This is what I feel like today: The Lazy Song
But instead, I have to:
- Add new zines to the distro catalog
- Basically create an entire website for class
- Write my essay for class
- Have a headache and cramps
- Write only a million e-mails
Party Time.
Category Archives: Uncategorized
Designing and Creating
I’m a student at the International Academy of Design and Technology, going after my Associate’s in Web Design and Development. It’s kind of backward, seeing as I already have a Bachelor’s in English, but obviously, those are two completely different areas of study. An Associate’s is all I can afford at this time, but I think what I am learning now is enough to really advance myself in the field. I’m definitely a better coder than a designer, but I think (hope!) that my design skills are good enough to get me somewhere.
I recently finished designing the new layout for my zine distro, Things You Say. I was happy with the way it turned out, and I was even happier that this was the first website I completely coded myself – and I think it looks better than anything I’ve done in a while. One thing I need to work on is my graphic design skills – actually, more like my overall design skills. I think what I do is really great, until I look at other websites and I see I’m not as good as those. But I know learning these things takes time, and I’m not going to be a design/coding genius overnight. I need to get my feet wet a bit more before I feel comfortable and confident enough in my work to go out and seek freelance jobs.
There’s something about when you finish a website and then upload it to the web and you can see that it works that really makes me excited about life. That is probably the dorkiest statement you have ever read ( when my friends need some code who do they call, I do HTML for them all, yo!), but it’s true. I get that same feeling when I finish creating my zine and hold the first stapled copy in my hand. I love making things, and I love sharing those things – that’s why I gravitate toward zines and writing and web design.
My next design venture is making my dad’s guitar website. Like me, he designs and makes things – for work (he’s an engineer) and for a hobby (making/designing guitars). I guess that’s who I get my artistic passion and technonerdity from, although my mom is pretty crafty herself. My brother is very artistic, too. So I guess we’re just creatin’ fiends at the Hawley house. Hopefully, my niece acquired this trait – her mom is a florist, too, so it’s definitely in her genes. We’re all thinking she’s going to be a musician because she loves listening to Rod Stewart and Phantom of the Opera.
What have you created or designed lately?
I’d Rather Watch Hockey
I’m not really going to talk about the Super Bowl (except to say that Christina Aguilera butchered the National Anthem vocally and lyrically, and the Black Eyed Peas were THE WORST) because I hate football. I really didn’t care who won. I did catch some of Puppy Bowl before my parents switched channels, and that was adorable as ever. I love the hamsters in the blimp.
However, I am going to talk about HOCKEY. Even though I am a huge fan now, I used to hate it. Well, I can’t say I hated it, but I was definitely sick of it. My brother was on his high school’s varsity hockey team, so I ended up going to every practice after school, and usually every game. The last thing I wanted to do after a long day at school was to go to some damn hockey practice that lasted forever. And I had no choice, because I couldn’t stay home on my own, we had no nurse, and my dad was at work. After his practice, my brother (and sometimes his friends) would pile in our van and stink it up with their smelly B.O. On top of all this, my father also played (and still plays) hockey, so I went to a few of those games as well. He was into roller hockey at the time (he’s moved on to ice, thank Mariah), and the rink where he skated smelled like feet. So…I pretty much had a severe love/hate relationship with the sport. Leaning more towards the hate side.
But when my brother graduated high school and everything settled down, I really got into hockey. I would say I am obsessed, definitely. Being a New Jersey born-and-raised lady, the Devils are my favorite team. Elias and Brodeur are my favorite players on the Devils, and Oduya is my favorite non-Devil player (he used to be a Devil). I want to like Kovalchuk (a Devil who we spent way too much for), but I am still bitter we had to lose Oduya for him. And honestly, Kovy has lost the puck or messed up more than he’s scored goals.
The Devils aren’t the only team I enjoy – I also like the Islanders, Buffalo, Philly, the Penguins, and Atlanta (Oduya’s current team). Of course, I hate hate hate the Rangers – I guess that’s the only team I can say I hate.
Do you watch hockey? Who is your favorite team?
When the Kindle Won My Heart
I finally broke down and purchased a Kindle. I was vehemently against owning one, for the simple fact that they are aiding in the obsolete-ness of actual paper books, but I figured the convenience and cool-factor outweighed that. I even purchased a fancy cover for it, since this reading toy would be my new best friend for a while.
My bedroom is so cluttered and tiny, and most of that clutter is books. Now, unless it’s something special I must own a hard copy of (like Harry Potter), I’ll purchase all my books on the Kindle. Once I read all the books on at least one of my shelves, I’ll box those books up and donate them to a library, women’s shelter, or wherever else takes books. As far as “OMG KINDLE IS RUINING BOOKS!”…I just have to get over my book snobbery, and know that literature will never truly go away. It’s like music – the popular and preferred mode of listening has changed (twice in my lifetime), but there is still music being produced. Cassettes to CDs and then to digital songs. Paper, audio, and then eBooks.
I’ve already downloaded three books. Right now, I’m reading The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Skloot. Here’s the description from Amazon.com by Tom Nissley:
From a single, abbreviated life grew a seemingly immortal line of cells that made some of the most crucial innovations in modern science possible. And from that same life, and those cells, Rebecca Skloot has fashioned in The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks a fascinating and moving story of medicine and family, of how life is sustained in laboratories and in memory. Henrietta Lacks was a mother of five in Baltimore, a poor African American migrant from the tobacco farms of Virginia, who died from a cruelly aggressive cancer at the age of 30 in 1951. A sample of her cancerous tissue, taken without her knowledge or consent, as was the custom then, turned out to provide one of the holy grails of mid-century biology: human cells that could survive–even thrive–in the lab. Known as HeLa cells, their stunning potency gave scientists a building block for countless breakthroughs, beginning with the cure for polio. Meanwhile, Henrietta’s family continued to live in poverty and frequently poor health, and their discovery decades later of her unknowing contribution–and her cells’ strange survival–left them full of pride, anger, and suspicion. For a decade, Skloot doggedly but compassionately gathered the threads of these stories, slowly gaining the trust of the family while helping them learn the truth about Henrietta, and with their aid she tells a rich and haunting story that asks the questions, Who owns our bodies? And who carries our memories?
Sounds amazing, right? I’m only 9% done (still getting used to percentages instead of page numbers), but I think I like it so far. Except something is bothering me about the author that I can’t quite put my finger on yet. I’m not sure if it’s her overly-clinical voice when talking about the family and this sensitive subject, or if it’s just the whole “white person writing about the intimate lives of people of color” thing which often skeeves me out. I get the same feeling when I read stories about disabled people/lives written by abled people. Although I’m not sure if that’s what’s going on here – I’ll have to read more before I understand.
I also downloaded Room: A Novel by Emma Donoghue on the recommendation of my cousin, and The Lady Matador’s Hotel by Cristina Garcia, who is a Cuban author I adore. I’ll write about those when I read them.
What have you been reading lately? Any recommendations?
Welcome to the world, Izzy!
I would like to officially introduce my niece, Izzy! She has the best birthdate – 1/1/11. born at 7:11pm.
I am now an aunt. It’s amazing – she’s so adorable and squishy and smells delicious. I love her little nose and lips.
Right now, they’re staying at her mom’s house for a couple weeks (where I can’t see her because I can’t get in their house *sadface*), but soon they will move in upstairs. And then it will be Izzy all the time! Izzyfest 2011. Izzystock. Izzypalooza. It’s a good thing I can’t change diapers or do any of the dirty work; I can just enjoy the fun stuff. That’s what an aunt is for, anyway.
I have not discussed this with her parents, but I plan to teach her the principles of feminism, play her all of Mariah Carey Cannon’s canon (so she can attend and appreciate future concerts with her aunt), and make sure she reads all the important literature of today and yesteryear. Additionally, we will have critical discussions about which musicals overstate their pathos (ehem, Les Miserables) and which musicals get it just right (In the Heights), as well as other interesting topics of musical theater theory. Realistically, some of these things will have to wait until she is much older.
Expect more Izzy posts soon.
Little House on the Raritan
This past Sunday, we lost heat in our house. Let me break it down for you. Sunday evening, there was a blizzard – we’re talking 30 fucking inches of snow by Monday morning and 50+ mph wind gusts. The snow drifts were up to the top of the railing on our deck, and the non-drifted areas up to one’s waist. While the storm was raging outside, my dad was stressing about the sub-pump failing in our basement because it tends to do that when it floods down there – which is frequently. If the sub-pump failed, it would over flood and burn out the furnace, thus cutting off our heat. Since he just had his surgery the week before, he wouldn’t be able to go down and fix it. My dad is notoriously the voice of doom, so I figured it was going to happen. And when we woke up Monday morning to a freezing house and a popping noise coming from below the floor boards, we knew it wasn’t good.
We called our neighbor and friend, who went downstairs for my dad and tried to fix the problem, but couldn’t. His girlfriend (who is also our neighbor) brought over some space heaters to help out. My aunt called and told us she knew someone who worked with my uncle who also had a heating business on the side. She gave this dude our sob story (we totally played the gimp card), and he said he’d come over and fix it for us. That night, I slept with five blankets on and a beanie on my head. My mom wore about ten scarves and my dad looked like he was preparing to climb Mount Everest.
The guys who worked on the new furnace swore like sailors (and this is coming from someone who has no problem with cursing), blasted their music, and got into loud arguments. It was very unprofessional and annoying (especially with the thudding of their music at 8:30 in the morning), but we really can’t complain – right? Don’t bite the hand that feeds you, or whatever that saying is.
Our heat wasn’t fixed until yesterday afternoon, so we spent three and a half days without heat. Even though we had the space heaters and my mom hung sheets over our doorways (it was very Moroccan chic!), it was still cold as hell. And very drafty. So I told mom it was like Little House on the Prairie – an adventure. Oh, I forgot to mention that our cable went out as well, and we kept knocking out the power with our space heaters. Reenacting “The Money Pit” is not as fun as it sounds.
Santa, Snow, and Sondheim
Christmas was pretty swell, especially since my dad came home from the hospital early Christmas Eve. My mom made pork, rice and beans, and tostones for dinner that night, which is always fantastic. I love Cuban food, especially mom’s. The next day, we had to wait for my brother and sister-in-law to arrive before opening presents. I’m such a little kid about it – I get all antsy about opening gifts. Mom didn’t help by laying out everyone’s presents the night before, so I had to stare at them in all their wrapping-paper glory until we were able to open them.
I was really excited to get the Stephen Sondheim boxed set from Santa (yes, my mom writes “From Santa” on our gifts, still), as I am a huge musical theater dork. I also got the Full House series on DVD, some new PJs, Ricky Martin’s autobiography, loads of gummy candy, a zhuzhu pet (!!!), and a cute squirrel statue. And my brother and sister-in-law got me a beautiful cameo and crystal necklace from Swarovski. I gave them one of those flip video cameras so they could capture their baby’s most adorable moments, and they were really, really excited about it. I can’t wait for them to use it.
A few hours later, the Cuban hoard arrived (a.k.a. my family), and we all sat down for some lasagna and meatballs. Every year, my mom is usually the one who cooks, but with everything going on with my dad, my two aunts took over that job. I’m not a huge pasta and sauce fan, but I did enjoy it. We then exchanged gifts (hell yea for gift cards!), and everyone left. Even though I love my family tons, I cherish the moment everyone leaves and it’s just quiet. I take that time to adjust my ear drums to the normal levels of sound, because damn, my family is loud.
Today I woke up, looked outside, and everything was covered in a thin layer of white fluff. Now there’s probably ten inches of snow on the ground, and the wind is picking up. We’re supposed to get 18 inches by the time it’s all over. It’s the perfect evening for peppermint hot chocolate and watching movies. I already watched Putting It Together with my dad, which is a musical revue of Sondheim songs, starring George Hearn, John Barrowman (adore him!), Carol Burnett, Bronson Pinchot (Balky!), and Ruthie Henshall. It was fantastic and sweet and everything a Sondheim musical embodies.
Hospitals for the Holidays
My dad had his quadruple bypass on the 20th, and is currently in the hospital recuperating. The doctor said he did well, and was happy with what he saw. Last night my dad was in a lot of pain from all the chest tubes that kept his lungs inflated during surgery (as well as some other tubes), but they were removed today and he feels better. I’m hoping he gets to come home for Christmas. But even if he comes home the day after, that’s fine – as long as he’s feeling better. I mean, you could always just pretend it’s the 25th on the 26th.
We’ve had a few holidays were someone wasn’t home for Christmas. Back when I was a tween, I became ill with pneumonia, and wasn’t breathing so well one morning. I was rushed to the ER, intubated, and eventually trached. I stayed there for two weeks, then was transferred to Children’s Hospital up in Mountainside, NJ. The doctors and nurses there slowly weened me off the ventilator for the daytime hours and trained my parents how to take care of my trach and vent. Even though I was essentially better, it took a while for me to get back home – I was in that hospital for about a month, over Christmas. Even though I wished I was home, it wasn’t so bad; I was able to spend it with my family, AND I got double the gifts, thanks to hospital donations.
In 2002 or 2003 (that whole time was kind of a blur!), my brother joined the US Marines. Of course, his boot camp training was during Christmas, and OF COURSE we missed his obligatory Christmas Eve phone call (which we were never notified about) because we were out at that time. My mom kept our decorations up until he came home in February, lights outside and all. This is how we roll.
So, basically, the situation with my dad is par for course.
Zines, books, and blogs
I started classes at the International Academy of Design and Technology online; I’m going after my Associate’s degree in Web design. I already have a B.A. in English, but I’m sure one can understand why I’m changing directions – there’s not a whole lot for an English major to do outside of teaching. I don’t have that passion or drive to be a successful author (although the urge to write strikes me from time to time), but I do have the passion to work online and create designs.
School takes up most of my reading time, which is why I haven’t updated this blog in ages. I’ve been dabbing in this book Regeneration by Pat Barker, and it’s quite good – but I’ve been reading it for a few months now. This is my first week off from school in ten weeks, so I hope to finish it.. I bought it back when I was in college and my favorite teacher recommended it (I hung on to every word he said – he was truly brilliant), and I’m enjoying it. There’s a lot of dialogue, but it’s an interesting subject – mental illness among soldiers. It’s based on a true story, of a soldier (and poet!) placed in an institution for writing a doctrine that opposes the war. It switches P.O.V. from the doctors to the patients, so the reader understands both sides of the spectrum. Definitely check it out.
Besides textbooks and Regeneration, I’ve been reading a lot of zines. I’m adding a whole slew of new ones to my distro, so visit soon to see what they are 🙂 http://www.thingsyousaydistro.com/
I’ll write again soon!
The Feminist Press – a book review and my dream.
Years ago, I ordered a plethora of books from The Feminist Press. When I received them in the mail, I excitedly added them to my to-be-read bookshelf, thinking I would breeze through them in a few months. Since then, that one bookshelf has expanded to two, and my Feminist Press books have been buried under an assortment of other titles – mostly fiction. I discovered that I really have to be in the mood to read non-fiction, and I must have the emotional energy to read about feminist theory. Even though many texts are inspiring, it’s still framed in the fact that sexism and other phobias/-isms exist.
Last week, I was given the opportunity to teach an online class about global women’s studies. I knew I was qualified, and knew I was well-read and knowledgeable about the subject, so I applied. They accepted my syllabus and course proposal, and if they accept my first lesson, I officially have the job. Since I’ve learned this news, I have been trying to read more feminist theory and even books about writing, since I’d have to write my own lessons. And woot, it just so happens I have a book from The Feminist Press titled Word: On Being a [Woman] Writer! Two birds, one stone.
I don’t know why it’s taken me so long to read this anthology, especially since two of my favorite authors are in it – bell hooks and Sandra Cisneros. A lot of it was hard to read, as to be expected – like the silencing of women writers through censorship and fear of ostracization, imprisonment, or death, and the importance that writing has for women who need an outlet to release the pain they experience, specifically from sexism and/or sexual assault. I really appreciated the diversity of voices in this book, and even discovered some authors whose writing I’d like to check out. Only two pieces fell flat for me – I’m not a fan of dry academic writing, or prose that is too poetic and dream-like. I’d recommend this book to anyone who considers themselves a writer or a marginalized voice. Also, if you enjoy anthologies by/about women, check out Women on War; it’s also published by The Feminist Press – it’s a tough read, but important.
Most of the books I read are by women and/or people of color – I like reading about things I can relate to on some level, and stories by marginalized people is where I find that space. Unfortunately, I have not read many books by disabled women – I even have a hard time finding any such works. One time, I ordered a book titled Venus on Wheels, thinking it was written about beauty and disability, and written by someone who is actually disabled. Instead, it was by some able-bodied individual who met a woman who was disabled, found them to be “fascinating” and “peculiar”, and wrote a book about them. I never finished the novel, and I have no intentions to.
I know there is a void that needs to be filled by disabled women writers. After reading Julia Alvarez’s Finding Miracles
She's a Bibliophile 