Identity crisis averted. Also, Artprize.

I have returned from my unannounced hiatus. My extended departure from what I know is a riveting weekly read is attributable to two factors.

• First, it was midterm season in Treetown. This has now ended and blogging can go back to being a relaxing form of creative expression as opposed to a stress-inducing procrastination tool. Creativity flows much more freely with a cup of hot coffee in one hand and the burden of proving myself as a student removed from my shoulders.
• Second, I’ve been struggling for a while with a perceived contradiction between the things I create and the way they’re presented (i.e. the blog title and my published “purpose” for writing). As I’ve explored blogging and the process of creating comprehensive artistic pieces, my intentions for doing so have evolved. So I spent the last week doing what I hypothesize would be called “rebranding” were this something more significant than a creative outlet for a student whose life is ruled by numbers and statistics.

And now I return with a new name and the blogging equivalent of a cut and dye job. From here on out I’ll be posting under “the wanderlove chronicles”, a title I feel better captures what this blog has become: a sort of captain’s log in which I narrate my adventures, both near and far, and accompany them with photographic evidence. I’m excited about this. I hope you are, too.

Now, because my life over the last few weeks has been dominated by binomial distributions and attack rates and directed acyclic graphs, my customarily overflowing fount of adventure has been running pretty dry. However, right before I jumped into the belly of the beast, I made a quick trip home to enjoy something that has become a highlight of my West Michigan fall over the last five years.

ARTPRIZE.

Artprize is a radically designed art competition that takes over the city of Grand Rapids from mid-September to early October. Entry is open to anyone over the age of 18 and venues can be found within a three-square-mile swath of downtown designated the “Artprize district”. Artists come from all over the world. People come from all over the world to see their art. Monetary prizes are awarded on a juried-basis and on the basis of a popular vote. It makes art accessible to the public. It offers the city of Grand Rapids an opportunity to strut it’s stuff. And it’s been an integral part of the survival of Grand Rapids in the height of the 2008 recession and the post-recession period. These are things I’m all about. Ergo, I am all about Artprize.

This year I had the privilege of spending a leisurely Saturday taking in the art, breathing in the crisp Michigan-fall air, and sipping a café miel with a dear friend. When I wasn’t looking at art, I was sneaking in some homework time at any of my favorite downtown coffee shops. Even if you’re not looking at the exhibits themselves, it’s a great time to be downtown. Because you get to watch other people look at art. Which is a thing of beauty unto itself.

Cheers to hometown pride, trips home that refresh the soul, and the best of company.

Happy Tuesday.

If you’re not going to sleep enough, at least wear protective headwear.

My inability to commit to anything until my last two years of undergrad for fear of spending too much time away from my chemistry book has paid off in exactly one way: I still have four years of eligibility to play college ultimate frisbee.

Thanks to my formerly reclusive self, I get to spend my Monday and Wednesday nights kicking it with Flywheel, the Michigan ultimate team. While the “kicking it” is actually happening, I think this is 100% awesome. However, on Thursday mornings when my alarm goes off at 7:00am after a practice that ended at 11:30pm the night before, I realize Wednesday-night-ultimate Kati is a fool.

Thanks to gallons of coffee and short naps, I have been able to manage this cycle relatively well. This morning that stopped being true.

My alarm jolted me out of deep sleep and into panic-stricken crisis mode. After realizing the only crisis was my impending two-hour biostatistics class, I was able to begin shuffling about getting ready for the day. I thought I was in good shape when I remembered to make some changes to my homework and print another copy without the aid of a helpful post-it. But then I decided to brush my teeth.

Everything was going swimmingly. It was plaque removal like you read about. Then I happened to catch my reflection in the mirror. There was something weird about my hair. So I stopped brushing my teeth to fix it. But instead of gently placing my brushing implement on the sink, I just let go of it mid-brushstroke as if it would remain suspended in front of my mouth without my assistance. Obviously I was wrong about this and instead my toothbrush plummeted towards my shirt and actually managed to adhere itself by the bristles. So now my reflection is looking back with unkempt hair and a toothbrush swinging from its front.

I managed to remove most of the evidence of my screeching mental halt and the rest of the morning proceeded rather uneventfully. Until I was preparing to leave for school on my bicycle. Thankfully my routine involves donning my helmet before I maneuver my bike out the door, down the stairs, and onto the sidewalk, because I somehow managed to bang my head on the doorframe and nearly trip over my bike, my own feet, and the old red chair on the porch. Thankfully the residents of my street consider 7:50am to be an ungodly hour for people watching. Otherwise they would all be wondering where that girl who just moved in across the street was planning on drunkenly riding her bicycle to at such an early hour.

Thankfully there is no photographic evidence of my remarkably shambly morning. Instead, enjoy these uproarious photos from this spring’s From (this is frisbee prom, not a glorification of the word “from”, though I understand how you may get that impression).

Cheers to teammates and adapting to catching fewer Zs.

Happy Thursday.