Postcards show that museum’s are loved

Born in Kailua, Hawai`i during a nurses strike in February of 1984, Micah, a bald new born with slight 'dumbo' ears, was called a "potato head" by the first man to set eyes on her: her doctor. This set into motion insecurities that would last well into puberty, highlighted by a year of wearing her hair down over the two flapjacks upon each side of her not so potato-like head. In perhaps an attempt to compensate for the lack of hospital staff, Micah's parents felt it necessary to overcompensate in names on her birth certificate. In the end, 34 letters and a hyphen would make up her full name, requiring more space than is available on class rosters and leaving professors guessing at her name. Micah, the daughter of a hustling Jewish father and a Dharma School teaching Buddhist mother, was promptly put into a Catholic school (complete with nuns, priests, and rulers). At age 9, she received a 35mm SLR camera. Eventually, she assimilated into public school and attended the oldest school west of the Mississippi River: Lahainaluna High School, est. 1831. This period of Micah's life is hazy. In 2002, shortly after her 18th birthday, Micah became violently ill with island fever and moved to Los Angeles. With nothing else to do, she did what all the other kids were doing, and enrolled in a college (one that didn't require an essay or any plan in general). After spending 3 years at a 2 year college, Micah felt that it may have been time to move on and transferred to USC. The next 3 years were full of photos, writings, delayed bus transfers, and some mean spills while trying to navigate her longboard around the fractured sidewalks of downtown. Eventually, Micah got a BA degree and left her name on the wall in the library at USC. Across the Pacific, in Aotearoa New Zealand, Micah watched TV for her Masters, thanks to a Fulbright Grant. She then wrote a paper on connecting through popular media, aided by new media. View all posts by msmlska