Found this on the SAW web-site today regarding my career as an artist and teacher… from the one and only Frank Thorne:
“…don’t know much about “art,’ even though I’ve been drawing and writing for over 60 years. I always held the belief that “art” cannot be taught. But, looking over the SAW website, methinks that yours is the correct approach. Witness Justine, the very embodiment of the artist’s profile. I’ve known her for many years, and have been a fan from the very beginning. She is extremely gifted, and will be on hand to help your students open the doors of perception.
Give her a hug for me.”
Once again, Frank descends from the heavens (or some other slightly less well-lit and sulfuric place) to heap praise and glories upon little old me! Thank you Frank, and I love you!
Most beautiful quote about my teaching EVER from my student CJ, who said tonight:
“I’ve recorded all of Justine’s lectures in my heart.”
Beautiful, thanks! What more could any teacher ask for?
These are punchlines for stories I’ve already told but forgot to include when I told them, or jokes that I could be wearing out elsewhere:
“Green Emerald Curry Spam.” Spam jokes are cheap, but I was trying to come up with the types of Spams that were in the Spam gift sets we were given for Christmas by the school I worked for in South Korea, and I thought this combination was funny in its absurdity even if Spam jokes are passe. I told this story at the Conch the other night about the Spam gift set (and no matter how weird it is, always assume that if I’m telling a story about South Korea that I did NOT make it up). And other Spams were going to be: Spam infused olive oil, after dinner Spams, and perhaps Buffalo Spam or jerk Spam.
Another beat I regrettably missed at the Conch, actually the freaking punchline to the story of how much I hated Korean food was that while I was living in Korea I was actually called into the office and bitched out for not eating Korean food at lunch with everyone else. I told them they’d hired me to teach, not to eat Korean food.
“Is there a VitaminC.com for when you catch a virtual flu from someone on social media?” The last line in a recent Facebook exchange… I had more material here, but chose to stop before people got tired of it.
Dave Grohl: “Why can’t it always be this easy?”
Paul McCartney: “It is.”
I just realized, I think I may be developmentally disgruntled.
“Obsessive compulsive disorder is, in the Hindu sense, a form of extreme attachment through disease.”
Today I laid my obsessions and depression, at Lord Shiva’s feet. At least with his grace and strength I may be able to let go. Think about it, what is an obsession but an extreme form of attachment? And all Hindus know that Attachment is the source of all suffering, the disease is nothing but attachment magnified through disease, and somehow figuring this out has made me feel lighter in ways that are miraculous.
Om Namah Shivaiya!
“People are forever finding something wrong with you.”
“What does it mean, being a woman?”
“I’m selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can’t handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don’t deserve me at my best.”
― Marilyn Monroe
“Why do we base our gun laws on (the NRA’s) childish paranoid fantasies rather than basing our laws on real things that happen over & over?”
Justine Mara Andersen
(And if you’re a right-winger, please don’t bother me with comments, I’ve heard them ALL before, and I won’t dispute, read, or post them.)
“Admit it. You aren’t like them. You’re not even close. You may occasionally dress yourself up as one of them, watch the same mindless television shows as they do, maybe even eat the same fast food sometimes. But it seems that the more you try to fit in, the more you feel like an outsider, watching “normal people” as they go about their automatic existences. for every time you say club passwords like “Have a nice day” and “Weather’s awful today, eh?”, you yearn inside to say forbidden things like “Tell me something that makes you cry” or “What do you think deja vu is for?”. Face it, you even want to talk to that girl in the elevator (and the balding man who walks past your cubicle at work) are thinking the same thing? Who knows what you might learn from taking a chance on conversation with a stranger? Everyone carries a piece of the puzzle. Nobody comes into your life by coincidence. Trust your instincts. Do the unexpected. Find the others…”