelings here start to sink and I get this big pit in my stomach that I’m not sure is supposed to happen.

This is an old story. Women have been battling commitment issues for eons. But maybe it’s just the dynamic explosion of social networking via cellphones and the Internet that throws me a curveball. And it doesn’t just seem like the “insecure” girls are the ones rifling through their boyfriend’s cellphone, it seems to affect all women of different types. And for the devastingly curious like me, it’s become the bane of my existence.

What exactly is the recommendation for trust in this era? How can you create it? Maturity? But even then… I’m starting to think that typical trust isn’t going to cut it, it needs to be rock solid-live alone in the woods (even in the city) mentality that can keep a relationship going.

And I guess the only question when you’re in your 20’s is to repeatedly ask yourself at intervals if it’s worth it. Doubt leads to possibilities, small escapes.

And this is when the very strange adrenaline fueled psycho split-personality develops and we check your phone, rape your e-mail account, tap your office and secretly stalk you.

Men, unlike women, cut strings overnight so even though you may think you’re fooling us, you aren’t.

This is why we panic and make things worse. We know when you let go of us. And it fucking hurts like hell. (Or is this the worried rant of a delusional girlfriend??)

Worrying about the above tends to make me feel like a ten year old and at the age of twenty one, I can’t say that’s the greatest compliment.

So I’m not going to worry about it. I have plenty of other ways that to be a psycho that seem a lot more fun and a little easier on the heart. Here’s to day one of confidence? Forced ignorance? Gasp, Trust? We’ll see.

You can find the guy up there here. I have to admit, I laughed a few times.

“16. If you care about her, never ever tell her. This will only give
her self-confidence, then you can never turn her into the object she deep
down desires to be.”

24. Remember her birthday, but don’t get her anything. Teach her that
material objects arent important. The only thing that’s important is
that she keeps you happy, and your happiness is the greatest present she
can ever get.”

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Washington DC

my flickr

Washington DC astounded me in it’s routine closing of doors and thick lines between class structure and color. It was the epitome of a built facade, with a beautiful garden but the brick surrounding it was badly destroyed and blacker than coal. I still am not sure what to make of it or what to say about it. I walked a long way across the city, running into small pink buds and taxidermied animals, sites of assassinations and the President’s house, while simultaneously being amused and disappointed. Really all I could think about in DC was how close New York was and how I would have done anything for just an extra week to go back. I don’t know what it is about New York that stirs my heart, but the endless array of boulevards and romanticized living captured a part of me when I was too young to know it.

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First Things First

So $50 later and a few days full of grief, I finally have this blog up. It’s not perfect, I don’t even know how it’s operating at this point so thanks to the guys over at Install4Free via WordPress, they were really the best thing I could have asked for regarding this situation.

This is pretty much the first site I’ve ever owned and I’ve always had a livejournal but I’m glad to have put that mess of a site behind me. I’m not exactly certain what direction this will be heading toward but I hope really it’s just an extension of what I find interesting and thought provoking.

Lately I’ve been feeling this enormous pressure to be something, amount to someone but I feel like I just don’t know what to do, what to feel or how to do it but then I see people who are so successful in their late 20’s and I wonder why am I rushing? The only reason for it is because I feel like if I’m not remarkable now, why would I be in ten years?

So here’s the truth: the past three years I’ve been in more than an existential crisis slowly fixating on my personal errors and objections rather than learning from my mistakes (which in turn leads to more). I have taken part in the erosion of my brain cells and I can feel my memory and grasp of any intelligent thought slipping and I haven’t even been near a television set on a regular basis. I can only hold myself accountable for this steep decline into remedial thought processing. So here’s my rut, now where’s the ladder to get out of it?

I’m in the process of building it but it’s taken a lot longer than I thought it would and I keep running out of material.

Here’s to hoping this thing gets finished because it’s dark down here and I’m tired of being stuck in one place, shunning progress.

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Asides