do over.

[a]s

introduction to media

college writing

photography I

basic visual literacy

20th century photography

fundamentals in marketing

pop art

public speaking

psychology of personality

interpersonal communications

advanced psychology of communications

entrepreneurship / business planning

the comedy film 

[b]s

culture, society and the west 

digital media studio

women in america 

creating web documents

internet as a public art 

photography II

sculpture I

beginning spanish I 

american crime film 

media representation & identity

world of weather: intro to meteorology 

internship: vice magazine

[c]s 

understanding america

intermediate mathematics 

intro to cultural & sociological anthropology

precalculus 

american capitalism 

[f]

freshman seminar 

this is could be also be a prioritized list of what i cared about in college. 

jack of some trades, i'd say. 

White Noses

(click to enlarge)

"White Noses #1" Oil and Watercolor on Canvas, 2013.

"White Noses #2 (unfinished)" Oil on Canvas, 2013

shoulderstands

my skin is warm with sun and i don't know what to say to yo
u.    meditation. inside of my eyelids, it is green. not cold and
envious, but luscious and healthy.       i manage to sit     still
for 24 minutes of the expected 30.      while i'm gone i do not
think of you, but i think of not thinking of you. i'm seeing gre
en and i know where i am. my skin is warm with sun and my
shoulders sink. my neck softens. back on the rooftop, vertebr
ae realign to form a straight line. citrus eyelids and a burning
nose. i've noticed that singular note in the song, but never tho
ught of the man playing it.   moved to tears by his patience a
nd perfect timing.    not knowing where i am again i come ba
ck to the sheet. the warmth of the tar. i am home again. my s
kin is warm.     i can not say anything to you. i'm with the sun.

whiptART.

Ready. Go. 

untitled. ink on paper 2012.

untitled. watercolor on canvas. 2012

"what i'm really thinking." ink on paper 2012

"a gift for yetti" ink, acrylic and embroidery floss on canvas, 2012.

"untitled" watercolor on canvas, 2012.

detail of "feminine virility," watercolor and ink on canvas, 2012

"wooden girl 1" watercolor, acrylic, polyurethane on wood, 2012.

"every day thoughts" ink on magazine paper 2013

"a lamp for Jackie" watercolor in glass with LED lights, 2012

"wooden girl 2" watercolor, acrylic, matte medium on wood, 2012

detail of "wooden girl 2"

shot "4 hours" and "Philly knife piece" 2013 and 2012, respectively.

The following images are all a part of a series entitled "Portraits of Women I've Never Met." They are all ink and watercolor pieces on paper, made in 2013.

all images are owned by atiya jones a.k.a whiptART. don't steal my shit. 

fueled.

In case I forgot to tell you,
I'm well today. I feel rather strong actually.
my mind is racing.
it's the caffeine
it's the dehydration.
my muscles are growing,
in the mirror i tell myself that i'm sexy
sometimes i smile too.
today

i decided that i'm going to quit working
one day.
and work for myself
so that i can never work again.

foot steps

I realize that I am getting older every time I forget my age. There now exists this lapse in time when asked, where I stutter before spitting out, "twenty-six." Don't worry, I don't think I'm old. The period of post collegiate ecstasy is coming to a close and I am no longer a freshman in Life. So what the fuck am I doing?

Well, right now, I'm eating pineapples and drinking strawberry kombucha. I'm eating a lot. I'm exercising. Bikram, Anti-gravity, vinyasa yoga and Pilates. It exhausts me. Tired, not from being out until 5 A.M. I'm being somewhat responsible with my body, and my feelings for that matter. I'm being a good person. At least I'm trying to.

***

My mother called it my mask, this part of my face that is darker than the rest of it. There's not a shade of foundation that could make it look even or concealed so I don't bother. I've never bothered. The last time I wore sandals, comfortably, in public was roughly 16 years ago. Maybe this will be my year. It may be time to get all, "this is my body. If you think it's ugly, don't look at it." Or maybe I'll just keep on with those huarache sandals, but at least I'm thinking about other possibilities. For the first time in a long time, my life feels like it's happening right now. Full of options and decisions I don't have to make, yet, because I'm 26 and I don't completely give a shit about anything and I'm not apologizing for it.

But that's all of us right? This here generation of student loan-lackies and DIY-entrprenuers. Do I finally just fit in?

My sister asked me a few weeks ago just how long I planned on working at the restaurant in which I'm employed, which I knew was her round-about way of leading into, "So what do you want to do with your life?" It's unfortunate the way people are expected to know and plan everything in their journey. I don't know, you guys. I have a vague vision of children, a home, an office and phone calls. Letters to people I miss. Vacations to places I've never been. Being in love and consolation during multiple phases of mourning. Death.

What am I going to do with my life? I don't know, but maybe I'll buy some sandals, and wear them in public and make you all look at my ugly toes and giggle at the past that lingers there.

Butter.

I hope

the walk home was relaxing
With air like ether
And that the descent into your slumber
Was so sluggish that it ends tomorrow.

I figured it out.
I want to have
Inconsequential
Fun.

This was not
A haiku.

pep talk.

if i keep spending time thinking about what i'm going to do with my life, i will continuously miss out on the part where i'm living it.

right?

right.

ginmargarita

I want to be in that moment, waiting for the bus to go to Cha Cha Lounge with Jamie Patterson. I want to be going over that mini-bridge from that movie she loves that we watched a million times on the t.v. that we actually had to bang the top of, to get working.

When she asked what I want to do, I told her I was too tired for a question like that? I'm beginning to wonder how much it matters. I have very basic goals in life: I want to be happy. Everything I do is in ordinance with pursuing that one goal. When I stray from it, when I do something that makes me miserable, it's because I'm doing something to make someone else happy. Which in turn is making me happy.

This will also destroy me. I should say can; this CAN also destroy me. If I know no sacrifice, how can I truly be happy. If everything I do is secretly for me, what's the point? Bah.

Bar philosopher.

toes done up and the finger nails matching

once a week, do something lovely for yourself. 

I paint my nails while I watch t.v. online. It's my time to remember to breathe. To look out the window and think. To be alone and to miss someone. I woke up this morning and so I know my life is beautiful. 

xx

love knots.

there was a lot of dirt beneath those books that i began to lay, across my floor, when we first began. i pulled them up this evening, and the staples were just as hard to remove as they were to put in. the first few were laid out so gently, and thoughtlessly. one was from the childhood; most of the others, found. the more i started to think about pages and placement, the construction of the path, the more the voluminous the books became. their pages beginning to rise up, as if to escape. i held off for a few months, in hopes of finding the right books, that would fall open to right pages to guide me on this miniature path of knowledge. the first coincidental pages that i'd opened up to, spoke to me. telling two page, mid-story tales about love, journeys and friendship. the final books came to me in bulk, as a gift, and when i finally found the motivation, i laid them out.

but the last few fell silent. i'd anchored them down without direction, without true passion, but with desire for completion. i pulled them up today to see how easy, or difficult it would be to pull them up- to see if the staples had left their mark in my floor- to see the damage done. maybe i pulled them up because i needed to see my floor again. i had to complete the path for the satisfaction of doing so. i had to erase the path for the pleasure of starting a new one.

my stomach has been writhing about all day. it's finally settled, so i can sleep.

xx

i think the fruit flies are returning

and i believe every creak

to be the pitter-patter of mice.

i can't tell if i'm going crazy, 

or if i'm crazy 

because i'm not going. 

i had to fall over to find balance

i had to clean up to clear my mind. 

sufficient      

suffice 

satisfied. 

teach me the difference. 

i must know everything.

i do know everything!

this, you see has always been
 a problem of mine.

a gift! a problem!

my synonymous moniker. 

      i'm going to build the greatest 

                                                                                                               bank of knowledge 

                                                                                                  of all time. 

but I won't listen to a thing. 

even when you tell me the truth. 

i'm sorry. 

i'm happy you came. 

may i take off your shoes?

would you stay awhile?

lioness

You are now entering a rant.

Sundays are made for laying in bed, ordering delivery and light cleaning. Though I will be doing none of that today, as I'm off to work soon- I am reconfiguring my "natural" scrolling to fit that of my newly acquired operating system. In contemplating writing about it, my mind sped down a path of paranoia.

I've delved back into the world of marketing, in sense. I've been catching up on academic books here and there, watching more television (which is one long commercial, really), being in public more... All of the things that expose us to advertising on a daily basis. It's not news that the general American public is spoon-fed most/all decisions they make, even the vive de resistance of Occupy, so that is not the point I'm trying to make. It's just that I've been scrolling through pages on the internet for years, and here I am learning that up is down and down is up because Apple says that it's "natural scrolling," and Apple is best and always right. Right?

I've stopped using the internet to voice my opinion about things because I watched a special on 60 Minutes about how the internet is trolling through every word we write and that's why ads are so well targeted on Facebook. I knew these things already. I know what cookies do, and lord knows I never delete mine, usually. This morning I found myself deleting my cookies, clearing my cache and history in hopes of tripping up the side-ads lacing my screens. I am trying to trick the internet! What is going on in my brain? It didn't work, by the way; my sidebar-ads are still for home decor and shoes. Sidenote: When you go to clear your cookies it gives you a list of everything that has stored information in your computer. My favorite was from Bedwetters . com. I have never been to that site in my life.

Anyway time to sling some more plates, but that's where I've been... attempting to live my life without the internet knowing what I'm thinking all the time. Strange, this idea of having memories that are mine, "secret" pictures, private thoughts and eating food you'll never see pictures of. Harumph.

Server life.

"she has no expression on her face"
completely describes
The expression on her face.

Waiting to wait

this restaurant life is going to kill me.

the staff of chinatown before their shift, East Village, NYC

dollhouse dreamer

desires, over time, will always begin to fade and evolve. my fear of my uncertain future "career path" has become the excitement for new possibilities. i've finally accepted the fact that i'm insatiable, about almost everything. i want more than ever. i want self-control, a house, children, to be surrounded by art, a husband, a car, to travel, to see shows, to keep loving, to save money, to spend money, a cat, a dog, answers to questions i haven't asked yet, to see another shooting star (or five), to entertain guests, to be alone, to be great. i want to keep wanting. 

xx

it's nice to have someone to plan something with. 

photo via apartment therapy

the sound of old people sneezing

this is it for me, right here. 

metal, brick and wood

Forgive my absence, readers, for I've been living off of the internet radar for a bit. I've been crafting and decorating like crazy and soon enough I'll be posting pictures of my newest creations and getting an online store set up (fingers crossed). I've had a lot of emotional challenges with my work lately, and I'll be setting on a new path in that area of my life soon enough, as well.

Last night was Thanksgiving. I spent it as I would any other day off... except that terrible feeling of loneliness crept up on me eventually, being that my family celebrated the holiday in Vermont. This year I was thankful for love: my ability to give, receive, and recognize it. Sometimes it looms around you for months, years, without ever being detected.

My blood family may been away, but I still got to spend time with people I love: Jessica my closest friend, confidant, and the BEST roommate ever and James the best partner in crime I could've ever asked for. This year is coming to a close and a finally feel like I'm ready to start an adventure worth writing about.

Anyway, enough with the sap, I just wanted to say hello. I miss... this.

xx.

if you build it, they will come.

but if i print the postcards i make, will you buy them?