Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Because I Am 8 Years Old

I have a job now and I was already going to school full-time, so I have limited time to study/sketch/be a real artist/sleep. So would someone explain why I spend my free time doing this:

Yes, this is a Taylor Swift dress up game where I have made her look like a Real Housewife of Orange County.

The one of her as a vampire is much more awesome, in my opinion.

Tuesday, March 22, 2011


I realized today that I haven't written an actual post in forever, and one of my biggest pet peeves is bloggers who abandon their sites for months at a time. So, to catch everyone up on everything going on in my life right now, I'm formatting this post like my favorite horoscope.


Money, I have none, but not for long because I do have a career! Or rather, my temporary position at Academy promoted to a part-time job. You know those people who are super awesome at balancing their lives and they can be on the PTA and bake cupcakes for a bake sale and read to their kids every night while working a full-time job? I've put off having a job while enrolled in school for a long time because I am the antithesis of those people. I procrastinate with everything. My life is barely held together just doing school. But my dad had knee surgery, and a lot of other complications, and the outcome of my income was my income all ran out, and I need to grow up and take responsibility for myself, blah blah blah.

Actually, it has made me a little more productive since I know I have to have things done in a shorter amount of time, but I'm exhausted. I asked my friend Morgan how she double majors (fashion and fibers) and works, and she said she learned to not sleep and it makes her more hyper. I'm the antithesis of her too though because being tired just puts me in full-on bitch mode. I've noticed that I care about things less, smile less, and feel more irritable than my already generally irritable. It makes me wonder how my dad works the graveyard shift, serves on the school and park boards, and does all of that Girl Scout stuff and more without punching people in the face.

And I guess school should go under this section. The night before my media writing mid-term, my clock did something funny and reset itself two hours later than usual. As a result, my alarm went off at 8:30 AM instead of 6:30 AM for my 9:00 AM class. I rose, threw clothes on, brushed my teeth, and ran to the bus stop, where naturally, the bus pulled away as I made it down the stairs. Waiting for the next bus would make me horribly late, so I walked/ran to the general academic building (it's about a 20 minute walk to campus from my apartment). I dashed into the room at 8:59, right as she was passing out the exam, and realized that my pencil bag must have fallen out of my backpack. I had to borrow a pen from Julia. I couldn't answer the entire first page of questions, and I guessed at the next before I finished the writing section. Murphy's Law then dictated that Julia's pen would run out of ink, so I had to borrow another pen, different color ink, to finish my test. I left feeling horrible, like a failure, and dirty.

Well, we got the tests back yesterday, and I made a 92, the second highest grade in the class. I choose to take this as proof that I am a boss writer. Seriously, the first page was arbitrary guesses.


Extremely tired. I miss yoga. I'm really hoping that now that I have a job, not only will I have enough to pay for a pass, but I won't have to work during the class.

Also, since I've been slowly running out of money, I haven't been eating well. Not that I was super healthy before, but now my diet is exclusively soda, coffee, pasta, rice, or oatmeal. Being a college kid sucks.

Sidenote: Some kids in my fibers class are vegan, which is interesting. I think I could give up meat, see menu above, but I could not live without eggs, butter, and cheese. I would be amazed that they can do it, but I read a magazine article about vegans, and they are committed to it, so kudos to them.


Weirdly enough, I'm dating someone. See, when my ex broke up with me, he seemed way more confident than I have ever been that I'd find someone else because "plenty of guys like me" and "I deserve someone who loves me" and such. Well, that or he was feeding me a bunch of cliche lines because somehow men are born with a teleprompter in their brains to guide them through breakups. But I digress.

I consider myself a fairly confident person. I think I'm good at writing and art. I'm competent, intelligent, and generally nice. Like every other woman, I do have my body issues, but I choose to focus on my excellent rack, straight teeth, and long eyelashes. But I have absolutely no faith in my abilities to attract the opposite sex. At all. When I was younger, the guys I liked seemed actually repulsed that I liked them. I was an awful flirt, I could not speak around the guy I liked, and I think they thought I was retarded. And if any guys liked me in high school, they didn't tell me about it. So, I gave up on dating. I actually planned to move to New York and get a job and go at my life completely alone. But I have to admit that I've always been jealous of girls who could get a boyfriend no matter what. Even if I felt like they weren't as smart as I was or as pretty, something about them made guys take notice, something I lacked.

I'm still awful at flirting, although now I can flirt with people I have absolutely no interest in. And I've had two boyfriends now over the course of a year, so I guess I'm getting better at having allure. Sure, I'm still no Angelina Jolie, but I guess just accepting that makes me more attractive. I actually think the guy I'm dating now likes me because I'm a complete weirdo. But I've been lied to about that before, so I don't know.


My life's pretty sweet right now. As soon as I smooth out the bumps of poor and tired, it'll be almost perfect. And I promise that I'll post pictures of some art stuff soon. I just never take pictures before because I rushing against the deadline, and then it takes weeks for the professors to finish grading, and then I forget to photograph stuff. Excuses, excuses.

Monday, March 14, 2011

Growing Pains

You know that syndrome women seem to have where as they get older, they slowly turn into their mothers? Or as the poem my sister and I chant when we catch ourselves acting like our mother:

Mirror, mirror on the wall; I'm my mother after all.

Today, I cleaned the baseboards in my apartments with a water and bleach mixture. For everyone who doesn't know what baseboards are, they're little decorative strips of wood that go on the base of a wall, right next to the floorboards.

And ours looked dusty. So I used one day of spring break to clean.

However, I didn't move any of our furniture to clean behind it, my mom definitely would have moved everything around, but I just cleaned the exposed baseboards. Maybe I kept some of my dignity?

Friday, March 11, 2011

30 Days of Truth - Day 14

This post took a long time for a reason.

Day 14 - A hero who has let you down (a letter).

I don't really have heroes who are current, if that makes sense. Like, I like Taylor Swift, but I try not to base my hopes/dreams/actions off of anyone is Hollywood because they're all insane, but here goes:

Dear Lindsay Lohan,

Just admit that you're crazy, go to jail, and dye your hair back to red.

Essence B.

I don't really consider Lindsay a hero or anyone I would want to model my life after, but I did think she was cute and a good actress, and she's disappointing me. Here's a list of my real role models:

1. My mom. She drives me nuts, but I love her to death.

2. Taylor Swift. I think we've discussed how much I adore her enough. For now, at least.

3. Angelina Jolie. This is probably weird, but I love Angelina Jolie so much. I don't even care that she's a man-stealer or that she used to wear vials of blood around her neck or that she kissed her own brother, all that matters now is that she's amazing. I just want to adopt tons of kids and wear elbow length gloves too and have people be ridiculously in love with me for no reason.

Plus, the fact that Jennifer Aniston is still whining about Brad Pitt leaving her for Angelina makes me like her more. They have 6 kids now, 3 biological okay? Just stop talking about it.

4. Michelle Obama. I want to be Michelle Obama when I grow up. I love her clothes. I love that she's BFF with Carla Bruni. I love her super toned arms. I love her family.

I want this.

But anyway, I just want Lindsay Lohan and Emma Stone to go back to being redheads, even if Emma's was fake to begin with.
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