Guys, I'm not sure if you've seen it, but there is an awesome contest going on!
http://dawn-metcalf.livejournal.com/109724.html
Check it out!
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Nyan Cat Costume
This is what comes to mind at 2 am.
I really want to make this costume. And wear it everyday. (At 2 am, only)
We start with:
I really want to make this costume. And wear it everyday. (At 2 am, only)
We start with:
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Tick Tock Tick Tock
I'm not good at waiting. My patience is thin and, in the situations I control, I demand immediate answers. When I don't get them, I begin to fret and pace and generally freak myself out to the brink of breakdown.
Today the university I'd like to transfer to confirmed that they have everything they need to make the decision. My Benedictine transcript arrived safely, along with my application and other forms. They just need to make a decision.
Logically, I should get in. I have a 3.56 GPA for my freshman year. I'm applying to a program that requires a 2.5 GPA. This program isn't extremely popular either. The university is known well for its science majors, so it's English degrees haven't been in the spotlight for awhile. I'm hoping that lends itself to my advantage.
I'm not sure though. The unknown terrifies me. I'm a perpetual planner, carrying around an agenda while having a backup on my Google Calendar. I ask for dates off from work months in advance; I schedule appointments for next year without worries. Having this decision be so close to the beginning of the school year frightens me. Will I have enough time to plan my schedule? Will I be able to talk to my roommate about what to bring before we buy our items? Who knows.
It certainly doesn't help that they get over four thousand applicants to go through each semester. I'm just one out of four thousand.
It can't be helped.
I'll just have to distract myself until my answer comes.
Today the university I'd like to transfer to confirmed that they have everything they need to make the decision. My Benedictine transcript arrived safely, along with my application and other forms. They just need to make a decision.
Logically, I should get in. I have a 3.56 GPA for my freshman year. I'm applying to a program that requires a 2.5 GPA. This program isn't extremely popular either. The university is known well for its science majors, so it's English degrees haven't been in the spotlight for awhile. I'm hoping that lends itself to my advantage.
I'm not sure though. The unknown terrifies me. I'm a perpetual planner, carrying around an agenda while having a backup on my Google Calendar. I ask for dates off from work months in advance; I schedule appointments for next year without worries. Having this decision be so close to the beginning of the school year frightens me. Will I have enough time to plan my schedule? Will I be able to talk to my roommate about what to bring before we buy our items? Who knows.
It certainly doesn't help that they get over four thousand applicants to go through each semester. I'm just one out of four thousand.
It can't be helped.
I'll just have to distract myself until my answer comes.
Monday, May 23, 2011
I'd Rather Live Under the Stairs
It had been known for years that the moment I moved out would be the moment that my mom finally gained the art room that she always wanted. She would remove all of my possessions to make room for her own and then forbid anyone from going into "her" room.
I had no problem with this in the beginning. I really didn't spend much time in my room. I chose to sleep out on the couch in the living room where the air conditioner was located. It didn't help that I was constantly sick. I had to sleep sitting up, else I'd spend the entire night coughing, and my bed wasn't really useful for that.
In this moment, I wish I could throw every marker and stamp that my mother has in my old bedroom and take it back.
When we originally moved into this house, my sister was about to attend college. They morphed the attic into a bedroom for when she returned home and it remained generally clean. Then she left. Dad started to move his radios and general junk up into the room. Zak moved back in to live there for a few months, followed by Jessica and Miranda moving in for another six months. After they were gone, the attic became the storage shed. We have boxes after boxes cluttering the room and making it ridiculously hard to move around in.
That is now my bedroom. My father has been getting on my case all week about it not being clean up there. In reality, it is clean. I just don't have a dresser or a closet to put my belongings in. The floor is the only spot that was open when I walked in with everything from my dorm room.
I could stand this. I could arrange things, playing real life tetris until things fit. That was actually my plan until I started to implement it today. I found dead ants on the stairway, dead bees near the trash can, and everything coated in a layer of dust. I'm already half-sick and have a bad case of asthma; I'm not going to be living in a place that my immune system cannot handle.
Dave's going to help me clean today because I started crying with frustration while I was upstairs.
Even my dorm room was better than this, and that had black mold.
I had no problem with this in the beginning. I really didn't spend much time in my room. I chose to sleep out on the couch in the living room where the air conditioner was located. It didn't help that I was constantly sick. I had to sleep sitting up, else I'd spend the entire night coughing, and my bed wasn't really useful for that.
In this moment, I wish I could throw every marker and stamp that my mother has in my old bedroom and take it back.
When we originally moved into this house, my sister was about to attend college. They morphed the attic into a bedroom for when she returned home and it remained generally clean. Then she left. Dad started to move his radios and general junk up into the room. Zak moved back in to live there for a few months, followed by Jessica and Miranda moving in for another six months. After they were gone, the attic became the storage shed. We have boxes after boxes cluttering the room and making it ridiculously hard to move around in.
That is now my bedroom. My father has been getting on my case all week about it not being clean up there. In reality, it is clean. I just don't have a dresser or a closet to put my belongings in. The floor is the only spot that was open when I walked in with everything from my dorm room.
I could stand this. I could arrange things, playing real life tetris until things fit. That was actually my plan until I started to implement it today. I found dead ants on the stairway, dead bees near the trash can, and everything coated in a layer of dust. I'm already half-sick and have a bad case of asthma; I'm not going to be living in a place that my immune system cannot handle.
Dave's going to help me clean today because I started crying with frustration while I was upstairs.
Even my dorm room was better than this, and that had black mold.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Out with a Whisper
Tomorrow launches a new project with Bailey.
Every Tuesday and Thursday for an ENTIRE year, I'll be vlogging. She'll be handling the Mondays and Wednesdays.
We're still looking for a name for our joint vlog, so please submit suggestions!
Friday, April 29, 2011
Spring Ball
I promised a good blog today, so I'll try my best.
I tend to shy away from dances on my campus. It isn't that I don't love dances. I do. I adore dancing, dressing up, and having a good time. I just don't think my campus usually reaches those goals.
During homecoming week, I went to the dance. A lot of freshmen claimed they were going, but bailed on the last second, so I ended up with Stephanie, Jim, and Katherine.
The day before, Vy and I shopped the mall searching for dresses until I finally came upon my dress. I didn't realize it at the time, but it's pretty much a remake of the Little Black Dress from Shock Treatment. Except much shorter and the sleeve is just a thick strap of sequins. I loved this dress. I bought a regular bra, of which I had to manipulate and cut to make it a strapless bra, to go with it. When I walked out of my dorm room in it, I got compliments from the girls on my floor. I felt pretty.
At the time, I had enough confidence to wear my wig for Halloween too. I rocked the blue hair and people thought it was real.
Unfortunately, the food was subpar, drinks were pricey, and Katherine bailed after a half hour. Leaving me with a gushy couple who was my ride home.
I didn't want to go to another dance.
When Spring Ball came up a few weeks ago, I told Kristin the only way to get me to go was to convince Michelle. I thought she was unbreakable. She broke last night.
My ticket was payed for and I agreed because it was a free three course dinner, if nothing else.
So, I pulled on some leggings and a long shirt that shows most of my breasts, and went to the Spring Dance. I'm thankful I did.
I sat at a table of dorks and we discussed Harry Potter OTPs, Doctor Who Series Six Theories, and fanfiction. Nothing better than that. Oh, wait, there is. There was cheesecake and an ice cream bar.
We danced like idiots and had fun.
And then I won John and Eddy's pizzas. Two of them. And a sandwich.
I didn't figure it worth mentioning, but I ran out of meals on my food card this week. God provides in weird ways. One of those ways is gifting me with free food in unlikely places while I have two weeks left to get through.
Life is good.
I tend to shy away from dances on my campus. It isn't that I don't love dances. I do. I adore dancing, dressing up, and having a good time. I just don't think my campus usually reaches those goals.
During homecoming week, I went to the dance. A lot of freshmen claimed they were going, but bailed on the last second, so I ended up with Stephanie, Jim, and Katherine.
The day before, Vy and I shopped the mall searching for dresses until I finally came upon my dress. I didn't realize it at the time, but it's pretty much a remake of the Little Black Dress from Shock Treatment. Except much shorter and the sleeve is just a thick strap of sequins. I loved this dress. I bought a regular bra, of which I had to manipulate and cut to make it a strapless bra, to go with it. When I walked out of my dorm room in it, I got compliments from the girls on my floor. I felt pretty.
At the time, I had enough confidence to wear my wig for Halloween too. I rocked the blue hair and people thought it was real.
Unfortunately, the food was subpar, drinks were pricey, and Katherine bailed after a half hour. Leaving me with a gushy couple who was my ride home.
I didn't want to go to another dance.
When Spring Ball came up a few weeks ago, I told Kristin the only way to get me to go was to convince Michelle. I thought she was unbreakable. She broke last night.
My ticket was payed for and I agreed because it was a free three course dinner, if nothing else.
So, I pulled on some leggings and a long shirt that shows most of my breasts, and went to the Spring Dance. I'm thankful I did.
I sat at a table of dorks and we discussed Harry Potter OTPs, Doctor Who Series Six Theories, and fanfiction. Nothing better than that. Oh, wait, there is. There was cheesecake and an ice cream bar.
We danced like idiots and had fun.
And then I won John and Eddy's pizzas. Two of them. And a sandwich.
I didn't figure it worth mentioning, but I ran out of meals on my food card this week. God provides in weird ways. One of those ways is gifting me with free food in unlikely places while I have two weeks left to get through.
Life is good.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Sigh, Sorry
Okay, I've totally been bailing on these blog posts.
Really bad.
I apologize.
I promise to do a good one tomorrow
Really bad.
I apologize.
I promise to do a good one tomorrow
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