Twelve - Captain Planet!

Today I had dinner(if you can call it that) with Kara &co. Afterwards I decided I needed to go to CVS to get something I forgot to get earlier at target (womanly things), and Katherine decided to go to get out of the apartment for a while. She had the bright idea of getting milkshakes (because I AM SUCH A FAT KID SOMETIMES) and since I still had a McDonald's giftcard, it was almost like free milkshakes. I was totally down.

Upon arrival, we walked up to the door and noticed a girl in the passenger seat of the car at the drive-thru opening her door, throwing a can on the ground, and then closing her door once again as if nothing had ever happened.

"GOD LITTERING IS SO COOOOOOL" Katherine exclaimed, clapping her hands. We both applauded her complete and total disregard for planetary well-being, giggled and continued on our way inside.

After ordering our shakes, we were on the way out when we noticed the people from the drive-thru walking in to the restaurant (why they went through the drive thru and came in to sit down I have no idea.) We walked out, and Katherine picks up the can, goes back inside and hands it to the people saying "Hey, I think you forgot this." The girl just laughed and the guy gave her the craziest look I've ever seen. I found this to be totally hilarious and couldn't stop laughing all the way home.

Eleven - Two in one day?! Maybe three!

Writing About Art is an especially excruciating class for me, mentally and physically. Sometimes the people in my class are so blatantly stupid and close-minded about art and theory and rationality that it makes me physically sick. The professor, however, is amazing, and the subject matter even more so. Everyday I leave with another subject on my mind, another thing to mull over and discuss with my roommate later because OH MY GOD WE TALK ABOUT EVERYTHING.

Today we began on the topic of Artist Statements. Being in graphic design, a lot of what I do is based on client needs and wants, and not necessarily my own vision. At first I think "I don't have an artist statement, I only produce what other people want from me", but upon considering further in class, I came to this...epiphany of sorts. I don't have to just produce what other people want, like a machine just churning out work. I can give them what they want while still putting my own ideas and design principles into it. I can give them what they want without compromising my own ideas, likes, and dislikes.

Don't get me wrong, this is something I've sortofknown all along. But today it just HIT me. I'm currently reconsidering everything in my portfolio, and everything I've created up to now. I see things in everything I want to change. Senior Seminar is FINALLY just now making more sense to me than ever. I finally know what I want to do. I know what I want to see in my own work. I know what I want other people to get from me.

I really want to be a freelance designer. I want people to come to me, say "Hey I need ______ for _______ " and give me artistic license to do whatever I want. That would be the ultimate, as I would be able to show this vision of what I see in everything I do. Until then, though, I have to pay the bills. And do that through picky, anal-retentive clients. But that doesn't mean I should give up everything I believe in design.

---

I've decided that, besides the minutia and details of my everyday, silly life, I'm going to use this blog to track the evolution of my work. To see where I started, what I've changed, and where it's ended up. Or where it still needs to be changed. I'm showcasing, and gonna Toot my own horn every now and then. I think this is going to be great.

Ten - I'm Still Alive (Question Mark?)

So I'm thinking it's been quite a while since I've been 'round to the Blogspot world, for which I apologize. Many personal things have prevented me from updating fully, and at this point I really don't feel like going back through them. Most of the important people in my life know anyway, so it's a moot point to the only people who read this.

In any case, we're going to start again.

This week has been one of those excruciatingly painful weeks of my life. Having many bad weeks in the recent past, this one perhaps will trump them all. Let's see if I can remember everything that happened.

Sunday was Easter, which our household didn't celebrate much of this year. In light of recent emotional and mental exhaustions, we decided to lay low. I spent most of the day working on my portfolio, as 1/3 of it was due the following day. Halfway through the day I had a near-breakdown over the fact that I didn't think Kinkos would be open in order to print my work. Sparing you the boring details, it turned out Kinkos was open, and I was able to print. I was the only person in there besides a businessman doing online correspondence in the corner, so it was quiet and I was able to use the good printer. Win.

Monday's class was painful, for reasons I do not wish to go into. I'll only say that I don't quite understand my professor's disdain with my portfolio as I've already landed three jobs with it. It seems to be working for the design world, and so to me her opinion is useless. Still, the way she approaches me about these issues is hurtful, and makes me feel as though I may never get anywhere with this work I'm doing. Deep down I know this isn't true, as I really have landed jobs with the portfolio I have, but it still stings to hear that from someone.

HERE'S A FUNNY STORY FOR YOU THOUGH.

Monday night I desperately needed to do laundry, as I found no time the previous weekend to do any. The laundry room was relatively deserted, as opposed to the masses of wet laundry just sitting there I usually encounter during the weekends. I put my laundry in the washer, set my timer for 38 minutes exactly, and head back to my apartment.

Now, you should know, I am pretty punctual about my laundry. In fact, obnoxiously so. (The times Katherine and I do laundry together on weekends, I usually stand in the hallway at LEAST five minutes before laundry is done saying we should go get it. She finishes whatever she was doing, and by the time we get there I realize I WAS early and feel silly for dragging Katherine there.) Anyway, I get back to the laundry maybe two minutes after the washer has spun its last cycle. I encounter two boys in there doing laundry - and one of them was touching my things.

"EXCUSE ME" I state rudely. He jumps and turns around, staring. "These are my things," I state politely, and start taking them out of the washer hurriedly. Now, I am not really one for confrontation, but someone messing with my clean laundry really ticks me off.
"Geez, sorry, I was going to use this washer" MeatHead replies.
"There are two open washers right over there" - I point - "You could have used those."
"Well this one is next to the one I already started."
At this point I decide not to continue, because frankly he's an idiot. I throw my things into the dryer and start the timer, when I hear him make a flippant response about Women and How They're So Emotional to his friend.

At this point I tell him to do something Not Very Nice to Himself, which I will not repeat here because frankly I'm a bit embarrassed to look back and see that I said it. Not that he didn't deserve it, because he totally did. I rushed out and ran back to my apartment, worried he'd follow me and see where I lived and then OH MY GOD I WOULD HAVE TO MOVE.

But he didn't. And so we live on. Upon recounting the story for Katherine she found it extremely amusing.

HERE'S ANOTHER FUNNY STORY.

Tuesday evening I had an AIGA meeting to attend. I went a bit early so as to walk the Long Way to CFA so I could clear my head from previous events of the day. At a stoplight I stopped and waited to cross politely. I waited for the white Walk Dude to appear, and once he did I looked ALL AROUND ME to make sure nobody was turning in my direction. Nobody was turning right, and the only car waiting to turn left didn't appear to be going anywhere, so I made a move to cross.

Once I am mid-crosswalk the car turning left decides this is a good time to go. The idiot behind the wheel obviously didn't see me, even though it WASN'T DARK OUT YET and I AM WEARING A BRIGHT YELLOW COAT. Not just yellow, or light orange, but like....SCHOOBUS YELLOW. CROSSWALK SIGN YELLOW. YOU CAN'T NOT SEE ME IN THIS COAT.

Needless to say, had she continued she would have hit me, as I had nowhere to jump off to. She realized I was directly in front of her, screeched and swerved to a stop. She looks out her passenger side window at me and makes a face that says "OH MY GOD I AM SO SORRY!" and continues to speed along her way.

Flabbergasted I continue walking, unaware of the fact that I almost just died. I look after her and realize there's an "I HEART JESUS" sticker on her bumper. Enraged, I yell at her speeding car "I DON'T THINK JESUS WOULD APPRECIATE YOUR RECKLESS DRIVING" and continued on my way.

Later that night, also recounting the story for Katherine, she found it extremely amusing. I eventually did too, but at the time was extremely angry at her behaviour.


Needless to say the week has been trying my patience. And my life, apparently. I was almost broadsided by an old man in a pickup truck barreling his way out of an alley next to my apartment this morning on my return from class. I think it's a sign of something, though I don't know what.

And so today is Everything's Funny Thursday, although it really started last night when Katherine and I had the giggles so bad we were collapsed on the floor. This weekend I plan on laying low and buckling down on schoolwork. I've set deadlines for myself I haven't yet accomplished, and am constantly kicking myself for this. If I don't get down soon, it may never get done.


Remind me later to tell you about History of Rock And Roll and how I owned my professor. And how his 'knowledge' of The Who is pretty skimp.

Nine - Friday Morning Bloggin'!

I had this really sweet image to go right here, but since Blogger is being a little jerk you'll have to come back and see it later. I'm on a time crunch here, but I want to blog here before I get to everything else I have to do today.

Let me tell you about how I hailed my first cab last night.

Last night I had the fortunate opportunity to attend City Paper's Cosmic cocktail party, celebrating their Eat issue. Katherine was a contributing writer to the issue, and so she got two tickets to attend this uber fancy shindig. We decided to take a cab into the city, because we both wanted to be adults and drink. Around 8 we called Jimmy's, they picked us up, and took us to The Belvedere down in the city. When we arrived we had to cram in an elevator and make our way to the 12th floor. I felt pretty Grown Up about this, because I'd never been to The Belvedere, and never been to such an exclusive party. Well, what we thought was exclusive.

We got upstairs and the entire place was just crammed with people. Now, this party was open bar, so basically you get in and get a bunch of free food and free booze and Other Free Stuff (that I didn't really partake in.) So it was a mob scene. But we had the guy at the door check our IDs, got really pretty green sparkly wrist bands, and pressed on. It was horrendous trying to walk through the place. And the lines for the bar were ridiculous. But we committed to trying to have a good time, and so stood in line. And waited and waited and waited some more. While standing in line we (or, Katherine anyway) encountered and made conversation with BOMBARDMENT! and I stood awkwardly and gawked at her shoes.

AWKWARD MOMENT #1
Once we finally got to the bar, this little snot of a woman decided that she was just going to butt herself right on in and order before us. I was NOT about to have this, and made my feelings known. I kept saying how I thought it was rude that people would totally disregard the others that have been waiting patiently for their turn, and how I wanted to punch her for being so rude (you know I wouldn't really, but I wanted to!) But eventually I let it go, and she got her drinks. I ordered a mojito (because I like the word) and Katherine ordered a fuzzy pear. Her drink was a LOT better than mine. We tried mingling with the people there, but it was absolutely packed. We walked back and forth between rooms for a while and tried having fun.

AWKWARD MOMENT #2
Once while walking between rooms we were stopped in the foyer by a mob of people. There was a man in a suit and a funny hat perusing some of the brochures on the table, and as his arm was blocking my way through I waited patiently for him to be finished. He realized I was there, and looked over at me (putting his face ridiculously close to mine.)

Guy: "Hi."

Me: "Hello"

Guy: (looking really really closely at my face; sidenote, I think he was sort of drunk) "You are really beautiful."

Me: "Uh...thanks! Excuse me!"

Guy: "Go ahead" (waves us through)

Katherine and I walked away, and upon recounting the story for her at our next location, she agreed that it was totally creepy of him. We waited in line again for another drink, as Katherine had finished hers (and the part of mine I didn't want - it wasn't very good), but while waiting I started feeling very dizzy and lightheaded and like I was going to faint. I think it was probably a mix of the sheer amount of people that were in that room, and the fact that it was probably about 80º. I walked away to get out of the crowd, and eventually Katherine followed me and we went back downstairs to get some air.

I'm going to copy/paste this part from Katherine's blog, because she tells it a lot better than I do.

The booze line wasn't moving and the air wasn't circulating, and I wanted to inhale secondhand smoke, so out we went! Outside revelers were smoking. These revelers included two guys about our age. It went like this, loosely abridged:

Guy 1: Hey Ladies! What are you celebrating?

W: [looks at him, up at me]

Me: Uh...what do you think we're celebrating? (I am genuinely curious. There's a bar upstairs. But I don't want to tell him personal info since I know we don't work together and I'm kind of uncomfortable.)

Guy 1 and 2 Say something I Don't Hear
[Uncomfortably silence as they chatter about Us.]

Me: So what are you celebrating?

Guy 1: [pause] Wednesday! I'm celebrating Wednesday!

Me: ...You're celebrating yesterday? (Leaving room for him to announce he got a raise, won the lottery, had a good day, etc.)

Guy 2: It's Thursday.

Guy 1: Well I didn't go to bed last night! So it's still Wednesday.

Me: Huh. Well, physics is awesome!

At which point a guy in my periph laughs and throw out his cigarette. I jump a little because I didn't know he was there. He looks at the guys as they go in. "Sorry," he says. "That was good." He laughs again, shaking his head. "Physics! That was really good."

No prob, dude.
Totally funnier if you were there.

It was pretty funny. I wanted to think of something epic to say, but my brain was fuzzy and I wasn't feeling well, so I couldn't come up with any responses. We attempted to go back up into the party, but failed, and so we decided to head back to the apartment.

HERE'S MY STORY FINALLY

Katherine called Jimmy's again to get us a cab home. HALF AN HOUR LATER it still hadn't come, and the nice valet boy told us that if we were waiting for a cab it would be better to hail one from the corner. So we changed location, and I GOT TO HAIL A TAXI! It sounds totally uninteresting and you're probably thinking, that is not a big deal at all, but I finally felt like a grown up. And like a real college student. Because, you know, I hate house parties and crowded bars and that's just NOT that college students are like.

Katherine and I got home and ate chinese food at 11:00 at night. THAT is more my idea of an epically awesome evening.

Eight - This is TOTALLY worth sharing.

Today I went on a few adventures with my roommate, shopping around for appropriate and ohsocute graduation outfits. Of course nothing we found we liked, so we ended up back at the Pad, sans new clothes, but with slurpees in hand.

When we arrived back, I noticed the boy who parks his white Jeep next to us was sitting in his car. He was trying to start it, but the poor thing just sputtered and coughed, not turning over in the slightest. I felt bad, and thought about offering him a jump, but he looked intent, so I didn't and went inside.

A few minutes later I was headed out to the bank, and though he wasn't there at first, he came back out right around the time I was pulling out of my space. I decided that if he was there when I got back I'd see what I could do to help him. I got back from the bank, and he was still there.

Our conversation was something like:

Me: "Hey, excuse me! Do you need a jump?"

Guy: (looks dumbfounded) "....what?"

Me: "Do you need a jump? It sounds like your car won't start.

Guy: "Oh. No. It has nothing to do with the battery. I put ethanol in the car, and I'm pretty sure it clogged up the carburetor."

Me: (really really confused) "Uh. Okay."

Guy: "Yeah. Do you put ethanol in your car?"

Me: "Um. No."

Guy: "Oh, alright. Well, thanks for the offer anyway! That was nice of you."

Me: "Yeah. Good luck."

And I proceeded to walk away, trying as hard as I could not to laugh at him. Last time I checked you couldn't put ethanol into just any car. I'm pretty sure you need to convert your car to actually run on ethanol before you try anything like that. I really don't know what pressed him to do that, but I don't think I want to. I've learned sometimes it's better to just not ask questions.

Seven - Whoops!

This semester I am only taking four classes. 12 credits is the 'minimum' required to be considered a full student, so I suppose I shouldn't say only four, but after numerous semesters of taking 16 and 19 credits, I feel as though I am slacking off somehow. Really I only need three of these classes in order to graduate, but in order to be considered a 'full time student' I'm taking History of Rock and Roll, which is totally rad and I think everybody should take it. Still, only taking a few classes allows me to focus my complete energies on graduating, my portfolio, and the important classes I need right now.

Today my Writing About Art professor called me "fascinating." Which sort of caught me off guard. Nobody's ever called me fascinating before.

Writing About Art was one of those classes I was terrified of enrolling in, hence why I saved it until the very last chance I had to take it. I had this idea in my head it was all research papers and library time and ridiculous amounts of reading, but in actuality it's nothing like that. Class time is spent mostly in discussion between us and the professor, and a bit of lecture just to get our minds thinking. Questions such as "what IS art, exactly?", form, content, context, and appropriation are only a few of the concepts we've dragged over the past couple of weeks.

Our first 'major' paper (I say major, as I've already turned in two, but being less than 4 pages each I don't consider them a 'big deal) is a comparison between two pieces of our own choosing at the Baltimore Museum of Art. Friday I dragged Katherine there with me (she'd never been!) to look at some pieces and collect my thoughts. I took a mega butt ton of pictures. And we oggled the Warhols (okay, I oggled the Warhols) and made our way upstairs to my favorite part of the museum; the Contemporary Art Wing.

UNFORTUNATELY FOR ME the third floor of the wing was closed, which was a total bummer. But the second floor was still open. That didn't make up for it, but at least I got to see a bit. I showed Katherine some of my favorite pieces, such as Jean-Pierre Gauthier's Marquers D'Incertitude #3 (Uncertainty Markers #3) which is basically just one huge drawing machine which has been drawing on the wall of the gallery since 2005. It's almost like one big Spirograph. We both ended up drawn to some of the same pieces, also, which further cements why my roommate and I were made for each other.

Apparently I tend to gravitate towards art that makes me feel uncomfortable in some way. Not always in a bad way, necessarily, just sort of uncomfortable and awkward. The first one I saw was a Segal entitled Girl On A Chair. While I was looking at it / sketching it, I had this weird, cramped, squished feeling, almost as if I was the girl sitting on the chair encased in that box. The next one, Saar's Strange Fruit was one I had seen before, but never really took the time to think about. The last piece, Robert Gober's Inverted Basin, speaks to my deep love of Minimalism. Thinking about all of the pieces together, in context, my thesis is going to be about notions of entrapment, confinement, and maybe even a spark of liberation, within art. The Segal is clearly about confinement, and what it is to be stuck into an uncomfortable space which you have no way out of. The Saar speaks to entrapment, and also confinement (she's made out of wood and tin roofing, which made me think of roofing in general and how it helps define and confine a space.) And finally the basin sort of ties everything together, in a way. I mean, it's a basin, right? Like a sink? Yet it has no drain, and is completely nonfunctional. It's almost like one gigantic frustration, because you want so badly for it to at least look like it could function as a sink, but doesn't. In a way it speaks to the same idea of confined spaces, as I imagine being inside that basin I would feel stuck.

Apparently my professor finds this absolutely astounding. I'm not sure why, as it's just sort of something that popped into my brain when I was thinking about the pieces all together. Of course the overachiever in my had to go and pick three pieces instead of the required two, but I just don't think I would be able to pick only two of these to support my thesis. I think all three are just as important to foil the others.


In conclusion, I am a huge nerd.

In unrelated news, I ordered my cap and gown today. It's crazy to think how close graduation is.

Six - Apartment Wars!

The past couple of days I have been engrossed in an epic battle of wills with our Downstairs Neighbors. There are two girls that live downstairs from us; they drive BMWs, paint their rooms neon green and girly pink, and SLAM THEIR DOOR every single time they enter or leave their apartment. Not just a casual loud door closing, but a earth-shaking, foundation-blasting SLAM.

After a few weeks of being rudely awakened by their 2 am returns to their apartment I've decided to take my revenge. Not in any dangerous or malicious way, no. But Thursday when I got home from work, I slammed the door on my way inside. I heard their door slam about half an hour later, and ran outside to see if they were going in or out. I suppose they had just gotten home because their car was in the carport, and so I slammed the door again on my way inside. A bit later I heard their door slam again and thought, oh man I bet they're leaving! So I ran outside to see if I could catch them leaving to tell them to KNOCK IT OFF. I got outside and saw them, so I yelled down at them that I would appreciate it if they would stop slamming their door all the time, and how it is completely unnecessary to slam the door so hard, considering you have to physically lock it with a key from the outside. The girls couldn't figure out where I was yelling from at first, but finally figured out that I was above them. They just giggled and rolled their eyes, continuing to walk to their car. I yelled once more that they really need to stop because 1) it's totally obnoxious, and 2) it shakes my apartment. I slammed my door on the way back in.

Their flippant response of eye-rolling and giggling made me feel even more perturbed. Really, they could have at least heard me out. But instead they shrugged it off as though maybe I'm just crazy. Okay, I'll admit, I'm easily irritated at things that shouldn't bother me as much as they do, but this just crosses the line from mildly-irritating-but-understandable to total and complete disregard for everyone else.

Since Thursday night's debacle I have been slamming my door every time I leave, except for when I leave when Katherine is still asleep (because unlike Downstairs, I have respect for other people.) Sometimes I get up and randomly slam the door just to make them mad. I'll open the door, yell something crazy (like READ THE BOX DAMMIT), and slam the door again. Sometimes twice. Katherine's joined me in this, and so far we've slammed the door approximately sixty bajillion times. The next time I see them I'm going to tell them that I really appreciate them letting me know when they leave their door unlocked so I could possibly go inside and take things from them. Not that I would, but the slamming makes me think that they don't take the time to actually lock after themselves and their apartment remains open for the time they're away.

Man, I love the Colony.

Five.

I just think the blogosphere world should know that my roommate and I just had an in-Apartment dance party to Hanson's "MMMBop". I broke down and purchased the song off iTunes, and it may be the best purchase I've made in a while.


More on the iTunes purchases upon completion of all transactions.

Four.

After a couple of days of feeling totally annihilated by the mega flu, I could finally get up and out of the house this morning. I didn't actually get out of bed until nearly 11:00, but once I was up and dressed I made my way to the mall to get my paycheck. I could have waited until tonight, I guess, but I know that after working until 3 am I am not going to feel like doing anything tomorrow.

After depositing the measly paycheck into my bank account, I made my way to the Goodwill and the Salvation Army thrift store. Katherine being gone for the weekend I had to find something to amuse myself, and I've had the urge to go thrifting for a while. The Goodwill was actually quite disappointing. They have a lot of stuff there, but most of it is total junk (I am aware of the irony here, you don't have to point it out.) So I moseyed on across the street to the Salvation Army. They had even less, but some amazing vinyl.

I purchased:

70's and 80's rock excess, 60's political messages being cast aside for lyrics that would sell more records, and the 1985 hit We Built This City.


Nuclear Furniture, the last album Freiberg recorded with them before leaving the band in 1984.

Because EVERYBODY needs a Black Sabbath record. I don't know very much about the Sabbath, but I look forward to experiencing this one.



Again, this one was way too good to pass up. I mean, Frank Yankovic playing authentic polka with his ACCORDION? Come on! Perhaps my deep-seated desire to learn how to play the accordion has some sort of mental effect on this purchase. Or maybe I just couldn't say no. Either way, 99 cents is nothing compared to the lasting years of enjoyment Katherine and I could get out of this polka-madness. I mean, this man won a GRAMMY for playing the polka!! Gonna try and tell me it isn't cool now?

And finally...

I don't think this one really needs explanation.

Now I just need a record player. Anyone know where I can get one relatively inexpensively?

I decided against buying this cute pair of shoes I found there, mostly because I have this aversion to wearing clothes previously worn by other people. Besides a few vintage t-shirts I own, I have this weird phobia about wearing strangers' clothes (borrowing clothes from friends isn't the same thing - these people I know.) Unless I can wash them. Things like t-shirts, and to some extent pants I suppose, I don't have a huge problem with. But things like shoes I think is totally weird. Oh, and BRAS. I imagine that, if circumstances warranted the need to buy bras from the Goodwill I would, but otherwise I think it's totally freaking gross. Undergarments seem a little too personal to buy off the rack of a Goodwill.

I spent the rest of the day laying low and preparing for an overnight shift at American Eagle. I baked cookies for the unfortunate souls doomed to spend the night in the store with me preparing for Spring Trans 2. The only benefit I see from this is I can get a $50 paid of bermuda shorts for $10, and a pair of the cork-heeled wedges for $10. $20 for $80 worth of clothes ain't too bad.

Three.

Matt Skiba totally needs to come hang out with us.

Two.

Rest in peace, dearest iPod headphones. You will be missed greatly. All the good times we shared will not be forgotten. Painting class of Fall '05 (when I accidentally smeared green paint all over you - oops), hundreds of trips back and forth across campus in blistering heat, gale-force winds, and bone-chilling cold, and for the abundance of music you've brought straight to my eardrums for the past two-and-a-half years. I've even forgiven you for the few times the volume was left too loud and you nearly ruptured my eardrums. To be honest that was partially my fault anyway.

I hope you will not be offended at my need to replace you. Please discuss your previous duties with the New Kid In Town and show him the ropes. It is to my understanding that you have outlasted others' original headphone life by about two years, and for that I am terrifically grateful. Your unmatched loyalty will not go forgotten.

-----

The Pirate Pad is under serious illness. I believe Katherine will be departing for home this weekend, and so I will be left here to my own devices.

One.

Hello Blogspot world. I have finally succumbed to the pleadings of my roommate to join the ranks of the blogosphere, so here is what we get. It is 9:39 pm on this, the night of the two-oh-oh-eight lunar eclipse. Every ten minutes I jump out of my chair and run outside to see what the moon is looking like. Right now it is at a sliver. I expect it to be fully disappeared within the hour.

I suppose I should tell you a bit about myself. My name is Whitney, and I am a twenty-one-year-old college student living right outside of Baltimore City. After four years of busting my hump at this terrific institution I am weeks away from graduating. I will be graduating with honours, a degree in Art and a concentration in Graphic Design. I work at American Eagle, and currently hold two internships. I am the middlestest of three children. Right now I live with the most amazing roommate in the entire world. No, really, she is. I couldn't ask for better. She has blogs too. Our apartment is affectionately known as the Pirate Pad. My favorite word in the english language is biscuit followed swiftly with denegrate. I really dislike feet. I can be quite stubborn sometimes, and I'm typically always cold. I don't like loud noises or really bright lights. I usually take pictures of random things that happen in my life, so expect those to end up here also. Really I have nothing of importance to say. I will mainly update this with the public postings of my life. The rest can be found Friends Only'd into LiveJournal.

Anything else? I don't know. Perhaps we'll see as we go along.
Right now my roommate and I are going out to watch the lunar eclipse. And sing Bonnie Tyler. I suggest you do the same.