Category: Uncategorized

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“The life of a designer is a life of fight. Fight against the ugliness. Just like a doctor fights against disease. For us, the visual disease is what we have around, and what we try to do is cure it somehow with design.”
 
[Massimo Vignelli in Helvetica]

Where I’m Bound (I Can’t Tell)

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MY BEST FRIEND AND I were sitting at Starbucks today, devouring a moist slice of lemon loaf and indulging in warm drinks in light of fall before she headed home for the evening.

There wasn’t much conversation, mostly just small banter of what we’d like to do with our lives, how we’d envisioned ourselves using our degrees and so forth. There is this longstanding illusion that when I am out in the “real world” searching for a career, I will violently shake my diploma overhead, screaming something to the extent of, “Check THIS out (bitches, fools, etc)!” and future employers will come flocking to me. Apparently this is not so (I’ve been told.)
It was one of those conversations that made me realize how much I am living in the now, and not in the “then”, or the “will be”. This is merely the epoch during which I drink coffee, scout boys, dress goofy, and learn to properly do such things as wash my clothes, clean my bathroom, and cook Lean Cuisines.
One thing my friend (let’s call her Holly for the sake of friends having names) said really stood out in my mind. Out of the blue came a thought:
“I can’t wait to have someone to make breakfast with, to do crossword puzzles with on Saturday mornings.”
It’s so cheesy, yet so perfect. We’re hopeless romantics, really, except I will say her efforts earn more merit than mine. We dream of spending the rest of our lives with perfect strangers, of colors that we’ll paint our living rooms and cars that we’ll drive. Of names that we’ll bestow upon our future children, of spending money without rue, of road trips we’ll take and days we’ll meet again. Life is too short not to be a wishful thinker.
You know, I can’t wait to see what’s in store for me. 

4th Cut

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WHAT DO I LOVE MOST ABOUT MY JOB? The fact that I get to work with some pretty rad people? No. Winning Girl Scout cookies for selling particular appetizers and drinks? Using the same one-liners over…and over…and over again, because they’re always fresh with new customers? While this is pretty awesome — no, guess again.

Oh! I know! It must be the time at the end of the night when I am working on my cut list and get to (not have to, but GET TO; it’s a freaking privilege) Shop-Vac the kitchen floor, then dispose of the contents inside of it.
And what do you think is inside of a restaurant’s Shop Vac at the end of the day? 
A steaming pile of rotten garbage juice, that’s what.
The stench of those fumes soaked right into my hair, skin, and soul. I am contemplating not eating ever again.
It’s a good thing I’m getting paid for this.

I’m a Serif? Shut the Front Door!

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MY GRAPHIC DESIGN CLASS IS GRADUALLY DELVING DEEPER AND DEEPER into the world of typefaces and all of their glory.  I couldn’t help but get a little giddy about our upcoming project, in which we were each assigned a font and instructed to communicate the essential characteristics of the typeface and highlight unique letterforms that distinguish the face from others that are similar.

My instructor assigned typefaces in class, allocating to each student the font he thought most appropriate to his or her personality and style. I often do this in my head to people, though I am embarrassed to admit. She looks like a Comic Sans, he looks like a Century Schoolbook, they go together like Helvetica Neue UltraLight and Helvetica Bold. She’s a diehard Times New Roman-er. He’s been using Skia Regular since 1996 and frequents Wingdings…
I was hoping for something smooth, perhaps Univers, Frutiger, maybe Garamond or Bauhaus. I would have been more than happy with Helvetica (my first love); however, I am definitely not opposed to expanding my horizons.

I really didn’t think that ‘smooth’ was too much to ask for, so you can imagine my chagrin when the instructor pointed at me and said not Century, nor Futura, but something much less desirable.

“Palatino.”
Okay, okay. So Palatino is, indeed, a LARGELY successful typeface! It has been one of the most used and copied typefaces in history (you know what they say: imitation is the sincerest form of flattery!) That doesn’t make up for the fact that I want to slap it on the cover of a textbook, or perhaps inside of a textbook. Or maybe on the cover of a Kenny G album (all caps, KENNY). I think this font may also be used on wedding invites, grad announcements, and funeral programs alike (aside from Palatino, this is something only Lucida Handwriting and Comic Sans can claim.) 

Things could have been a lot worse. If it weren’t for my instructor’s savvy taste, I could have easily ended up with Comic Sans (official font of the 2nd Grade and Beanie Baby typeface), Arial (Helvetica’s trashy second cousin), or maybe “Bad Mofo” (special to dafont.com and resembles robot poop.) 

Enough is enough, it’s really not that bad. I was only hoping that I was more than a Palatino, that’s all. I suppose it is a designer’s job to be open-minded about these things and work with what they’re given, be it Wingdings, Webdings, Brush Script (UGH!), or yes, even Palatino. Things could be much, much worse.

SuperNerd, over and out. I’ve got a date with an 11 x 17 Illustrator document and Palatino.
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I OPENED MY WEB BROWSER THIS AFTERNOON to see this image on the front page of the NY Times.

Good grief. People are suffering in Haiti, seeking safety on rooftops and struggling to feed themselves and I am complaining about writing a college paper. I can more than guarantee that they would give up their life in the poorest place in the Western Hemisphere to be where I am today — sitting here, looking at pictures of them on my laptop, safe, dry, and educated. Writing even a million college papers is a thousand times more preferable than their conditions. I could never grasp the feeling of living in a place where “More misery is an almost unfathomable thing.”

We are fortunate, friends.

Yeah, YOU.

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TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN (but mostly just the two girls sitting next to me in the computer lab):

Allow me to introduce myself. I’m the girl sitting next to you trying to do her homework, currently dovetailing three papers. You might remember me from one of those ______ (repulsive adjective here) Mass Communications classes we had together last semester. Then again, you might have been texting during those classes. I don’t know.
I just thought I would point out that you are, currently, surrounded by a lab full of students trying to do their homework. I am not speaking on behalf of these people because they asked me to, but rather because I’m almost certain that your incessant babbling is disturbing their gaming, word processing, and facebooking as well. 
I understand that you probably had a great time last weekend — take a bow sweetie, you got drunk! What I do not understand, however, is why you insist on announcing this (your “whisper” really is a dull roar) to the lab. I’m sure Thirsty Thursday was rough on you, as well as Fucked-Up Friday and Schhhhhwasted Saturday. And who could forget Still Smashed Sunday? Stop it, you’re killin’ me here!
 Also, I understand that you’re dumbfounded as to how your inebriated escapade ended up on the Internet. Let me spell this one out for you: S-L-O-S-H-E-D. Pull some of your flat-ironed hair out of your eyes and take a look at all of the people around you taking snapshots of you hugging the toilet. It all makes so much sense! 
Anyway, I’m still here, trying to finish my papers. I’ll leave you be for now, but next time I hear the sound of your slobbery jaw-popping gum chewing, I’m going to have to tell you to move along; I really don’t care to hear or smell your Winterfresh, and neither does Johnny McStudeous sitting next to me, who I AM speaking on behalf of because he, like, wants to sock you in the face, too! Oh, the irony!
Good luck with your homework! I’m sure it will be smooth sailing after Saturday’s hangover clears up.
Truly Yours,
Computer 27
Mac Lab

My Favorite Song Lyrics

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Wilco | I Am Trying To Break Your Heart

I am an American aquarium drinker
I assassin down the avenue
I’m hiding out in the big city blinking
What was I thinking when I let go of you?

Let’s forget about the tongue-tied lightning
Let’s undress just like cross-eyed strangers
This is not a joke, so please stop smiling
What was I thinking when I said it didn’t hurt?

I want to glide through those brown eyes dreaming
Take it from the inside, baby hold on tight
You were so right when you said that I’ve been drinking
What was I thinking when I said good night?

I want to hold you in the Bible-black predawn
You’re quite a quiet domino, bury me now
Take off your Band-Aid because I don’t believe in touchdowns
What was I thinking when I said hello?

I’d always thought that if I held you tightly
You’d always love me like you did back then
Then I fell asleep and the city kept blinking
What was I thinking when I let you back in?

I am trying to break your heart
I am trying to break your heart
But still I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t easy
I am trying to break your heart

Disposable Dixie-cup drinking
I assassin down the avenue
I’m hiding out in the big city blinking
What was I thinking when I let go of you?

How Are We Doing?

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Dear Preferred Customer,

I’d like to start off by saying, CONGRATULATIONS. You are a wholehearted pain in the hindquarters, and for that, I commend you!
I regret to inform you that despite being a preferred customer, Preferred Customer, visiting our establishment “3-5 times per month” as stated on your comment card does not entitle you to free dessert and/or a meal compensation because your sides came a tad later than you’d expected. In fact, I believe your reward will arrive in 5-10 years in the form of a heart attack (Note: Do not look for this in the mail).
I apologize that you were “refused” these prerogatives by our waitstaff. On the contrary, I ask that you bear in mind, your waitress is earning a server’s wage, is in college, and gets a kick out of kissing your feet so you can leave her your crumpled napkin and soggy pad thai noodles (true on all counts, optional substitution of soggy yakisoba or chinese noodles).
In addition to these statements, I would like to add that not only do I “not know” if you will ever visit again, I do “not care.” As far as I am concerned, you may take your insatiable appetite for grease-infested cuisine elsewhere. Perhaps there are others more willing to serve you a fatty plate of lard AND let you walk all over them. McDonald’s loves to see you smile!
Finally, please tell your husband to speak up next time. Goodness knows he’s well aware you’re not playing with a full deck of cards.
Cordially Yours,
Jasmine Rice
PS: In addition to the heart attack, keep an eye out for a stroke and perhaps Type 2 diabetes. It’s our way of saying, “Thanks!”

I’ll be honest with you…

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THAT’S WHAT MY BEST FRIEND/ROOMMATE SAID RIGHT BEFORE SHE TOLD ME that she hated the jar of ChocoMallows I put on the kitchen counter. I thought it added a bit of flavor to the kitchen, not to mention the convenience of a nice, sweet treat on hand. After all, they were on clearance for .48 at Target, marked down from .99. What could be sweeter?
I thought I’d “be honest with her” right back by letting her know that I, in fact, enjoy my ChocoMallows. They are sweet and simple, and somewhat resemble the taste of Cocoa Puffs and upscale dog treats. How delightful. I planted the chocolate puffs on every nook and cranny of her turf. She’s not home yet, but I’m sure it will be sheer chaotic bliss once she discovers they’re not in the jar…but instead in her toiletry drawers and shoe racks (that’s where the bliss comes in).
Snapshots of the crime: