jinxieybot

Once again I have done it. I swear i do this every few months. From livejournal, to blogspot, to livejournal, back to blogspot. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry but I'm just not happy with livejournal's layout designs. So I have moved back to blogspot but with a different username.
This will be the art blog/regular blog combined because I just don't like having two separate blogs.

Anyways I now live over here Junkyard Bliss!

I've been feeling just wretched this past week and I finally think I know why. It's a mix of stress/anxiety that's built up over time and the stir crazy feeling because the plans I have can't be completed because I have to leave on the 8th. It's like things are at a stand still and I'm just ready to explode. Well I have exploded. And I think I'm beginning to get a handle on things and even though I'm still a little wobbly legged I'm feeling a lot better than I have in a long while.

This entry is completely pointless and shows not everyone should own a blog.

Tomorrow will be the final day of classes for me this semester, due to my trip, and of course my teachers saying “hell no you can't take two weeks off.” I didn't really mind. I will soak in this free time as much as possible.

So anyways we're leaving March 8th about 2 pm and in 8 hrs we'll be over there at 2pm the next day, cause planes can time travel like nobodies business. Currently the temperature in Frankfurt is 30 degrees but feels like 20 and is snowing. Well fuck. I don't want to complain but... I think I will be a 5 ft popsicle. And do you know what my first thought was when I saw the temp? “Ah fuck do you mean I can't wear my chucks?” I need new shoes! Really... all I own are chucks beside like 3 pairs of girly shoes. So that goes on my checklist of things I need to get before I go.

My checklist thus far:
Snowboots
Wet- to–dry hair straightener (not bringing my fancy one, shit costs too much)
Memory cards for my camera (need tons!)


And I think that's it so far. I will spend the entire weekend searching for a cute pair of snowboots and ruining everyone's day because I am indecisive when it comes to new shoes. Fun times ahead.

Worn out. Will write more later.

I am exhausted. I am a bag of mush and misaligned bones.

For the past few days my knee and ankle on opposite legs have been killing me. It's been a dance of take pressure off one and onto the other, I probably look like I REALLY need to pee. Logically I should've spent yesterday resting and regaining my strength, chugging down chicken soup and tea. No no no. I decided to hike all over the city. Why? Well... I couldn't give you a real solid answer if I tried. By the end of the day my legs were shaking and I was using walls for support but damn it was an amazing day. Which led to that picture in the corner of this entry, which I really really dig.

Now for the downside. I'M SORE. Just roll me around the house, I don't think my legs work anymore. I'm curled up in my workshop, with an empty mug of hot chocolate, and punk rock blaring. This predicament does leave me to finish a few things I've been needing to finish. This week is a busy week my dears! I'm pretty excited!

The flea market is calling my name, maybe if I take my cane with me I can rough the gravel field. And hey maybe the old ladies will feel bad for me and let me have some things on the cheap. *works on her sad pouty face*

Edit: No flea market due to rain that I didn't  know happened. But more importantly I think my year, hell my world, just turned topsy turvy today. News on that when I have things moderately settled. I don't know whether to be excited or terrified haha

Dear Mother/Mama/Mommy, (I have never called you mom, weird huh?)

     Your birthday's this week. I'm not sure how old you're turning and when I asked you said you've lost track. You looked too tired and worn out to really hear me. You worry me. You've probably had the largest impact on my life so far but I don't want to be like you at all. Maybe 'at all' is a bit too strong, but I'll be damned if I'm gonna wear assorted huge hats with my outfits in my forties.

     I wanna tell you that I love you, I just don't get along with you a lot of times. You're a traditionalist and I'm a “loco de California”. When you were pregnant with me you knew it was a girl without even getting an ultrasound, you just didn't know what kind of girl you were getting. Putting me in dresses with matching mary-janes only lasted five years until I would roll on the floor, tearing at my clothes screaming, “IT ITCHES!!!” I apologize for not being the daughter you expected, but (and here's where I get mean) you always comparing me to everyone and telling me how much better they were than me in everything I tried to do was a horrible thing to do parenting wise. The amount of self doubt I've developed over the years has eaten a chunk of my soul. I've never felt good enough, never felt completely whole. I can't blame all of this on you but I wish you could understand how it felt or realize the impact it had on me. I know you grew up in poverty, that doesn't mean that it's impossible to feel depressed in the suburbs. The “don't complain you have so much more than I did” mentality only pushes myself further away from you out of guilt.

      In that same light you are the first one I come to when I have a serious problem. I have come to you crying. When the boys break my heart I sit next to you and watch TV with you, it's always cheered me up even if I don't tell you why I came into your room in the first place. You once compared one of my break ups to a movie (only my family would do something like this) and I understood you so completely I felt tons better by the end of the night. Though I don't tell you much about my personal life you have been there when I've really needed you and I'm very grateful for that.

       Though I don't like to admit it, I've inherited a lot of your traits. First things first are the hips and lips, which I reluctantly like about myself. I could've taken a pass on the crooked teeth but no no no I need a reason to always have a pouty (or fish like apparently) look on my face. I've got your creativity (Martha Stewart like essence), though you've been so busy the past few years you've seemed to push your creativity away and just let it out in small bursts. I've inherited your anxiety of pleasing others and never getting around to yourself. You wonder why your hair is falling out, I wonder why my stomach's always screaming.

     You drive me insane at times. You are stubborn. Parrot like in the way you will repeat your point over and over again until I just give up and walk out of the room. I wish we could get along easier. It feels very much like  “Hi, I'm home. See you at dinner where we'll just grab our plates and head in different directions.”
 
     I want you to also know that I've been trying my best to make you happy with me and it's dragging me down. I can't do that anymore. I put my art in a box and tucked it away when you told me I wouldn't get anywhere with it. I don't care anymore. I just don't. I don't care if I have to live in some shitty studio apartment with rusted pipes and cockroaches the size of cats as long as I'm doing what I love. (I just imagined my cats sword fighting giant cockroaches. Where'd they get the swords?) You can point out everything that's wrong and it will hurt but I won't stop. I can't stop. I can't be your blank slate to fix everything that went badly for your life.

   I love you very much and even though I'm not the daughter you imagined when I was brewing in your belly, I have the sinking feeling that you are somewhat proud of me.

Love,
Gitte / Redd

In which I mumble about nothing in particular.

Such as, I have a blogspot blog that sits around and takes up space on the limitless interwebs. I should delete it. I don't want to. I hoard things even on the internet apparently. I never wrote important things on there even. I hate having something with my name on it that just doesn't do anything or gets update semi regularly. So I must do something with it. I was thinking art blog, place for my "work". Well what about Flickr? Well it wouldn't just be photo's and a lot of my photo's don't make it on my Flickr. Lazyness? Sorta.

What on Earth am I talking about.

Sometimes I enjoy writing things that make no sense.
Wakka wakka wakka

I like that the day after I was terribly ill I go and do things that will get me sick all over again. See photo above(or to the side, whatever). Yea let me go freeze to the bone for some picture, it's what I do. I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy it. The downside now is that an hour later I'm still shivering despite bundling up in layers and a blanket. What's funny is I'm still not happy with how pretty much any of the photos turned out but I was cold and this would have to do.
You will never see me in that skirt again. Unless you ask politely.

Speaking of photography and such my mother actually asked to see some of my pictures. -le shock!- So I grabbed my laptop, put up flickr and showed her. And... she hated it all. Ok, that's kind of harsh. She liked 2 of them out of like the 20 or so she browsed through. Everything else wasn't very good, or original, or you couldn't see my face. Flaws, flaws flaws. Well I never said I was an amazing artist, I'm a less than amateur photographer, if even that. And here's your dash of honesty, I hate my face. Every time I do a basic face shot for 365 I grimace a little. The only decent feature my face has is my lips and I bite the hell out of them and make them look ugly. All I see is flaws.

I think Dora the Explorer showed in Spanish defeats the purpose f the show in the first place.

I almost got myself hit by a car today on my way back to the Bart station. This was entirely my fault as I did not look before hopping into the street. I was of course too busy thinking about "ahhh god I gotta finish my essay. How am I gonna have time to if I have to go to the doctors? Don't forget the english reading due tomorrow also. And your math work. Oh and the history reading, should you be working on that extra credit paper?"

On a happier note my doctors appointment was pretty funny in ways I can't really get into but I was giggling to myself for a good 10 minutes. The poster on the ceiling is now dolphins and assorted ocean creatures staring at you, knowing. Seriously. The dolphins are laughing at you and the clownfish are giving you this look of horror. I also found out I'm even shorter than I thought I was. Did I shrink!? I swear I thought I was 5'6" maybe 5'5" but not 5'3"! Fucking dolphins.

And yeessss I finished my essay. It's not super awesome but I finished it before midnight. It's a bit of a personal essay, I may toss it up here sometime but don't count on it. I'm still not totally satisfied with it but it's due and I'm putting it away. A page full of filler "I think I may have repeated myself five times now"

I have a craving for jello. Red jello. Little known fact: When I was a kid I used to chew on jello pudding cups when I finished the jello. Wonder why I have crooked teeth. Well I could go on and on about how when I was a child I chewed on everything. Hey plastics grapes. Hey those bottom things off of 25cent machines, Hey pretty much any un-edible object I can chew on. I've moved onto gum now.

"God's being a douchebag for a reason."
"Cause my cats broke his statue?" (Technically just his head)
"Guilt by association"
"They're fucking cats"

I'm getting sick of the word silence but I think this is neat.

“We can learn to work and speak when we are afraid in the same way we have learned to work and speak when we are tired. For we have been socialized to respect fear more than our own needs for language and definitions, and while we wait in silence for that final luxury of fearlessness, the weight of that silence will choke us.” - Audre Lorde

I'm not the type to toss around quotes or anything like that, I just really dig this.

You know what sucks? Making delicious chicken tender bits and then realizing you have no ketchup in the house so you're stuck making some kind of concoction out of assorted barbecue sauces. I feel a stomach ache rising. My kingdom for a bottle of ketchup! Please. I'm going to starve.

This past week has felt like two, getting over the 2nd week bump of classes. Learning the routine, going through the motions. I'm already sick of it. It's not the worst thing in the world it just isn't terribly enjoyable as of now. Without realizing it I'm taking two women's studies classes. I knew that my history class was (says right in the name duh, womens history) but my English class is as well. Jesus fuck. Two classes filled with angry women bashing dudes for all that's wrong with the world. I'm going to despise my given gender even more so by the end of the semester. Everyone's a jerk not just dudes. Women hate each other, for no fucking reason! It's terrible. We have to get into a circle and talk about our feelings on the subjects were reading, what? I really thought this was supposed to be a lot different. Where is the serious business work? Why have none of my English classes ever taught me a damn thing about grammar or hey, English? So yea ok let's sit in a circle and hold hands and sing like over medicated kids with drool hanging out of the side of our mouths. If I don't participate I'm a submissive little girl, if I do and spout that a lot of everyone's arguments are very box structured I'm a cunt faced cumdumpster. Can you tell I don't enjoy this class?

I think part of the problem is my smarts are just not in academics. I've been trying to make them there but they just aren't. I work with my hands & eyes, creating, visualizing something into something much bigger and beautiful. You hand me a book and say read these pages by such and such and discover the deep meaning behind it and I'll just stare at you wide eyed. Give me a month and maybe I'll get it, give me a week and I'll just say, "There's a lot of words on these pages."

I and a dear friend marched through part of Berkeley the other day in this ridiculous stomp clap beat we made. Sometimes I wonder about the people I know and then I wonder about myself. This story has no point to it, most of my stories don't.

There's another house! This seems incredibly pointless to talk about because there's a 90% chance of not getting it but you must understand. This will be the house that breaks my heart to pieces. I will cry. Why? I was going to have an art studio (that yea needs some work put into it but stiiiiiill). The fact that it's a bit farther away from things gets squished by this little studio. Which is more like a storage house but omfg it's amazing. There's me ranting over nothing.

I took a bath at ickface's house and he got in with me fully clothed. We've had very interesting and important talks in baths, not necessarily in the same tub. I mean like on the phone from my place. If you're thinking anything perverted you must have never met him. I admit I missed it during our angry spat. But I still feel this friendship hanging by threads.

A little self indulgence here. I've been contemplating going all out and bleaching my hair. The little logic dude in the back of my head is like "You can't be fucking serious. After deciding to take care of your hair you're going to do the ultimate destruction?!" Maybe. Maybe I'll look totally stupid but I'm itching to try it. If it's terrible I can go back to my brunette self. I'm not talking about basic blonde I'm talking about dead bleach hair. Maybe cut my hair even shorter, I'm kidding... really. I don't know just don't be surprised if it happens is all. Because "hey you're blonde!" Is just as great as someone pointing out "hey your wearing a skirt!" Fuck! What? I thought this was just another shade of black and these were one legged pants!

Can I do a 7 on this?

So a year ago today I was in a pretty bad car accident with my brother and father. We got hit on the passengers side seat, which I was sitting in, and flipped across five lanes on the highway. Amazingly landing right side up and with the wheels totally in alignment in the emergency lane as if we had parked there. We all got out with very minimal injuries, I was the only one who had to stay in the hospital for a week (apparently I really am a fragile little flower). Sometimes when I lay in bed to sleep I can feel the impact of the other car and it wakes me up.


I know it's a copy pasta but it's worth it.

Last night was kind of odd. I cried and cried and cried. Not out of sadness, maybe it was a mix of happiness. Just remembering and letting it all out.
It's weird. I can't explain it well.

The cats are trying to drink my chocolate milk and I'm imagining walking in on them when I get back home, stiff as boards. I took the milk away from them before they drank so shush. I could use one less cat though I'm just saying. I'm a terrible pet owner.

Yesterday morning was so terrible I don't even understand why. I'm confused to even what sparked my outburst. Outburst meaning me crying so hard people turned to look. I ruined breakfast. I thank everyone who tried to cheer me up, it worked I feel a lot better.

I have the problem of feeling I must be able to finish EVERYTHING and instantly too, of course. So what happens when you can't? "Gaahhh you're fucking stupid. What's wrong with you?" It's silly. I'm stopping it, it's tiring.

In other news I'm a lil bummed that this one chick I used to watch on Flickr has basically left it. Yea I'm soo stalking her. She had such totally inspiring pictures that always looked like she just took them in like a "oh that's neat" *click* moment. Yea there's tons of other nifty people on Flickr but it's still a bummer to me. RIP :c

Did I mention I got a tattoo? Yea I did. Ok then. Not much to tell. I was feeling better in the afternoon and I was dropped off on Telegraph saying I was going to buy a few things and then I remembered the tattoo place close by so off I went. I didn't actually expect them to say "oh yea sure we can do that now" but they could so I did and it hurt. Dude was very polite, he had to be I mean he saw part of my boobage. I felt a little bad that I laughed at the poor 11 year old girl getting her nose pierced who screamed and cried. Maybe I'm becoming old fashioned but I think 11 might be a bit to young to get anything pierced besides your ears. Now where is my walker with the tennis balls on the bottoms so I can glide by easier. I also require a panama hat.

I should totally give up school and be some shitty (meant in loving terms) little indie bands photographer. "You don't have to pay me nothin just buy me some food and let me sleep in your van." There's this photography school that peaked my interest Hallmark. But it's in Massachusetts and I'm poor and I think I would miss everyone waaay too much. Alone in the cold of Massachusetts. (That is a terribly hard state to spell, i got a case of the stutters!) I regret not taking a photography class this semester, I really should've. Perhaps in the summer/fall.

Today will be bright.

English scares me. It really does. I start to question my intelligence and wonder how I made it to this English class and still feel like I know so little. I read our assignment, twice, but it never sank in. This has begun to worry me over the past year, nothing I read sticks. Every time I mention this I'm told, "well maybe you're just bored with the subject." Fine but I should be able to somewhat absorb or remember what I read without searching through the book. Take notes. I look back at them and don't understand what I wrote even when writing clearly. Everyone had arguments over the readings and I just sat there like a lump. I don't know what to do. I don't want to be told "college may just not be for you" because I enjoy it honestly. My first semester, despite sometime hating my math class I went there everyday because I wanted to pass, because I wanted to learn something. I still do, I really do but why won't anything stick?

My taste buds have changed. Which isn't surprising they can change every 21 days I think it was. Look back at my coke challenge. Watch me chug down a coke now. Ok ok I don't necessarily chug cokes anymore, perhaps that was the overall effects of the 21 days. Anyways what I meant was lasagna. It's fucking delicious now. Fuck. I desire a bathtub full of lasagna please. Though I haven't been able to finish my plate that doesn't matter!

Ok next subject.

English! The last class I haven't discussed. It worries me. A room full of book smart people. A room full of good essay writers. I watch movies. I write grammatically incorrect sentences. I'm fucked. I shouldn't be down on myself. I'm far from stupid I know that, I just feel like my writing isn't up to par as to where it should be. Maybe it's the deep seeded feeling that I can't really express myself so how can I write something as basic as an essay? Or essays are just that complicated. But let me talk about the teacher. She seems pretty nifty so far, like I actually want to listen to what she has to say and not drift off into daydreams. (THAT'S WHERE I'M A VIKING!) Maybe because she's a 70's child and I've been told I shouldn't been alive around then because that's where I fit. I fit everywhere. I'm compact. I don't make sense.

The chick next to me reminded me of myself in high school. Style wise anyways. Goth-ish / punk-ish. I remember when I wore rings on every finger and 5 different necklaces at once. I was quite musical when I walked around. Nothing against this girl at all, I dug the look, I mean I freaking wore the look for like 2 years. I don't know what my style is now though. Bright colors? It's a bit more toned down now I think. I am... a laundry basket.

Note to self - figure out things you need to ask the doctor next week. Taking suggestions.

Let's see, let's see.

I like watching Mystery diagnosis but why do they do close ups of eyes all the time? It's very annoying.


First day excitement? I suppose, it was kind of like a blur really. The straight 2 hr block of my MWF classes is kind of nice though. I was starving by the end of it but that's more my fault than anything else. I ate the remaining tic tacs i had in my bag from last semester haha. SUSTENANCE! Tomorrow I will prepare something more filling than a cup of hot chocolate and toast.

Math! (well algebra technically but whatever)- This class is on the edge of maybe I'll really enjoy this or maybe I'll really hate this and dream the hour away. I did catch myself doing that today, let's chalk that up to it being the first day and I'm just readjusting. My teacher may perhaps be totally awesome in a dorky sort of way. I imagine him riding a bike to school. He has a lisp in a sort of warm "aw that's kinda cute" way. Bonus points, he also looks like a rabi, the man may be all kinds of awesome.

One other thing, dude who sat in front of me. My god youre scary. And fucking huge. Not in a overweight way, well maybe slightly but more in a built-ish way. I wondered how you fitted into that desk and if it could hold you. By the way when you leaned your elbow onto my desk you made my whole desk tilt a little. I had to bite myself to stop from laughing.

I may be a jerk but I don't care. Dude was freaking crazy anyways.

History! (Womens history) This is the class I was suppose to take 2 semesters ago, well I was taking. I wonder if I'll feel awkward leaving this class on Fridays. oooooo spooky. I really dig this teacher though, so far anyways. She reminds me of cracker jacks. I imagine her being able to unhinge her jaw. This woman has a fucking set of chompers and a fucking weird ass laugh that's kind of like Fran Drescher. The sun shines through the room beautifully though and the blinds hit the window with such a loud smack.

I want it to be 2 weeks in already and get rid of all these extra people, maybe I'm terrible that way but my goodness it's freaking crowded! When you want to add a class and there's only standing room only, it's full. You're making the room hotter with your presence and none of these rooms in like any of the buildings have air conditioning.

I'm such a whiny brat.

My back hurts. Terribly. Every stretch hurts. It aches.

I also want a sandwich.

I was going to say that I wasn't going to talk about the obvious cause that's a sack of drama no one wants to hear about. But. This is my blog, so I can write whatever I want, I don't even know who reads this so it doesn't matter. Something like that anyways. This drama stems from what I talked about here Click over this way! I've known Ricky for 7 years and we have been through quite a lot but this time is just too much for me. You can be screaming at me that I'm a terrible friend for "abandoning" him that he might need help. But he's already called me a terrible friend, for the past month or so even. Trying to talk to him/cheer him up/whatever I do to make him feel better only to be told I'm a worthless person and a worthless friend.

I'm not going to listen to it anymore, you don't care. Are you just trying to create drama to spice things up? Because I would think taking care of a toddler would be enough of a hassle instead of spending an entire day calling me to insult me. I cried my eyes red 2 different nights now, you've won Ricky, congratulations.

There you go, me being emo.

I keep a word file on my macbook quick thoughts. The things I don't really tell anyone. Oooo secret right? No, not really. Just that no one would really be interested in it. Then why the hell am I putting them here? Because as stated above, this is my blog & I can write whatever.




I imagine chasing you with an axe and splitting your head wide open.

The kid who's terrified in cars wants to learn to drive. Look back weeks ago to me crying in a friends car because of two near hits in like the first 20 minutes of driving me back home. He then had the brilliant idea of turning up the radio/music & telling me to sing along. Which I did then he joined in. It calmed me down made me laugh. We forgot lyrics and are the worst singers you'd ever hear but it was great so thank you. But I need to get over this fear if only to drive around my fucking block or down to Safeway.

I want a tambourine. To make music with. To scare the cats with. To dance with.

I have honestly thought of bringing my purple chucks to a serious business shoe repair shop. Imagine me in a desperate tone "CAN YOU FIX THESE!?" I have become attached to a pair of shoes.

Dear blog I'm sorry for not writing much in the past 2 months, I've just been placing my personality elsewhere. 365's drain the creativity sometimes and then I really have nothing to write about. Well I probably do I just don't. Oh god what?

Maybe I'll have more interest in writing when classes start up again next week. Oh yay. What was this break for? Me getting away from the city a bit, not going there practically everyday. What did I do? Go there practically everyday.

Wow this entry is terrible.

This is why not everyone should have blogs. I'm honestly not writing about anything interesting or really anything at all. Filler filler filler.

I'll comeback when I have something moderately interesting to say.

I haven't written in awhile, I apologize.

Yesterday Morning

That morning I felt as though I was walking in swampland, each step had such weight. Sitting in the hallway with people I'll most likely never see again except for those awkward, "So hey. How you doing? What've you been up to? My head's on fire?" conversations. I'll miss them all anyways. Getting to sit in a room full of sick, sneezing, hacking, snorting people for 2 hours. And here I was thinking I could escape a cold, a shower isn't going to get rid of this. I'm still not sick though so maybe I am part ninja.

The actual final was a disaster. I'm not able to write essays in 2 hours, I just can't. I can write a story in 2 hours sure but not an essay, I don't like to make sense. About halfway through the paper I had to bite my tongue from laughing, 'God this doesn't even make sense. I'm not even on topic. I think I just changed my mind 3 times in one paragraph' But I wrote 4 pages stapled it with my fancy blue stapler (The only real studious thing I bought this entire semester) & handed it in. I even did a works cited page on the back hoping it would bump my certain F to a D. D's are happy faces that are just missing the :

My uncle.

My uncle on my father's side to be more precise. The baby of that side of the family. Tried to purchase himself a mail order bride, or something along the lines of that. It's really more of a scam than anything else. (You mean I won't have an auntie from Russia?!) "Help me I'm stuck in this country & my parents died so I don't know what to do so send money & help! Btw here's my picture, I'm fucking gorgeous. And yea sure I'll marry you too." I laughed, you would too so don't give me a harsh look. I want to sympathize with him but it's very hard to, he let our dog die. Yea I'm gonna hold that grudge. Fine you let your brain slip & wanted to be white knight for this imaginary woman but you fucking let our dog die. When a dog is bleeding from her nose all day & we give you money to take her to the vet & you don't, I have no more respect for you. I feel sorry for my grandmother & other uncle who have to live with you & put up with your spoiled nonsense.

My night

Was supposed to be peaceful. I was going to watch the ballet on tv, read, & stretch out for bed. Little did I know the world was going to collapse for a dear friend of mine. I did get to see all of the ballet & was mesmerized, it was beautiful. Now I am even more determined to go see it in person, alone if I have to. So after this explosion of dancing and colors I grabbed my current book, bent myself in an awkward position (honestly that's how I read books), & began to read.

BUT OH NO YOU ONLY GET TO READ FOR 20 MINUTES BEFORE A BIG METEOR CRASHES IN YOUR ROOM. Basically. So there he is sobbing on the phone & my awkward position suddenly feels awkward. But I've gone through this before with you many many times & I know what to do. I spend 3-4 hrs (I lost track) putting your world back together with glitter glue & telling you how amazing it is. You're never happy & it bothers me. You infect my cheerful disposition.

So now I'm going to bake.

Today was the first time I had been on a skateboard since maybe a year or two. I'm amazed I didn't fall straight on my ass just stepping onto the board. I was never one to be able to do really awesome tricks, hell at first I never really wanted to get onto a skateboard, didn't interest me much. But... you can't know Ricky for like 6-7 years (has it been THAT long?) without learning how to do the basics and I admit it I enjoyed it. So today I jumped onto one and did not fall on my ass, did slip once (it was raining!), lost balance like twice.

I also seem to have lost part of my hearing in my right ear today. It's happened before and it passes so I'm not worried. It was quite funny though when someone was sitting next to me on the right side all I would hear is mumbles and then they would look at me like, "Helloooo why aren't you answering?". Of course my response was to stare at them wide eyed and loudly say "WHAT?", really mouthing the word too, as if they couldn't hear me.

In other news, I've been debating immensely about the idea of me getting braces. It honestly scares me. Maybe scares to strong of a word. It just seems like a very unpleasant thing to do to myself for 2 years. 2 years of no gum, taking it easy on the sugar, constant constant brushing. How do people floss when they have braces? I will be forever looking into a compact to see if something is caught on my braces. Will I talk funny, weird lisp and all that shit. Great, out of all the gay dudes I know I'm the one with the fucking lisp. Oh how the humiliation of that will never end. And the whole tightening process. Dear me, I just don't know if I have it in me.

Then there are those "fancy" braces Invisalign. OMG my way out? Oh no no no there are catches with those too. They'll put little stubs on your teeth that'll hurt like fuck. Also I've heard of people saying they're breath constantly smells like iron. wtf iron? And there are still hitches in the whole 'your voice might still sound weird' thing. AND AGAIN NO GUM! How will I cure my oral fixation!? (and I know your answer so just keep it to yourself) But they're plastic and less noticeable and all that jazz. True true, also the more expensive of choices.

In either case they would file my teeth down (well not down...sideways) so they slide better. Oh how I'd love to take a picture of that. Also I don't have the proper funds for this venture just yet. The idea that was floating around with my orthodontist was for about 60% of the two years I'd be wearing invisaligns and for the rest of the 40% I'd be wearing old fashioned braces. Do we here a horribly painful X-mas present?! Yea, maybe.

Honestly I don't hate my teeth. It's only 1 tooth that you can really tell is out of whack but that 1 tooth in turn needs my whole mouth to change to accommodate it. What a fucking diva.

Things I need to buy tomorrow

Like 8 Bananas haha
2 bags of organic chocolate chips
Gallon of organic milk
Possibly more brown sugar
Spray bottle
Disposable cake trays
Fish food
Contac sleepy time relief ...whatever the fuck its called


Banana cake - fish need food - I have a cold

So I had this dream, I was driving a van in one of those parking garages and felt this sudden pang of dread and drove my van into the elevator. It was a big elevator. When I reach the bottom floor I get out of my van and rushed outside to where some friends were and asked them what happened. They inform me someone has died in some terrible manner that can only be described as squished head + pavement. They don't tell me who but I guess it anyways and they just nod. I begin to sob and then we cut to me saying I left my van in the elevator and I'm gonna get a ticket.

So yea.

Here's a little piece of information I learned in Nutrition class today.

- Most studies show (intentional) weight loss is correlated with reduced longevity. No one has shown that weight loss prolongs life.


Time to study. Goodnight.

So I redyed my hair pink. Yes I know I said I'd let it fade and dye it black, I lied. I actually sped up the fading process (Go go Lucky's brand head & shoulders, I didn't really think it would work) but it just looked like this dead orange color. Sure I could've done something to make the orange look snazzy but... that's for another day.
As I was looking through the dyeing communities and site someone said something that really hit the nail on the head.
"Atomic Pink is a commitment." Or something similar to those lines. Basically this dye will last longer than your fucking relationships. It will bleed onto everything you own. In fact, I don't think I have a single pillowcase that doesn't have a pink stain on it. It will begin to fade when it's good and ready, you're going to have to kill your hair if you're serious on taking the pink out haha. And I still love it. That ladies and gentlemen is news on my oh so interesting hair.

In other news...

Monday was so fucking cold! When Rafi and I had lunch we ended up eating in his truck because the place was way too cold. Truth be told I was the one saying "Jesus fuck it's cold in here." and he offered the truck, I think he would've been fine eating there, freezing winds blowing at his face. Usually I'm the one who never notices the cold, odd. We had this conversation about one language we'd like to learn. He chose Russian because it's interested him and he thinks he has some Russian roots somewhere (longer story). My choice was German because I think it would be a shame that speaking German would die off with my father (Neither I or my brother speak it 'sept for a few words). It's kind of funny that neither of our choices were the "languages of love" (French, Italian, Spanish, I don't remember the others) which fits quite well with our relationship. And no that's not a bad thing at all. :)

I'm sorry my handful of readers, that I haven't wrote much lately. A lot of times I end up writing little tid bits in m 365's on Flickr and forget about my lj. Maybe I'll grab some of my good ones and post them later.

Election's next Tuesday holy shit!