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I made my first vlog. Then I couldn’t figure out how to edit it and then I did and then the sound wasn’t working and I spent a week trying to make it work and watching this over and over again. So the sound and the video are weird. But you can understand and see. I’ll work on my skillz for the future.



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.

I hate being bored.  And, today is the mother of boring days.  Seriously, I’m a little worried I’m just going to keel over from it.  I have nothing to do all day.  Nothing to look forward to.  Until bed.  I’m not good at handling these days after several in a row (by several I mean half a day).  I’ve knitted, watched Weeds, thought about doing some photoshop tutorials, texted friends and whined about being bored, thought about my past life when I had a job and wasn’t bored, thought about 2 weeks ago when I was super busy and staying up for days on end, hating my life, being mad at myself for being bored.  Not really action packed.  And now that I live outside of the city, driving to people who are available costs like $5 in gas.

Chico keeps staring at me.  Like he wants something.  He comes and stares.  And then he leaves and comes back.  It’s super adorable, but a little annoying.  These pictures are all from one morning, by the way.  He changes positions, walks away, comes back.  Same expression.

He left for a bit.

But, back to the boredom.  It’s excruciating.  I actually broke down and cried a little bit.  That is how bored I am.  But, I finished a painting.  I’ve only been working on it when I can’t sleep, so it took a while.  I had so little to finish that I just went ahead and completed it today.  I need something complicated to work on so when I’m bored or can’t sleep, I can get into detail.

And, he's back!

Please send me interesting comments.  Or non interesting ones.  Just something!  Say something so I’m not crying because of boredom!

…and I still might be sucked into it.

One of my friends called me last week to tell me to “get out of my f-ing school coma, I haven’t seen you in forever, I miss your face.”  Aw.  I still didn’t see her until tonight.  And I had to move against my will.  And I haven’t gotten to see Chico a whole lot (don’t worry, my new roomio is making sure he’s not neglected).  I miss his adorable face and his annoying little sighs.

He is so happy to see me when I get home, it’s awesome.  That little face is the cutest thing ever, no?

Last week, I spent almost every waking hour I wasn’t in class on this little gem:

Oh, you can’t tell what it is?  Me either. It’s a restaurant mural (wtf) based on Hera and Constructivism (the art movement, not the other one).  Yeah.  Can you tell it’s all individually cut out of gray paper?  Oh, how will this help me at a future job? you ask.  I’d like to know that, too.

I did, however, manage to play a lot of We Doodle on my short breaks

Best. App. Ever.

Oh yeah, unpacking.  Sucks.  I have a lot of stuff.  Seriously, how did I get all of this stuff?


Today, I moved.  For the first time in four years.  And I had to leave behind my two beloved cats, one of whom I’ve previously referred to as my soul mate.  I’ve raised those two since they were wee babies.  But, my, now former, neighbor is going to take them.  She already bought them a 3 story cat condo and a heated bed for the porch.  So they won’t get cold.  This shit plugs into the wall.  They’re definitely in good hands.  Even so, it’s still sad.  And it’s the end of an era in my life.  Which is scary and sad and stressful, but exciting all al the same time.  I’m typing this is my new room while lying on my unmade bed, right on top of the mattress.  I’m too exhausted to go through all of my shit to find my sheets that probably need to be washed anyway.  Chico is doing nervous little circles around the bed.  I have an ass ton a lot of homework I should be doing, but I’m too tired.


The amazing thing was, my family and friends really showed up for me today.  I called my brother in a panic and on the verge of tears earlier this week and asked him to come help me pack stuff (since I had exactly three weeks notice) because I was so overwhelmed with the thought of leaving my house and my street and my neighborhood and my kitties that I was barely able to wrap my mind around the thought of packing, but I had to.  He graciously agreed and drove through rush hour traffic on a Friday to work for 7 hours straight and help me get everything ready to move.


Then my parents and friend came out to help.  And they did so with smiles on their faces and did what I needed done, and it was amazing.  I can hardly believe all of the wonderful people I have in my life.  My friends coming to sacrifice their Saturdays to selflessly help me and my parents coming to help me because I needed it.  It was hard work, let me tell you.  And my mom did her best not to give me a hard time about the dust.  This all lit my heart on fire with love and thankfulness and joy (not joy for moving, mind you…you know what I mean).  It was unbelievable for a person like me.  Who has spent my whole life pushing people away and isolating and feeling like an island.  But, in the past 6 months, I’ve made an effort.  With my family, my friends, but mostly with myself and the pieces have fallen into place.  It blows me away Every. Single. Day.


This is the beginning for me.  I had to let go of all those other things first.  The ego.  Then the boyfriend.  Then the job.  Then security.  Then the house and things.  Goodness, I have soooooo many things!  Now I can embrace the future, school, new friends, new experiences, a new me :)


Stay tuned for the introduction of my new roommate, Roomio.

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?

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.’


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.



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


I am one of those weird people who hate summer.  Sure, when I was a kid it was pretty cool.  No school and I could go to the pool all day.  There were camps to go to and lots of outdoorsy things  to participate in.  Then, I went to college.  And  I got a job and now it’s just hot.  There is no more fun or whole days at the pool.  Well, on the weekends there are.

I do enjoy summer activities, like going to the beach and stuff.  Problem is, I don’t live at the beach.  If I did, I would probably hate my life because as an adult I have to go to work and the beach is right there and I have to wait until Saturday to go there and where the hell do I go on vacation now?  It’s like a sauna in Atlanta.  Being hot is one of my least favorite things ever.  True story.

On Monday, I decided to have some me time and channel fall.  There was just enough breeze that I was able to pretend.  Like, October fall.  Not September, that is just an extension of August.  It was lovely.  Until a mosquito bit me and I saw a flea.

Now we are in a heat wave.  And it’s humid as it can be.  And I feel like whining about it, you’re welcome.

UPDATE:  When I was out for my lunch break, I was people just wilting in the heat.  People are literally melting.  True story.

If you don’t know anything about my air-conditioner, you may want to read here and here.    And then please come back.

The HVAC guy finally came by yesterday!!  This is after calling them Tuesday and Wednesday and having them promise to come by and call me if they weren’t going to make it.  Needless to say, they didn’t come by and didn’t call.  Not to mention, it’s been hot as hell here.  Like, 90.  BS.  So, yesterday, I was told they would be by between 6:30 and 7 pm.  He showed promptly at 7:20.  I almost did a happy dance.

Guess what?  I need a new unit.  And they won’t be able to install it until early next week.  Which is fine.  Kind of.  Because, hopefully I will be riding around Atlanta on my totally awesome scooter tomorrow.  Roomie and I have been enjoying cold showers, which as not as bad as one would assume.  Especially when it’s hot as hell in your house.

And, I took full advantage of waiting for the A/C dude last night by digital scrapbooking for the first time.  Which took about 2 hours.  To make one page.  Because my computer sucks and I’m pretty photoshop illiterate.

I am experiencing a situation right now where I just want to bang my fists against the floor and yell, “It’s not fair!!”  Like, it totally sucks having to be responsible and deal with things like an adult.

So, my alma mater, whose name I will not mention, decided that I owed them $1,500 for a semester I did not attend…I called and argued with them and insisted I wasn’t going to pay.  They turned it over to collections.

I appealed this, meanwhile, the collections agency is calling me and my parents (who I haven’t lived with for 6 years) about 5 times a day.  I told them I have an appeal in the works and they basically said, “Well, until the college tells us differently, we’re going to continue harassing you incessantly.”  (At least they’re honest)  My appeal was denied.  The school claimed that I registered for an undergraduate art 101 class.  Dude…as a English Graduate Student, it wasn’t possible for me to register for that class.  Not possible.  And, undergraduate classes aren’t $1,500 a semester.  For one class.  Ridic.

I got a call last week telling me I owed this wonderful institution $80 and need to come down and pay it as soon as possible.  Question mark? “I thought I owed $1500 dollars to the collection agency.”

“Oh, no one told you?  Your appeal was accepted.  Now you only owe 80.”  I’m so confused at this point, you guys.  I got a letter telling me it was denied, whatever.  And I don’t think I owe them any money, but it’s worth $80 to get them to leave me alone.

I’m buying a Scooter.  (This is related, guys, promise)  It’s adorable, and I’ve wanted one for years but wasn’t able to afford one.  Now I can!  Here is me on the exact model I am getting, color and everything!

Justin came with me and I picked it out and we started the loan process, BUT the school still has that shit in collections.  Even though they say I don’t owe them anymore.  Like, a while ago.  Bitches.

I really wanted to throw a temper tantrum and call the Student Accounts and scream at them about how they suck because I never owed them any money for a semester I wasn’t even a student.  But, I acted like an adult and went down there and talked to the dude and he called the collections agency.  And now I only have to wait 30 days.  To get my dream scooter.  Because they are assholes.  And this isn’t the first time they have claimed I owe them money I don’t owe.  But it’s ok.  I will have the Scooter and it will be awesome.

P.S.– My coworkers are great.  They gave me this

Show me you love me


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