Kids' Stuff

When I was 8 years old, these were my lifelong goals: have a "greatest hits" album and be a famous artist. At the time, I was listening to a lot of Frankie Valli (received from Santa, as requested) and Mary Cassatt was my favorite artist. I dreamed of living in France and Whitney Houston was teaching me to sing via her self-titled album.  I wrote my first song, "Baby Blue," and recorded it over and over again, labeling each tape "Nikki Rice's Greatest Hits."

A few years later, I discovered Dr. Demento and decided being a radio host wouldn't be so bad, nor would being an author. I was still into the fame game, but maturing, and I was already beginning to understand the difference between high art and low art. The low was much more appealing to me. I understood the concept of sex far too well, and I read a lot of Judy Blume. I recorded obscene radio shows with my closest friends and wondered why all the boys were calling them and not me. I was in love with writing on my typewriter, which I found to be much more sincere than writing on my computer.

From there I got into making radio shows, watching Beavis & Butthead, and cracking obscene jokes in the company of my closest friends... jokes no one but me fully understood.  I loved watching game shows and playing Gin with my grandma.  I discovered Alanis Morissette and Pearl Jam, but listened to Weird Al just as much.  When I was slightly older, I became obsessed with showing all of my friends my two favorite movies - it was like a rite of passage I inflicted upon all of them - Teen Witch and Welcome to the Dollhouse. If you got those movies, you got me.

And then I found Erykah Badu, and she changed my life. I started singing soul and wearing ankhs. I believed that if I was nice to others, good things would come to me. I asked for a Bible and a cross necklace for Christmas and I got them both. I wore the cross (made of real gold and diamonds) only once or twice, but read my Bible every night. I ended up skimming over a lot, and it just didn't make sense to me as anything more than a moral tale that was 100's of pages too long.

I wanted to live in Vegas. It was my favorite place in the whole world and I talked about it with anyone who would listen. I knew Fremont Street before it was an "experience" and I was so familiar with the city that my parents let me take a cab around town, unaccompanied, starting at the age of 12. I felt like that town "got me," and when I came home I was pompous and self-absorbed and insecure as fuuuuck. I was the last person I knew to get their first kiss, and I stopped competing for top grades because I knew I could never be the best (therefore, why be anything?). I tried out for a choir solo and got it. It was the greatest accomplishment of my life, up until that point in time.

Then I became depressed, went to therapy, went on medication, and met a boy. The rest is history.

Resolutions for the New Year

Seven days until 30. Seven days until 30. Seven days until 30.

I'm both dreading my upcoming milestone birthday and happily anticipating it. As a rock star from way back, my last milestone birthday was my 27th, at which point I had a "Dead at 27" get-together to celebrate the fact that years of unrelenting partying had not yet killed me, and I promised myself that I would be nicer to my body and mind from there on out. For the most part, I've kept that promise. Let's just say there have been way more mornings-after hangovers than apologies since then. Phew.

"Dead at 27" Rockstar Party (2009)

My 25th birthday allowed me not only cheaper car insurance, but more opportunity for college financial aid. It took me a year to act on that before returning to school, but in the meantime I found a cognitive behavioral therapist and prepared myself to be a happier, more productive person. By the time I signed up for classes at my community college, I was ready to commit. And now I'm only two semesters away from getting a degree (in a subject I love, no less).

The point I'm getting to with these cheesy-hopeful anecdotes is that I generally think of birthdays as personal New Years, involving much reflection and major resolutions, and despite hiccups along the way, this association seems to work to my advantage. Allow me to indulge in a now-typical, upper-middle class American way of assessing my decades in terms of "self": 

On a road trip with my friend Nicki when I was 25 (2007)

My teens were about learning how society outside my family unit worked, and dealing with the conflicts that those first independent interpersonal relationships bring. They were about being the center of my own universe, and thinking that everything happening around me was happening to me. They were about setting impossible goals and dealing with the inevitable disappointment that comes when you learn that perfection is unattainable.

My early twenties were about giving up completely and losing control. They were about total self-indulgence and fighting to be someone who I was not. Luckily, they soon started being about exploring my self, my interests, my motivations, and my true sources of happiness. They were about learning to maintain good relationships and end bad ones. Most recently, they've been about self-awareness and commitment to living my own life to its fullest potential.

At a printmaking show I was in last fall, age 29 (2011)

And what do I expect my 30s to be about? What do I want to focus on?

Fighting self-doubt. Feeling good about who I am in the present, even as I seek to improve that person. Saying no when I mean it, rather than giving someone that cowardly "maybe" when I know that's not the truth. Living by example and practicing what I preach. Taking risks where they're most needed - in my art and in love and in support of my principles.

The way to reach these goals, of course, is to break them down into manageable mini-goals, which I already have in mind. I will, however, wait to elaborate on these in another post, as this has been a lengthy enough soapbox stand already. Cheers.

And now, a word against bitterness...

When I was a young lass, I asked one of my guy friends if he thought I was pretty. He said, "you'd be pretty if you lost some weight."

Sometime later that year, I wrote a love letter to another boy I was friends with, and delivered it to him in person. Then, we just continued hanging out, both pretending that he hadn't read it.

The next year, my boyfriend at the time was having a bad night at work, so I brought him what I thought was his favorite kind of ice cream. He looked at my surprise gift and said, "I like chocolate chip, not cookie dough."

During my senior year, I invited a boy I liked to a party. He showed up then made out with two of my best friends.

When I was a little older, I briefly dated a man who refused to be my boyfriend because he "didn't want to be in a relationship." A few days after I tried to get him to commit, he came to my band's show and introduced everyone to his new girlfriend. Needless to say, it was not me.

Then there were the times I actually fell in love with them, but never them with me. Those were the worst... like the one who told me he was attracted to me and that I was his best friend, but that he couldn't date me. Or the one who made me cry when I told him I wouldn't be kissing him again until he admitted he had feelings for me.  Or the one who told me that hanging around with me fulfilled him in the same way a girlfriend would, so now he would just have to find someone to have sex with.

But I'M NOT BITTER - and I'm so sick of meeting people who are! Get over it and allow yourself a little happiness. The walls you put up make you so boring - don't you know that? Share a little, love a little, and stop being a selfish, miserable prick who leaves a trail of pretty little crushed hearts everywhere you go. Life is about openness - to people, to experiences, to love.

Some advice for all you bitter bastards out there:

• Learn to take a compliment
• When you see someone you know, say hi to them
• Smile, for fuck's sake
• If you get someone's number, call them
• At least pretend to like yourself
• Learn to trust, and share
• Accept a little blame, then move on
• Or go become a stand-up comedian and put your self-hatred to good use

Happy Thanksgiving! If I love you, you know it, and you may consider this blog entry a toast to the immense amount of joy you contribute to this world. Cheers!

Things That Make Me Happy

I had a damn good weekend. I spent lots of time with good friends, new friends, old friends, family... and after my stressful week of mid-terms, this was just what I needed. I was going to blog all about this weekend's events, as they were all pretty fantastic, but instead I'm going to share something I found the other day (and just in the nick of time, I might add). I found a list I made on February 8, 2010, of 33 things that make me happy.

I wrote it one day at Alexandra's house, after a rough couple months of boy problems and depression. At that time, I felt like I had been overlooking all the good things in life; I needed to remind myself that there were plenty of reasons to smile. It hung on my fridge at my old house, and now it's hanging on the fridge at my new house, right where it belongs. Here it is, uncensored:

1. music
2. coffee
3. sunshine
4. stretching
5. exercise
6. breakfast
7. Weight Watchers
8. bike riding
9. reading
10. cleaning
11. clean clothes
12. Sunday phone calls/emails
13. doing my hair & make-up
14. matching underwear
15. sex
16. parties (especially theme parties)
17. dressing up
18. drawing
19. singing
20. practicing instruments
21. watching movies
22. dinner with friends
23. museums
24. swimming
25. painting nails/toenails
26. going to the movies
27. Chicago
28. crafting
29. kids
30. car coffee
31. massages
32. painting
33. dancing
34. showering
35. going out for coffee
36. poetry

What makes you happy?

Let's have a quickie!

My first class was canceled, so I'm killing time in the computer lab. I was going to post all about my recent trip to the MCA with Chryssa, and highlight some of the phenomenal artists we saw, but I don't have time right now. I do have time, however, to list what I got in the gift shop: a set of glass plates that look like a paper plates, a few little presents for some of my loved ones, and a magnificent book about my favorite performance artist, Marina Abramovic. I'm most excited about reading the Abramovic book, which comes with an audio guide narrated by the artist herself. Looooove. Oh, yeah, I bought a membership to the museum, as well. That means a whole year's worth of art-tastic fun.

I have printmaking class in about 15 minutes, and it's woodcut critique day. Ugh. My woodcut came out terrible, in my opinion. It was a passionless project for me. Sometimes when you struggle with a piece, it becomes your favorite, your pet, a challenge to be conquered with pride; other times, you just want to chuck it in the garbage can, out of pure hatred and frustration. Unfortunately for this woodcut, it fell into the latter of those two categories.

Cheers, all. My band is playing a show next Wednesday at The House. Y'all should come and drink and dance and laugh with me. It's gonna be a time. Here's the link to the event information.

A list of awesome things that happened in the last week:

1. My parents renewed their vows on a cruise ship, and brought me back a bunch of cool presents from Barbados. Congrats, Mom and Dad!

2. Bought a hideous on-the-hanger dress at Target that looked way sexy on-the-me.

3. Got my first sculpture assignment, and it's highly interpretable.

4. Learned to play Hank Williams' "Hey, Good Looking" on the keyboard (as well as a few random 90's techno songs).

5. Chryssa dyed my white trash roots back to beautiful blond.

6. Used velcro rollers in my hair for the first time, and, thanks to some helpful amateur YouTube how-to videos, got wonderful results. The video below was the most useful for me. I will try to put up a full instructional post of my own in the next couple days, as I'm assuming that using rollers to curl hair is as big of a mystery to many other people as it was for me.

7. Ate a phenomenal falafel pita at Pita Pete's with Jaime and James, and some damn good Qdoba with Chryssa and Alex; friends and food - need I say more about why these experiences were so exceptional?

8. Got a bunch of canvas and other art supplies from the VCBeast.

9. Spent lots of time with people I love.

10. Received an exciting X-mas gift: a beautiful polka dot corsette!

11. Made plans for the upcoming weekend that are guaranteed to bring me many smiles, much laughter, and maybe even some butterflies in my tummy.

Life is spectacular right now. I wish I could feel this way all the time. I know people say that you can't appreciate the good without the bad, but I find that really hard to believe. And, even if this is true, I think the amount of "bad" I've experienced thus far will keep me appreciating "good" for the rest of my life. Bring it on.