how much wood can a woodchuck chuck

Project story time.

So our most recent project in History of Graphic Design was a woodcut project.  We've been studying the use of traditional Japanese woodblock printing methods in French Nouveau artwork, and our assignment was basically to design and carve our own woodblock.  Essentially, you buy a block of wood and slowly carve out a design of your choice until you've created a raised impression.  Once carved, you ink it and print on whatever you want.

It's relatively simple to do.  However, it takes a lot of patience, precision, and bloody knuckles to hand-carve a design out of wood.  Over the past week, much frustration and doubt has ensued, both during hours of carving...

Or after hours of carving...

Eventually though, you kinda get the hang of it, and then it becomes mildly addicting.  The craftsman within slowly emerges and rears his head at odd hours.

(this is Samuel by the way)

However, after about a week of chipping away at my board, I finally finished my project and printed some t-shirts.  It's not perfect, but neither is the process.

So, if you haven't seen the movie Ferris Bueller's Day Off, you probably won't understand the reference on the t-shirt.  However, I'm so happy to have been a part of this process, and I hope to create more in the future.  I'm also so proud of all the hard work put in by my fellow classmates; y'all constantly put out AMAZING stuff, and are such and inspiration to me every day, both in the classroom and out in the real world.  

If anybody is interested in one of these t-shirts, feel free to message me!  I'll be selling them for $10, or $5 if you provide the shirt.  Thanks again for all the support and encouragement!  Cheers!

hangry

When I'm at school, I have two basic mindsets when it comes to my fellow university students.  These mindsets are formed regardless of gender, year, major, or even if we're friends or not.  In fact, it really has nothing to do with you.  These mindsets depend entirely on my current mood and whether or not I've eaten within a 2-hour period.  Because for me, my blood sugar determines how friendly I'm going to be in any given situation.

It's not that I have any kind of medical need to eat that often.  I'm not diabetic.  I'm not hypoglycemic.  I know people who are, and they are always pleasant and wonderful.  I don't know how they do it, because when I miss snack time, I get a severe case of the hangries. 

For those of you who don't know, hangry is a term combining the words "hungry" and "angry", and it's a very real emotion.  

Observe.  

Me, when I am well-fed and encounter my fellow students:

 Vs. me when I've forgotten my snack and encounter my fellow students:

All this goes to say that if I pass you at school and don't immediately compare you to a favored dumpling, it's just because I'm a horrible and selfish person who doesn't take the extra effort to be nice when I'm hungry and a little out-of-it.  Basically I'm just calling myself out on this behavior of mine, in the hopes that making its origins public will motivate me into a frenzy of self-improvement. We'll see how that turns out.

On a different note, school is finally picking up a little bit, which is partly why I didn't do a post last week.  My apologies.  I have a handful of (hopefully) amusing stories to share with you people, especially after I get this first project behind me, but they are a bit lengthy and need some time to work on.

Plus I'm a lazy snoodlebumbus and I may or may not just be writing this post to sedate myself into thinking I've fulfilled my blogger's duty for the week.  

Now I must go and bloody my knuckles as I work to finish carving Ferris Bueller out of a piece of plywood.  More on that later.

Cheers!

snogging & other nonsense

snog*ging

–verb (used without object), snogged, snogging.

  British informal.

• To kiss and/or hold somebody in a sexual way.

That, friends, is the Cambridge online dictionary definition of the term "snogging".  Perhaps now you are a bit more intrigued as to the nature of this post... Perhaps not.  Either way, I have a story to share with you.

Most nights of the week, I get a call from Samuel on his way home from school.  We generally rehash our day, have some solid nerd discussions, and swap prayer requests.  It's a nice way to wrap up the day.

However, yesterday was different.

Due to the total lack of cell reception in my dorm, I always take my calls outside, on the side-entrance stairs.  Yesterday was no exception.  I happened to come across a couple on my way out to the door, and naturally I assumed they were entering the building.  I opened the door for them.  But they didn't go in.

In short, the girl went inside for a bit while I sat awkwardly on the stairs while the guy just paced in front of me.  I had already began the call with Samuel, but I wasn't about to hash out my day in front of this dude.  So I just stared at my feet and talked as little as possible.

And then it happened.  The girl returned.

I wrongly assumed (again) that they would be moving indoors and at last leave me and my phone call at peace, but oh how wrong I was.

Alternatively, they elected to make out.  Loudly.  Right behind me.

I still attempted to continue my phone conversation, but the symphony of snogging behind me inhibited most of my lingual skills.

At this point in the call Samuel began to express some genuine concern for me, not yet knowing that my distracted "yeah"s and "mhmmm"s were about the only diction I could produce under the circumstance.  To make matters worse, the sconce by the door was casting a shadow of the couple on the pavement before me, fully illustrating the situation playing out behind my back.  I attempted to collapse myself and dissolve into the stair rail, clutching my mug of tea in one hand and trying to maintain the phone call with my mildly befuddled boyfriend in the other.

Eventually the couple released suction on each other's face, mumbled sugary farewells, and parted ways.  Once out of earshot, I immediately explained the situation to Samuel before breaking out into nervous giggles and melodramatic wailing.

Moral of the story: if you're gonna snog on a side porch, please choose one that is UNOCCUPIED. 

Also special thanks to Samuel for being super patient, especially when I am stuck in awkward phone call conditions.

IMPORTANT

*steps down from soap box*