What to do.

What do you do when everything turns out wrong, your car has made it very clear that it is only going to work when it feels like working and every muscle in your upper body is throbbing because you decided you were going to go on an uber-crazy crocheting kick the weekend before portfolio review?

You say "Fuck it, it's Christmas."

Seriously. This is the only time of year that phrase actually applies so use it, and use it often.

You push through the pain and finish your projects, you survive portfolio review (barely, most likely) and then you get wasted and celebrate the holidays with people you actually like (and who like you quite a bit as well.) Things aren't that bleak. Really. How can they be when you've got a giant tree sitting a few feet away from you and ornaments sprawled all over the floor? Men suck and I'm intolerable - big surprise there - but shelving all that until after the holidays is the best possible thing I can do because, by the time new years rolls around, I know for a fact none of it will mean a damn thing. I'll always be who I am - maybe someday I'll find someone who appreciates me and if not, there are tons of homeless cats I can adopt to fill that void. And I really love kittens so that's not a big sacrifice there. I mean, really people, how could you not love kittens?!? THEY'RE SO SQUISHABLE!
Anyway, I'm getting off topic here. The fact of the matter is, Christmas has this wonderful way of making everything better and I'm planning on taking full advantage of that fact. This week is going to be awesome. Stay tuned for updates.. and maybe even pictures of my finished projects.. if they don't get stolen out of New Theatre that is by whatever jackass thinks it's a-okay to wander off with other people's stuff while they're busy *gasp* doing work in the theatres. I hate people. Not kittens though. Definitely not kittens.

Oh so silly..

I am an idiot.
Seriously.
This day, this very moment in fact, proves it.

I'm sitting here, almost 1 in the morning, with curlers in my hair and goodies cooling in the kitchen wondering if I've done enough to be appealing. Seriously. Yeah. I'm an idiot. Even more so because honestly, at this point this entire situation has gone from making me feel incredibly special and pretty and interesting to making me feel like a worthless whore and I'm still cranking out baked goods. I still care. I'm still trying.

What the hell is wrong with me?
There aren't even words to describe this level of stupid.

I keep trying to rationalize the whole thing by saying that if this were just a physical thing, there are easier women than me to get that from so it must be something more! He must like me! Yeah! Sure. [cue sardonic look]

Perhaps some back story will provide the answer... December, in recent years, has had an incredibly odd effect on me.. I feel profoundly lonely. Absolutely, almost desperately, lonely and I try to fill that void by giving as much as I can and hoping that other people's happiness will just rub off on me eventually. Either that or I hover around the spiked punch. In both cases though, I'm trying to compensate for something I'm lacking.

Maybe that's what I'm doing here.
Or maybe I'm just hoping that one of these days I'll start to feel special and pretty and interesting again.
Or maybe I'll just never learn my lesson.

It's that kind of day.

Today was long.

Really really really long.

The sad thing is, I generally don't have a problem with Wednesdays, but today, for some reason, insisted on being problematic. It's like someone somewhere decided that today was going to suck and I was just going to have to hold on tight and wait for the ride to be over. And hold on I did - despite the fact that I forgot half of my life at home this morning and spent the rest of the day trying to make up for it. Also, people can be really creepy sometimes and that certainly didn't help things.

All in all, today calls for Harry Potter fanfiction and a really large mug of tea.



Also.. this picture is hilarious. Just sayin. [Insert joke Lucius Malfoy/pussy-cat joke here]

Mystery solved.

I always ask myself why it is that every guy that's interested in me treats me like shit. Today, though, I finally figured it out.

Answer: Because every nice guy that's interested in me, I treat like shit.

Oh yes.

It's classy.

And oh so attractive, I might add.

I wish I could provide some deep psychological insight into why I am the way I am, why I ruin every good thing, why I have some pathological need to hurt anyone who tries to get close to me. I wish I had a good excuse. I wish I hadn't become my Father circa 1999.

I could say I was scared to let anyone get close to me, but this isn't a Lifetime movie. I could say that I expect even the nice ones to be secretly trying to make a break for it and I've decided to hurt them before they hurt me, but I'm 20 years old and that's a revenge plot that sounds like it was hatched by a grade-schooler. I could say that I'm just unlovable, but I have people who love me very much and I don't spend my time constantly alienating them. I could stay all of those things... some of them may be true, but that doesn't make them okay.

Maybe romance just isn't my thing. Maybe I'll just say that. Maybe It's my destiny to bounce from shitty guy to shitty guy until I'm old and gray and left with nothing but my bitterness to keep me warm at night. I always thought I would be good at love. Looks like the answer to that is a resounding "no." I'm good at hurting people. I suppose everyone needs a talent.

Really? Well, yes, actually.

Let's sum up today, shall we? I was forced to drink French Vanilla coffee this morning due to the lack of regular coffee in the whole of the DCC (It was vile. No amount of sugar or cream could save it. It was the worst $1.75 I've ever spent. I wanted to cry.). I went to On the Border with Kate Black, and then to Dunkin Donuts (where I got real coffee. It was glorious.), and then to the dollar store where I spent inordinate amounts of money on various Christmas wrapping papers, package toppers, and presents. Yay!
So, at this point in the story, things aren't looking too bad, right? I was thinking that too. I was going to check today off as a good one and be thoroughly pleased.... until I realized that, once again, I had been food poisoned. There goes Thursday.
Although, on the bright side, Luna always does adorable things when I'm not feeling well. She's currently asleep on my feet (keeping them incredibly warm, I might add) and snoring quite contentedly... and people wonder why I like her more than them. Go figure.

Since I'm pretty much stuck here due the aforementioned sleeping kitty/feet situation (unless I need to puke - then all bets are off), lets chat about secrets. I love them. I also love sharing them. Yeah, I know that makes no sense, but bear with me - I'm about to share some shit! Fun, right?! Okay, well, I'm excited....
Here are some things about me in list form because I really really really love lists. It's a problem.
- I believe in magic.. and I'm pretty sure God is a chick. Don't agree with me? That's cool. To each his own. But don't try to convert me to anything, I'll get really cranky and bitter and I'll probably storm off to keep myself from hurling insults at you. And please, try to remember, a Bible given as a not-so-subtle Christmas present will not be appreciated. Trust me.

- I read the wedding section of the paper every week for two reasons. 1. I love making fun people's ridiculous wedding pictures. 2. Honestly, I find marriage to be the most frightening prospect ever. It's really the only thing I'm afraid of and I give people who are willing to take the plunge all the credit in the world. Dedicating yourself to one person and trusting them to not compeltely screw you over, to me, is one of the bravest things you can do.

- I have an obsession with large, furry hats. While I'm sure this doesn't come as a shock to most people, I do need to confess that I find men in large, furry hats incredibly sexy. I stop and stare at men in large, furry hats - blatently stare. Add a moustache and you'd be hard-pressed to keep me from following the guy home. I'm also a sucker for nice hair or a great ass or a great sense of humor, but I feel like that's a discussion best saved for a personal ad.

- I have a weakness for expensive chocolate and Crumbs cupcakes. Go to Saks Fifth Avenue, go to the dessert bar, and take a look at the chocolate there. Oh. My. God. Yes, there is one that has champagne in it. Yes, it's devine. Yes, I'm obsessed with it. Now, go to Crumbs and look at every single thing they have there. Yes, it's all amazing. Yes, their frosting is the best ever. Yes, I'm obsessed with them too.

- Boston Legal is my favorite show of all time. I want to marry Alan Shore. I want Denny Crane to be my best friend. I want to have drinks with Jeffery Coho. I want Betty White to sell me pastries after she murders someone. I love it. It's funny and human and smart and clever and pure perfection. It's the show I watch when I have a bad day, when I have a good day, when I need to get work done, when I don't want to do any work... I think you get the picture.

- I tell people all the time that I'm going to run away and buy a farm.. but I'm really not kidding. I love animals. If I could move to the middle of nowhere and raise Alpaca and spin yarn and make hats, I totally would. As long as I had a hunky guy with me to kill all the bugs and keep me warm at night.... but mostly to kill all the bugs.

- I still sleep with stuffed animals at night because I can't sleep if I don't have something to cuddle with. I have a cuddling problem. If there's nothing for me to hold on to at night, I'll spend the entire time I'm supposed to be sleeping unconsiciously moving about the bed looking for something to squish and dreaming that I've been abandoned or that I'm being chased by monsters. Just as a side-note, I also tend to be a cover-hog. And a pillow hog. And sometimes I flail. I probably shouldn't be allowed to share a bed with anyone.

- I either eat nothing or I eat way too much. Some days, I'm not hungry at all, and others, I'm craving a steak so badly that when I finally get one, I rip it apart like an animal. It all depends on my mood. Most days, though, I just eat frosting and drink some Mountain Dew and life is good. Really though, never get between me and a steak. I like it rare, I like it bloody, and I don't like anyone fucking with it.


Wow, that was a lot of sharing.
P.S. I love Kawaii Not.

Octopus.

I want one.

I mean, yes, I want a lot of animals, but I feel like an octopus would be especially fun to have despite the fact that I couldn't take it out of the water for fear it would go the way of the tiny water frogs of my youth (aka it would be dead and I would cry). But I could keep it in an awesomely cool tank and watch it wander in and out of glass bottles and hide underneath tons o' coral.

......and maybe poke at it occasionally.

Enough is enough.

I have just about had it with people and their ridiculous misconceptions about me, and, as such, I think it's high time we got some things straightened out. Is this going to be a tell-all expose about my life? Eh, no, probably not, I really don't have all day, but there really are some points that need to be touched on.

First of all, it's true, I've made more than my share of mistakes in the past few months and that's left me feeling a but vulnerable. I messed around with the wrong men, put off all of my work, and I'm pretty sure my liver is about to jump ship, but that doesn't mean I'm broken and/or otherwise incapable of carrying on. People make bad decisions all the time and then get on fine with the rest of their lives without the unsolicited advice of everyone they know. It's tough to be 20, especially when you make rash emotionally-driven decisions like I do, but I'll make it, I'll survive, and I'll use whatever coping mechanisms I can until I'm really feeling right again, regardless of whether or not they're popular. The overall message of this paragraph: It would be super if you could all back off. Okay? Thanks.

Secondly, I do some ridiculous things, yes, but that doesn't make me crazy. Passionate? Maybe. Fool-hardy? Possibly. Determined? Definitely. But not crazy. When I want something, I go after it, vigorously, and if I don't end up with it in the end... well, let's just say it's more than a little bit devastating. I was always taught that hard work and determination will get you what you want in this world - I've never had to cope with that not ringing true. I'm confused right now, and, I'll admit it, sad. However, I'll get over this too, I'm a big girl... it may just take me a bit longer. The overall message of this paragraph: I'm hurt right now, and even more confused about life than I normally am, but that doesn't mean I want your advice or your sympathy. You can all back off when it comes to this too. Okay? Thanks.

Lastly, I drink. I drink when I'm rendering, I drink when I'm watching football, I drink on holidays, and I drink with my friends. Do I have a drinking "problem?" No. Do I give a shit if you think I do? No. Also, when I drink, I have a tendency to post things on Facebook and text people. Are those practices wreckless and immature? Probably. Again, do I give a shit if you think I'm wreckless or immature? No. I make my own decisions, right or wrong, and then I live with them. The overall message of this paragraph: If you want to judge what I do, that's okay, but don't think I care about your opinion on any of my actions. Again, backing off is probably the best plan. Okay? Thanks.

So, what have we all learned here today? Well, I think the moral of this tyrade is you all really don't know me or my life and therefore your advice is both completely baseless and unhelpful. It would be amazing if you could stop proffering it like I'm some scared kid who needs their hand held and their life straightened out. While I do generally like holding hands, it seems inappropriate in these particular circumstances. Seriously, it does.

Movie Endings.

"So... what happened next?"
"What do you mean? Nothing happened. That's the end of the story."
"What?! It can't be! Something had to have happened! You opened up, you practically wrote a book for Christ's sake! You can't tell me 'that's the end of the story' because I don't believe you."
"I'm sorry. I may lie about a lot of things, but that really was the end."
"Oh. I'm... well, I'm sorry."

Looking back on this conversation as I'm sitting on my couch eating donuts and watching Bridget Jones' Diary, I can understand why she was so disappointed. At the time, I wanted to punch her in the face- how dare she exacerbate my embarrassment by not instantly comprehending the fact that my expression of feelings meant nothing! Now, though, I totally get it. She was looking for John Cusack outside my window with a boom box or Colin Firth at my front door holding a new diary and completely in love with me despite the fact that I'm a total loon. She made the fatal mistake, as I often seem to, of mistaking real life for the movies. In movies, John Bender turns out to have a heart of gold and Bridget Jones gets a man. In real life, Bender is just a pot-smoking tool and Ms. Jones is doomed to a lonely life filled with binge drinking and daytime television because despite her clever, charming personality, no man wants to date an uncoordinated nut (trust me). In real life, our heroes and heroines end up lonely. Reality renders the the people we root for as just people, not being helped along by the gentle nudge of a writer but completely on their own, dangling in a sea of emotional confusion and making the best decisions they can without having someone who already knows the ending of their story pen their every word.

Thus, it's hard to live in real life. Here there are no movie studios pressuring the director for a happy ending, no "chance meetings" on street corners that allow the characters to work out their differences, no quirky, meddling friends who are determined to get our hero and heroine to realize they've been meant for each other all along. In real life, we're alone and constantly stumbling through one situation and then straight into another; there are no pauses or montages where we get to reflect, no clear-as-day flashbacks to help us remember how we felt about something, we don't get a musical number to help us understand our seemingly incomprehensible feelings, and when something is particularly tough, no one is going to cue the apperance of some random old person who just happens to have an anecdote that completely relates to our problems.

Real life is all about figuring out incredibly difficult things on your own, which means, logically, you're going to fuck a lot of things up.. and, unfortunately, no one is going to step in to guarantee you get a second chance.

The rest of the conversation went as follows, in case you're curious:
"Do you think you'll ever hear from him again?"
"Probably not. I'm clearly insane and I'm a huge pain in the ass, no one would subject themselves to that."
"But there's still hope."
"I guess, I don't know."
"C'mon, hunny, there's always hope."

Clearly someone has seen too many John Hughes movies.



Also..

So true.

Honesty.

Yeah, I know what you're thinking.. "Honesty really isn't your thing, hunny. You should probably stick to what you know, like lying and cheating and sarcastic comments. Oh, and while you're at it, go buy some more rediculous hats and break some more hearts because you're good at those things too."

Shockingly enough, though, I'm much better at honestly than I think anyone would give me credit for. Seriously - it's almost at much fun as lying. I spent last night going through my contacts and texting all of the people I loved and missed and all of the ones I've been wanting to punch in the face but haven't for fear of getting too carried away and/or getting arrested. My shining achievement though, if I do say so myself, was my midnight note which was chock full of both honesty and my token rambling. Today, I feel pretty damn amazing. Honesty really might be the best policy... although strawberry cake with oodles of frosting certainly helps.

I really don't know where to go from here, hell, I don't even know why I typed that, because frankly, I'm not sure I have to "go" anywhere. Imma just sit right here and reap the benefits of being honest. Yup. That sounds like a plan. Oooo.. and I'm also going to work on some Christmas presents. And eat more cake. And continue to wear this hat despite the fact that I'm inside.

This is going to be a good weekend... and life is definitely looking up.

When all the desserts in the case turn out to be rotten...

...you soldier on.



No, really, you do. You realize that someday you're going to meet someone who is going to run toward you, not away from you. You also come to terms with the fact that you've spent the last few days feeling like a crazy person because you care too much about people to just let things stand and not pursue something you're passionate about.



Oh well.



A rotten dessert is a rotten dessert - there's nothing you can do about it. Everything can't be saved.



Also.... if I was a dessert.....
Evidently this is just a bit too sweet and overwhelming (emphasis on "overwhelming") for most.

Definitions and Facts.

bravado: [bruh-vah-doh]
–noun
1. a. A blustering swaggering conduct.
b. A pretense of bravery.
2. The quality or state of being foolhardy.

arrogance: [ar-uh-guhns]
–noun
1. an attitude of superiority manifested in an overbearing manner or in presumptuous claims or assumptions.


If anyone asked me what two things I hate the most in a man, it would be bravado and arrogance..... for the sheer fact that I bring enough of it to the table for the both of us. Everything I say and do is coated in layers upon layers of pretentious nonsense, and it's nearly impossible to get an answer out of me that has some real emotional depth connected to it.... most especially when I've made a conscious decision to be as evasive as possible.

Basically, I'm an impossible woman.

It's impossible to tell what I want, what I'm thinking, or how I'm feeling. Even asking me a direct question doesn't work because I'll still find some way to turn my answer into a sarcastic quip.

Given all this though - And I know this is going to come as a shock. Brace yourselves - I do, in fact, have feelings. As much as I love to tell people that my heart is a frozen block of ice, in truth, it's rather squishy and quite vulnerable. It stands to reason that someone with a puffy, delicate heart would use whatever defense they have to keep from being hurt. It also stands to reason that those defenses are not ones that are easily breached.

It's because of all of this that men generally find me kind of frosty and unattractive. And when I say "kind of," I mean "completely"... If the White Witch and Frosty the Snowman had a love child, that would be me. When given the choice between me and someone easier (i.e. anyone else ever), I'm not going to be anyone's first choice. I'm much too much work, I'm way too mean, and it's going to take some time for there to be any payoff. The only things I love are ridiculous - like unicorns and plushies and cute baby animals and cupcake-scented candles and anything with glitter - and the only things I like to do went out of fashion 30 years ago. To sum it up, you'd have to be insane to want to be with me... insane and extremely persistent because it takes a hell of a lot to get me to actually be honest and not coat everything I say in dripping sarcasm.

And I can assure you, no man is that persistent. Not for me at least.
Which is why, I suppose, I was gifted with such amazing friends.. someone has to love all this crazy... and I'm okay with that.





Because this post has been particularly self-serving, I'm leaving you with this adorable, gratuitious picture of Roly Poly Snowman soft toy by FantasticToys. Eveything in this shop is super cute.. and this snowman is sort of how I imagine I would look if I was a frozen ball of ice... oh wait...

Rambling Man.

"So give me to the Rambling Man, let it always be known that I was who I am.."


We have no heat.
Here I am camped out on my living room floor with a cup of hot tea sewing buttons on a shirt-jacket I made last year (I realized only this morning that I forgot to sew on a button.. or two... yes, I do want people to pay me to do this. Wondeful, isn't it?). I can't really feel my fingers, but it's marvelous. This is how I always envision fall... bitter cold but still full of possibilities.

Speaking of possibilities, I just purchased these glasses off of Etsy..

Aren't they just fantastic? VerboseNYC had them and I simply couldn't resist. As an added bonus, they have my reading perscription already in them which means they're ready to wear. Hopefully I'll actually remember to wear them..... I'm absolutely terrible when it comes to wearing my glasses. I should actually be wearing them right now but that would require me to get up..... which obviously isn't happening.

Honestly, my mind is so scattered right now. I just finished sewing on my buttons, I have my motivational Perry the Platypus plushie next to me (which sadly, does not motivate me to do my drafting homework, but, hey, nothing's perfect), but my brain can't seem to focus on anything for more than a few seconds. Maybe it's the excessive amounts of Mountain Dew I drank today or the fact that I'm going to the Doctors tonight so they can finally tell me what the hell is wrong with my body/uterus. It might even be that I finally decided that Pie really was the best choice all along or that some people can't seem to understand that I'm never going to pull my punches, no matter how many "meaningful" talks they try to have with me. Who knows. I'm going to go eat some french fries and try not to be too nervous or think about Pie too much or purchase any more awesome/rediculous things off of the internet.

Well, I did only say I'd try..... I'm not making any promises here.

Yeah. Sure.

"Wow, Nicole, you've really improved..."

I'm about to let you in on a little secret...
I haven't actually improved.

According to Websters Dictionary, the definition of improvement is as follows: To enhance in value or quality : make better. Basically, you become better in comparison to where you were before.
Unfortunately, if you were actually at what people are referring to as your "improved state" the entire time.....
Well, let me give you a (purely hypothetical) example:
Say you go to art school. You come back from summer vacation only to realize that the quality of the work you had produced the year before meant nothing and everyone was still treating you like a complete imbecile (despite the fact that you got the only "A" in a class about design, full of designers, of which you are not one). So there you are, feeling more than slightly put off when suddenly someone with zero talent gets rewarded with a huge project for no other reason than they happen to kiss a lot of ass.
And you thought you were mad before.
At this point, why try? You're not sure you even want to be there and someone with the drawing skills of a house plant is being treated like they're the second coming of Edith Head. What the hell is the point of trying, really?
So you don't. You slack off, all your projects look like a 1st grader did them with a crayon (although they're still better than some people's projects..), and no one treats you any differently because, apparently, they expected this from you all along. Then, one day, you wake up and realize that you're getting calls to do outside jobs based on -GASP- the quality of your work and you're also kind of a genius. So what do you do now? Well, you just start doing projects at your normal level of excellence and everyone thinks you're "learning so much" in your classes that you couldn't help but improve! Now you look like the Comeback Kid, everyone is going on about how great it is that you can finally draw a human form that doesn't look like a gingerbread man, and telling you that you're really going to go far. Ha. Ha ha. If only they knew....

It's good to be me.

[As a side note, the best part about this whole thing is that I'm still "improving".... and some people clearly never will.]

The love of my life.

Luna.

She's currently sleeping on my foot.

She just peeked open one eyelid, streched out her paw, and tangled her claws into my sock.

I'm not allowed to go anywhere.

Who would argue with that?

Want.

One Eyed Octopus on Wheels by PearsonMaron

Friendly Narwhal Laptop Decal by beepart

Chicken Meat Chart Pillow by GoBuggyGo

Cute-thulhu by Jellibat

Octopus Sterling Silver Oxidized Necklace by Irisjewelrydesign

So... who wants to bank roll me?

Nerves.

Two years ago when I had surgery, I wasn't nervous.
I wasn't afraid.
I wasn't even bothered by it really.
I mean, I hate those stupid open-backed hospital gowns that really only serve to titillate any pervy members of the hospital staff that happen to be wandering around when you're trying to find a bathroom and I was a bit angry about having to wear one, but, other than that, I was the epitome of cool when they put me under. Even the anaesthesiologist seemed a bit thrown by the fact that I was so cavalier about the whole thing. He kept giving my Father the "Your daughter is either crazy-brave or on drugs" look in between sticking a needle in my hand. Go figure.

I'm nervous now though.
I'm nervous about the stupid test I have to have later today.
I'm nervous about the results.
I'm nervous that, because I happen to be benched right now when it comes to sex, that I'm suddenly going to be way less appealing.*
I'm nervous that this isn't going to be a quick fix.
I'm nervous as hell and, frankly, I wish I could have just played hookie with Kate all day instead of having to face real life.

Tonight is going to suck and tomorrow is going to be really interesting.








*As a side note on this point, because I know I'm going to get guff for it, I realize that any guy who only wants to have sex with me isn't worth my time anyway. I realize that. I will punch anyone who decides to go all Femi-nazi on me because they think I'm niave and/or dillusional. Girl power is great and all, but honestly all it really serves to do most of the time is cover up our larger insecurities about the way men view us so cool it with that shit for a second, okay? Here's the thing - at this current juncture, I don't think I'm ready for the revelation that a guy I might want only wants me for sex. I don't think I have the capacity to be let down by that right now, and this entire "Hey you can't have sex because your uterus is on strike" thing is sort of pushing that issue to the forefront and forcing me to deal with it. I'm cranky about it and, obviously, nervous. If you still feel the need to lecture me, you've been warned, and I have a mean right hook.

A random string of thoughts and cuteness.

Okay. How cute are these shoes?I just bought these today from TOMS shoes - you know, that awesome organization that makes adorable hipster shoes and, when you purchase a pair, they send a pair to a child in need (hopefully a pair with glitter) which makes you feel super about your life and the fact that you don't do anything else to give back to the less fortunate because you're too busy with Mason Gross to remember that other people even exist?
I may have gone off topic there....
Anyway! You should all go buy a pair of TOMS shoes because they're fabulous and it's all for a good cause.

Also, and this is totally unrelated, why are all the awesomely creepily cute illustrations that I may possibly want to use as inspiration for a future monster crochet project from Japanese books that are impossible to get a hold of?! I was browsing through the blog Pink Tentacle (which is awesome, by the way) and these fantastic illustrations kept popping up like this one of a japanese sea monster (Yeah, that's a sea monster. I know, it's adorable. And googlie-eyed. Try not to giggle.)

Or this one of the anatomy of a "Black hair cutter" a beastie that supposedly sneaks up on women in dark alleys and cuts off their hair. (Seriously. That's their monster. Seriously.)I was looking to purchase the books that these pictures came from only to find that I can only buy them in Japanese.... and only if I use yen. It made me want to punch babies. For now, I'm just going to have to use what I have and deal with it. God, that is so not like me.

Speaking of dealing with what I have... Well, I'm simply not going to do that with my (purely hypothetical) desserts. What I have sucks. SUCKS. I've decided I hate pie. Even more so now that I'm just generally pissed off about life and the fact that my body is defective. Also, I'm starting to hate cake too. The whole "now that I'm sick, life seems too short, etc., etc..." line really is true. Life is too short for me to chase around or even care about some cake that doesn't seem to care about me.
I'm tired.
I'm in pain.
I'm going to bury myself in my yarn and just be done with it.
Done with desserts until what I want stops throwing it's frosting around to other patrons like it's going stale and what I don't want gets purchased by someone else.
It'll all sort itself out.
In the meantime, I have glittery shoes on the way.

Something happier.

And I'm not talking about me..


How is this not the coolest thing on Etsy right now?!imadeyouabeard has the cutest shop ever. I. want. everything.

It's inspired me to try to crochet those moustaches I've been meaning to attempt for some time now.
You know.. right after I start (and finish) my Halloween costume, finish my unicorn, finish the half-started embroidery pieces lying around my life, make a purple sequined cod piece (oh no, I'm not kidding), and do all the work I'm actually going to get graded on.

They better not have to cut anything out of me, because I simply don't have the time for it. So there.

Things I learned today.

1. My body is defective.
Like seriously defective. Apparently it now needs a tune-up every two years just so it can fucking function. My accupuncture appointment tonight turned into a roundtable discussion between myself, my accupuncturist, and my gynocologist about whether I was going to have to go under the knife again or if I just have a bad hormonal imbalance. Oh yes. It was super relaxing. Either way I have to go for another ultrasound (and not the fun kind from Juno), do another spit test, and go back for another appointment. Did I mention that they probably won't come to some kind of concensus for at least another two weeks and I'm going to be in pain that entire time? It's super great to be me right now.

2. I don't care about cake or pie.
I told myself I was never going to chase a (hypothetical) dessert around ever again... and I broke that promise. It was a mistake. Now I have real problems and I couldn't care less about a couple of pastries that just see me as a quick piece of ass. If you want me, really want me, delicious sweet lickable sugary confections, you know where to find me.

3. I have the most amazing friends on the planet.
People say that all the time, but for me, it's really true. I'm an asshole and I have someone to go out to lunch with every week who adores me, a friend who's willing to get up at like 6am to see me tomorrow, and a bunch of people I know I can count on for hugs and support...
And I know I'm going to need it. Especially now.

I know what my ideal outcome for this situation would be..
Picture it:
[WARNING! Uber-sentimental ramblings of a sick person to follow. Not for those with weak stomachs.]
My seemingly unattainable cake and I waltzing through the streets of New York City. Him, actually interested in more than just sleeping with me and me not doubled over in pain, feeling lightheaded or nauseous, or otherwise ill. He will want to hold my hand, I won't bite his head off when he tries. He'll realize I'm what he always needed and let me in and I won't run like a frightened school girl when he does. We'll have fun, more fun than I've ever had with a guy. I'll be myself, really myself, and he'll like it. And when it's all over, and he wakes up and realizes he's never going to find anyone better than me, he'll call. And he won't want to hang up.
[End of sentimental nonsense.]

But that's not going to happen.

The reality is I have feelings for a guy who is never going to want any of that, and I don't even have the capacity to care about that fact. All I can do is brave these tests and try to sleep at night with the thought of another surgery-recovery period looming just beyond the edges of my dreams.

It's time to put my big girl pants on again.
Damn.

Howl.

"Be careful of the curse that falls on young lovers;
Starts so soft and sweet and turns them to hunters.
A man who's pure of heart and says his prayers by night
May still become a wolf when the autumn moon is bright.
If you could only see
The beast you've made of me
I held it in but now it seems you've set it running free
The saints can't help me now
The ropes have been unbound
I hunt for you with bloodied feet across the hallow'ed ground."

Perhaps this isn't the best day to be blogging with my head pounding and a drink in my hand, but, with that said, I have a confession to make.

I have a terrible habit of being able to figure out what I want very, very quickly. The amount of time it takes for me to be able to admit that "want" to myself varies, but I always know. Somewhere, in the back of my incredibly fucked up mind, I always know. And when this whole (hypothetical) cake vs. pie mess started, I knew what I wanted immediately.

And today, I finally admitted it to myself.

Now, the trick is to let it come to me.... and resist the urge to hunt it down.

Cake or Pie.

I have a scenario for you.... purely hypothetical, of course.

Let's say you have a huge sweet tooth... and I mean huge. We're talking a completely epic, creampuff annihilating, eclair eviscerating, insatiable sweet tooth here....

BUT all you've been able to eat for the last 8 months was Jell-o. Raspberry Jell-o. Watery, Robitussin-esque rasberry Jell-o day-in and day-out for 8 whole months. Your taste buds have practically shut down from over-exposure to the most banal dessert in the world and you think you're going to have to suffer like this forever. You think you're doomed to a life of boredom and understimulation and that never again will you be able to have a dessert worthy of your discerning palette.

And then suddenly, like a miracle, the Jell-o is gone. Forever. And you're just trying to recover, honestly you are, you're not taking any big steps or trying to rush your newly freed sweet tooth along. There's no creme brule or raspberry pavlova or sticky toffee pudding for you, just a cookie or maybe a few Hershey kisses if you're feeling particularly racy. You don't want anything sweeter, you don't think you're ready, you don't think you can really appreciate the depth of flavor of anything more complex.

Or maybe you can, just maybe you can.. very suddenly once again, you find yourself in the most delectable bakery you've ever seen. It's as if every sweet in there were made specifically to tempt you, to woo your taste buds back to their former glory, and you're overwhelmed.

Positively and utterly overwhelmed.

It takes you a while, but you manage to beat back the desserts that seem to be throwing themselves at you in their desperation to be sold and to fend off the ones that you know are going to taste just downright terrible. You've got it narrowed down to that age old choice: cake or pie.

On one hand you've got the pie. It's homey, comforting, and is trying so hard to be sweet and delicious. It wants you to want it, badly. And you want to want it too.. you know it's a good choice. A safe, easy, good choice.

And then there's the cake. The flashy, dangerous cake buried under some positively delectable frosting. Maybe there's something more substantial under there... in fact, you're pretty sure there is, but you know it's too sweet. You know if you choose that cake it could either be the exact thing you've always wanted or it could make you terribly and horribly sick.

You know you have a bit of an impulse control problem, that's what got you stuck in raspberry Jell-o hell to begin with... but it's your first time shopping for dessert since then and you don't want to settle....

So what do you choose?

Cake or Pie?

Truth.

Things I am:


Impatient. It gets me in trouble a lot, but it's a habit I can't seem to kick. I want what I want when I want it and I can't understand why people aren't as decisive or demanding as I am. It also causes me to run head-first into things, often without thinking. Bottom line - it gets me in trouble. Often.


Moody. I'm never neutral about anything. Ever. I'm constantly bouncing from one extreme to another, especially if I haven't eaten. You don't want to see me pre-coffee and a donut in the morning.. it's a scary, scary thing. Like Roger-Moore-in-Octopussy scary. Yeah. I know. It's really bad.


Judgmental. I either like you or I don't.. either way, though, when I see you, I'm going to judge what you're wearing, what you're saying, and what you're doing and, if I think it's rediculous, I will mock you for it until I'm dead or you do something stupider. Just expect it and move on.


Sarcastic/Inappropriate. I always say the wrong thing. Always. I know what the right thing is, but I love watching people squirm (and I'm very good at making it happen). I don't pull punches, I don't shut my mouth just because it's disrespectful, and I don't answer to anyone. If you don't want me to target you, don't come near me, because I can't help myself. Simple as that.



Things I'm not:


Nice. Here, wait, let me repeat it again.. I am not nice. Not at all. You may think I am, but that's because you haven't done anything stupid enough for me to mock yet. I'm constantly calculating, constantly judging, and if I'm not saying anything mean, it's because I'm thinking something mean or texting something mean about you to the person standing next to you. Oh yes. I do that.


Slow. Don't ever assume I don't know what's going on. I probably know what stupid stunt you're going to pull before you've even figured it out yet. Don't let the pom-pom hat fool you, I am not a simpleton. I know. I get it. Assuming I'm a step behind you is going to be your downfall.


Too young. I'm 20 years old. Age-wise, I'm a wee little baby, but I grew up around old people. Lots and lots of old people who decided it was their mission in life to teach me about "things." I know what TV show, movie, song, or otherwise out-dated nonsense you're talking about. You're not going over my head. Trust me. I'm with you. I know Hawaii-50 isn't new, I know Sunny Crocket wasn't originally played by Colin Farrell, Yes, the Thomas Crown Affair was better with Steve McQueen, No, I'm not amused by the fact that you only know one song by The Eagles... Stop underestimating me. You're really just embarrassing yourself.


Average. The things I find funny, cute, or otherwise amusing are not going to appeal to anyone in the same way. Put indelicately, I like things other people find creepy and fucked-up. That's just me. I'm not boring, but I'm certainly not who you bring home to Mom. No really.. your Mom will hate me.




Well.. there you have it. The worst of me.

SO! Who wants a hug now?

High Demand.

Seems like everybody wants a piece of me these days.... and it's starting to get a bit overwhelming. I'm constantly being pulled in a million different directions at once and I can't seem to keep up. My projects are demanding, people keep offering me outside work, and don't even get me started on my personal life. Ugh.

I need a vacation.

Or this..

Uggghhh.

Wow, I feel terrible.

I know that after not posting for so long, that isn't the most encoraging line, but it's so true. I went to New York ComicCon on Saturday and I ate something that has absolutely destroyed my digestive system. Right now, I'm surviving on coffee and a prayer because for some unknown reason, my finicky stomach seems to have a weakness for hot, caffinated beverages. Go figure.

Although, with the exception of this crippling food poisoning, the Con was amazing.
I met Andrew Bell.
Seriously.
Andrew Bell.
(for those of you who live under a rock, click here so you can understand my obsession.)

He is literally my favorite illustrator, and there he was behind the Dead Zebra booth just chillin and moving some Oh No Sushi around like he wasn't a monster-creating god.

"i'm not talking to you right now.."

I mean, c'mon, just look at that! Andrew Bell is amazing and it took everything I had not to just hug him and cry like a baby.. it was a rather embarrassing urge really, but, I think, totally justified.

Also, I got tons of free books, a subscription to Bust magazine for a year for $10, and I bought an adorably creepy tote bag made by Glamour Kills.

[As a side note, I probably shouldn't have started browsing the rest of the website because now I also want this:

::sigh::]

Anyway, it really was the best fucking day ever. (Erm.. well.. with the exception of the fact that I now feel as if my internal organs are trying to escape through my throat, of course.)

Unfortunately, while I'd love to continue to sit here and type about my life, I have a feeling I'm going to start to get a little too personal. I have some decisions to make.. thankfully I have some great sounding boards that don't involve the internet. Hopefully everything will be sorted out soon.. I hate waiting.

Music and a reality check.

I really should be working right now...

Instead, I'm sitting here watching Juno and downloading tons 'o music courtesy of my friend Dave's suggestions. I really really really should be working. ::sigh::

It's an uncomplicated decision though; to work or not to work, to allow myself to be distracted or to buckle down and get some shit done. If only every decision were that simple. If only. I suppose I just live a complicated life.

This morning was decidedly uncomplicated though, as anything with my Boo, Paul, usually is. I got an adorable new t-shirt and a mustard colored (shocking, I know) scarf as we wandered around the crappy mall enjoying each other's company for the first time in weeks. My new philosophy of only surrounding myself with non-crappy people seems to be really working out, thankfully.

Anyway, work is calling me and I suppose I should answer. Maybe lettering and Greek costumes will be more distracting than the Mystery Jets, although I doubt it.

P.S. I want this bag. Badly. Seriously. Look at it. You know you want it too.

The Adventures of Kate and Nikki (and why today totally rocked!)

So, in case you couldn't tell by the title because you're either a moron or blind, in which case I can't imagine how you'd be reading this anyway but whatevs - today totally rocked.

I mean, I knew it was going to be pretty amazing since I was going to lunch with the super-duper, completely amazing Kate, but it got epic fast. We ate at On the Border and indulged in dessert; afterwards we decided to head to Michaels. I thought Kate needed to pick something up for class.. it turns out she just wanted to tempt me with more adorable silly bandz.

Yeah, I said silly bandz. Deal with it.

Anyway, she had given me this adorable opaque yellow sheep at the restaurant and at Michaels we ended up buying a dessert pack, a dino pack, and a farm animal pack. Yeah, we went a little nuts. I ended up going from no silly bandz to this:

.....an awesome collection of uber-cute dinosaurs, sweet treats, and fluffy animals! This is the effect Kate has on me. She seriously takes my cuteness to the next level.

Michaels also had some fab stuff on sale including some mustard colored gardening gloves, a rubber band ball, this eraser...

and this California Condor...

(No, it's not a vulture.. don't even ask.)

So, by the time I dropped Kate off at her class, I was beyond eccstatic. What I didn't know was that things were about to get even better! (I know you're asking how could they, but I'm serious here, they do)

This bag was waiting for me when I got home. Seriously. It was waiting for me in all of its gorgeousness.

Inside were these two adorable little boxes filled with (what else?) cupcakes!

I am telling you right now that Crumbs cupcakes are my one true vice. They’re like uncut cocaine, pure and perfect. I swear their frosting is like God’s gift to mankind – this is why there’s war and famine, something had to balance out all that frosting-y goodness. And damn were they good. I mean, DAMN.

Oh, and apparently, according to this menu at least, they make cupcakes the size of your head.
I may have just died and gone to heaven.
::squee::

And then (oh yes, there's more) I got a package in the mail from a wonderful friend of mine..

She made me a hat. A georgeous, perfect, adorable hat that fits me perfectly and that I never ever want to take off. Tomorrow I'm going to text her and tell her how wonderful she is. :)

So kids, the moral of the story is that I know some truly unique, truly amazing people who make my life so rich and so worth it. I know I couldn't get through a day without them and I wouldn't want to try. I love you guys.

Tomorrow and Saturday should be just as epic... again, I'll keep you posted.

Reasons I'm a dork... and a little sick in the head.

Now that I'm back in school and I require constant inspiration/distraction/motivation, it seems I'm more inclined to let my inner nut-job take over. I'm reading nerdy Lord of the Rings fanfiction, I'm watching Murder, She Wrote and Golden Girl marathons, and all I can think about are fluffy plushies and frosting. I mean, here I am, 20 years old watching High School Musical 2 and giggling like a 12 year old school girl. Not to mention the fact that this amazing movie experience was preceeded by two episodes of Phineus and Ferb and a trashy romance novel (and I still want that damn Perry the Platypus plush!).


I'm beginning to think I'm almost too odd for my own good....

Or that art school is making me even more of a freak than I was before....

God, I shudder to think.. I was practically unlovable before, but now with my super-duper freak flag flying, I have a feeling I'm going to be scaring people away left and right with my obnoxious need to share everything and my lack of consideration for social mores and the feelings of others. Oh well, bring it on. Can't say I ever really liked people anyway. Besides, there are so many nerdy things to do, and so little time to do them!


Plus, according to Stuff No One Told Me (aka my bible):
Seems like everything will work out just fine... after all, this is pretty much the story of my life.

Work work work.

Yikes, I have a lot to do. Drafting and sketching and painting and.. well, I should stop listing everything before my brain explodes. I'm jacked up on iced coffee and I'm currently in a holding pattern waiting for my frozen pizza to be done bubbling and oozing in the oven. I'm tired and awake, frustrated and excited, achey and determined all at the same time....

I have a feeling it's going to be a late night.

To keep myself going I've been plushie-hunting on the internet..

I've decided this needs to be my next conquest:

I mean, c'mon.. how could I possibly resist Perry the Platypus' googlie eyes!

And then perhaps I'll spring for this little guy:

Because a plush spleen is exactly what every girl dreams about..... right?
Okay, maybe it's just what I dream about, but it's still completely adorable!

In addition to plushies and iced coffee, I've decided that if I'm going to make it, some things definitely need to change. Bottom line: I need to clean house... Out with the annoying in with the helpful. People, I mean..

I'll let you know how it goes.

Sometimes it's all about Peanut Butter.

It's tough juggling a huge workload and a messy family. It tends to leave one drained, frustrated, and otherwise useless.. a state not entirely conducive to creativity. And considering I go to an art school, that poses a serious problem. Which is why I've decided to deem today a "Mental Health Day" and pop open a brand new jar of Jif. I have season 4 of Boston Legal all cued up and some drafting homework in front of me and I just finished some meditating and yoga. It's time to get some shit back on track.


I can't control my workload, only when I can get things done. I can't control the amount of pressure they're going to put on me, only how I respond to it. I can't control the actions or reactions of others, only how I much of it I choose to ignore. It seems all about choices these days. Choices to be more productive and less distracted, more confident and less stifled, more creative and less stressed; choices that are going to leave me happier and at peace.


But I can't make all of those choices today. Rome, or so I've been told, wasn't built in a day, and neither can the new, less-"I'm going to chuck you out a window" me. Today, however, I can decide to enjoy this jar of peanut butter and this spectacular season of Boston Legal. Today I can laugh and cry with Alan and Denny and comandeer a jar of peanut buttery sandwich spread and feel decadent and rediculous all at the same time. Today I can think about James Spader in a Coast Guard uniform and giggle when I picture him trying to do my lettering homework (still in uniform, of course). Today I can decide that those things are important, that those are the things that matter, and I can find joy in them.


Because, really, that's all life's about, right?
Living big and laughing often.

Green with... well.. Pinocchio.

So here I am, only the third week of school and already I want to bury my head in a pillow and my sorrows in copious amounts of cookies. The workload is rediculous, as are the hours, and sometimes the density of people makes me want to physically assault them, but other than those things, it's good to be back.

Unfortunately, the only problem seems to be that most of my classes are Designer-oriented, while I'm studying to be a Costume Tech. Every day seems to be filled with comment after comment along the lines of "It seems to me that you're just not thinking like a designer."

Huh. Wonder why that could be?

To combat all of that horribleness, the first thing I did when I walked in the door this afternoon was make a batch of these new Resees No-Bake peanut butter & chocolate bars.

They. Are. MAGNIFICENT!

And while using this brilliant green spatula to help stir them, I started thinking of other green things... and then other adorable things.... and then...

The fabled Pinocchio plushie!

I oogled this little guy for sometime before finally getting him on sale a few weeks ago... here he is traveling around my apartment.

Surveying the landscape from the ficus tree in the living room just like a real scout.

Aww! He's communing with the local wildlife! (Although, I don't think he realizes it's just plastic)

His attempt to infultrate the fridge was rather unsuccessful... He's not very stealthy.

I made him settle for some kettle cooked chips and control of the remote instead of the peanut butter & chocolate goodies... healthier? probably not. But the dessert simply wasn't ready yet!

Speaking of dessert, here's a sneak peak at my latest project... It's both sweet and adorable! I can't wait to finish.
I have so many new patterns I want to post in the shop, but honestly, the whole shop needs a serious re-boot. New pictures, new banner, new marketing campaign.. ::sigh:: It's a lot of work I have no time for, so until I can make some time, the shop is going to continue to be on hiatus.

Also, as a side note, I'm thinking of taking up silkscreening......