Look!

Look! I made a FRAME with my PHOTO in it! There are REFLECTIONS in the tv screen! I am so happy!

totally

Quiz results:

You LOVE ALL of pop's creatures... big and small. You are the Noah of Culture -- "C'mon two of everything, that's right... What? We're missing Unicorns? Well, they're beautiful and unique, but they're not in my immediate proximity, so fuck em." Mkay, maybe Noah didn't say that. What I mean is, you say you love everything but really you just love everything that's shoved infront of your face. You really don't hunt down anything outside your periphery. You're prone to moving to the suburbs sooner than other hipsters, and you probably own Santana's "Supernatural" and/or a Norah Jones CD. Socially, you're passive/aggressive... you'll defend to the death whatever opinion you're told to have.

unrelated recent events

I already tweeted everything here, but I decided I wanted it to stick around longer.

This weekend I had two gatherings that included homemade alcohol drinks and Bruce Willis. Which is, like, a 500% increase on both fronts from the previous year. I still think that Die Hard is a great Christmas movie, and I still don't quite understand the appeal of The Fifth Element. I don't dislike it or anything, it just seems kind of meh. Glogg is fantastic. So is homemade eggnog. Yay!

I introduced myself to a first year printmaking grad, and she said "oh, YOU'RE Angela." Apparently my name is mentioned often to her. Um.

At Home Ec., I was offered sexual favors in trade for my yarn/knitting. TWICE. Someone on OK Cupid offered to stick his cock in a sexy white chick like me. When I said "no thanks," he asked if it was because he was black. And Other Dan wrote to me again, asking if we can hang out. I actually considered it for a minute or two, just because it was flattering (I was such an asshole to him, and he still wants to try again?), but then I remembered that he has nothing to say and kisses like a dead fish. Less stinky, but just as appealing.

Still pining. Roommate Ben. Ignore me, I'll get over it some day.

I'm sharing a ride with Cassie's boyfriend to her parent's house in Illinois. And part of me, the embarrassing, clinging, desperate part, wants to be demonstrably awesome so I can impress her boyfriend, in case it somehow gets to Roommate Ben. Which is ridiculous. He didn't turn me down because his roommate thought I was uncool. And yet, in the farthest recesses of my head, where logic can't reach, this makes sense.

Tonight, I want to drink eggnog and listen to music and dance and pick up my room.
I want to work on my online dating analysis. I need a name for this.
I want to write more messages.
I want to knit my curtain.
I want to knit my new yarn I bought tonight (splurge!).
I want to watch The L Word (embarrassed shrug).
I want to watch Battlestar Galactica.

I think that not all of this will happen. I think I will start with the eggnog and go from there.


EDIT: Almost forgot, I also want to set up my new loom!

braces

I was okay with sad. Sad is getting my lip pierced: by the time I realize "oh shit this hurts," it's over. And it is over. What I wasn't prepared for was the pining. This isn't a piercing, this is braces. I'm stuck. I'm fucking stuck and I hate it.

recycling

I was going to blog about this, and then I was like, hey I already said it, I'll just quote myself instead.

I have no faith in people

The excitement is fading and I want to write it down before it goes away completely. Roommate Ben has a nice smile and a silly goatee and can sing and dance and is funny and used to make robots and barrel race (as in, horses!) and moved as far as I did to get away for college, except his college got messed up by a hurricane, and he wants me to make him a hat made out of cheese because he likes cheese quite a lot. He is delightful. I am convinced that he won't write me back.

that's all

I had a very sad and evocative blog post half-written in my head this afternoon. I was thinking about how much of a lie this story I'm writing about my mother is. I was going to tell the other story, or at least a few parts of it. The other story was just as carefully chosen as the first, but for different reasons. But when I got home, I just didn't want to do it.

getting somewhere

WANT and YAY and WOW

I am giggles and shrieks. I am throwing myself on the floor wailing in despair. I am MINE and WANT and YAY and WOW. My heart, it is a two year old, and it is LOUD. It is also drunk. Or I am. We, my heart and I, are drunk.

How to Fight With Your Mother (demo)

Work in progress. Not happy with the white noise in the back of the vocals. Might see if Josh will help me use the fancy intermedia recording lab to rerecord the narration.