Hey. I'm amazed you've stopped to take a peak! I'm sorry to say that my blog is full of negative, atrociously positive, philosophical, or otherwise stupid posts concerning my thoughts, feelings, and every day life. But what the hell! If you think it's great, then I think you're great. Got it?

May 23, 2012


I fail epically at remembering to put sunscreen on my easily burnable skin. As summer progressively creeps upon us Utahns this year, so does my random urge to draw with chalk, wear short, unflattering shorts, run around the University Mall like a maniac, and run until my shoes come apart.

Weather has been odd lately. Just Monday it was 90 degrees and I thought I would have died from heat exhaustion. I longed for the coolness of winter. Then today comes along with stormy clouds and cold winds, and I immediately wanted the hot weather back.

Currently I'm suffering with the dramas of Rhinitis, or as you normal people like to call it: head cold. I know it's just a simple cold, but every minute it wears on I just want to strangle myself or replace my head with some other healthy head so I won't have to deal with this.

The most bothersome part of the cold is actually the sinusitis. I hate having to be constantly active in order to keep my nose clear when I'm supposed to be sitting still in class. The longer you sit still, the more time your swollen mucus linings have of multiplying and slowly seeping through the nasal conchae to clog up your air passage.  You would think you could just blow it out and it would all be fine, but that little microzombie (aka VIRUS) that possesses your epithelial tissues is reproducing faster than you can grab a tissue.

Today is my only day off from working this week, so I have to use this precious time wisely, but instead my body decides to let undead organisms in and weaken me for a good three days. Do you know how frustrating it is when you have so much do to and you have to suffer through the headache and nose in order to it? I would have been fine in doing it on a normal day.

Apparently you can't just plug your nose and breathe through your mouth the whole time. At one point you need to swallow that accursed saliva.

I keep telling myself I have to take more pictures of my life so I'm not lacking in adventure when I'm older, but when I tell myself this, I am sorely reminded of my half-broken camera from the early 00's, and then the dream fades and I shuffle enviously through other facebooker's sophomore year photos. Even if I tried, my friends would all be so afraid of the camera, and it would sadden me even more. That is why I am planning on getting a car this summer, saving up some money, buying a camera, and dully documenting all of my junior year, or at least when I can remember. That way if my friends don't want to be captured on camera because they don't look presentable that day, I will teach them to look presentable every day so they have no fear of photos and facebook. It's full proof.

I drew Rapunzel from Tangled on my driveway, only to have her half washed away by the sprinklers the next.

The thing with drawing huge pictures on a slanted driveway is the face that when you stand at a certain angle, some parts look bigger than other parts when they really don't. It's perspective. That is why optical illusionists are successful when it comes to chalk art. I have yet to learn something like that, and when I do, I probably won't be very good at it. So I'll just stick to drawing simple figures.

I'm planning on drawing something else when I know my fingers are completely healed and I have time to do it. When you draw with chalk, to get that smooth, solid look with the color, you have to blend the chalk dust into the cement. It's very rough on your fingers. I've basically rubbed three of mine raw from doing Rapunzel in one sitting. (And I used up all three of my yellows :[ Which is very sad.)

I really miss seeing my Superman chalk drawing. He was the first legitimate drawing I've ever done, and he turned out amazing. But lo-and-behold, there's always something new to draw.

May 10, 2012

What's up with me? What's up with YOU?

This is new. Very new. A new way to type out my big long, pathetic posts. Oh well.

I've currently been indulging in a little series introduced to me by my lovely aunt Almond. Every time I spell the word "aunt" I can't say "ant". I have to say "awnt", and then it results in me spelling "awnt".

Recognize this picture?

It's Dexter. From the series Dexter.

(It's rated NC-17 for mature adults and for mormon teens who don't want to be corrupted.)

I finished the end of season 4, and to be fair to all those who haven't/are seeing it right now, I will say nothing about what I saw except that someone dies and it's not cool.

My mom watched the last episode with me, so she was sitting next to me while the final scene went down. I noticed her looking over at me every once in a while, but I didn't care. What I saw before me on that TV screen was pure horror. It triggered some kind of destroyer of composition within me and I broke down under the pressure like an unsaturated fat breaks down to glycogen.

Whether it be the lack of crying I've done in the past few months, the pathetic-ness of my weak and puny soul, or the legitimacy of my reaction, I started with a few leaking tears, then ended with an Advil PM to stop my hyperventilating.

Between the two, I vaguely remembered the utter rage and hurt I felt when I learned of this mysterious character's death. My hormones were either out of control or my feelings for characters and stories were. I sobbed as though someone real in my life (like my dad or my uncle or something) had died. My mom kept telling me it was just a story, they were just characters.

Two people, my mom and someone else whom I don't recall, both told me that I didn't have to worry because the actress wasn't dead. Well duh. I know that.

There is something people need to know about me, and that is just this: I have this problem, nature, if you will, of being introduced to (or creating) a character and finding a small little latching point where my feelings will attach and follow through to the end. My novel isn't completed, and that is why I am still obsessing and attached to the characters in my novel. It happened with Supernatural as well, where I began to obsess over Dean, Sam, and Cass until I reached the end of Season 6 (since i couldn't go on until season 7 comes to netflix). The sudden attachment peeled away slowly, more towards the back of my mind.

Now Dexter has come into my life, and the writers keep throwing shit at him as he progresses along with his Dark Passenger.

They're real to me. I know it's all fiction, but they are all so easily defined and complex that they're like a normal, exciting person to watch and follow and feel with throughout the entire story. It's my only chance to relax and insert myself, to wish for only a moment that maybe my life could be as exciting as this.

So now I have justified my reaction to Rita's death.