Oh gosh, the lemon bars. Are those the ones with cake mix and cream cheese? Those are absurdly delicious.
Also heck yes, we need to get together sometime because I haven’t seen you in forever!
Yeah. Those ones. I think… I would double the cream-cheese filling next time. In a 9x13 pan it’s a little thin.
Again, it’s a weird recipe but I like it. I don’t know why but it’s good. I’m gonna figure out some weekend or something when neither of us are busy/trying to be adults and drive up (or you come down) to hang.
How many pens/pencils do you currently have in your purse or bag? My score:
9 brush pens, 1 water-filled brush pen, 1 paint pen, 3 microns, 1 white gel pen, 1 sharpie, 6 markers, 1 wood pencil, 1 mechanical pencil, 1 fountain pen, and a film canister containing a kneaded eraser and a pencil sharpener. And this is in a tiny purse. I am ready for the apocalypse.
3 unfilled water-pens, 1 ink-filled water-pen, 1 bottle of Higgins Black Ink, 3 mechanical pencils (Pentel brand in .5mm, .7mm, and .9mm), 3 paks of mechanical pencil lead (in red, blue, 2H, and 2B), 4 Copic Sketch markers (in flesh-tones), 2 Micron pen (in 05 and Brush-Tip), 2 wood pencils (2H and 6B), 1 woodless graphite pencil (Ebony), 1 broken pencil-sharpener, 1 crumbly white eraser, 4 Faber-Castell Pitt Drawing Pens (various grey brush-tips), and 1 Whistler’s Needle just in-case I need to scratch out ground on an etching plate. I AM VERY PREPARED FOR EVERYTHING. All in my tiny art-clutch.
Thoughts. Just thoughts.
*Disclaimer - This isn’t supposed to encompass all disciplines of art, so apologies if this doesn’t apply to you in your situation.
This post. Right here. Especially the first part of it. Guess what I want to do with my BFA? I want to be a scientific illustrator. That’s why I’m going for a Biology-minor as I need a better than average knowledge of biology than a non-science major. I want to make science accessible to people through art. I want to work in a text-book company. I want to learn about science as I work creatively. My dream-job? Doing an illustration or model for a museum or going out into the field to work.
Love how this graphic presents my and many of my friends situations. I’m not an art student because I’m: lazy or useless. I’m an art student because I freaking love the science behind art. Printmaking! Painting! Photography! Sculpture! Design! We’re engineers, chemists, carpenters… we’re kind of like, handy-people. Even if we have an emphasis in one area doesn’t mean we can’t also be proficient in mixing chemicals for photography or carving out prototypes for a medical-supply company.
Also, the Exam. I… I never thought about it at the time but, this is exactly it. We practice to become more proficient and to test what we know already.
TL;DR: A lot of art and science feelings right here.
advice for artists
(quote found via:toddahh)
I think this can be advice for writers, too. We’re artists as well.
“Comparison of ancestral and existing horse”
The lower figure is a model of a full-sized Eohippus, placed beneath the skull of a modern horse, to show that the skull of the modern horse is larger than the entire body of its ancestor.
Despite being one of the most commonly cited “facts” in basic paleontology (as found in many elementary school science texts), this size comparison is actually incorrect. Geologist Henry Fairfield Osborn distributed (largely correct, aside from this point) educational pamphlets citing the size of Eohippus to be comparable to a “small fox terrier” to schoolhouses, to promote the science of paleontology, around the turn of the century.
His pamphlets reached so far and wide that the “fact” still persists to this day in many textbooks. Eohippus was about twice the size of a fox terrier, which is about 2.5 times the size of a modern horse skull.
Origin and History of the Horse. Address before the New York Farmers Metropolitan Club, 1905.
i much prefer the name Eohippus to Hyracotherium
Well, I prefer Hyracotherium as it is more closely related to paleotheres than ‘Eophippus’. Also, in college text-books, the freaking fox-terrier bit is still cited. Also, those feet look.. odd. Maybe it’s just me but they don’t look quite right. I thought the fifth toes on the forelegs were up ‘higher’ on the foot.
I don’t get help because I am the helper.
I’m sure I’m not the only person who can relate to this. You’re the friend who helps everyone, gives them advice when they need it, tells them they’re perfect when they feel ugly, and help them with their relationships even though you’ve never been in one yourself. But then the time comes around for you to be sad, for you to need help, and they’re not there to give it. Sure, sometimes you may not tell people you need help when you need it, but when you do tell everyone just ignores the fact and continues on with their lives like you don’t matter. And then the next day they come to you for more help.
I’ve gotten to the point where I don’t even care if I get their help or not. I wouldn’t even know what to do if they did offer help, I’ve never been on the other side of the relationship and I would feel out of place if I was. I’ve become better at dealing with my feelings and problems myself rather than telling anyone or even anything.
This is literally my life everyday, everyday god damn day. I’m so used to helping other people I forgot how to help myself. It’s gotten to the point where I listen to everyone’s problems and try to help them with so much effort that I make their problems mine, completely oblivious to the fact that they’re not.
I… kind of thought i was the only one. Asking for help, even when it’s presented me with a pretty little bow on it, just feels wrong. There are so many others that need it, that I would be taking from it just never felt right. I would much rather make sure those around me are happy, they deserve to be.
It’s depressing how true this is; I helped out a friend today, despite being in a shitty mood. But I put them before my own problems because I care for them more than I do for my own life, oddly enough. I just wish that sometimes people could notice when I’m down and offer a hand… although, simultaneously, I don’t want to seem like an attention whore (because I have been called that in the past for sulking over something)
I am the helper. I will do everything for my friends and then… when I’m done helping (it never ends) they leave feeling better or more okay with the world and I have to try and deal with my own issues on my own. I love helping. I really do. I think I’m good at it but sometimes, I worry. I worry that this is all I’m good at. That this is the only reason people want to be my friend. I neglect myself just to make others feel good. They deserve to feel good. They really do. I try my hardest to make them feel better about the world and that yes, I am there for them always. To just talk or to ask for vindication for a decision. Even if they don’t take me up on the offer. If they don’t feel good, I feel guilty for the good-things in my life. I help for, everything. The big-things, the little-things, the trivial-things, and the things-not-worth-worrying-about. Then, when folks try to repay me for it, I turn them down. It’s what I do. I don’t want to have things in exchange for a few words.
Yeah, so, I am a Helper. The world needs those friends who are Helpers but sometimes we need Helpers too.
Fred McFeely Rogers (March 20, 1928 – February 27, 2003)