swelling of the ego

there's nothing like looking over notes from a good college critique to make you feel better. especially when you're consoling yourself for not even coming close to halfway accomplishing your goals for the summer. this class was particularly benign and complementary:

kitty your work is always very pretty! love the light and textures. your perspectives are always very unique and you capture things in ways that make them feel fresh and new! keep up the fantastic work!!

kitty joe i love all the close ups of items in union square.

kid on a leash! the reflection of the dark trees in the muddy pond is awesome.



i really love your eye. thanks for all the help this semester.









i really, really like your 'close-up' pictures!
so clear and good! you're a great photographer.









there is a sense of 'reveal' in your images. a slice of a larger story. great texture. sense of storytelling. faves: potatoes in bag

actually, they're pears. i couldn't not interject that!
depth of field mud, water, reflection older man + woman legs



dynamic and bold. color throughout is amazing. lends itself to a wonderful color pallette in each photo. random shots of the unexpected is great. nice work!









1. beautiful compositions
2. great eyefor the "shot"
3. excellent storytelling in your photos
4. i specifically love how you make the mundane & ordinary look so extraordinary
5. great angles!

good job!

looking on the bright side

okay, let's just have a positive moment and brag about the fact that i'm responsible for this:


and this:


mieke and ezra sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g! and moving in together after ten beautiful months. it's so obnoxious how i spend every moment we hang out together smirking over my successful matchmaking. but wouldn't you?! we nerd/freaks have dubbed them the "popular, athletic couple". but he's stealing her to the dark side: ie: manhattan! i must love these two, not to be bitter!

poisonous summer

don't mean to sound down, but there's no getting around it. this summer sucks hard core. i can't even joke about it right now. hopefully i'll be able to find the humor in it and share it with you. or else i'll just whine. for now, my life is a baited, poisonous area. keep out. a little more dealing then off to vacation where i can pretend it doesn't exist. then come back and deal some more.

ode to a stolen bicycle

dear beautiful green bicycle--

i'm sorry i left you there unprotected on that rainy day. you have to understand that i would have been 1/2 hour late to work if i rode you home and put you safely inside. who knew the thieves would be so thick in this hip nabe? clever, they were, not fooled by the way i carefully looped your chain around your broken lock. i'm sorry i shrugged and thought, "easy come, easy go", then rushed through the rain to make money. even though i only gave the polish man $20 to attempt to ride you home, you really took my breath away as he carried you up from his greenpoint basement. only now do i realize now how un-disposable you really are.

i miss your bright green glow. when i see a retro green bike around town, part of me gets excited, ready to steal you back and kick the ass of whatever hipster unknowingly paid $150 to that guy on the corner who sells the stolen bikes. but alas, they are not you. none are as beautiful. i miss your split cushy seat that used to get so soggy when it rained. you looked just as lovely with an 'i heart new york' bag tied around your seat. and your brakes took turns malfunctioning--i know i cursed you for that--but if i had you back, i promise i would look on the bright side and instead thank you for at least giving me function of one at a time. how smart and considerate you were! if you came back to me, i'd even forgive you for all those times your chain fell off and got completely caught in your spokes. instead of having a greasy fit, i would now commend you for your amazing flexibility. who knew metal could tie itself in knots?!
yep, bicycle, we sure had some good times. remember that time we went down to redhook with mieke and maya? ah, what a beautiful day. you just loved those key lime tarts as you relaxed by the water. you really showed mieke's brand new fancy bike, didn't you? kept up like a champ, even though i think you're older than this old maid. i'm sorry i accepted mieke's offer to trade for part of the ride home, then insensitively called you a 'pinto' next to mieke's 'cadillac'. i didn't really mean it. ah, bicycle, don't cry. maybe we'll be re-united in the afterlife, where we won't need functioning bike locks.
what's that? i got mieke's bike stolen, too? oh, so you wanna point fingers? okay, how's this then? you could have told me before we left the house that your lock was broken instead of laughing at me while i repeatedly tried to jam it closed in the POURING RAIN. it wasn't like it was my TEN YEAR ANNIVERSARY IN NEW YORK or anything. yeah, that's nice. go on, pretend you love your new owner. i can take it. i know the truth.

love,
mama

better than jenny craig

last night at work i marveled at how light my head felt post-haircut. i joked that i probably lost a pound of hair. all joking forgotten after the HORRIFIC, TERRIBLE, AWFUL, DISGUSTING, WHY HATH THOU FORSAKEN ME?-style discovery last night. don't ask, i can't even talk about it right now because i'm busy alternately fighting the urge to vomit, crying and cursing at poor emre.
so this morning i stepped on the scale, cringing a little, knowing that i've been wrecklessly overeating lately. but really, fried yucca with ocopas y huancita sauce? this job kills me! but instead of the extra pound or two i expected the scale to laugh at me about, it reported one pound UNDER anything i've weighed in the past decade--even though i feel bloated and icky. strange. an hour later while walking down the street, feeling the light bounce of my new hair, the eureka moment came. aha! i DID lose a pound of hair. awesome.

double dog dare

amy double dog dared me to post a picture of me in my underware and my new haircut. so here it is. i'm just like kirstie alley (sp?) on oprah in my bikini. except no nylon body suit. what's up with that? here is the photo i would have posted. don't mind the disaster that is my apartment.
serious props to ben and giovanni. ben for the 'shear' genius. giovanni for bringing him, and being adorable. and mieke, of course, for introducing me to both. and to belgium for producing them all. and some serious chocolate.

a piece of greenpoint history

while walking one day in february, less than a block from my apartment, past a building which had formerly been covered in the plague of my neighborhood--aluminum siding--i encountered a hidden piece of greenpoint history. it was a painted advertisement pointing to my local liquor store. the nasty skin of aluminum was ripped off, and i breathed in another time. but as quick as i took that breath, the construction workers moved to cover the wall with plywood, soon to be "pseudo stucco", a disgusting process disguising styrofoam to look like stucco! ah, but what a beautiful moment it was that i was transported back in time! i didn't have a camera, but luckily i was walking with arda, whose point-and-shoot i commandeered. now the wall lives on, as the wallpaper of my mac.

p.s. the hair goes tomorrow.

re: the red mop

okay, cut the crap. it’s time to talk about me. and my hair. first off, i just wanted to share the phenomenal thing that happened a month or so ago: curls. it’s true that i just woke up one day with them. well, okay, it wasn’t ultra surprising that my hair got kinky, as i had been sporting a bun mohawk for 2 days. but as i rode the freight elevator about 40 or so stories high above colombus circle in the “greenest building in new york city”--which, appropriately, looks like a giant stalk of asparagus--ready to take on yet another dinner party (who know there could be so many dinner parties in one little city?!), i pulled out the little buns, expecting some mild waves that fell out within five minutes. instead i felt a strange springing sensation as coils bounced from tip to scalp--just like a shampoo commercial--and my co-worker gasped, “SHIRLEY TEMPLE! IN THE ELEVATOR WITH ME!” (hey, by the way, i just learned that the punctuation goes outside the quotation. why don’t i remember that from school?). and indeed, i bounced my way through the event feeling charming and cute, like people with curly hair must feel all the time (right?), basking in the positive attention i received. probably as annoying as nermal. you know, the nauseatingly cute little grey kitten that used to drive garfield crazy? work with me here.
the strange thing about the curls is that they never fell. they bounced all night long. not since picture day in 1983 had my hair seen such action. and that was the product of my great-grand-mother-of-the-cherokee-blood-fame keeping me up what felt like all night painfully tying rags in my hair. i think this rag-technique should be credited to living in oklahoma before being credited to the cherokee thing. but man, i wish i had her cheekbones!

can i just say at this point, since we're looking at this ridiculous photo, that i considered this lovely frock my "prince" dress, because it was vertically striped with purple and black. ah, memories.

and whose idea was it not to brush these curls out anyway? i know, it's an homage to the tornados (tore-nay-duhs) in oklahoma.

so, yeah, the curls, they were quite the accidental splash, and i regretted that i wasn't headed out for a night on the town, but rather going to mieke's for a henna session (note the inches of blondish roots infiltrating the red mop). not that i don't love the bonding time this consists of sitting on a wooden chair in mieke's bathtub in my underware while she spreads a cake of alfalfa-manure smelling mud on my hair then wraps it in saran wrap for a stare-inducing walk home. no, i really look forward to that. it's just, i wasn't ready to part with the rock star curls. maybe rock star isn't an apt description. in fact, when i brushed them out for the henna session, i went from being shirley temple to some kind of 70's glamour model (see above photo, post-brush out).

so my point is, i've been really enjoying my hair recently. it's super long--even longer without the curls. and it does all kinds of fun stuff, like french braid crowns and really big ratted craziness. let's be even more narcissistic and show off that amazing length.

however, i started getting the itch to cut my hair
nearly two years ago, which i resisted, knowing that abbie's wedding was coming up and i'd want my hair up. and after that, i didn't cut it off because let's face it, i'm broke, and maintaining a cut with an ounce of style or should i say, not allowing it to grow out hideously requires throwing down some money, especially in new york city. and that's money i'm not ready to part with for hair. as you've heard, my hair stylist is mieke, and she is free. she does the cut and color. all for some good conversation and maybe a bottle of trader joe's three-buck-chuck.
then on saturday mieke says, kitty, do you want to get your hair cut for free? my friends are visiting from belgium. ooh. her friend the hairdresser who always gives her adorable haircuts. then again, she has cooperative, adorable hair to begin with. i'll probably get her in trouble now that i have such vast readership internationally, especially in belgium, admitting that she's offered me a free haircut sans permission. but i'm so accostomed to getting people (usually me) in trouble with my big mouth, why stop now? like that time in 9th grade when i called meghan bates a slut because i was seething with jealousy that she was dating the guy i had a crush on. ah, high school. too bad she was standing just behind me at marching band practice (i know, i know....at band camp) and not willing to pretend she didn't hear me. or like two weeks ago in the tomato entry when i said i could blame my mom for everything. that went over well. hey, who gave my mom my blog address anyway? oops, i think it was me. love you mom!
anyway, mieke said free haircut, and although i know that i will be enslaved by lopping my hair off, forced to visit other hairdressers later who are not free, i just cannot resist the urge. it's risky, i know. although past jaunts into the short hair realm have been great (the pixie cut, the bob) there was also that 1999 cut that i don't think i even have photo proof of, so bad it was, aging me at least ten years and forcing me to wear a headband for months. but whatever. ultimately, it's just hair. it grows back. what do you think?

i stand corrected

working as i do, alongside actors of all varieties--struggling, out of work, auditioning, not auditioning, extras, and a smattering of those who actually succeed--i thought i'd heard it all. i thought i'd heard every encouraging word, every warm up exercise, every bonding story, every pretentious name drop of instructors i've never heard of, nor care to, every bragging triumpth, every ruthless gossip, every ANNOYING habit. well, as of last night, i stand corrected. here is how the conversation went:
while eight people huddle around one slab of counter, vying for space to rest their plate of tri-colored chips and guacamole (otherwise known as staff meal), one butler responds to another:

butler: "how did i never notice your accent before?" i myself was puzzled that i didn't notice this butler's accent before, yet shrugged it off as a by-product of the fact that i manage an ever-changing pool of over 600 butlers. sometimes it's hard to remember a name, or an accent.

ponytail girl: "i'm not actually brititsh, i'm merely practicing." okay. obnoxious, but being a non-actor, i guess i shouldn't knock the dedication and hard work it takes to daily perform for people who tell you you're just not good enough for them (the commonly fruitless audition), then once the part is offered, to have to pull out an accent on command. okay, i'll give you that, ponytail girl. i guess. but then it gets good. and keep in mind, this girl does not break her accent all night.

butler: "oh, are you doing a show?"

ponytail girl: "no, i'm just going for a visit, and don't want to sound strange, so i'm doing a bit of practicing." good luck with that. this is when 'the captain' (that's me!) must walk away in order to maintain diplomatic relations with all her staff and not snarf the guacamole out of her nose all over practicing ponytail girl.

our british chef also got a kick out of ponytail girl, and dubbed her 'madonna'.

x rated flower show

as the sunlight shown through the paper wrapping cloaking these young and perky tulips, i picked up a subtly erotic vibe from them, as though they were a beautiful woman coyly hiding--or showing off--her sillouetted form behind a rice paper screen.

attack of the monster tomato plants

what a difference a week (and two days) makes! in addition to the dramatic growth of green, a few of my babies are exhibiting little yellow flowers, which BECOME TOMATOES! so they are-- in essence--tomato larvae, just prettier than that sounds! above you see my little larvae, looking a bit preying-mantis-like. hmm. maybe there's something to this insect metaphor afterall....

the spring witch's 'do

no wonder i feel at home here--this place is crazy!

by the way, these two instances were observed within minutes of each other, at the same park. happy tuesday.