home again

i came home for the summer in order to save money for studying abroad next year. while my fellow pr peers have big fancy schmancy internships in huge metropolitan cities, i work at a day camp talking to nine year olds about iron maiden. at least i technically have a title: “arts and crafts director”. yes parents – i am the one your 4 year old refers to as “the art lady”. i can think of at least twenty creative things to do with leaves alone. it’s an easy enough job – one week down and i’m all the rage in the parks and rec department of my hometown.

i’m also kinda interning kinda volunteering at this non-profit arts organization in my town. they have their main gallery, the shop, a million art classes and various different events throughout the summer. my boss is a little scatterbrained – sometimes i have to remind her about the full page resume i gave her in may that says, yes, i’m an art minor and yes, i do have pr experience (granted, one course and one year in PRSSA isn’t that legitimate but something is better than nothing). however, how can you not love the free spirited graphic designer turned art advocate/official muralist of my town with “Bleecker Street: Greenwich Village of the ’60’s” (contemporary covers of folk music) in her gallery who also gives great advice on how best to utilize oil pastels?

one of my best friends, anthony, is spending his summer at his school in Virginia, having a glorious old time while leaving me slightly stranded here. i gave him my “best american short stories of 2005” to remember me by (which isn’t actually mine – it was a loan from a guy i dated last year. whoops) elizabeth sold her soul to nannying for this 10 and 12 year old who could def take care of themselves and mike is galivanting throughout the area being the stud that works at Dick’s Sporting Goods and dates girls from jersey. that leaves me trying to awkwardly reconnect with friends from high school and hang out with my fellow day camp counselors outside of work trying to not talk about camp.

there are the comforts of home to consider though such as the family and sleeping in the room i’ve had since i was born (not to mention i finally have my turntable set up. my proudest purchases as of far have been neutral milk hotel’s “aeroplane over the sea” and the live recording of orson welles’ “war of the worlds” from 1938)

i can’t complain and home has been splendid – but i’m still biding my time until i get back to new york.

oh – and pitchfork in chicago will be glorious as well.

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