Mommy & Daddy Love Me Sooooooooooooo Much!
The funny thing is, I really never refer to my parents as "Mommy" or "Daddy" outside of Livejournal. I find it amusing to talk about them here as if I were a five-year-old, I guess. Anyway, the reason I'm taking two classes at RISD starting (ulp) 13 days and 3 hours, (give or take some minutes), is entirely due to my Mommy and Daddy. This post is my thanks.
Some of my friends, and certainly two of my ex-friends, seem to resent me for the way my parents treat me. They think my personality would be different if my parents weren't so generous and so . . . so . . . middle-class! I used to want to apologize for it, but how is being born to a middle-class, only-one-sibling family my fault? Should I apologize for my ethnicity (Eastern European mutt) or religion (Pagan, raised Jewish) or race (human)? Should I pat myself on the back for being an unborn baby in heaven, and choosing just the right parents for me? Or thank my actions in my last life, for causing my rating to rise and me to be born in the middle caste in American society?
I don't think I should apologize. I'm better off than some people I know, much worse off than others. Nobody gave me a new car when I turned 16, or summers in the country house, or a year in Europe. I'm sometimes a little envious of those who have those sorts of priveleges, but I try not to be angry at them: I don't know why people are angry at me. Maybe because I've had an extremely easy life so far, and that's all due to my Mommy and Daddy.
Most of my friends stopped getting an allowance when they were teenagers. They were told, "If you want money for clothes and music, go out and earn it yourself." I was told, "Concentrate on your homework. If you get good grades, we'll go out to dinner."
I never asked when the allowance would be cut off, and I wasn't that surprised when it continued all through my college years. College was completely free, but they also gave me $100 a month for food and fun . . . I think that got increased when I moved into the on-campus apartments and had to buy groceries. While friends like Door sweated in full-time retail jobs and stayed up to all hours doing homework, I studied hard, took my time writing my papers, and enjoyed the freedom to party and relax.
When I graduated college, I of course moved right back in with my parents while I applied for the few jobs I could find that were directly related to my Women's Studies degree. I remember Daddy talking to me about moving upstairs, to the seperate apartment on the third floor. I looked at him funny- why would I need to move up there? I didn't have a job yet, how could I pay rent? He laughed and said that he thought I might need independence. Nope, I had a much easier time living with my parents after college than I did in high school.
I didn't move out 'til I was good and ready. Years passed, and I took Graphic Design courses (half paid for by Mommy) and tried to get a decent, steady job. As soon as I got what I perceived to be my first grown-up job (Instructor of Photoshop, Illustrator, Dreamweaver and Flash at Dean College), I immediately wanted to move into that upstairs apartment. The tenants (now my landlords, in a funny turnabout) were much slower at fixing up their new apartment and moving into it than they had perceived. It took them 8 months instead of 2 or 3.
Meanwhile, impatient me was eager to grow in ways that my parents wouldn't necessarily approve of. I went on my Vision Quest and found my Real Name. I got the court to change it, and was so excited to start life as a whole different person! I was different, all right- my Mommy didn't speak to me for months after I changed my name.
"Mom, just because I changed my name doesn't mean I recoded my DNA, I'm still part of this family!"
"Yes you did! You did recode your DNA!"
"OK, Mom, whatever you say . . ." Nobody said us artist types were creatures of cool logic. We have our nice husbands for that.
Anyway, the old tenants finally moved out of the apartment and me and Coyote (who had been living happily with me, in my bed, for many months. My parents are hippies, not Puritans. Hallelujah!) moved in. For a long time, I was somehow able to scrape by, even though the Dean College job petered out, grudgingly replaced by extremely low-paying Office Assistant Temp assignments. Some months after my superfun, super-high-paying Graphic Smartypants Temp assignment at NYLIM ended, my parents moved out and the former tenants of our apartment bought the house. They raised our rent by $100/month, and since both me and Coyote were unemployed, Mommy and Daddy picked up the extra amount for many months. 27 and I still got an allowance!
I should add a side note, that my brother gets far larger monetary gifts than I have. Even though he is in the upper eschaelon of Corporate Whoredom, it's the Computer Industry, and he's had a hard time getting/staying employed since the Dot Bomb. Mommy and Daddy have been helping him and his lovely family get by, and I'm really grateful that they have the disposable income and generous nature to help both of their kids.
Eventually, Coyote got a job, I banged up their car, and we politely asked them to stop their monthly gift. After all, I'd have a job any minute, right? Any . . . minute. *sigh*
I told my Mommy some weeks ago that there was a RISD class I really wanted to take: Aftereffects, to give myself an excuse to work on my cutout animation piece for my nephews. It will be the second piece in my portfolio for applying to Digital Animation MFA programs. I have a finished script, character design, and everything. I just need to sit down and actually do it.
Mom said, "Great! I'll pay for it. Is there any other classes you want to take this semester?"
Trying to recover from my surprise, I said, "Uh, yeah . . . I'd like to learn Maya, because it's a great 3-D program and the only one that has a free personal learning edition."
She said, "OK! Let's go register!"
A few days after signing me up for both classes and purchasing my needed software, we were at Costco, and I started drooling over a particular digital camera. "Mom, I found the perfect digital camera! It has everything I need, and it's reasonably priced! I just have to get a job and save my pennies, I'll have a digital camera in a few months!"
"Is it really the perfect one?"
"Yeah. 4.1 Megapixels, 30X Zoom, blah blah blah."
"Will this make it easier to shoot my pieces?"
"Oh, hell yeah. We won't have to wait for the slides to be developed, we can start making business cards and brochures within minutes of the shoot."
"All right . . . let's go home and find the best price online."
And thus, I have two free classes, some free software, and my very own digital camera. Holy shit, it sure makes a time difference! I shot 12 pieces in 23 minutes! That has to be a record!
Usually, I have to take at least three shots for each perfect slide. I have to do different exposures. Everything has to be perfect. The lighting, the backdrop, the piece itself. I can correct mistakes when I'm making business cards or brochures, but not in the slide itself. Perfection takes time. Taking a shot on a digital camera, showing it to Mom, and taking another or setting up a new animal, is almost instantaneous in comparison.
I still have my film fetish, I'm definitely disappointed in how even this swanky digital camera deals with low light, speed, and other situations, but it is cool to be able to Photoshop absolutely anything within a few minutes of taking it. And the Zoom is absolutely unbelievable. Wait 'til you see the shots I took at the zoo the other day. Holy shit. I'd have to be carting around a giant Telephoto lens to get that with my SLR.
I'm nowhere near throwing out my SLR. When I've got my debts hacked down, I'm planning on buying new lenses for it. I've had a lot of fun with my one lens, but I'd love to do some Macro work. And in the Spring, I'm definitely shooting a few rolls of Infrared film. I've never played with it before, I'm going to have a lot of fun.
Tonight we start the mural, speaking of artsy things. Don't worry: anybody who comes to the 90's Party or shows up at my house in the next few weeks and months will get to help out with it. :D
See some of you on Saturday!
Some of my friends, and certainly two of my ex-friends, seem to resent me for the way my parents treat me. They think my personality would be different if my parents weren't so generous and so . . . so . . . middle-class! I used to want to apologize for it, but how is being born to a middle-class, only-one-sibling family my fault? Should I apologize for my ethnicity (Eastern European mutt) or religion (Pagan, raised Jewish) or race (human)? Should I pat myself on the back for being an unborn baby in heaven, and choosing just the right parents for me? Or thank my actions in my last life, for causing my rating to rise and me to be born in the middle caste in American society?
I don't think I should apologize. I'm better off than some people I know, much worse off than others. Nobody gave me a new car when I turned 16, or summers in the country house, or a year in Europe. I'm sometimes a little envious of those who have those sorts of priveleges, but I try not to be angry at them: I don't know why people are angry at me. Maybe because I've had an extremely easy life so far, and that's all due to my Mommy and Daddy.
Most of my friends stopped getting an allowance when they were teenagers. They were told, "If you want money for clothes and music, go out and earn it yourself." I was told, "Concentrate on your homework. If you get good grades, we'll go out to dinner."
I never asked when the allowance would be cut off, and I wasn't that surprised when it continued all through my college years. College was completely free, but they also gave me $100 a month for food and fun . . . I think that got increased when I moved into the on-campus apartments and had to buy groceries. While friends like Door sweated in full-time retail jobs and stayed up to all hours doing homework, I studied hard, took my time writing my papers, and enjoyed the freedom to party and relax.
When I graduated college, I of course moved right back in with my parents while I applied for the few jobs I could find that were directly related to my Women's Studies degree. I remember Daddy talking to me about moving upstairs, to the seperate apartment on the third floor. I looked at him funny- why would I need to move up there? I didn't have a job yet, how could I pay rent? He laughed and said that he thought I might need independence. Nope, I had a much easier time living with my parents after college than I did in high school.
I didn't move out 'til I was good and ready. Years passed, and I took Graphic Design courses (half paid for by Mommy) and tried to get a decent, steady job. As soon as I got what I perceived to be my first grown-up job (Instructor of Photoshop, Illustrator, Dreamweaver and Flash at Dean College), I immediately wanted to move into that upstairs apartment. The tenants (now my landlords, in a funny turnabout) were much slower at fixing up their new apartment and moving into it than they had perceived. It took them 8 months instead of 2 or 3.
Meanwhile, impatient me was eager to grow in ways that my parents wouldn't necessarily approve of. I went on my Vision Quest and found my Real Name. I got the court to change it, and was so excited to start life as a whole different person! I was different, all right- my Mommy didn't speak to me for months after I changed my name.
"Mom, just because I changed my name doesn't mean I recoded my DNA, I'm still part of this family!"
"Yes you did! You did recode your DNA!"
"OK, Mom, whatever you say . . ." Nobody said us artist types were creatures of cool logic. We have our nice husbands for that.
Anyway, the old tenants finally moved out of the apartment and me and Coyote (who had been living happily with me, in my bed, for many months. My parents are hippies, not Puritans. Hallelujah!) moved in. For a long time, I was somehow able to scrape by, even though the Dean College job petered out, grudgingly replaced by extremely low-paying Office Assistant Temp assignments. Some months after my superfun, super-high-paying Graphic Smartypants Temp assignment at NYLIM ended, my parents moved out and the former tenants of our apartment bought the house. They raised our rent by $100/month, and since both me and Coyote were unemployed, Mommy and Daddy picked up the extra amount for many months. 27 and I still got an allowance!
I should add a side note, that my brother gets far larger monetary gifts than I have. Even though he is in the upper eschaelon of Corporate Whoredom, it's the Computer Industry, and he's had a hard time getting/staying employed since the Dot Bomb. Mommy and Daddy have been helping him and his lovely family get by, and I'm really grateful that they have the disposable income and generous nature to help both of their kids.
Eventually, Coyote got a job, I banged up their car, and we politely asked them to stop their monthly gift. After all, I'd have a job any minute, right? Any . . . minute. *sigh*
I told my Mommy some weeks ago that there was a RISD class I really wanted to take: Aftereffects, to give myself an excuse to work on my cutout animation piece for my nephews. It will be the second piece in my portfolio for applying to Digital Animation MFA programs. I have a finished script, character design, and everything. I just need to sit down and actually do it.
Mom said, "Great! I'll pay for it. Is there any other classes you want to take this semester?"
Trying to recover from my surprise, I said, "Uh, yeah . . . I'd like to learn Maya, because it's a great 3-D program and the only one that has a free personal learning edition."
She said, "OK! Let's go register!"
A few days after signing me up for both classes and purchasing my needed software, we were at Costco, and I started drooling over a particular digital camera. "Mom, I found the perfect digital camera! It has everything I need, and it's reasonably priced! I just have to get a job and save my pennies, I'll have a digital camera in a few months!"
"Is it really the perfect one?"
"Yeah. 4.1 Megapixels, 30X Zoom, blah blah blah."
"Will this make it easier to shoot my pieces?"
"Oh, hell yeah. We won't have to wait for the slides to be developed, we can start making business cards and brochures within minutes of the shoot."
"All right . . . let's go home and find the best price online."
And thus, I have two free classes, some free software, and my very own digital camera. Holy shit, it sure makes a time difference! I shot 12 pieces in 23 minutes! That has to be a record!
Usually, I have to take at least three shots for each perfect slide. I have to do different exposures. Everything has to be perfect. The lighting, the backdrop, the piece itself. I can correct mistakes when I'm making business cards or brochures, but not in the slide itself. Perfection takes time. Taking a shot on a digital camera, showing it to Mom, and taking another or setting up a new animal, is almost instantaneous in comparison.
I still have my film fetish, I'm definitely disappointed in how even this swanky digital camera deals with low light, speed, and other situations, but it is cool to be able to Photoshop absolutely anything within a few minutes of taking it. And the Zoom is absolutely unbelievable. Wait 'til you see the shots I took at the zoo the other day. Holy shit. I'd have to be carting around a giant Telephoto lens to get that with my SLR.
I'm nowhere near throwing out my SLR. When I've got my debts hacked down, I'm planning on buying new lenses for it. I've had a lot of fun with my one lens, but I'd love to do some Macro work. And in the Spring, I'm definitely shooting a few rolls of Infrared film. I've never played with it before, I'm going to have a lot of fun.
Tonight we start the mural, speaking of artsy things. Don't worry: anybody who comes to the 90's Party or shows up at my house in the next few weeks and months will get to help out with it. :D
See some of you on Saturday!