Currently raining cats & dogs, except there aren’t really any cats & dogs, just the usage of a tired, old expression that everybody understands but no one really uses.

Kurt Vonnegut books I was planning on photoreplying to Zet’s Tumblr post.

A favorite passage from “Wonder Boys.”

I actually really like rainy days, especially if I don’t have to be anywhere. I can stay in, take a shower and jump right into pajama pants, and read and read and read. Today, my mother made beef stew for dinner. I’m excited.

What about you? Wet weather = yay or nay?

Kaloy Sanchez.

Frederick Sausa.

Michael Muñoz.

The shows were by Kaloy Sanchez, Frederick Sausa and Michael Muñoz. I honestly can’t pick a favorite among the three. I’m super attracted to the aesthetic of Sausa’s work. It’s really the kind of look that I love, especially this one piece that was all wrapped up and ready for pick-up (sniff, sniff). You’ll see the photo later. I love the ideas behind Muñoz’ work, and obviously, the look is very striking and bold. Sanchez works for this show are mostly black-and-white, but his show is far from muted. The strokes are bold, and the resulting look is intense.

Obviously, I’ve lost a little bit of my ability to articulate these things in an art majorly manner, but I hope the photos speak for themselves.

M.m.’s calculator watch! Jealous.

(After my viewage of the exhibits, I had lunch with the parentals, M.m. Yu, and Nona Garcia in Omakase. The pictures I took of the food sucked, but the company was great and I left the restaurant as happy as a stuffed clam. Not that I know how happy stuffed clams get.)

What made the night fun and hugely successful were the staggering support from friends, family and spectators, the dedication and commitment of the people involved, the inescapable, obvious talent of the artists whose works were being shown that day. Despite the stress, the bumps, some inevitable problems that one encounters with huge projects like this one, it was a solid first effort, from a golden group of artists who will, hopefully, change the frakking world.

It was a spectacular sight, seeing everybody come together like that. Pouring rain and all.

I only have a few photos from the exhibit because I am having a weird love-hate thing with the G-10 I used that night. (I think I might prefer the Olympus Pen EP-1 when shooting exhibits/dark indoor events, etc. My G-10 takes photos with so much noise!) But that’s another story.

In any case, these are the photos! Enjoy, maybe?

Outerspace Gallery, The Collective.

by Tim & Nina.

by Bia & Kris

by Pau & Gabby.

Pau & me!

Becca, Laurine, me!

Rob & Tim.

Raymond: H-Bomb Explosion.
(V-neck, suede shoes fancier than mine,
Looking For Alaska, chillin’ on a bean bag.)

Shadow puppets! & Jan’s head.

by An & En Estrada & Christian San Jose.

People.

Clark.

So, in case you had been wondering, I have actually been working on my painting right now. (“Which painting?” you ask. This one, n00b.) For some reason, a week ago, I got a silly idea in my head: “Carina, why don’t you go make a painting?” And here I am now.

It’s silly, because despite my bachelor’s degree and my “lineage,” I’m really not a very good art person, and I say this void of fake humility. No fishing, really. I’m a sort of… whatever-comes-to-me type of artist. No thinking or drafting or sketching. Until now, that is. I’ve been spending an average of three hours every day, trying to make this work, and over my despaired wailing, my parents and brother have been assuring me that that is what it is really supposed to look like at this stage.

So, what does Beatles Rockband have to do with this? Well, I am getting there. See, a couple of months ago, my brother purchased a limited edition Beatles Rockband set. I’m not really very good with video games, either, but as he is my brother and he was excited to play it, I relented and we played a few songs with my sister. Obviously, I had won the major suckage award, because I sucked, majorly. I would lower our rating so badly, I got the feeling that they would rather be a two-piece band (like The White Stripes, but an actual brother-sister band), but they just didn’t want to be mean.

The problem is that I kept on hitting the notes prematurely. I see a yellow beat, hit yellow early, and miss the opportunity. So, that’s what it has to do with painting, and life, in general, I guess. I know what you are thinking. You are thinking, “Carina, that’s kind of pushing the metaphor, isn’t it?” But it’s really not.

That’s the problem with me. I mean, I’m decent at most of the things I try (except public speaking and arts of the performing persuasion), so when something goes my way, I would milk it and go with it, until it does a disservice to me. In which case, I will drop it. I like trying new things (rushing into them, really), and I keep getting these ideas, but I let them fizzle out. Like, taking that editorial assistant job. I went to work the day after I got the call. I quit exactly a month later. Things Like That.

The thing is, I think I need to really spend some time trying to learn how to make this… art thing work. Or, I guess, in the broader context, my entire life. Because I just can’t bank on what I have, and not try to be better. Because, the painting is not going to look like the picture, unless I spend time on it and be careful with it. Because my life is not going to go anywhere, if I don’t take the right opportunities, or wait until my timing is right. Because, I can’t keep on hitting the yellow beat, before I should.

(See, I told you it would get somewhere.)

Anyway, here is something like a time lapse of the work I have done today. I’ve been coloring outside the lines (accidentally), but my mother has assured me. “That’s OK,” she said. “You have about five more layers to go.”

And then I suffered an imaginary aneurysm and wrote this post.

I don’t know if this ties in with the whole “message of the post,” and frankly, I cannot be bothered to think it through, past midnight with a sinus infection, but in the words of The Album Leaf, poignantly: One Day, I’ll Be On Time.

As school season rolls around, I find myself alone, at home, with nothing to do. I have recently graduated, been employed, then assumed the role of a quitter. Now, I am unemployed and bored, with a lot of time on my hands. And it looks like I am coming down with something, as my throat is all itchy and my gag reflex is acting up for no reason. I have taken this self-diagnosis of something wrong and made it into an excuse for me to not shower. At least, until maybe around 5 p.m. today.

Here are some of the things that I have done today:

1. Stuff my face with food and muddy, burnt coffee that my parents and brother left me.
2. Watch the last two episodes of How to Make it in America
3. Answered some e-mails.
4. Cleaned my RSS feeds! Kind of. I just marked most of them as read. Heh.
5. Internet shenanigans.

In the middle of this entry, my sister got back from school. But she is reading Plato now, so I don’t think I am allowed to bother her.

So, I am did a little bit of reading myself.
Caveat Lector: Dirty feet ahead.

(Currently: Michael Chabon’s “Wonder Boys.” According to my reading schedule,
I should finish it by today. But it doesn’t look like it’s going to happen.)

But then I got tired and hungry.

So, I guess I should just take a nap and plan for greatness when I wake up.

What do you do when you are alone? I honestly don’t know how to deal with all this time I have, without feeling like I am wasting my life away, somehow.

(In case you hadn’t caught on, this is a cry for help.)