felice anno nuovo!

Here is to the wonderful 2012 and the adventures 2013 will bring.

In honor of the last year, i made this little poem/word vomit of a sentence or phrase from each post this past year. Thank you to those of you who read Verbaledudette. I wish you the best and a Happy New Year!

bless this mess, we tried our best.

 I am on the edge of my seat and near tears with excitement. 

free concert downtown. 

the first impression rose. 

University of Utah.

 a new flavor of man candy. 

audrey verses the job market. 

who would be my male stunt double if I was to have one?

 birthday weekend was amazing.

 screw the idea of waiting for magic, everyday is magic. 

notes from the non business major in a business class. 

call it A.D.D but I call it lack of motivation. 

Oh goodness. 

first kiss. 

we all love sexy man backs.

 internet sensation. 

The British Bad Boy. 

good night and sweet dreams. 

carpe diem. 

san francisco. 

academy of art university. 

sometimes not being in control is the most beautiful thing in the world. 

love is a mixtape.

 sexy olympic games. 

neglected my male readers. 

He is six foot one of handsome.

 brief in words, but definitely not lacking in sex appeal. 

young, exotic, and a professional. 

you know how I like those man butts. 

Mmhmm. 

He is also shy. 

Phoebe, Kayleigh, Emme, Paisley, Savannah. 

roommates. 

perks of being a wallflower. 

raggamuffin. 

photography major. 

self portrait. 

time is such a hungry beast. 

touch me. 

i'm golden. 

wild as the wind blows. 

let's get lost. 

history with an accent. 

it's as simple as it should be. 

HoBro.

 homesick. 

silence is the most powerful scream. 

You have to know where you came from to know where you are going right? 

that awkward moment when your new friend turns out to be your teacher. 

Usually there is fog. 

juices, and water that has floating citrus in it. 

more inspirational and sappy over here. 

Today was just simply sweet. 

Sweet Disposition. 

I have reached the point where I officially know that I have made the right choice. 

i came here to do art, not make friends. 

toned graphic designers. 

rocky horror picture show.

 I am being a bit dramatic, but I did feel special. 

i am afraid to merge. 

people are in a panic. 

verbaledudette gift guide. 

It is decadent. 

It's witty. 

It's interactive. 

helping the locals.

 holiday spirit.

 big city life.

 I was lucky. 

have sex with a guy with a mustache. 

arts festival.

 right as rain. 

desperation. 

gay men will marry your girlfriends. 

haberdash. 

the awful truth. 

500th post. 

cold to the bone. 

i never used to win anything. 

not so silent night. 

Jack White, Of Monsters and Men, Metric, The Gaslight Anthem, and Two Door Cinema Club. 

crying in class. enthusiastic alone time.  

Oh how do I miss my family so much. 

stay gold. 

right as rain

I write a lot when it’s raining.

It is just something I do – along with writing in coffee shops, about the coffee shops, while it’s raining.

No, this post is not being written at coffee shop, but it is raining.

So yes, it kind of fits in the theme.

I am sitting in my bed.

For those of you who have just caught on to this sensation, or for those of you who forgot, my bed is located underneath some else (it’s a bunk bed. I’m not literally sleeping underneath someone’s bed) and that bed also occupies a room with three other beds. I am the only one awake, which is a surprise because usually computer screens light up the small corners of the room way passed this hour.

It’s raining outside, rather hard actually. I can tell by the blur of the orange light on the building across the road and can hear the deep sloshing of fast paced vehicles on the busy streets. I wish I could throw all the windows open and write this while sitting in the middle of the room with the only light being the criss cross stripes of light from the windows on the walls.

My roommates do not believe in fresh air.

They also do not believe in opened blinds passed five o clock.

I think I write when it’s raining because the rain makes me nostalgic. It doesn’t make me sad.

 It makes me remember.

Remember the good times, the rough patches, the moments I wouldn’t change anything, the times I wish would have gone differently. This nostalgic feeling makes me feel like I need to share something. I don’t really want to share those memories though. So I come here, to this public domain, and describe in detail the objects around me. (We all remember the coffee garden posts where I pick apart the tastes, the smells, and the sites. Or how about me sitting at the dining room table talking about the lights and how bright they are against my parent’s studious faces.)

Posts like these are not really for you.

They are not informative about my life or the latest tunes those cool kids are listening to these days.

Posts like these are really for me.

They are something that the minute I start to write, usually introducing it with a poorly executed introduction, I cannot stop. My fingers constantly clicking keys, pressing onward quickly, not thinking about what I am going to write next, just writing down the thoughts as they present themselves no matter what shape or form.

My spelling is even more atrocious in these posts than usual. The page of text, first written in Word Document, is lined with red and green squiggles under misspelled words and unorganized thoughts. As my spelling gets worse, my vocabulary heightens and I randomly through in words like “executed” and “atrocious,” These thesauruses like words are often used wrong, kind of like my speech when I am nervous or not thinking before speaking.

It takes longer to spell check the document than to actually write it.

There is no music playing, no headphones on, no bar’s stereo turned up to loudly, but yet a song is tuning through my ears. It’s not a particular artist, chorus or key, but a combination of the rain, the street side laughter, and the quick click of the keys.

I hope my music isn’t disturbing my roommates.

I think this post that was originally brought on by the rain, which brought on the nostalgia, was also brought on by the idea that I will not be home for thanksgiving.

In Italy, I didn’t really notice that I missed it.

Yes, I took in the fact that my entire family was joining together to eat and laugh and unbutton their pants secretly at the table. But I was in a country who didn’t know what the holiday was and the time difference made the at home celebration seem like something that happened while I was sleeping and I just missed it.

That I just didn’t wake up in time.  

Not here. Here I see everything. Plans about where everyone is going and whom they are spending it with. I understand the reasons for me not going home – I don’t have a break from school and it isn’t worth it. But I still feel a bit homesick. I miss the company and warmth my family contributes. Even Skype sometimes can radiate their heat just by seeing their smiles.

Rain is my favorite weather. It is cleansing, simple, illuminating, and crisp. It is new. It is familiar.

I like to write when it’s raining. To me, it is inspiring.

Goodnight/Good Morning.

Have a wonderful Sunday.

I miss you.

Xo 

i am not a robot

Title: Marina & the Diamonds 

San Francisco has been awkwardly hot the passed two days. People are in a panic. It is almost the next War of the Worlds as people try to go outside in sweaters and realize it is too hot. Pale skin is exposed rawly to the beams of the cloudless sun rays. There is no fog in sight. It has gone missing. I wore a strapless dress and nothing else today. I read my text books in the sunshine on Union Square Plaza. I am in a wonderful mood today and I thank helio-therapy. 

October has begun, just incase you did not know. Fall is here, the leaves should be changing, and the orange yellows and browns should be making their seasonal appearances on the wardrobes that walk to the streets to and from the coffee shops and work. 

To get into the holiday spirit, my family treated me (literally) to some fun packages. Yesterday I got a can in the mail. A soup sized can. As i opened it I was shocked to find there was no chicken noodle broth mixture, but a cute little note, candies, vampire fangs, black sparkle metallic nail polish, and boo mallow marshmallows. This was all from my sister. She even made me wait to open it until she could watch me do it on skype. Two and a half hours later I had finished all the candies and was almost in tears as I bid my sister (dressed in surgeon gear may I add) goodbye. She made my day.

Now I was coming home from class, I approached the doors, and the security guard couldn't wait to get out "Audrey, you have another package!" She was excited as she pulled out an orange box with pumpkin stickers and my Mother's handwriting. The minute I saw it, I knew my school teaching perfect handwriting too cute for words Mama had sent me something that no other college student would ever recieve. I rushed to my room, tore open the tape (which took longer than it should of. note to you: i had tape and envelopes) and almost died as i held halloween decorations in my hand. Mama sent me bats to put on the wall! With help from Emme and Phoebe, we now have bats flying from the mirror, to the door, and over to my neighbors door. We are the envy of the dorm. People have visited from other floors just to see the magic. People have offered me money to send to my mom so she can buy them some. I can confidently say that I have the best Mom in the world. No joke. 

I love Tuesdays because I have my favorite class, with my favorite teacher. I started my day getting a latte from Sugar Cafe, sipping it while I critiqued/analyzed/observed/argued about photographs as the sun rose through the windows for participation points. My class loved my final prints of different perspectives of Emme. I will give you the link once I post them, but I am incredibly proud of my work. Our next assignment is to shoot form and narrative. I love pieces that scream stories, provoke questions, make you want to know more. I have the perfect idea in my mind right now, it is hard to explain, so just cross your fingers and I will show you the final piece. 

I printed out my resume today and I am ready to turn it in to a coffee shop five blocks from my house. Cross your fingers. 

I am going to end this post with a product review. Now, before coming here my Mother and I were shopping at good ol' Costco. It was here that we stumbled upon some new razors for my shaver. They didn't need shower cream, it was like built onto it. You know what I mean? Well they work great, but they get sticky, they never dry, and they melt every time you get it wet. They only lasted a few shower uses and the little plastic piece that surrounds the blade actually fell off when i picked it up this morning. Although they are cute. Do not buy them. 

Ciao Bellas. xoxo 

time is such a hungry beast

title: "waltz for pony" by boy

I write to you frustrated with the current situation my fellow students have present in a college setting. This last week we received an assignment in my Fundamentals of Photography class.

The assignment was simple: photograph a subject (that cannot move or be moved) in different ways, do not edit, change all to black and white, print a contact sheet with twenty of your best images, print one of those images, bring to next class to critique. There were no hidden rules, confusion in the details, or misleading statements. It was crystal clear. Elementary my dear. It was even printed word for word in full paragraphs on a hand out and in our syllabus received on the first day. No surprises.

Today in class, I was one out of five people in a classroom of twenty who did the assignment.

Out of those five people, I was the only one who followed the directions.

I sat there astonished as the excuses poured out of mouths around me.

“I did not understand it”

“I was busy.”

“I could not get my hands on the paper.”

Silently I answered them all in my head.

What did you not understand? If you were confused, you could have either called one of the numbers of the students in the class we exchanged on the first day, or you could have emailed our professor who stressed the importance of not being afraid to use his email and ask questions.

What exactly were you busy with for a whole week that you could not find the time to shoot at least twenty photographs of any object of your choice? I find this hard to believe because as beginners we are all in the same classes. I have the same workload as you. I had time to spare, even after doing homework for our other three classes, and spend a whole day walking from one bridge to the other. Did I mention I also had time to go to the movies?

I will agree, finding the paper was hard, but with an entire week, a cell phone, and Google, you could have found the paper is six different locations just on Main Street alone. If that wasn’t possible or maybe right now you cannot afford it, you could have dug up that contact sheet previously mentioned and asked a classmate where they got their paper or if you could borrow a few sheets. I know I would have said yes. Maybe you were too busy, that’s what happened wasn’t it?

Seriously, ladies?

We are in college. Not only are we in college, we are all adults. Legal adults. Adults who can take care of themselves, who know we have to pull our own weight, adults who can solve a problem when it comes up, an adult who knows what is expected of them and does what is expected.

Every time you show up to class unprepared you are not only throwing more than two hundred dollars out into the crisp wind, but you are wasting your time. Have you ever thought about how your lack of preparation affects my learning? Have you ever thought about how it makes Tim, your educator, feel that you do not take his class seriously or have the respect to follow through on little things he asks? Do you realize these projects and lectures and classes and textbook readings are not punishment or busy work, but actually have meaning that will help you in what is supposed to be your career choice?

I actually feel bad for you.

After brushing fifteen unprepared students to the side, I focused my attention on those who were prepared. They did the assignment; they deserved feedback, respect – just like I expected to receive in return. Critiques are the best way to learn and to grow. I learn from you, you learn from me. That is why I go to onsite classes and do not just sit home online in my pajamas and a bucket of ice cream.

The first to present set up her work. Her prints were in color. Her subject placed in different places around the yard. Her subject was in different positions. The only part that followed the instructions was that she printed out her work. The class responded to the colors of her work in excitement. They were drawn to it. As my teacher said “let’s pretend that it is in black and white and focus on the image and what she could do better” the next comment to follow was “I really like the colors of the garden and how it brings out her subject.” Did you really not just hear the words that came out of his mouth? He is done with the color. He wants to know about composition, about lighting, about anything other than the color that is not supposed to be there in the first place.

Let’s just say, we never got off the color wheel.

I presented mine next. I was eager to hear feedback. I wanted to know what I could do better, what did they notice that I didn’t, how did they feel, what parts they didn’t like. I put my simple contact sheet up next to my one black and white photo. The response was neither good nor bad. Nor was it helpful. No one said anything without exaggerated prompting from my professor. They commented on my model (good, she deserves to be complimented, she is beautiful.) They mentioned my good use of shadow, but did not know what parts were shadowed or why it was good. It wasn’t like they didn’t like it or they did – they were just dead in the eyes, not involved, not wanting to be there. I took down my photographs with no helpful hints except more variation, which was also a positive reaction to my work.

I did a full circle.

Although no one had anything to say about mine, I was still eager to see other people’s work and learn from their experience.

The pieces to follow were in color, some were moved subjects, some were edited on Photoshop to boost the contrast. None of them followed the instructions like we were asked.

I felt bad as my teacher causally said “did I not say to put them in black and white” or “it’s the first time so I can see why you would make that mistake.”

When confronted about their pieces mistakes, lies fled like rivers. “Is this natural lighting?” “Yeah, it’s outside. I did use a reflector, but that’s it.” I do not know much about using my camera to it’s full possibility yet, but I know that you cannot get flawless skin and backdrops with perfect white/black contrast in natural light in the middle of Union Square with a plastic reflector.

Tim knew this too, but he didn’t say a thing. How could he?

His class had played him.

They took his assignment, his tips, his time, and threw it in the bottom of their though pile.

I would hate to have been him, because I hated being in the class.

I know this is my chance to shine. Be the one who does it right, blah blah blah. That doesn’t matter if no one else can put any effort in.

I cannot imagine thinking how the students in my classes act. If you do not want this, then please do not waste my time. If you are unprepared, do not show up. Your money is getting deposited weather you are there warming a seat or you are home being “busy.” Please, do not come unless your attitude toward the class is positive and you want to be there. The school could care less if you showed up. We are no longer in high school. We pay to be here. We go to colleges and university not because we have to, but because we want to. If you do not want to put a little effort in, get out. It’s week three and you have already proven you do not have the motivation to succeed in this program. Stop wasting your parents money, stop wasting your professors energy, stop wasting my time.

Grow up or get out.

Wow.

I feel better.

Goodnight. 

that awkward moment when your new friend turns out to be your teacher

I was walking to my first day of Fundamentals of Photography today. It is just around the corner and up the hill. According to Google maps it only takes three minutes, but I can do it in two. The XX's new album Coexist played through my gold (ballin') ear buds. I was feeling fly. I was feeling good. The air was cold and I was in a sweater. The wind was blowing and my hair was blowing in it. I did not stab myself with a make up brush earlier. I just knew it was going to be a good day.

Walking down the the hill coming from the other direction was this averagely cute looking boy dressed in kind of skinny slacks and a great plaid shirt. My first instinct was "he looks like someone I should get to know." He turned into the building I was heading to. I followed in shortly after to find him standing in the lobby checking the list to see what room the classes were in. I started to look for mine. The conversation that followed went something like this:

Boy: "What class are you looking for?"
Girl: "Fundamentals of Photography"
Boy: "Me too!. Ph100?"
Girl: "Yeah, I think it is in room 200."
Boy: "Sweet, Yeah, that looks like mine too. Well I will see you there!" (Big smile.)
Girl: "Sounds good" (Cute smile.. cause that is what I do."

I headed up to class and sat at a table in the second row with an empty seat next to me to ensure that not only did my new friend see me, but would have the opportunity to sit next to me where we would continue to converse in small talk and eventually become friends that hung out and go to movies and drink coffee and listen to hipster music while we talk about how much we love photography. I wasn't looking for a boyfriend. I just wanted a friend that didn't come with boobs and drama.

A few minutes later my friend showed up.

Instead of putting his bag on my table, he placed in on the desk in front of the room. You know, the desk meant for the professor. The words that came out of his mouth in the next second confirmed that this boy was actually a man. "

Hey, looks like everyone is here. Welcome to PH 100. My name is Tim."

This is Tim (and who I think might be his wife.) I
 apologize for the poor quality of images. Stalking does have  it's down sides. 

And that man was actually my teacher.

God. Don't you love Google. 

I probably let out the biggest smile possible.

 Of course my new friend would not be my friend but would be my fundamentally-knowledgeable-married-taco-eating-costa-rico-traveling-photography-teacher.

It was like that movie moment where the girl is sitting in class and the teacher comes in and she knows him from a past life moment and it is either incredibly awkward or really funny. Except it was not like that at all, but kind of. You get the point.

Anyways, other than befriending my teacher, I think I am really going to like this class. We actually get to print out our work and show it off. I feel like it is a really positive class and everyone is excited to  be there. It is all girls, except for one boy who wants to do mens fashion photography. (I think he has many best friends.. inside joke. Only few will laugh, sorry the rest of you are left out.)

All i can say is History of Photography - you better kill it hard tomorrow because the passed two days have kicked some serious ass in classes and teachers.