apple lust

My Verizon Wireless plan expires on September 15th and I decided a while ago that I would switch to AT&T. Primarily it was to get an iPhone, but after all of the dropped calls problems I was hearing about, I started exploring other options, like the Blackberry. My major needs are an Internet browser and a better cameraphone. Well, after hearing that the dropped calls issue will be resolved in September with a software update, and after playing with it at an AT&T store today, I'm re-hooked and am officially getting one in a few weeks. The Internet browser for the iPhone just cannot compare to any other out there. The Blackberry's is pathetic and only loads text. Plus, I am 100% Apple and I can't imagine using another operating system like Windows Mobile. Anyway, I hope now my blog will become a bit more interesting since I will try to take pictures and blog more about my daily life instead of whining to you all about the parts of it that I dislike.



Also Apple-related: Since I got my laptop in 2006, I really haven't been web designing like I used to because the accuracy of the screen is so variable, and I never did get an external mouse. I think that when I move, I might invest in a new or refurbished iMac so I can start that up again. The one problem with that is that I really love having a laptop. And I'm soon due for a new laptop anyway, my iBook G4 has its own host of problems and I am also lusting after the lighter, prettier MacBook. I love using my laptop on the couch. But maybe it would be a good lifestyle change to go back to a desktop. I wouldn't be able to sit in front of the computer all day procrastinating and watching TV, and it would probably force me to be away from it more often, which would be much appreciated. Also when I move, I will be starting my Etsy shop and I think it would be more efficient to sit at a desk while handling business. Perhaps I can buy a new battery for my iBook (it can only live without its charger for less than an hour) and upgrade the memory, and I guess I can extend it's life for several more years, no? Well, thanks for that, I think I just worked it all out!

boring

Hey, ya'll (I don't know who ya'll really are/is). I think maybe my blog is very boring. It's not at all as interesting as my new favorite blog, Sweet Fine Day. Jenna and Mark have very fun and interesting lives, and guess what, they have lots of pictures, too! I know readers love pictures, and they don't like complaining. So, what I would like to do is find a small digital camera that perhaps can remotely upload pictures to Flickr, or at least to somewhere online. Is that even possible? I need to find out.

Also I want to start working on my other blog, aliciahurst.blogspot.com, for Alicia Hurst Photography, which starting in mid-2009 will sell photography prints and perhaps other DIY things on Etsy. So on that blog, I plan to write only about photography-related things. Perhaps I haven't gotten started on that yet because I've had no time to take pictures!

On another note, the fall semester started on Wednesday and already I have attended each new class. I have three lecture-based classes, linguistics, accounting, and microeconomics. Then I have a production class, sound for film and video. And last, I have a writing class, essay writing. I am satisfied with that combination. I think I will like linguistics and sound the most. A lot of class preferences have to do with professors, don't you think?

new layout coming

I'm working on a new layout, as you can see, but I've got to run to do some errands, so it's not complete yet. I still have to realign the body and the sidebar and fix the font colors. Later!

alphabet photography

This idea is genius. Photography of objects that look like letters. You can buy each letter separately and make words. Each letter is only $4 for a 4x6. So cool! I'm going to have to copy it one day!

hello again

Wow, it's nearly half way through August and I still haven't posted!

The bottom line is, I'm trying really hard to graduate from college as soon as possible.

Oh, and I might not be moving to Maine next year after all, though I do want to get there eventually. Instead, I think I will compromise and move us out to Westchester or Putnam county for a year or two.

being alive

Today we had three more quick assignments on our birth. The first was a simple recount of that event.

"Yeah, but you didn't." That's what I always say to people who say they almost or could have died at some point. "You're here, now." 'Cause they say I could have. But imagine that. My whole two minutes of life flashing before me -- birth canal, birth canal, light, cry -- yeah. So actually, it wasn't a big deal, but I had mucus in my throat, which after research, I still forget what it's called, but it's feces in there. Then the doctors got it out and set me right by slapping me and all was well. More importantly, my dad was jumping up and down yelling, "It's a girl, it's a girl!" I asked later and I am proud to say that when, eight years later, my brother, with Dad's second wife, was born, there was no jumping.

Then we had to write about how our birth somehow relates to who we are now.

I took a long time to come out. My mom was in labor for 36-1/2 hours. I finally came out around 3:00 in the afternoon on a sunny April day. You see, I do what I want. I guess I just wasn't ready to come out of my warm little cocoon, so I didn't. But when I came around, it was great. They called me "The Amazing Blonde Baby" at the hospital because I came out with a full head of blonde hair. I try to connect this event with my other characteristics, like sticktoitiveness, but mostly, like my astrological sign, Taurus, I'm a bull. That sounds a little masculine and way arrogant, but if my birth were not an indication of who I would later grow up to be, I don't know what is.

Then we had to write about our birth from someone else's perspective. I wanted to be silly and a little edgy, so it's from God's POV.

The day before, I induced labor pains. They never can tell in the beginning if it's going to be an easy or a hard birth. But I believe it should go one way or the other and for a reason. It's a very important moment, which begins an enormous responsibility. That's why the first is always worst and after that, it's easier. After the second or third, I just let them pop right out. But sometimes it has to be meaningful. This one had to count, and it had to be hard enough to render the baby forever an only child. That's what I had it take so long. Who would want to go through that again?

Then I had to write about my name, but that's boring and basically it is that my mom asked the people at her baby shower and someone suggested "Alicia" and she liked it a lot, the end.

first memory

Today we had a series of three writing exercises. Before we began, we had to write down our first memory. The first exercise was to make up a character and write a fiction piece describing the memory from the character's point of view. The second exercise was to write a poem about the memory. The third was to write a non-fiction account of it. Here is the third:

I think it was my birthday, maybe number three, but also, maybe it wasn't because we usually spent them at Papa Gino's. My mom used to be a product manager for Cabbage Patch Dolls, among other things, and she must have brought home a prototype for a new toy. She must have invited some of my friends to gather 'round as she showed how to play with the toy. What I remember, though, is this surge of jealousy and anger. No, this is my mom, and also, hey, my birthday, so back off, and let my mom play with me. As I write this, the anger is towards my friends and not my mom for ignoring me, though up until now I always remembered resenting her instead.

Here's the first fiction part, too. I made up a male character who was in jail, convicted of killing his mother. Yeah, real uplifting.

When I think back to my earliest memory, I think of my mother and how even then, she always favored others over me. It was my birthday and Aunt Betty had just given me a red fire truck she bought down at the dollar store on her way to the party. I remember my mother taking this toy over to my cousin Jimmy and helping him clip off the pieces of plastic that held the truck to its cardboard container. Then I watched as she handed it to him, and Jimmy raced around the living room with my toy clutched in his little hand.

I didn't want to post the poem because though my intention was to write a true, personal piece, I was still living in this sort of fictional world after the first exercise and I think a lot of the poem was made up. It sounds really personal, but I don't want to give the impression that these words are entirely how I feel. Anyway, whatever, here's that part, too.

I see your hands, there is no face
On me, or you, or the girl I'm sitting next to
I see a gift, and it belongs to me
But you're helping her, and inside I'm crying
I think of how you were great to me
And in reality I shouldn't have been so selfish
To think I should keep you all to my own
When you think back on that moment
You would never see my jealousy
And that's precisely why I remained an only child