Notice: New Art Blog!

Although it has been in the works for a while, and has even technically existed in cyberspace for nearly a year now, I have finally added content to my "newest" blog.

Entitled, The Cheese Gallery, its intent is to be first and foremost, an electronic viewing space of my past, present, and future (???) artwork; its second function is to be really whatever else I want it to be. The current subtitle implies some connection to food, as does the title really, but since its conception I have become more aware of my sensitivities to certain groups of food (dairy and I have a love/hate relationship--I love it and it hates me). But it is what it is.

There are three posts already (a personal record!) for your enjoyment and/or apathy. Consider yourselves notified.

Chimichangas and My Love Life

You can draw the strangest comparisons in life. Did you read the title?

I bought a pack of chimichangas from Costco last week with my roommate, thinking we would divide the lot between us. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but we had just eaten several different free samples and so were filled with endorphins, as well as on a tight schedule and I don't always fare the best with quick decisions.

Soon after this I began receiving numbers that one would normally use to enter into an electronic device for talking (such as a phone) so as to contact another person (such as a girl). Whether it was from coworkers or from people back home via my mother, I accepted the information with surprisingly little argument.

I've since eaten two chimichangas. They don't taste like the picture on the box told us they would, and they look even less like their advertised, photoshopped counterparts. And so they sit in our freezer. My roommate has already tried pawning off his half of the stash to the other tenants. I however, am not one to waste a purchase, no matter the question of quality. Rather I have rationed them out so that I know exactly how many I have to eat every week--it's not all that bad really, since giving a few days buffer in between each consumption will probably lengthen my lifespan more than the overzealous consumer.

So what does this have to do with calling girls and, by extension, dating? I thought it was obvious... Aside from the observation that both have a tendency to make my innards unsettled, there's the fact that, like the deep fried meat sacks, those phone numbers also sit in storage. Not in the freezer mind you, but either in a drawer or on my phone memory. And before I can reach in and go for the next one, I can't help but think about many of my past ventures [frowns]. My buffer period for socializing has long passed though to the point of it being almost unhealthy for me now. And unlike the "food" in question, I know this latter issue is ultimately a good thing.

But the apprehension is still there.

5

Several weeks back I remember talking to my sister on the phone (as I am frequent to do at the end of my day, often for no other reason than to escape or delay total boredom), only for her to quickly change whichever subject we were on to that of a new brand of ice cream. It was interesting at the time--I do like ice cream myself after all, as well as occasional bits of conversation regarding the dessert. But soon after the call was ended I did what any white male American will do (and what the white female has come to expect us to do)... I forgot about it.

Fast forward to now only several days ago where the viewer, omniscient stranger or stalker finds me at the local grocery store, where I was, oddly enough, buying groceries. I don't recall what prompted me to walk down the frozen food section. Actually I do, it was pizza. At any rate I saw out of my right eye's corner and through the fogged glass to a pint of the ice cream my sister so enthusiastically endorsed. The name is "Five," or "5" as I have once again forgotten much about it. The name/number refers to the list of ingredients, which are so simple and take up so little space that they put them on the front! Incredulous I know, but true.

This is all going somewhere, trust me. As I thought more about this unique ice cream I began thinking of things very un-ice cream in nature. Things that eventually led back to myself (you see I'm lactose intolerant, which technically makes me very un-ice cream in my nature). So I thought and eventually said to myself, "Self, how might you describe your person in only five words or things?"

And so here we are. If you aren't yet bored, I can promise that the following will be a nearly complete compilation of ingredients that make Adam the Adam you all know and tolerate. Honest. What I can't promise is that said information will suddenly make you unbored.

1. Art - I think I've got more artist in me than anything else, be that a good or bad thing. It's the one hobby or time occupying habit that I remember doing the most. It will probably go away when I die (or in keeping with this "ingredient and food" theme, expire).
2. Science Fiction - I include things like my love of movies in here too, since my favorite ones are usually fantasy based. Mostly though I'm referring to Star Wars. Everything and anything Star Wars. Really folks, it's HUGE. I don't think any other IP out there can touch this thing.
3. Religion - This encompasses a lot (family, church, etc.), and since my posts tend to be sarcastic and largely inconsequential, I don't want to go into this serious of a topic here and now. But it's there.
4. Cartoons - They're closely related to my affinity for movies and art, but basically I'm saying that anything animated (and not of poor quality) I like, and often love.
5. Eating - I may not look like much of an eater on the outside, but believe me when I say my insides love this. My latest 'thing' is applying this practice to ethnic foods. I still have a special place in my heart (and colon) though for old favorites. You know who you are. Mmmmm.

These are only the most recent. It could all change tomorrow (except Star Wars), but that won't mean I'll have a new post to reflect that.

Done.

Eat It

Quick Poll Question for everyone: What's the weirdest/most disgusting thing you've ever eaten?

Metamorphosis

Yesterday I was 22. Today I am 23. I aged an entire year in a 24-hour window... What just happened?

(Unofficial) Spring Break

Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Earlier this month I went to Hawaii. My dad and brother were there too. It was fun. I'm really tired now...

Giving Time to Make Time

I was fortunate enough to get to attend the temple this morning. The competition for my time this weekend includes cleaning the apartment, working on art sketches and compositions, and writing a research paper. It's funny how, sometimes, you have so much going on in your days and weeks and lives in general that you can't figure out how spending a few hours "outside" the activities of the world will work.

Thanks to the stalwart examples of two fantastic parents, I've always known that going to the temple was important, if not always the why. That part I have had to find our for myself. In fact, that is half of the enjoyment I derive from temple attendance. This won't mean quite the same thing to anyone else, though I'm sure you know what I'm getting at, since our thoughts and feelings are just so personal.

I don't know how it works, but I always feel better upon setting one foot inside. All that worry and anxiety doesn't follow me in. It's often there to meet me upon exiting, but over that last hour or two I've been better equipped and prepared to deal with it.

Happy First Birthday, Lil' Miss Elsie

As of this afternoon (the hour being as yet unspecified--darn daylight savings time), Elizabeth Rae Summers was brought into this lovely world, which is actually all the more lovely with her in it. She is the first daughter/niece/granddaughter/sister born for our growing quasi Borgia-Summers family.

I can't think of a better thing to have happened for us in a long time. I also can't think of a better family for her to be born into, with two fantastic parents and an equally too-awesome-to-believe older brother. Congratulations to you both, Beth and Brad, and congratulations to anyone else who will at some point have the privilege of knowing this wonderful girl. Again, Happy Birthday my sweet little Elsie!

Love,
Uncle Adam

Can I Blame This on the Economy?

I'm sorry to all those (the four I can count on my hand anyway) who've been reading my cartoon blogs, particularly my most recent one, but "Skum of the Universe" has to be put on productive hold indefinitely... I had hoped to be able to work on it in between other art projects this semester, but that just has not been the case.

It's not because I don't care, or that I don't enjoy it anymore--I just don't have the time and energy that I feel it, and thus all of you deserve. Believe me, no one can be more upset than me, and I still have plenty of ideas of where I wanted to go with this and later comics, but schooling simply has to take precedence right now. Please find a way to still be happy.

Color Coding

You can use colors to identify what kind of person you are, what that mystery mass moving in your tupperware is, and even your mood(s). It can be argued (and if you want, I will argue it with you) that all of these things--your personality, your emotions, and even the things you eat--have an impact on your day to day development as a human being [this it not to imply by deductive reasoning that I consider anyone without a personality, feelings or the desire to eat unable to qualify as a person... they have done that all by themselves]. Combine this now established "fact" with the harsh reality that this is my blog, and while you are reading, I technically own a part of you, and soon we arrive at the conclusion that I can say anything else I want afterward and expect you to comply. Which leads me into my next thought...

It is only reasonable then to proceed to assign each of the seven days of the week a corresponding color. Please note that although you might have different opinions based off of your experiences and/or relationship with the days, it is only my views that ultimately matter and are taken into account. Also, there is no consideration taken here with those who are color blind and thus cannot relate. I am sorry but I had already started this process before I realized that. Moving on:

Sunday- Green. It wasn't always this way, but it is official until I change my mind again. There are very few shades, tints and tones of green I do not like. The same can be said of my Sundays, which are almost always varying degrees of pleasant. White also works because it has an appropriate 'clean' connotation to it, although not truly a color.

Monday-Purple. This might be my most difficult to label. Like the color, they can almost always start out attractive enough, but it doesn't take too much to make them unappealing.

Tuesday-Orange. I am learning to appreciate and understand this day. And its attached hue has also begun to endear itself to me. Let me make it clear though, that it is still not within the ranks of Sunday/Green or Friday/Red. It still has a long way to go, but it is making good strides.

Wednesday-Blue. Blue, along with this day, can be one of the most striking and captivating things you can experience, if executed correctly. Sadly, this is not always the case. But Wednesday has a nice sound to it, and I have to give it recognition for managing to confuse everyone with its spelling at some point.

Thursday-Black. Because nobody likes you, Thursday. Black is also not a color, but somehow you manage to make it fit you.

Friday-Red. Not just any red. Bold red. Strong, fierce, independent red. I do not see this one changing. Ever. I love you Friday, even with your faults, few though they be.

Saturday-Brown. This is not an insult to the day. It actually happens to bear one of my favorite colors (yet again, the term "color" is not entirely accurate). Some browns just take it too far in the end, and I've had many, many Saturdays that started out a glorious and beautiful tan and ended up as mud. It is not unlike a blissful session of cartoons being uprooted by hard labor and chores. Why, Mom and Dad? Why?

Done. That's the way it is. You can tell me what you might change, but as I said earlier, it won't make much of a difference. Hey, I don't make the rules. Well, actually I do.

2K8 In A Nutshell (Pistachio I Think)

Yes, I know that I have four days left in the year, but I'm turning in early... so unless I win the lottery, discover a new planet or inherit my own tropical island, you're probably not going to hear about until next year.

The year didn't start out with a bang (although I'm sure something exploded somewhere), but was exciting enough. I had already planned early on to take the summer off, so the course I took through the semester was a race for the finish so I could finally take a breather. At this point I was still enrolled as an Art History major at BYU, so I loaded up on the study of the dead and dying from around the art world, as well as completed that university's religion requirements once and for all. Towards the winter's end--just about when spring sprang--I wrapped up my portfolio for submission into the Visual Arts program.

What a relief that was, yet too soon swallowed up by the anxiety caused by my quick placement onto a near three month waiting list (jumping into the narrative future I can disclose to anxious readers that eventually I was accepted). Mixed in these crazy few months, I managed to finish one series of cartoon (eventually to be followed by another).

The summer months brought with them perhaps the most concentrated amount of activities, opportunities and emotions out of any previous chunk of my life thus far, including my mission (whose one year anniversary also fell during this time). There to greet me upon my return home was Dorothy, my faithful and sturdy (i.e. built like a decommissioned army tank) fire engine red 1994 Pontiac Grand Am. She was the perfect symbol of transport in the life metaphor that would become, in many ways, my personal Odyssey. The reference to the epic Greek poem is fitting mostly due to the likelihood that we--meaning my Father and I--traversed the same lands and seas as that story's famous hero (assuming he was more than a work of fiction of course). The trip to Italy and its surrounding countries was also in many ways a return home for the two of us, since we claim it as the land of our forebearers. The breathtaking vistas and rolling countryside were akin to a siren's song for that country's prodigal sons, and the ancient ruins with all their history were as a sorceress' spell bidding us to stay. But linger we could not (partly because that wasn't on the itinerary), for there was much else to do back in our real home. Like get a job.

So that's what I did. My ventures weren't as fruitful as I would have dreamed, but that's what fathers are for. And so it came to pass that for the duration of the summer I toiled away in his office cave entering data, filing who-knows-what and organizing numberless piles of paper and pamphlets. I actually quite enjoyed myself.

I also ought to mention that I was privileged to volunteer in our own Mesa temple for several weeks in the baptistry, where, as one might expect, I was privy to several wonderful experiences. The sacredness and importance of these first ordinances are sometimes lost to those of us who haven't been back since we were youth. It was very refreshing.

My educational hiatus was over far too soon, and I found myself back in the lifestyle of dirty sinks, shared living quarters, singles wards and shaving requirements. This Fall semester also became---and I say this without the slightest hesitation--the hardest and most pressing period of school in my life. I was trying to balance the physically demanding tasks of the first year art classes with the mentally exhausting science courses of chemistry and human physiology--polar opposites on the scale of learning. Every weekend was a workload, and I had little to no time for "fun." This being said, I am happy to say that I also feel as if I have accomplished more during this time than any other. The words of one of my old instructors come to mind, that "busy people are the ones who get things done." And I did a lot.

The amount of stress and pressure that I felt was equal the level of relaxation I felt upon coming home for the holidays; letting my brain, heart and body do and think little more than nothing. Christmas was as wonderful as always, if a little smaller in company than I remember. I also felt more strongly the beginnings of letting go of that special something we had in plenty as children. More and more it's become less and less about me. It's almost enough to just have it be us. Nothing beats family.

Well that's that everyone. Until next year. Here's hoping an odd numbered year can outdo this one. I'm skeptical of course...

[Quickly looking this latest entry over, I'm starting to think that a pistachio doesn't quite describe the size properly. I think I had the wrong nut. What would you have used?]

And You Thought This Was A Real Post...

Ha. Ha ha ha. Well sorry, but it's not. Not really. Although, the more I type, the more it becomes one. Oh my gosh--what am I doing? I've been sucked into starting something just to spite all of you and now I'm actually fulfilling your hopes and dreams! Where's the delete button? Blast, I think I just pushed the 'publish' icon!! NOOO!!!

Don't Hate Me Because I'm Lazy (or Beautiful)

I'll make this short. For any of you people out there who are frustrated with my posting dearth, I urge you to return the sniper rifles and cross me off of your hate list. In my defense, I've been too busy. Yes, too busy to write something that should only take five minutes to spit out (but with all my steps in proofreading is closer to an hour), and far and away too busy to have anything to do with my cartoon blogs.

Believe me when I say with complete sincerity that there is almost nothing else I would rather do right now than to sit down and draw out another comical adventure. But less than a month into this new semester I'm founding out it may just be my busiest yet. In fact, the only reason I'm even putting this up is because one of my plans to work on a class project fell through--well, that and my sense of guilt mixed with responsibility to all of you (and a fear of headshots...).

So I hope you all can forgive me, but even if you don't it doesn't matter because I've learned to forgive myself. Things will happen when they happen.