thanks . . . yeah, it took a lot of work to get it all down to 100x100 px / 40k.
as for the rest . . . i don't think you're being postmodern enough.
[caveat, here: i'm a professional troubleshooter and i'm still trying to solve what you may prefer to leave unsolved; take this for what it's worth and feel free to ignore it.]
fig. 1: unattainable, unrealistic, setting yourself up for failure, and an angst-generating ideal about as harmful to one's psyche and self-image this time of year as an airbrushed model with an impossible physique on a magazine cover:
fig. 2: making the best out of less than favorable circumstances: (not pictured: pretzel sticks, popcorn, jelly beans, buttered toast and sundaes)
the single greatest holiday decorating in the history of the universe took place in the fall of 1989 in first left caroline, st. mary's college of maryland. (it was the fashion back in the day to decorate the doors with album covers or other designs, so the bicyclist and the jimi hendrix and the jesus christ superstar pics were already painted on the doors; everything else was added on in one extremely productive evening of improvised collaboration.)
construction paper, cotton balls, scissors, glue, scotch tape, a few bucks at ames (ames. god. the county didn't even have a jamesway yet.) for gift wrap and ribbon and string lights and fake frosting, and a decidedly un-ecologically-friendly deployment of hand saws and knives in the nearby woods for some decidedly un-artificial pine garland. and this was all done on something like december 9th for a dorm that was closing up for the holidays around december 16th. we didn't care, we just wanted some decorations for finals week. in spite of all the stress, every time we came down the stairs and rounded the corner and took it all in, we couldn't help grinning. it was pure, undiluted magic.
don't let yourself get overwhelmed by what can't be done -- instead, focus on what can be done, and the fun therein. if you get hung up on needing every single traditional decoration being hung in the ceremonial Doing Everything At Once bunch of hours you're just not going to have until the solstice, then, yeah, it'll be stress you're better off without. instead, just go open one of the boxes (well, okay, make yourself a sandwich first ;-), pull out a string of christmas lights, plug them in somewhere, and throw them over something. that's step one. not twelve things, and not thirty things. start small, a bit at a time. put a plastic candle in the window. even if you do nothing else, this time tomorrow there'll be a candle in the window and a bookshelf or a chair with xmas lights thrown over it.
note: if you're still internally trying to pass muster for a relative's or an in-law's or your own self-concept of what a well-decorated ideal christmas is all supposed to look like, YOU WILL FAIL. the goal's not to achieve the norman rockwell painting. the goal's to stick just enough shiny bits in the window and up on the wall and in the corners to make the last few weeks you have in your old place something less than an antiseptic temple of cardboard. the takedown should involve two grocery bags and a brisk walk-through.
plan b: leave all of your more traditional, beloved stuff in boxes and go to target (or, even better, a dollar store or $5 below). give yourself an absolute ceiling of $10 or $20 or something, and shop for completely different decorations. disposable, cheap crap that has no emotional investment whatsoever. use your imagination. treat the space as a sheet of paper that's getting ripped off the note pad forever in four weeks, and draw whatever the hell you want onto it.
no subject
as for the rest . . . i don't think you're being postmodern enough.
[caveat, here: i'm a professional troubleshooter and i'm still trying to solve what you may prefer to leave unsolved; take this for what it's worth and feel free to ignore it.]
fig. 1: unattainable, unrealistic, setting yourself up for failure, and an angst-generating ideal about as harmful to one's psyche and self-image this time of year as an airbrushed model with an impossible physique on a magazine cover:
fig. 2: making the best out of less than favorable circumstances:
(not pictured: pretzel sticks, popcorn, jelly beans, buttered toast and sundaes)
the single greatest holiday decorating in the history of the universe took place in the fall of 1989 in first left caroline, st. mary's college of maryland.
(it was the fashion back in the day to decorate the doors with album covers or other designs, so the bicyclist and the jimi hendrix and the jesus christ superstar pics were already painted on the doors; everything else was added on in one extremely productive evening of improvised collaboration.)
construction paper, cotton balls, scissors, glue, scotch tape, a few bucks at ames (ames. god. the county didn't even have a jamesway yet.) for gift wrap and ribbon and string lights and fake frosting, and a decidedly un-ecologically-friendly deployment of hand saws and knives in the nearby woods for some decidedly un-artificial pine garland. and this was all done on something like december 9th for a dorm that was closing up for the holidays around december 16th. we didn't care, we just wanted some decorations for finals week. in spite of all the stress, every time we came down the stairs and rounded the corner and took it all in, we couldn't help grinning. it was pure, undiluted magic.
don't let yourself get overwhelmed by what can't be done -- instead, focus on what can be done, and the fun therein. if you get hung up on needing every single traditional decoration being hung in the ceremonial Doing Everything At Once bunch of hours you're just not going to have until the solstice, then, yeah, it'll be stress you're better off without. instead, just go open one of the boxes (well, okay, make yourself a sandwich first ;-), pull out a string of christmas lights, plug them in somewhere, and throw them over something. that's step one. not twelve things, and not thirty things. start small, a bit at a time. put a plastic candle in the window. even if you do nothing else, this time tomorrow there'll be a candle in the window and a bookshelf or a chair with xmas lights thrown over it.
note: if you're still internally trying to pass muster for a relative's or an in-law's or your own self-concept of what a well-decorated ideal christmas is all supposed to look like, YOU WILL FAIL. the goal's not to achieve the norman rockwell painting. the goal's to stick just enough shiny bits in the window and up on the wall and in the corners to make the last few weeks you have in your old place something less than an antiseptic temple of cardboard. the takedown should involve two grocery bags and a brisk walk-through.
plan b: leave all of your more traditional, beloved stuff in boxes and go to target (or, even better, a dollar store or $5 below). give yourself an absolute ceiling of $10 or $20 or something, and shop for completely different decorations. disposable, cheap crap that has no emotional investment whatsoever. use your imagination. treat the space as a sheet of paper that's getting ripped off the note pad forever in four weeks, and draw whatever the hell you want onto it.
just a thought...