Saturday, February 15, 2014

I Made A Website! Finally!

larajeangallagher.com


Well, I didn't really make it. My friend Jonah did. And he's just the best. This is him.

Another thing I did recently though was buy one of his super fancy cutting boards for my friends who got married.
LOOK AT THE LOOKS OF THIS CUTTING BOARD: 

I don't even think they said thank you. Marrieds. 

I'd never seen such a nice cutting board before let alone cut something even remotely nice on something nice. The only other nice-ish cutting board I ever bought was to use as the floor of the kitchen in this little animation I did once. For some reason I could rationalize the $20 bamboo cutting board from Bed Bath & Beyond if it was actually supposed to be flooring (the "Beyond" they speak of? It seems so). I don't know what happened to it after that.

LOOK AT THE LOOKS OF THIS CUTTING BOARD FLOOR: 
Hollerings: 3 Stories in Wood. You can watch and read about it here if you want.

Today I cut something on a plate. It was fine. 

Friday, November 29, 2013

I started paying back my student loans.

It turns out that even though I'm still technically a full-time student, there's a time limit to how long I can use the excuse of still paying an exorbitant amount in tuition each semester for having to actually start paying back that exorbitant amount of tuition each semester. Whatever. The interesting part of all of this is that my Sallie Mae representative was on American Idol last year.

He was recruited via Youtube to the chagrin of the plebs who had to audition all nerve wracking and normal. He was sent to Hollywood and everything. I guess he lost, but had a nice time nonetheless, and got to tour some TV studios and stuff. He has a gig this weekend and doesn't mind working at Sallie Mae too much even though he doesn't get any special discounts on his loans (I asked).

But really, the MOST interesting part of this whole thing is that while he was typing away and bringing my account up to date (Sallie Mae had neglected to tell me that I had overextended my student status and had a delinquent account -- they clearly could use a few more Youtube sensations on the horns) he agreed to keep me posted on his musical progress and promised that if he did in fact make it big and is able to pay off his student loans...that he'd also pay off mine. ♥♥♥

Sidebar: Have you guys seen Shopgirl?! It's not good, but I think about it ALL OF THE TIME. I mean, I know jobs at gloves stands are hard to get no matter how many degrees you have, but STILL! Student Loan Fantasy Porn?! Yes, please.

I told my Sallie Mae representative that this was a good deal because if he DID actually make it big and if he DID actually pay off my student loans too, I'd definitely be able to make a film about the whole thing and make it big myself (well, on the independent film circuit), which would then consequently push him towards a more sustainable career in the music industry. I mean, when all the Jason Mraz-crooner-type loving ladies in the middle west see the movie and get to know the man behind the music, and I mean, like, really get to know him, they'll start demanding lunchboxes and t-shirts and stuff to go along with their illegally downloaded copies of his album and the world would be his oyster. He liked this idea. ♥♥

It's important to note that this is the same guy who just twenty minutes prior said that Sallie Mae didn't really offer any plans or options after the 48 months of student status deferment had passed... I mean, time will tell, but this one seems just about air tight. ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

Needless to say, I'm feeling optimistic about the future and Sallie Mae's continued interest in helping me to achieve my full potential. This is certainly unexpected and totally worth the 12 minute hold time and new monthly payment. ♥♥♥♥

I'd never heard this Bruno Mars song for real, but it seems sort of serendipitous. I think I will use it in the credit sequence to the aforementioned, currently unproduced movie. It will be called: American. Idol. Or maybe: American Idle. We'll see.

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

Tuesday, August 20, 2013

I left my cat in Brooklyn.

I wish I could send him a love letter, but I don't think my sub-letter would understand.



Wednesday, March 13, 2013

I made a flipbook.


The best flipbooks work like movies, so I made a movie first and then printed out each frame.
But jeez, that's not all.  There are a lot of things that I did that lead to me making this weird little book/movie of me stuffing a cupcake in my face. And since this is a blog that champions list-making, I'll make a list:

1. I drove with my friend Julia to Purchase, NY to see the Dana Schutz retrospective at the Neuberger Gallery.
         
This seemingly simple trip upstate needs a list too. Here goes:
  • Two years ago, I put an ad on Craigslist to sell my record player.
  • I began corresponding a man named Adam Katz (a name a cat lover could never forget).
  • I remembered that a couple years before, a mutual friend in LA had tried to make us become friends when he and his girlfriend Julia were moving to NYC at the same time as me. We never made it happen. I thought this was a good example of the internet being a small world after all and Adam agreed.
  •  Adam made vague plans to come and check out the record player. I lied and told him that there was a lot of interest in the record player and he should probably hurry up about it. They did.
  • I became good and fast friends with Adam and Julia.
  • I said yes to practically everything Julia ever asked me to do because she is the greatest. This list would include things like agreeing to go to a stranger's wedding in Montreal by myself while she worked taking pictures at it, sardines in pasta, drugs this one time, getting up before dawn to go to the TODAY show and making an old lady from Wisconsin hold a nonsensical sign up with me, etc.                                            
  • I audited a class at Columbia called "Why Have There Been No Great Woman Artists?"
    • Even though I was a mere auditor, I said I'd do an oral presentation on a female artist currently showing in or around NYC. I did a little research and I decided to do Dana Schutz because her painting is so funny (and an excuse to go upstate is always welcome) and I think that maybe a potential answer to the annoying question masquerading as the title of the course is because there aren't that many painters in general who are funny so certainly not many female painters who are funny...which is kind of the same thing as great if you ask me. I mean, look at this one:
    It's called "Swimming, Smoking, Crying" and is just so funny and sad, and also provides a good method for quitting one vice...adding two more! 

    Another one I particularly like is "Girl with Guitar":
    When you look at this one, you might think, "Wow. How did she get the black hole over the heart of the girl playing the guitar to be so so gaping and void of anything? Does Dana Shutz know the girls that play guitar that I know?!" Well here's the secret that viewing this piece on the internet won't provide: That hole? It's actually a hole cut into the canvas with black velvet a view inches behind it! Hello nothingness! Genius! Or, I guess, as "Why Have There Been No Great Women Artists?" taught me: there are no geniuses, just talented, driven people people who have been given opportunities...but anyway.

    2. Ok! AT the gallery, we saw a weird little exhibit featuring all of these birthday cards that artists had given to the gallery's namesake, Roy Neuberger. Julia and I just thought that this was great and a good way to get people to send you things and make things in your honor. So last year, Julia put a call out to her friends and artists to make her a birthday card. And a lot of people did! 
    See some of them here!

    3. It took me another year! But yes, my flipbook is a birthday card for Julia. See:
    This is sort of what it looks like, except, you know, a book: 


    But I'm not done with the list. Here's the nuts and bolts part: 
    • I made carrot cake cupcakes with cream cheese frosting.
    • I video taped myself devouring cupcake after cupcake, trying to do it faster, better.
    • I ate four, which wasn't even fun because I was eating them basically all in one gulp to try and save on paper later.
    • I edited the movie down, exported all 381 frames as an image sequence and printed out all 127 pages.
    • I tried to use one of those guillotines to cut the frames out, but my order started getting confused so I cut them out one by one.
    • I ended up halving the book because it was still so stinking big even after obsessive editing. This made me think of that dumb movie with Gwyneth Paltrow called Sliding Doors and how maybe it's not so dumb...I mean if half of the frames of your life are really only needed to move through it with a certain kind of smoothness, then the other half COULD be used to live out a completely parallel existence. If my flipbook is any indication, no one would really be able to tell. Is this what Peter Howitt was thinking? Is this why he doesn't seem to have a career anymore? Is he making flipbooks somewhere in his secondary life? 
    • I gave the second book to my other Pisces friend (they're really starting to accumulate, which is another thing). 
    • I watched a Youtube video on how to bind books with Elmer's glue.
    • I did that. 
    • I found another use for my roommate's yearbook (first use is calling the numbers in it) and weighed these things down. 
    • I wrapped them nicely.
    In 9th grade my English teacher made us give an oral report on how to do something. Everyone in the class was like, "Ohhhh noooo, but I don't know how to do anything!!" 
    I did mine on how to make toast and it was longer than anyone's. This reminds me of that. 

    I just love a list. 

    Sunday, February 24, 2013

    Monday, February 18, 2013

    I read two new novels titled like self-help books.


    They also both share a similar jack hammer like subtlety in terms of their book jacket imagery:
    "Are You My Mother" (Alison Bechdel) and "How Should A Person Be?" (Sheila Heti)
    I read them both quickly...probably because they were so embarrassing to be seen with on the subway.

    I didn't particularly like either one of them--in fact, I pretty much hated, Are You My Mother? Beyond the issues with the book and the therapy happy (ther-happy? yeah, no.) protagonist (and yes, author),  I realized this is mostly because I loved Fun Home more than anything.

    I think this is telling and maybe the exact kind of revelation that one could hope for after actually reading a self-help book. So there you go.

    A better title for this post might be: I read two new self-help books masquerading as something else.

    And I guess they helped. Similarly, I've also been watching Girls.

    Wednesday, February 13, 2013

    About once a month I get paid $40 to improvise on morning radio shows around the country.

    Usually this takes about ten minutes and involves me staying in my pajamas and waiting for some station host in Tulsa or Phoenix or somewhere to call me, set up the situation, give me a restaurant or locale to plug, and then I improvise an argument with a pretend boyfriend or a guy I went out with once and never called again. But sometimes, like this morning, it's weirder and even more indicative of how stupid everything is.

    Today I was playing a young wife, one whose husband just got back from his second tour of Iraq. And things just weren't the same (obviously). He was distracted, he was distant, he just wasn't THERE. And of course, like the dumb little lady we all must secretly be, I was to assume that he was cheating on me. Of course, I said, I talked to my preacher, I talked to my friends, I TRIED to talk to him, but talking is hard. I needed the radio station to help me to know, once and for all: is my man my man or is he just a man that I am married to that uses his manness for someone else, man or woman? ...Well, that's a little deeper than we've ever gone, but hey, that's my motivation.

    The station had a little trick up their sleeve to help little old "me" with this burning question. They were going to call my husband, pretend to be a new florist in town offering a promotion to send a dozen roses to ANYONE that he wanted to for free. Now, if he was cheating, wouldn't he send them to his mistress? We all assume.

    So we call him up (also an actor, or perhaps, more aptly, someone else in their underwear in Brooklyn), he takes the bait (after a decent performance of, "Huh? What? Is this going to cost me anything? Anyone I want? No hidden costs? Whelp. Okay.") And he decides to send the flowers to...his wife. ME. Aw. Except GUESS WHAT SUCKA!! I'm on the other line! This is a 90s style party line prank and you're the butt of it!

    Except, he's not...I am.

    After taking the time to thank all the men and women who fight for our freedom (I assume they mean the real ones, not just the pretend ones they have on the line), the radio DJs turn it all on me. What's wrong with me that I don't trust my man? What's wrong with me that I can't understand all that he's been through, all that he's done in the name of me, my country, and my freedom? Am I selfish? Naive? Just plain dumb? Because I'm good at my job (or I realize that my job is only good if I keep it short and sweet and minimize the amount of time I have to "work" for my $40) I apologize (not for needing to call a radio station to figure out my marital problems in the first place), but for not trusting him, for not giving him the space he needs to re-navigate the world of mini-vans, church groups, and new florists with wildly generous promotions...I say I love him, that I love the radio station for helping me to see that trust (never mind the essence of the prank) is really the key to any relationship. "Do I get the dozen roses anyway? Haha?" I sweetly ask with a subtle southern drawl.

    No.

    That after all, was part of the ploy to get at the truth. But what is the truth? For the first time, I was compelled to hunt down the radio station on the internet and try and figure out when the segment aired so that I could call in and give my real two cents, push some buttons, stick up for myself, myself! Tell Mr. Part-time PTSD that he's just as responsible to his wife's deep dark insecurities as she is to his deep dark war things and maybe ask if his mistress is allergic to flowers...yeah! What about that scenario?! Huh?! HA! It's not so cut and dry faithful listeners of the southern US! No matter what I said this morning sometimes with an accent and sometimes without one!

    But I couldn't find the station.