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.
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.
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
Lifeoscope
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 AND CAREER
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.
HEALTH: MIND, BODY, AND SOUL
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.
LOVE AND ROMANCE
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.
OVERVIEW
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.
MONEY AND CAREER
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.
HEALTH: MIND, BODY, AND SOUL
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.
LOVE AND ROMANCE
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.
OVERVIEW
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?
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.
Love,
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.
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.
Love,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.
Monday, February 28, 2011
30 Days of Truth - Day 13
It just occurred to me that not only have I not blogged in two weeks, I'm not even halfway through my 30 Days of Truth.
Day 13 - A band or artist that has gotten you through some tough ass days (write a letter).
Dear Taylor Swift (you had to know it was coming),
When your first couple CDs came out, I made fun of you.
Okay, okay, I still make fun of you. Most of your songs are about how you love a guy but he likes someone else and you want her man or that you're in love or that you're falling out of love or whatever. But now it's a loving type of joking because I realized that I am exactly like you. At least emotionally when it comes to love because we're both super naive and fall completely without any regrets and it's only in hindsight that we have clarity. I've watched you in interviews and you're quirky and cute, but still with a really beautiful grace that I think so many women our age are missing. I say I want to be you when I grow up all of the time even though you're only a year older.
Sure, your songs a little ridiculous sometimes (If you're reading and you haven't heard "Last Kiss," just listen), but I believe those feelings come from your heart, and when I'm as ridiculous and weepy, you help with the pain.
Also, you're living proof that there are tons of fish in the sea. I'm not calling you a slut or anything, but you date a lot more than you think you do (she said in an interview with Seventeen that she's not always dating someone, but I can name twice as many people she's dated than I have, so....) I still love you.
Maybe one day when I'm rich and famous, we can be friends and bake cupcakes together. We'd totally be friends in real life if I'd met you pre-fame. I wouldn't have made fun of you, and you could teach me how to play guitar and we'd be weird together. Maybe we'd even be a duo instead of just you.
Love,
Essence Beasley
P.S. - I'll admit that I listened to "Last Kiss" on repeat for hours at a time when I first bought your CD. And also that listening to it now still makes me teary, as long as you know that none of this makes it less creepy.
P.P.S. - Also, I dig the straight hair. Almost as much as I like it curly, but not quite.
Also, this is my favorite interview with Taylor Swift. I want that dress, and I love her.
Day 13 - A band or artist that has gotten you through some tough ass days (write a letter).
Dear Taylor Swift (you had to know it was coming),
When your first couple CDs came out, I made fun of you.
Okay, okay, I still make fun of you. Most of your songs are about how you love a guy but he likes someone else and you want her man or that you're in love or that you're falling out of love or whatever. But now it's a loving type of joking because I realized that I am exactly like you. At least emotionally when it comes to love because we're both super naive and fall completely without any regrets and it's only in hindsight that we have clarity. I've watched you in interviews and you're quirky and cute, but still with a really beautiful grace that I think so many women our age are missing. I say I want to be you when I grow up all of the time even though you're only a year older.
Sure, your songs a little ridiculous sometimes (If you're reading and you haven't heard "Last Kiss," just listen), but I believe those feelings come from your heart, and when I'm as ridiculous and weepy, you help with the pain.
Also, you're living proof that there are tons of fish in the sea. I'm not calling you a slut or anything, but you date a lot more than you think you do (she said in an interview with Seventeen that she's not always dating someone, but I can name twice as many people she's dated than I have, so....) I still love you.
Maybe one day when I'm rich and famous, we can be friends and bake cupcakes together. We'd totally be friends in real life if I'd met you pre-fame. I wouldn't have made fun of you, and you could teach me how to play guitar and we'd be weird together. Maybe we'd even be a duo instead of just you.
Love,
Essence Beasley
P.S. - I'll admit that I listened to "Last Kiss" on repeat for hours at a time when I first bought your CD. And also that listening to it now still makes me teary, as long as you know that none of this makes it less creepy.
P.P.S. - Also, I dig the straight hair. Almost as much as I like it curly, but not quite.
Also, this is my favorite interview with Taylor Swift. I want that dress, and I love her.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Happy Valentine's Day!
Happy Valentine's Day!
I'm not a romantic at all, but I love any and every holiday that I can celebrate by baking and giving away cupcakes, so it should come as no surprise that I adore Valentine's Day! Pink, hearts, love, roses, and all that jazz, I'll take it! This year, I made cupcakes with, wait for it, strawberry Laffy Taffy buttercream frosting. You know how Laffy Taffy tastes right? Like kinda sour fruit? Well, Laffy Taffy buttercream frosting tastes like a creamy version of that, if that makes sense. It's not really sour, just buttery and light. I was really skeptical at first, and I thought it would taste differently, but now I believe that strawberry Laffy Taffy buttercream frosting is God's gift to mankind.
Normally, I hate sprinkles (I don't like extra chewing), but I made an exception for VDay. Three choices, hot pink sugar; red, pink, and white nonpareils; or red, pink, and white heart confetti.
They look super sweet, but I countered the candy attack by heaping the frosting on plain white cupcakes, then passed them out around Bruce Hall. I hope your Valentine's Day yielded as much sweetness (but less diabetes) as my pan of cupcakes!
Saturday, February 5, 2011
30 Days of Truth - Day 12
Day 12 - Something you never get compliments on
I'm rarely, if ever, complimented on my looks.
Growing up, I was always the "smart one" because I had a 10th grade reading level and skipped the first grade. Since I lived in Ennis, Texas, where everyone knows everyone, it was already precedent that I was smart, and people treated me like the smart one. When I moved to Denton though, no one knew anything about me. While it was freeing to not be considered the smart girl, I just earned a new moniker of the "funny one" (which also has its downfalls because now people don't know I graduated with a 3.8, and therefore don't need everything explained to me).
So I've never been the pretty one. Sometimes people say I have a pretty smile or pretty hair (although that's always been after I get a relaxer, one of the reasons I'm going natural), but not "pretty" in general. I always get "cute" which I firmly believe should be reserved for puppies and babies. And while I don't believe I need to be Angelina Jolie, and I don't want people constantly complimenting my looks over any of the other bajillion things that make me me, I'm a 20 year old. I want to be hot or beautiful, not cute. I want to be thought of as attractive, is that so much to ask? But the first person who wasn't related to me to call me pretty was a gay guy (and it's mostly gay guys who say that now). My ex didn't even list pretty or any other form of attractive in the top 5 things he liked about me.
Part of it could be my attraction to tall white boys. Apparently, you ask a guy what celebrity he would sleep with if he could and his answer is his physical type. I have met only one white guy who listed a black girl as his answer, and he picked Beyonce. And in conversations I've heard from guys about girls, the black girls they list are "Pretty/hot/whatever for a black girl," heavy on the implication that black girls aren't as attractive as their white counterparts to begin with. I should really make some black friends.
At any rate, last week when I was shopping with my mom and sister, a saleswoman complimented my sister's and my looks to my mother. She said we have everything, the eyebrows, eyelashes, full lips. "I have to pay for those!" she joked as she slid my mom's purchases across the counter. And you know what? I was happy someone complimented me. It made me feel more attractive, even if it was a middle aged woman instead of a 20 something year old boy. And I'm not sorry about it!
Serena Williams is supposedly my celebrity look alike. If you know of any tall white boys with brown hair and beautiful blue eyes you can get lost in that list her as a celebrity crush, tell them to give me a call.
I'm rarely, if ever, complimented on my looks.
Growing up, I was always the "smart one" because I had a 10th grade reading level and skipped the first grade. Since I lived in Ennis, Texas, where everyone knows everyone, it was already precedent that I was smart, and people treated me like the smart one. When I moved to Denton though, no one knew anything about me. While it was freeing to not be considered the smart girl, I just earned a new moniker of the "funny one" (which also has its downfalls because now people don't know I graduated with a 3.8, and therefore don't need everything explained to me).
So I've never been the pretty one. Sometimes people say I have a pretty smile or pretty hair (although that's always been after I get a relaxer, one of the reasons I'm going natural), but not "pretty" in general. I always get "cute" which I firmly believe should be reserved for puppies and babies. And while I don't believe I need to be Angelina Jolie, and I don't want people constantly complimenting my looks over any of the other bajillion things that make me me, I'm a 20 year old. I want to be hot or beautiful, not cute. I want to be thought of as attractive, is that so much to ask? But the first person who wasn't related to me to call me pretty was a gay guy (and it's mostly gay guys who say that now). My ex didn't even list pretty or any other form of attractive in the top 5 things he liked about me.
Part of it could be my attraction to tall white boys. Apparently, you ask a guy what celebrity he would sleep with if he could and his answer is his physical type. I have met only one white guy who listed a black girl as his answer, and he picked Beyonce. And in conversations I've heard from guys about girls, the black girls they list are "Pretty/hot/whatever for a black girl," heavy on the implication that black girls aren't as attractive as their white counterparts to begin with. I should really make some black friends.
At any rate, last week when I was shopping with my mom and sister, a saleswoman complimented my sister's and my looks to my mother. She said we have everything, the eyebrows, eyelashes, full lips. "I have to pay for those!" she joked as she slid my mom's purchases across the counter. And you know what? I was happy someone complimented me. It made me feel more attractive, even if it was a middle aged woman instead of a 20 something year old boy. And I'm not sorry about it!
Serena Williams is supposedly my celebrity look alike. If you know of any tall white boys with brown hair and beautiful blue eyes you can get lost in that list her as a celebrity crush, tell them to give me a call.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
