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To junk food or not to junk food? I can't decide. Ohhh, the weight.
I'm feeling somewhat better today, thanks for asking. Well, ok, really only in the last hour or so. I think it's because Julia Stiles was on my television. She's magical, she is.
Today was my first trip to the new Target, and I'm so excited. The houseware section alone makes me all tingly in indecent ways. Oh, the dishes! I think, somewhere along the way, my brain may have gotten stuck in the 50's. But household items are so -sexy-!
Hayden gave me a copy of the Sims today, but my computer hates me and says it doesn't have enough memory. I've got memory enough to supplement! Whatever it can't remember, I will...but it doesn't seem to like that deal. No, I don't have techno joy. I have techno angst. Want...to...be...god.
USA today has an article in it about Thomas Kinkade. Yes, I -am- going to rant. Put on your seatbelts. I admit, I am a bit of an art snob, although I prefer to call myself an aesthetic elitist. I take offense at the man calling himself the heir-apparent of Andy Warhol. He wouldn't look nearly as cool gaunt and silver-haired for one thing, but also, he just doesn't posess the power to make anyone think about anything. He posesses the power to mass-produce pretty pictures. Making a lot of money is an entirely different thing than making art. I am offended by the man in general, and yes, it does irk me that often what "real art" does is irk the masses. But he delights the masses, and irritates art jerks. -My- work has something to say, it has a subconscious and a mind of its own, but even if I posessed the courage to introduce it to the world it would be brushed aside so some other philistine could buy a pretty country landscape. Yes, this means that I am also somewhat insulted that the man has more courage than I do. I'm going to pout for the rest of the century, and Chris is a big jerk for bringing this article to my attention.
Also, I have removed the monkey from my computer in my attempt to play with the Sims...but I don't really mourn his passing.
Want...to...see...my...boyfriend. I've practically forgotten what he looks like, and it's only been a little over two weeks since I've seen him. This is, however, a big lie because there are to date about six pictures of him on or above my desk. We've been an "item" for 9 months on Monday (no kids! yay!) and have spent, um, about 4 of them together, and most of that time spread out at two week intervals. Being in love kinda sucks, I wouldn't recomend ever doing it. One year and one and a half months until I graduate and can move to the state of my choice with the male of my choice. Can we make it?
I'm feeling somewhat better today, thanks for asking. Well, ok, really only in the last hour or so. I think it's because Julia Stiles was on my television. She's magical, she is.
Today was my first trip to the new Target, and I'm so excited. The houseware section alone makes me all tingly in indecent ways. Oh, the dishes! I think, somewhere along the way, my brain may have gotten stuck in the 50's. But household items are so -sexy-!
Hayden gave me a copy of the Sims today, but my computer hates me and says it doesn't have enough memory. I've got memory enough to supplement! Whatever it can't remember, I will...but it doesn't seem to like that deal. No, I don't have techno joy. I have techno angst. Want...to...be...god.
USA today has an article in it about Thomas Kinkade. Yes, I -am- going to rant. Put on your seatbelts. I admit, I am a bit of an art snob, although I prefer to call myself an aesthetic elitist. I take offense at the man calling himself the heir-apparent of Andy Warhol. He wouldn't look nearly as cool gaunt and silver-haired for one thing, but also, he just doesn't posess the power to make anyone think about anything. He posesses the power to mass-produce pretty pictures. Making a lot of money is an entirely different thing than making art. I am offended by the man in general, and yes, it does irk me that often what "real art" does is irk the masses. But he delights the masses, and irritates art jerks. -My- work has something to say, it has a subconscious and a mind of its own, but even if I posessed the courage to introduce it to the world it would be brushed aside so some other philistine could buy a pretty country landscape. Yes, this means that I am also somewhat insulted that the man has more courage than I do. I'm going to pout for the rest of the century, and Chris is a big jerk for bringing this article to my attention.
Also, I have removed the monkey from my computer in my attempt to play with the Sims...but I don't really mourn his passing.
Want...to...see...my...boyfriend. I've practically forgotten what he looks like, and it's only been a little over two weeks since I've seen him. This is, however, a big lie because there are to date about six pictures of him on or above my desk. We've been an "item" for 9 months on Monday (no kids! yay!) and have spent, um, about 4 of them together, and most of that time spread out at two week intervals. Being in love kinda sucks, I wouldn't recomend ever doing it. One year and one and a half months until I graduate and can move to the state of my choice with the male of my choice. Can we make it?
