Christmas Box

A young girl met a charming boy
who swept her off her feet.
He made her laugh and made her smile,
He made her life complete.

The girl wished to thank the boy
For teaching her how to love.
But no gift would ever do,
And words were not enough.

She made a box and within its walls
She left a special kiss.
So once the boy would open it
He’d know her happiness.

And in the box, she hid her faith,
The devotion she held to him
He need only hold the box
To feel her heart within.

There was one last gift she had to leave,
The most important one of all.
She made the box to hold her love,
But she thought the box too small.

Her love, you see, was ever lasting,
No ordinary box could hold it.
But this box was a special one,
And with her love it was molded.

Filled with faith, love and a kiss,
This box safely keeps my joy.
A young girl I will forever be,
Eternally in love with you,
my charming boy.







Last Christmas, I wanted to give Shane a meaningful gift. I wanted to make something, as a measure of how important he is to me, and how much I value our relationship. Made from mahogany and bass wood, stained and etched with a laser cutter, I made him a box with his initials etched on the lid, a decorative heart design on the sides, and a poem I wrote for him on the inside of the box. I loved it...it's tedious, and even though I never had the patience when making architectural models, I really enjoyed making this box and I put a lot of care into it.

Now I have to outdo it this year....

High School Sweethearts

If I had been hinting at the crush I had on him all spring of my senior year...

...If I told him I liked him on the day of my graduation, and asked him to be mine a few days later, does that make him my high school sweetheart?


I'm his, that's for sure. He's 2 years behind me in school, so he was just ending his sophomore year when we started dating. I had been introduced to him during the end of my senior year by my boyfriend at the time. They were old friends, recently reunited. As all 3 of us began to spend more and more time together, I started to like Shane more and more. And my boyfriend, being jealous, wanted to hang out with him less and less.

To set things straight, I never cheated on my boyfriend...well..

You see, I told him I liked him on my graduation day. I kept my crush a secret for months. Eventually I would turn to Shane for advice about what I should do, in hopes that he would catch on. But he was too humble to ask if he was the guy. Though he, too, had a crush on me, it wasn't his place to take his friend's girlfriend. So I had to do it on my own. I went to commencement, had family over, then called it a night with my soon-to-be ex so that I could go off to Shane's and confess my true feelings to him. The next morning, I would be leaving for Senior Week at Ocean City, and wouldn't be back home for a week. Not wanting to wait any longer for something we both had wanted for so long, he asked for a kiss and I obliged. A day later, I called his friend, "I like someone else." I was foolishly honest.


But things have worked themselves out, and 4 years later, we're living happily ever after.

Death by Electricity

Last night we were hit by quite a storm. The worst I've ever experienced for as far back as I can remember. For the better half of 20 minutes, rain flew horizontally at unnatural speeds, making it impossible to see 5 feet in front of your nose. It came so fast, ten minutes earlier Shane and I had been sitting on the back patio watching the clouds move by (or "boil" as his dad would say). At first, we sat in shock, questioning whether or not we should do something. Shane arose first, anxiously insisting that we get away from the window. The rain slammed against the side of the house, creating a nerve wracking ruckus. Unsure of what to do, Shane and myself wandered the house. As the storm calmed, and viability came back, the power began to flicker, neighbors alarms were sounding and the appliances went haywire...until it went out completely. Looking outside, it was apparent that the storm had done some damage. Most trees had either lost branches, snapped or fallen completely. Debris of the wounded trees lay everywhere, and a river now ran down the trench-like swale between my row of townhomes and those across the lawn, creating a mote between us. They were fortunate enough to keep their electric, ours wouldn't return until after the sun came up this morning. My power hasn't been out in ages. Ever since we moved from Dawson Drive, we've lived in homes with underground wiring. But this storm took out almost half of Baltimore County. I liked it. I actually miss power outages. You get to sit in the dark and enjoy the simple things in life. No TV, no internet...no technology. Which is why Shane left, bored with the lack of entertainment. I, however, enjoyed my candlelit evening of solitude.

I'm worried, though, because BGE recently clear cut along Cromwell Bridge Road, an entire hill, miles long, of mature trees. Simply because of the potential threat they posed on neighboring electric wires. It's criminal and devastating. I fear they'll try to chop down all the trees along the wires near my house. As if the storm didn't destroy enough of them.

Arriving at work this morning, it was clear Towson was left unscathed. The only victims I saw were two sad birds, dead beneath an electric wire.

Here's a link to an article about the storm:

http://www.baltimoresun.com/news/weather/bal-storm0727,0,5209499.story

Mother is God in the Eyes of a Child

Never one to believe in Religion
Not the type to follow another.
Trust in one God or one Faith, I have none.
No God seems worthy when next to my Mother.

I don't need the Bible to tell me why
Or how we were put on the Earth we roam.
Nor will I question the sun in the sky
As long as I have my Mother at home.

And yet still I question my own being- my guide.
How would I live each day if I falter?
Who would I pray to, in whom do I confide?
Should I have faith in the Lord, Our Father?

Our Father's not mine, I say as I smile,
Mother is God in the eyes of a child.

Under the Influence

I've taken some great classes in my life. Which makes me a little upset that school's actually done for me. I just wish I could stay in school indefinitely. My entire outlook of education changed when I began to learn what I actually wanted to. But I owe a lot of my success (what little of it there is to show right now, at least) to some specific teachers and mentors.

First and foremost, John Wilson was a better mentor than I could have asked for, and I do intend to go back to MICA this fall (sneaking in, of course) to sit in on his classes a second time around.

There are so many more: Jenny Carson who made Art History actually exciting, I wish I had he earlier on so I could have taken more of her courses; Firmin DeBrabander taught me about environmental ethics, and is really the one to thank for my change in career goals; John Ruggeri, a quirky drawing teacher from SVA who wore sneakers and retro glasses, taught me how to draw, he took me on as a special student, and made me feel like my art was worth a second look. Looking back, there's so much I loved about school!

I never really thanked these teachers like I should have. I feel guilty. But I don't know what I can do now, as I'm sure they've all long since forgotten me.

Mr. Kuhlman's AP Art class, Senior year of High School, 2005

Tous les jours à tous points de vue je vais de mieux en mieux

"Every day, in every way, I'm getting better and better."

This was the mantra of French psychologist Émile Coué de Châtaigneraie, who introduced a method of psychotherapy called Couéism. It's based on optomistic autosuggestion. By repeating this phrase daily, at the beginning and end of each day. Just a simple mental change in perspective might be all we need to change the outlook on our entire life.

Thanks, Mr. Vox, for telling me about this wonderful expression.

In a Nutsell...

My name is Megan Elizabeth Schwartz, and yes, I am a MES(s). My boyfriend of 4 years, Shane Griffith, and I are planning to get married. If we do, I'll become Megan Elizabeth Griffith....MEG. I'm awesome. My lucky numbers are 5 and 13. I have a black cat. I collect corks. I make art. I love to read, but I seldom do, for I'm not very good at it. I'm awkwardly nervous about having to go to the bathroom during a movie or a long trip. I read the morning announcements for 2 years in highschool. I want a wolf. I wish I were old enough to have understood what the world lost when Freddie Mercury died. I'm a vegetarian. I am a member of PETA. I love cheese and ginger ale. I'm afraid I'll one day become lactose intolerant. I'm Irish, a Kelly and Murphy descendant. I'm a soprano. I used to sing for tips at the first Coldstone Ice Creamery to open in my area. I had to audition for the job. I hate coffee. My favorite superhero is Thor. Mosquitos love me. I wish I drove a hybrid. I want to go to the Bermuda Triangle. I can wiggle my ears. The best movie is Clue, then Monty Python and the Holy Grail. I have seen the International Superstar Clay Aiken perform live...because I saw Monty Python's Spamalot on Broadway, in which Mr. Aiken starred as Brave Sir Robin. My favorite color is blue. The perfect mix of aqua and cerulean blue.

I'm very spiritual. If I had to label myself, I'd say I were agnostic, though I was raised Roman Catholic. I respect Buddhists, admire my Jewish friends, wish I understood Kabbalists, am inspired by Mythology, share beliefs with Pagans, and could possibly be Satanist.

Speak of the Devil and He Shall Come

Speaking of speaking of the Devil...maybe that's why my problems never go away. Maybe just thinking of the Devil makes him stick around....

But that's got me off track. I just went to the Goodwill Store...and there was an old Norman Rockwell print...not original of course. But no, I didn't buy it. It just made me feel like I'm on the right track.

Someone once told me that when you have déjà vu it means you're in the right place. It means you're right where you're meant to be, and that's life's way of reminding you.

I haven't felt like I've been doing the right thing in a long time now. I've felt so off track and so far from where I wanted to be. But maybe things are looking up.

Thanks, Norm, for keeping me on track.

Drinkin the Creative Bubbly

Art has always been there for me to fall back on. When upset about middle school drama....draw. When bored in class...doodle...

When you don't know where to turn or what to do, make art.

It exercises the mind and the heart, and allows for you to see the beauty in life more clearly.

Artists, however, often find themselves trapped under the definition of the word. What is art? Well, art is anything. Now, saying that is incredibly difficult for me as I, myself, am often frustrated to see certain performance or sculptural pieces called art. It's not always easy to see, but art is art. And that's that.

One of my favorite artists of all time would be Norman Rockwell. He endured the harsh criticism, and was never really given the praise he deserved because he wasn't accepted. No one took him seriously. But his ability to capture a scene is stunning and quite moving. And he deserves recognition.


My High School art teacher, Mr. Kuhlman, who many would agree was a wonderful mentor- a teacher who has many a student now graduated with an art related degree- prepared me better for art school than I could have asked for. Most of MICA's silly foundation requirements taught me what I had already learned from Mr. Kuhlman, and no one else even knew.

One particular assignment he gave us was to imitate an old (at least a decade old) work from a well known artist and to make it contemporary. I chose Norman Rockwell's Buttercup.

Two innocent children are caught in a moment. They might as well be kissing as the young boy leans in to hold a buttercup beneath the girls chin while a pup stares as if anticipating their first encounters with love.


It was 2005, my senior year, and I couldn't even see how close I was to love.

Here is my rendition. And while looking at it now, I'm not as pleased as I once was, I'm still satisfied.

I've lost a lot of my work since High School....a lot of my work from college, too (and I just graduated a few months ago!). I'll start uploading things to this blog to ensure I wont lose anymore! I'll do my best to upload chronologically.

Free Work

It's rough finding a job right now. I'm currently interning for 2 different companies: the Baltimore County Office of Planning and for Stuart Sirota of TND Planning Group. I feel a little bit taken advantage of. Every internship I've had- well, all three internships I've ever had- have been unpaid. Meeting for the interview, I felt it should be made clear that my interest in the internships were for experience, and while I would certainly appreciate some monetary compensation, I wouldn't want to miss an opportunity because I was greedy. But I feel used. I've made logos for both internships. Volunteered a week of my life, 13 hours days for 6 days straight during the Turner Station Charrette, when everyone else was getting paid time and a half! Now, I'm making another logo, and basically branding a company: giving them something to use for years to come. Something that can cost anywhere between $50 to $5,000, and I'm doing it for free. It will be great to put on my resume, but I think I should get a bit more for it than that.

For the same firm, TND Planning Group, I'm going to Chicago in a week for a design project. All expenses paid trip. THAT, is compensation and experience....and THAT I am certainly looking forward to.









A logo design I did for myself a few years ago, when I still wanted to do interior design.

As I've mentioned before...

this is a personal blog.

I don't write it to inform distant friends and family of recent happenings in my life. (Only one person has actually been given the link to my blog, anyone else reading this has stumbled upon it from stalking, no doubt!) I don't blog to advertise, or publicize. Here, you wont find brilliant vocab or witty remarks. It's just word diarrhea, for lack of a better expression. I write for myself, to hold conversations with the inanimate internet, to talk about life as I see it. And though I've generally associated blogging with venting, I do try to refrain from making this a place to complain (however, I'll admit the uncertainty of my success thus far in such avoidance).

This blog is for me. No one else.

I don't care who reads it. Or who sees the posts. I'm not posting to hurt people. In fact, I've recently discovered my own name- referencing this here Megan Schwartz, not one of the million other Megan Schwartz's out there- on someone else's blog. Someone I have a strong dislike towards- an enemy, perhaps- so obviously there were no good words spoken. I'm not here to call names, or to talk badly about people. I know what slander and rumors will cause, and I wont be one to inflict such pain. I've been hurt before, and broken hearted. I know pain.

I recently read Tuesdays With Morrie, by Mitch Albom, and it was wonderful. On almost every page, there was a quote I could truly appreciate. And among those pages, I learned to accept pain, on top of the myriad of emotions the female species encounters.

"Take any emotion - love for a woman, or grief for a loved one, or what I'm going through, fear and pain from a deadly illness. If you hold back on the emotions - if you don't allow yourself to go all the way through them - you can never get to being detached, you're too busy being afraid. You're afraid of the pain, you're afraid of the grief. You're afraid of the vulnerability that loving entails.

But by throwing yourself into these emotions, by allowing yourself to dive in, all the way, over your head even, you experience them fully and completely. You know what pain is. You know what love is. You know what grief is. And only then can you say, 'All right. I have experienced that emotion. I recognize that emotion. Now I need to detach from that emotion for a moment.'" -pg 103-104

It really struck me, especially with how my life has played out these last few years. It's been difficult for me to move on, and get over the pain. I can detach myself from that emotion, and become invulnerable.

For my 21st birthday, I had finally accumulated enough cash to pay for my first tattoo. On my wrist I have illustrated a broken heart, sewn back together with a needle and thread. I drew it myself and, yes, it is very meaningful to me. My heart once broke, but I fixed it. No one else did, I did. It might have been a shoddy repair, but hey...I can at least go on in life knowing that no matter how hurt I may be, I can always make things better.

1st tattoo, Sep. 2008

Always with Love,
Megan

Moment of Bitching

May I, for a moment, explain how frustrating life is? As of June, I am a college graduate. Congratulations, welcome to the real world! In 4 months, I need to pay back student loans. In 2 months, I need to start paying for my own health insurance. In the very near future, I need a new car as my current one is fail city. And all I have in terms of work are two unpaid internships. I love working, I really do, it's a great experience and well worth my time. But I need money! It's criminal. I spent a week of my life voluntarily helping the Baltimore County Office of Planning with their Turner Station Charrette, and while all of the employees present were paid time and a half, I got nothing! Really, interns are great but I'm not just free help! I need to pay for gas, for food, for work clothes. Hopeless, it is.

So I mentioned I'm with the County, my second internship is for Stuart Sirota's firm TND Planning. Who was featured on the cover of the Sunday Real Estate section of the paper about his current Highlandtown-Greektown TOD project:

http://www.baltimoresun.com/business/real-estate/bal-re.southeast28jun28,0,4553379.story

So I'm thrilled to work for him, but I feel bad myself since I'm just going to be leaving come Fall for an actual paying job. I'm sure, though, that whatever help I can give will be appreciated.