wow

long time, no blog. I’ve been very busy this year—which is to be expected as it is my last year of college. Projects, assignments and work. As of now, I have just about completed my portion of illustrating the Manifest print campaign. I was surprised by how welcoming and open the process had been; I had very little interference with my ideas.  I’m also working on my small book which has been made possible by the generosity of the Weisman Award. The end product will be 75 or so copies of an illustrated book of dads. Each page, and I’m thinking there will be less than 10,  will have a new dad and will incorporate his unique appearance.  My plan is to make these very small, 5″ x 5″, so that they are clever little intimate take-aways. Once I complete my drawings, I will embark on the journey to get them printed. 

In other good news, my business cards arrived and look stunning (thank you designer Daphne Karagainis).  My site, which matches the design, is currently under construction with the skilled hands of Brendan Metzger. 

Other than that, I don’t know what to say. The ball is rolling.  If it is all built, please let work come.

Damn me

Before the month of October flies by, I have to jot down a few notes. 

- This election has be growing grey hairs

-This semester, my final fall semester for undergrad, has been intense. To be more specific, writing intensive. I can’t wait to not write formal papers in the spring. 

- Chicago is becoming awfully chilly

- Halloween is on a Friday; how awesome is that? I would have appreciated a few more weekend Halloweens when I was an avid trick-or-treater…

 

 OK, back to the grind.

Italian, not French dressing

The other day on the train, I randomly recalled a conversation that I had with my mom many, many years ago. It went something like this…

My mother had told me that I was part French. While I now have a bizarre pride in that small percentage of a background, when I was young, I was more interested in being Italian. We were talking about our family “heritage”  over dinner and I explained that I would rather be Italian because that was my favorite salad dressing–French, on the other hand, didn’t excite my youthful palate. Looking back, I find it quite humorous that I connected what background I wanted to the food I most enjoyed. 

Just something to look back on…

mystery mountains

Last week I awoke to a few bumps scattered about my toes. Out of confusion, I itched them. This, however, did not help; it hurt. As I eased out of my slumber into cohesiveness I grew anxious. Instantly, I felt random itchy sensations all over my body. Panicked, I flipped on the lamp and threw off my bedding. The only thing that made sense was that bugs must be biting me. This whole time, Speedo snoozed peacefully at the bottom of the bed, near my feet. While I tirelessly examined my mattress and sheets, there was nothing to be found. And, I assumed that if I were to be bitten by something, Speedo would too. Dumbfounded, I got up and marched to the bathroom to wash my hands. Out of laziness, I assured myself that it was best just to fall back asleep and re-examine in the morning. 

Upon waking up, I noticed that the red patches on my feet had grown into mini snow-capped mountains. But these were not topped with pleasant white snow, they had yellowish puss tips. And, there weren’t just two anymore, I found several mountain ranges sprinkled over my body. Freaked out, I washed myself, all of my clothes and my bedding. I even went so far as vacuuming my bed. Was it a spider? A rare mosquito? Poison Ivy? 

A few days have passed but the confusion still remains. Luckily, with the help of a few topical creams and bathing with epsom salt, my mystery bumps seem to be healing. Most have grown to a scab and lessened in size and irritation level. But, I still can’t put my finger on the culprit. Coincidentally, I began taking an over the counter medicine for my Irritable Bowel Syndrome (yet another bizarre pain I have yet to ease) and that has also been added to the list of possibilities. But, because it doesn’t contain anything too abrasive, I can’t imagine that it would cause this type of skin issue. Regardless, I’ve stopped taking the pill while I get these bumps to heal. And if it was a bug, that was some fucking insect.

the boys of summer will soon be gone

This is it. School begins next week and summer is finishing up at a feverish pace. My work hours are soon to be shaved and classes will fill my daily routine. As it always does, summer’s warmth and laziness will soon screech to a halt and usher in the chillingly pleasant months of fall. For that I am excited but for the amount of class work that lies ahead…I am a bit less than enthused.

When a semester begins, that usually means a couple of things:

1. The end of leisure reading 

2. More blogging due to the high influx of annoying and bizarre encounters

3. A heightened sense of guilt for my pooch since I am out of the house 9-5, 5 days of the week

Other than that, it’s a nice change of pace and I’m by no means dreading the beginning of my last year in undergrad. Honestly, I’m pretty pumped to start off the year…I’ve just got to tie up some loose ends so I can end this summer right…one more book!

the squirrels of summer

Yesterday I got bit by a squirrel because I wanted to feed it the corner of a quesadilla. Looking back, I feel like a dumbass for holding a tiny flake of food out for him to grab. Apparently,  he thought my finger was a hotdog and went to town. 

Otherwise, I am counting down the days left of summer and there really isn’t much left.

15 !

the hot clock is ticking

As of now, I’ve got about a month left until my last year in college. Saying it doesn’t really affect me because it is not going to sink in until I stop going there. No more classes and no more work at school equals my life post graduation. 

Summers have always gone by so fast. We all know that. But, it doesn’t stop us from saying, “this summer is just flying by” as if it’s some new phenomenon. So, enjoy it. I am. I’m going to enjoy the rest because this is going to be one challenging year.

goodbye t-good

I don’t want to be that person who blogs about personal friendships and all, but I feel compelled to. Growing up, I weaved in and out amongst friends. I liked people and had some enjoyable moments, but all in all, only a few people from my past have remained close. After moving to Chicago, the city I’ve officially made home, I have been lucky enough to encounter hordes of interesting people. And now, finally, I can say that I am extremely content with the people I have surrounding me. 

But, change has crept up on me just as summer has begun to wind down. It is with mixed emotions that I have to say a temporary goodbye to my dear friend Nick. As of tonight, he begins his journey to Taiwan to party. I mean, teach English. Either way, it is going to be tough without having him around. With that being said, once he gets this living overseas thing out of his system, he is expected to report back to Chicago for countless dinners, Brendan’s toilet and his old futon, soon to be destroyed by Speedo’s dog hair.

the days pass like….passing days

Is it really already July 15th? 

Yesterday some guy was plowed by the blue line at my train stop. To my luck, I wasn’t there while it happened. But, I was there a half an hour later. I couldn’t help but question what it would be like to witness someone die. Or, for that matter, just see a dead person. 

I haven’t seen a dead body since the wake I went to in high school. It was for a friend’s cancer-stricken father. No one was crying except for me. I could not get over the dead guy in the room. I can only imagine my reaction to a freshly destroyed body. I don’t think I can see that. 

I wish that person would have decided against ending their life. Maybe sometimes people just need to be reminded that they are loved and appreciated. That is, unless they decide to end it because they are terrible and killed someone themselves. I don’t know. I guess I’m going to end this blog post now.

gifts galore

Today a fellow walked past and the scent of wrapping paper swarmed me. I love that smell.  Shortly after, while at the bank, I stood next to a business-looking man and he reeked of ripe flatulence. Back to the gift wrap guy; I wonder how he was able to smell like that. He was carrying a briefcase. I suppose it could have been packed with miniature wrapped presents. The instant I caught the scent, I perked up and did a double sniff. The funny thing is, I have a hazy recollection of him; only the scent resonates. I thoroughly enjoy smelling things. And let me tell you, wrapping paper is a joy to smell on a pleasant July morning. Even now I can reference that scent. I recall those christmas mornings when I would sneak out of bed to peak under the tree at 4:00 AM or when I’d be the designated gift wrapper, not because I am a pro, more so because I love doing it.