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Even though we had no winter down here in Georgia, it was still winter-ish (depressing and dark and bare and dead). Until this week. It’s been awesome.

You know that whole thing from Bambi about being “twitterpated?” I totally have that going on right now. For some reason, in the spring, everything is more exciting, fun, fantastic. I just want to make stuff and be outside! And touch someone. Appropriately. But maybe not. Both. Definitely both.

And Chico’s really excited.

But, you guys. There’s the pollen. We had it at a 9,000+ count the other day. My brain can’t even register how much pollen that is. It’s a yellow cloud and I’m afraid to wear white or sit on anything. I just know my chest hurts and Chico is allergic and that baby Benedryl makes him high and he’s about to be really high.

One thing about not having winter is bugs. There are bugs everywhere. According to my mom, not having a winter means that there are going to be ridiculous amounts of bugs. I tried to make a little bee to go on that flower picture, but I realized it was going to take me forever to get it how I want it and I don’t care that much so just pretend you see a bee over there. Even though bees are cool.

So, spring is awesome and it makes me want to knit (isn’t that weird?) and sew things. And just be awesome and wear dresses and look dewy and fun and reach out and kiss someone.

Anyone else?

{rose picture source, styling by me}

I have a project due today.  A project for a class that has me living in fear.  I literally started crying in classes 3 DAYS IN A ROW last week because of this class.  All of my teachers probably think I’m emotionally unstable, which I am a little at this point.  Because of this hell class.  Last week, we (as a collective class) were berated for 2 hours about how lazy we are and how we’re not trying and how much we suck and on and on and on.  It would be funny if it were happening to someone else.  The stuff that was coming out of this guy’s mouth was like stuff from a movie teacher.  He said something along the lines of, “Your illustration skills are just not up to par, I hope these are stand in illustrations and you get a real illustrator to do them for you.”

Did that sink in?

Insulted on top of the insult.  And remember, I did the illustrations and I’m not working hard enough.  According to this dude.  Because my illustrations are terrible.

This class has me rethinking my whole life.  I’m having an existential breakdown.  I’m all, who am I?  What am I doing here?  Maybe I’ll drop out and become an escort because if I suck as a designer, that’s the only job I’ll be able to get.  See what I mean?

So, where am I going with this…we have to redesign the packaging for this.  The bottle, not the bar.  Those little white lines on the label are type.  Cultish, weird stuff about the Moral ABCs.  And we have to keep all of the type.  Everyone not doing the project seems to think it’ll be “fun.”  Guess what?  It’s not.  It’s hellacious.

I’ve been working hard and designing my label.  Everything was going great and I had it done after working on it for 4 or 5 days.  Days.  Then I started staring at it.  And hating it.  I would show you a picture, but at this point, I hate it so much that I’m too embarrassed. ‘hipster sigh’ Design school is hard. Now I don’t know what to do. Redesign or keep it and if I want to redesign, what do I do with it?  I just don’t know.

Yes, that’s a line from Almost Famous.  I feel like I have to tell people that because they never seem to get my reference.

Anyway…guess what?!  I got the car!  I don’t have pictures of it yet because I decided to go out of town yesterday.  In defeat.  I didn’t think it was going to happen.  Obviously, from this.  I was totally letting it get me down.  I woke up sick yesterday and called my aunt and asked her to come get me.  (Don’t worry, I have a legion of guard gnomes at my house protecting it.)  So, I won’t actually have the car keys in my possession until tomorrow, but it’s been paid for and it in my parents’ driveway.  They are awesome like that.  I can’t wait to show you pictures of me posing next to it and jumping up and down.  It was my dream car when I was 16, I begged my parents for one.  But I wanted lime green.  I’m so happy this one is black and not lime green.

On another and completely unrelated note, I’m growing my hair out.  Maybe to donate again, not sure if I can make that commitment.  But, I’m over the short hair.  This is how long my hair was before I chopped it all off 2 1/2 years ago:

(About this picture, I would like to say that I didn’t know anything about taking pictures then (not that I have tons of knowledge now, but I have grown a lot as a photographer since this pic) and my identity at this time was completely about being the hot girl…I can’t even relate with the person in this picture now…weird how that works, huh?)

Then, I took this picture:

of Twiggy to Salon Red in Decatur and had my hair cut off to look like this:

And since then, I’ve had my hair pretty short.  Never long enough to touch my shoulders and definitely not long enough to pull back, which I mis.  I think once it gets long enough to style in different ways, I will probably stop and give up my wish to grow it long enough to donate.  Although that would be really nice and altruistic of me to keep going.  I feel really bored of my hair right now.  Same. Thing. Every. Day.  What do you think?

{source for tape strips}

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I don’t know if you know this about me, but I hate being alone for long periods of time (it actually doesn’t even have to be that long).  Not only do I hate it, I get weird and grumpy and unable to come up with anything that would make me happy.  It’s like my mind has shut off and is running on hate and un-satisfaction.

This is all fine and dandy most of the time.  I get out of the house and spend time around people and enjoy my alone time (as long as it’s not too much).

Well, I started a new job where I work from home.  It’s a real job, too.  Not one of those internet pyramid scam thingys.  Do you know what this means? I now spend the entire day alone in my house.  Every day.  While I’m super, super, super thankful for this job, it is taking a good bit of transition on my part.  Because if I start to get in the grump “I hate my life” zone, I can’t do any work.  I really can’t do anything when I get like that, come to think of it.  And I have a lot of stuff I need to get done.

The first week was rough.  After a couple of days, I found myself wondering if it would be faster to burn the house down by putting aluminum foil in the microwave (email me if you’re curious why I know this for a fact) or catching my beloved desk plant ablaze one leaf at a time.  Time to get out and I went to visit family and work from there.  Which was nice.

Do ya’ll have any advice for making this transition?  Or funny catching things on fire stories?  Those are always fun.

On Monday, my car broke down.  Again.  I took it to the shop.  No worries.  Then, my scooter broke down.  They came and picked it up for a check up.  I thought, I’ll just ride my bike.  Then I realized the tires were not only flat, but had like no air in them.  And I couldn’t find a pump.  Geez.  After being stranded at my house for 3 days, my scooter was finally ready to go and so was I.  I put on a super cute outfit and hit the open road :)Have a great Friday!

Sunday.  I woke up and went to a Atlanta Rollergils Workshop.  Man.  That was an intense workout, and I loved it. I have to get some speed skates so I can practice, but I’m about to go to New York and am trying not to spend any money.  But I need to practice.  ‘sigh.’

{source}

Then I went home and took a shower.  And a nap.  And I was starting to feel a little gloomy.  Break ups suck, as we all know, but one of the biggest reasons they are so horrible is that the sad just sneaks up. Like, I’m totally fine, and then BAM!! I’m a blubbering mess.  I had plans to meet a friend for lunch and I was pretty much crying before I got there.

I cried all through lunch.  I hate being that girl in the restaurant crying hysterically (but trying to hold it in) and just being a watery, snotty mess all over the place.  It’s embarrassing and uncomfortable for everyone involved.  But, mostly for the server.  Poor server.  So, I make the wonderful and obviously logical decision I need to go to the ex’s house.  Just to see him.  WTF, Windsor?!!  That is not a good idea.  Even so, the ex gives me the green light and I head over.

We exchange keys.  Why did we have to do that right then?

After this, I proceeded to cry on his couch for 20 minutes.  Why I thought this was good and rational decision-making is still a mystery.  We sat there and I cried hysterically (not pretty crying–the kind with gasps and deep breaths and lots of intense sniffling) and he tried to make polite conversation.  After way too long of this I thought, “What am I doing here?  Why was this a good idea?  I knew he wasn’t going to console me about our breakup…I must be crazy.”  So, I left.

I sobbed the 3 minutes in the car home and came home and cried and cried on the couch.  Chico was even confused about what to do.  His face snuggles weren’t doing the trick like usual and he was obviously out of ideas and getting stressed.

I planned to have some “me” time (I was at the beach and hadn’t had a moment to myself for the past 6 days) but this proved to be yet another horrid idea.  I called a friend and went to her house and sobbed on her couch.

‘sigh’

geez

I cried so much I fogged up my contacts and my eyes were all itchy.

I got home from work yesterday, and one of my neighbors ran up to me and started talking.  I had the headphones on and couldn’t hear what she was saying.  I hadn’t even gotten off the scooter yet, ya’ll.  Anyways, she started telling me that all of the other scooters in the neighborhood were stolen last night, “even the ones that were locked up!!”  I totally don’t believe that the locked up ones were stolen, I’m pretty sure she was just trying to scare me.  Especially because mine is so much cooler than hers, being seafoam green and all, and no one took it.  Then she said, “Just wanted to let you know,” then ran away.  Bitch.  She just wanted to complain about her scooter getting stolen.  You parked it in the street for God’s sake!! Might as well write a note on it that asks to be stolen.

Now, I’m totally worried and paranoid.  Should I sleep out there with it?  Is it scared?  Are they going to come back with magic tools to get through my lock?!  Are they satisfied with the take they got on my neighborhood last night?  Can I please please please park it in your backyard or living room?  It’s too heavy for me to get it up the stairs into mine.  ‘sigh’

Also, one of my other neighbors came home and called Caspian, “Rochester” right in front of me!! Lady, you know his name, seriously.  I’m his mom.  I don’t appreciate you calling him some weird name.  She told me that everyone has their own name for him, like that’s some excuse or something.  Geez.

Lots of my neighbors walk their dogs without leashes.  Like, big, mean looking dogs.  As a cat owner, this concerns me.  But not a whole lot because the unleashed dogs are really well behaved and I have never seen one maliciously chase or hurt a cat.  And trust me, the cats have the run of the street.  They’re everywhere.  There’s gotta be about 20 of them.

So, I was giving my neighbor (who is a good friend) shit about walking his dogs with no leashes the other day.  About the laws and how I was going to call the cops, blah blah.  He starts telling me that my cats are pooping in his yard and how there ought to be a law about cats pooping and I said that he doesn’t know they’re my cats, it’s probably the girl next door to him’s cats.  She has, like, ten cats, seriously.  Neighbors had an intervention with her a couple of years ago because some of her cats had kittens and none of her cats were fixed.  The kittens were taken away and all of her little friends are now fixed.  Anyways…this has been going on for a couple of weeks.  I’m starting to get the feeling he is serious about the cat poo.  My cats bury their poo, I’ve seen them do it multiple times.  They always bury it in my yard and I never see it (the poo).  Therefore, it couldn’t be Caspian and Aravis, they do no wrong. Duh.

About a week ago, I came home to a little pile of cat poo on my front steps.  I smiled about it at the time and thought it was kind of funny.  A couple of days later, more poo.  Then, when I got home today there was a bigger pile of cat poo.  I documented.  For you all.  You’re welcome.

I am completely amused by this, but perplexed.  Once, it’s a little funny.  I get that.  You’re taking the bantering to the next level.  Genius!  Now that we’re on at least the third time I’ve found a pile of poo on my steps, it’s weird.  This person has had to pick up poo out of his yard, multiple times (probably didn’t get that bounty all in one go) and transport it into my yard–on 3 different occasions.   I don’t know about you all, but I don’t want to touch cat poo if I can help it.  But, whatev.  It’s becoming more and more entertaining.  And, if you can see, it’s sitting in the middle of the steps.  Waiting for me.  My neighbors are super weird really great.

So.  My A/C has broken every year I’ve lived in my house.  That’s cool.  I call my landlord, he comes over (have I mentioned he looks like Malibu Ken?) and he fixes it.  The heat breaks every year, too.  Same deal.  I hate dealing with this because Malibu Ken is kind of a dick sometimes.  (If you’re reading this, landlord, I love you all the time and I’m totally just kidding)  Roomie and Raging Liberal and Justin and I changed out the filter.  Still doesn’t work.  So, I text Malibu Ken today (last night was unbearably hot) and this is what I get (btw, every time I see him, he thinks I’m someone else.  He never recognizes me):

(Are you kidding me?  You’re really asking me if I have bothered to turn the apparatus on at all.  Geez, Malibu.  I’m not a complete idiot)

This is when I sighed, stared at my phone and wondered if I should say something insulting.

I thought simplicity might be best and insults might not be the way to go.

I tried pressing the reset button after wrestling with the wet branches on the way to the A/C.  I need some kind of metal rod or strong man arms to push it in.  So, Raging Liberal is going to check it out later.

To Be Continued…

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