I just realized that there's a strange substance on the shirt that I've been wearing all day. Way to tell me, guys. And there's a strange whirring machine outside my bedroom.
So that's cool.
First off, I just realized that the Picasso exhibit I've been wanting to see was ending today. And I haven't seen it. RAGE.
Youth group was fun tonight. I showed everyone this t-shirt logo, and they liked it. I'm not sure if they actually liked it or if they were just trying to make me feel good. It's always weird when I make something, and it's something that I'm not very fond of, and people like it. It's uncomfortable. I just want to tell them "No, that's not very good. No, really, I swear I can do better. It's just that I have trouble with the computer, and I was drawing with a mouse, and I can't figure out how to make the path tool work correctly, so when I had it all plotted out, it just went and erased itself. My idea was so, so much better than the execution, it really was!" but they're just like "Ahhh, I like it. What colours is it going to be?"
Like that, but with text on the right. Is it blasphemous to change the cross and flame logo? The double flame is something that's a little...irritating.
So, I'm thinking about inspiration.* See, I've recently added a number of images to my bedroom walls where I keep pretty things. And I've asked myself "Is this too much? Is this overpowering?" and then I say "Why not? If you have walls, why not plaster them with the things that make you happy and inspire you and remind you of the DIA and The Importance of Being Earnest and last years auto show and Alice in Wonderland and buildings with walls that aren't perpendicular to the ground? Why not? And then I thought of dreams and passions and all those other things that give us a reason to get out of bed in the morning and all the other things that the universe has given us to contemplate so that we don't have to be just slouching towards death and the fact that there is so much out there, waiting for someone to make it. So I want to go draw the self portrait and draw the hipster chairs and draw the weird melted bottles that are like Chihuly** but not as cool and also a lot cheaper. And I want to write books and make a radio play (with all of the NPR personalities who we will kidnap and force to do the voices) and just create things, because OUR TIME IS NOW. So go. Go and do what you want to do, be the person who you want to be and seize the day.
That is all. Goodnight.
*Also, THE KING'S SPEECH kicked some ass at the Oscars. And Anne Hathaway wore about five thousand different dresses. Also, COLIN FIRTH. He may take over Alan's place in my heart. Alan, watch out. Do something awesome, right now, unless you want to lose some prime real estate.
**I am forever amazed at my ability to spell his name. I cannot usually spell "knowledge" but I can spell "Chihuly" right every single time. LIFE SKILL.
It seems like, lately, I've turned into some sort of inspirational blogger. Do not be worried. The change is not permanent. I'll be back to normal soon.
Three and a half years ago, I started this blog. I was bored. I had an idea, and I ran with it.
And now, it's taken me far longer than it should have to write this blog post. I'm a disappointment to myself sometimes, but that's okay.
I feel like I should have something deep to say. That I've grown as a person, since I've been blogging. That I've pushed myself to new heights and become the person I want to be, but that's not true.
That's a total lie.
I'm not the person I want to be, I'm not living the way I want to live, I'm not even wearing the clothes I want to wear*. It's a little bit pathetic. Why don't we all live the lives we want to live, the lives we're destined to live? What's holding us back? Why the fuck not?
I haven't the slightest idea.
All I know is that we function in instants. I don't know what I'm going to do in the next sixty years or however long I have left, but I know what I'm going to do in the next instant. I'm going to type some more, then post this, then, then, then.
It's all kind of a series of thens. What happens when you run out? There has to be an end to the thens because everything ends sooner or later. We don't want to think about the end of the thens because it scares us. Because we're not in charge, because we don't know how to get in the driver's seat, because we're all just floating around in the great big universe, trying to make our way.
I love you, blog reader. I just want you to know that. I wrote this for you and for me and for every other imperfect human in this imperfect world.
*Actually, I like what I'm wearing today. Grey hooded sweater, green tank top, cuban boots and jeans. I like these jeans the best. It's the little things that count, right?
I wrote a really deep blog post during finance but it got deleted. It was about social networking and blogging. You should have read it, really. I assure you, it was fantastic.
Anyway, in lieu of a real post, I'd just like to let you know that those chairs behind Kurt in the preview of the next episode? Totally Bertoia. Just sayin'.
Those are some damn nice stools.
What would you do without me pointing out furniture to you?
"Carpe, carpe diem, seize the day boys, make your lives extraordinary. "
Dead Poet's Society
"Why do anything— why wash my hair, why read Moby Dick, why fall in love, why sit through six hours of Nicholas Nickleby, why care about American intervention in Central America, why spend time trying to get into the right schools, why dance to the music when all of us are just slouching toward the same inevitable conclusion? The shortness of life, I keep saying, makes everything seem pointless when I think about the longness of death."
I held off so long on my report card, but I opened it today.
Straight Bs. I got a B in French.
I GOT A B IN HEALTH. Let me repeat that: I GOT A B IN FUCKING HEALTH.
FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK my life.
So...don't expect to hear from me for the rest of the weekend, okay?
That is all. You may go.
And I can never remember people's names.
And I never spend more than fifteen minutes getting ready in the morning.
And I have no idea what an iambic rhythm is.
And I still haven't opened my report card.
And I get too aggressive in arguments.
And I still haven't started writing FILM SCHOOL.
And I don't like my thighs.
And I haven't been doing the reading for psych.
And I'm behind on all my homework.
And I'm okay with that, in some weird, inexplicable way.
But it should probably stay out there.
They say "Porcelin birds". All I hear is "KURT HUMMEL WARBLERS". Um...Yeah. And Tina finally has a solo...but it was tragic. And when Blaine says that the guy he likes is an assistant manager at Gap? All I could think was "Great, 'cause it's for Cho Chang!" D. Criss, you will forever be Harry freekin' Potter. Twenty years from now, you'll be getting an Oscar, and I'll be sitting on the couch in my pyjamas and crying/screaming about this. And...PINK GLASSES.
That is all.
I'm starting to feel like no one wants me to talk about Glee all the time. But if I don't talk about Glee, then I'll just talk about Harry Potter, and no one wants to hear my insane theories and fanfiction plans for that either.
Maybe I should go back to the real world...
It's a little bit about living. And other stuff.
First off, I would like to tell you all that I am turning into my mother. Case in point: I've been working out lately, and I was thinking of making a list of every time I've gone to the gym and how far I run, how long I swim, my weight, etc. And then I asked myself "Why not just make an excel spreadsheet?"
My mom makes spreadsheets for everything. There's a grocery shopping spreadsheet. There's a college spreadsheet. There's a chore spreadsheet. My mother lives off of spreadsheets. And so, probably because I feel inadaquate because of my inability to find the proper way to print something earlier, I will be spreadsheeting it up.
That sounds so awkward.
Also, Ferris State gave me an email address. No, I will not be telling you what it is. No, I do not actually know how to check it. Yes, I will be hopping in my DeLorean and joining Facebook in 2004. I am awesome.
I finally submitted my camp application today. Fingers crossed on that one. Ahh, I want this job so much ahhh ahhh ahhh.
I've written five (or six?) novels, and this is how I express emotion. Yay for writing skills.
There was a short story that I wrote a while back that I plan on submitting to a contest that I've found on the internet. Go ahead, judge all you want.
Anyway, onto the important stuff: GLEE.
This was me.
Superbowl episode! Yay! I was going to watch it at someone else's house, but then my friend needed to get home earlier and I drove him, so we had to leave. I got home in 26 minutes. The drive is supposed to take 38ish minutes. Clearly, there was a break in the time-space continuium. Anyway, I got home and raced to the tv, turning it on at/slightly before the point when Finn asks Karofsky why he never has a girlfriend and is such a homophobe. Greatness. Today I've downloaded the episode and found that this point is three minutes in. No loss there. I will be giving you my summary of the episode now. Be amazed.
Eh, football. Boring boring boring. Not playing as a team. It's Feburary and Ohio and sunny? Cool. They never sang a Ke$ha song. Karofsky, you are a jerk. Always a jerk. And Sue Sylvester? You are responsible for 3/4 of the funniness of this show. Nice tattoo. I too, take my inspirations from old cartoons. It would be better if that was a joke. I love how Beckey has become Sue's little minion. Poor Artie! That wasn't even a plot point. What's wrong with you guys? Tragic. Bieste is a great character. Football players in the choir room, this is a reciepe for crazy. And I love how they discuss Karofsky's bullying right in front of him. I smell someone getting a bigger storyline. Random Rachel/Puck song? Sure. Because we're all soooo obsessed with Lea. And I love how you sing with Puck to your ex-boyfriend to get him back when you cheated with Puck. The one football player has fantastic hair. Just sayin'. Is it just me, or was there a bald spot in the mohawk? Writers: we get it. The game matters to the football players. Woohoo. La de frickin' da. Puck still likes Rachel. Sueclear weapon? YES. Scared Brittany is...strange. I don't want to die until after Glee gets canceled. It's understandable that you have a devotion to One Tree Hill. Figgins? You are always fantastic. Will? Just go away. No one likes you. Sue, why are you not singing something angry while tearing the school apart? This could be so much better. Aww snap. Drama. Thriller! Woohoo! Musical numbers will reduce fighting. Stop the violence. Is Mike wearing the traveling hoodie? Sure looks like it. Will/Karofsky conversation? This looks like an intervention. I am so glad that the choir room suddenly has makeup stuff and they are actually getting ready for something. This is unprecedented. Karofsky, is your warmup "Born This Way"? ZOMBIE DOUBLE RAINBOW. Brittany has better writing than usual. Sue! Quinn, why do you care? This fight reminds me of the Santana/Quinn fight...so much. Why does no one comment on the plastic surgery? Or the baby? Musical number is kind of eh. I kind of like the idea of Karofsky in ND. And there's a hockey team. rotflol....Gay comment? Number two. Someone wants us to know that he's gay. Stages of loserdom? Nice. Random cut to Dalton and Bills, Bills, Bills? I love how Blaine is the focus of everything there. And remember how Will said that they couldn't move? Hmm...I wonder what Warblers he's talking about. Clearly not these ones, who randomly do flips while singing in a circle. Not sure how that translates onto a stage, but whatever. I want more Kurt screentime. Please? Showchoir is vicious. I love that Kurt does the warm milk ladychat thing. It's hilarious. Someone is desperate to be with Finn again, RACHEL. "Blaine and I love football. Well, Blaine loves football. I love scarves." In my recollection, he said "We love football" and my Klaine shipper heart soared. Rachel can be the tiniest football player ever. Being tackled hurts. But Lauren? SO AMAZING. SHE WILL BRING THE PAIN. Sue? So manipulative. Baby twin cannons....because the writers must make Brittany into a total idiot. Really? WHY? That shot of the audience? Released months ago. Rachel looks insane walking out onto the field. Gold stars on the helmet! TINA TINA TINA TINA. When Tina does something, it's awesome. This is why she needs to do stuff more often. Finn, you are insane. And always the center of attention. Puck is my inspirational speaker. I heart him. Halftime? Totally better than halftime at the superbowl. And Rachel is channeling Idina Menzel so much. Why didn't they do this at Halloween? Yay team togetherness! I would wear any of those dresses. Fantastic. SLOOOOOWWW MOOOOOTIONNNNNNNNN. Annnd, cut to Katie Couric. Or Barbra Walters. Or Diane Sawyer. Sue, you're not a loser. You're a hilarious loser. I just want you to know how I feel. I want to feel something too. Cheerio's budget to Glee Club? That would explain how they can afford new costumes every five seconds. Karofsky, JOIN GLEE JOIN GLEE GO TO DALTON JOIN GLEE GO TO DALTON JOIN GLEE! Why do you fluctuate between being a total jerk and being a semi-decent person? Why be like that? Annnnnnd, Finn and Quinn are back together. We all knew they were endgame. I can't help but feel like she has alterior motives. Sam? Well...the fandom seems to say that he's gay. And that he used to go to Dalton. And that he and Blaine were together. And that the guy who works at Gap is thoroughly freaked out by the Warblers.
Also, the Chevy commercial was fantastic. I need more song and dance on commercials. Forever. It felt very classic. And I like Sam's hair. No more Bieber for you. Also, I saw the third Chevy Volt of my life on Sunday morning. It made my day a little more complete. I am a freak. Other great commercial?
I live in metro Detroit. Maybe I'm biased.
During Sociology, we had a bit of spare time. I ranked my ships. People were amused. Number one is Kurt/Happiness. I love happy Kurt more than anything on that show. Number two is Klaine, obviously. Number three is Lauren/Puck. I have no idea what this ship name is, but it's fantastic. The seven minutes in heaven/she rocked my world comment from sectionals? That rocked my world. Number four is Finn/Quinn. They are number four*. Number five is Tina/Mike, aka The Asian Situation. I like them, they just need more storyline. Number six is Rachel/Forever Alone. Yep. True. I think she doesn't belong with anyone else. I'm looking for the same driven, pain in the butt that we remember from season one. Number seven is Bartie. Yep, they're cute. I'm not hating Brittany as much as I used to. Number eight is Santana/Alone. It's for her own good. Not forever, just so that she can kind of exist as her own person for once. Number nine is Mercedes/Artie/Mike/Tina/MORE STORY. Seriously, Mercedes, Artie, and Tina were in the origional group. It's not all about Rachel and Finn and Quinn and Sam and (I hate to say this) Kurt. There are other people here, and they need attention. Hello, writers! Number ten is Brittana. I'm not that into it, but I think it would be interesting to see happen.
I guess this didn't have very much to do with living. It was all about Glee. Look at your life, look at your choices.
*That was a terrible joke. I'm sorry.
What is real, anyway? Is real something you can touch? Is real something that can hold you? Is real something that you've made and been proud of?
Pondering, pondering, pondering.
Starting to think that repetition, repetition, repetition is a big part of my writing style, style, style.
But not, you know, that big of a part. Smaller than commas, probably. Not that I have a comma abuse problem.
I saw Sunset Boulevard yesterday and it was AMAZING and Norma's eyes were terrifying and Max is my favourite character. Yep.
And I saw Black Swan on Friday and I was like "AH AH AH" and it was good. The whole skin thing was sort of distracting. I didn't understand what was happening with that until the end, so the whole time when I was watching it, I was like "DUDE WTH IS HAPPENING WITH YOUR SKIN!?!?!" and it was...odd.
I speak in capslock. Don't judge me.
Anyway, I'm going to my youth group's superbowl party with my boyfriend, but he's never met them and I'm afraid some sort of crazy judgy thing is going to go down. But it probably won't.
I am turning into a fourteen year old girl who is very excited to have Glee come back on tonight and is considering writing the next Dalton. Because...that fanfic has it's own fandom. It's strange, really. Strange and amazing.
That reminds me of what I meant to blog about! Yay! Superstars: Why?
That was a deep title. Anyway, I was thinking about superstars and why it seems like so much popularity is concentrated in a small number of people. That doesn't seem like it's a good thing, does it? Is that the definition of being successful, being able to take possible popularity/wealth away from the lesser? We're sort of applying a rich get richer and poor get poorer type thing. Like social darwinism. It always comes back to social darwinism in the end.
I promise that one day, in the near future, I will actually blog instead of posting random bits of writing for other things on here. Promise.
Today is not that day.
This is my last college essay. Yay! Woohoo!
Dreams are the things we live for. Goals are like that, but they're more important because they give us direction and they keep us from wandering aimlessly throughout the universe. Goals allow us to dream big and put everything towards reaching that dream because maybe, just maybe we can make it. That hope, that idea that one day, we can live the dream means everything to us.
Making people happy is the overarching goal in my career and my art. Making people happy, giving them that little pep that keeps their day going, Art makes people happy because it makes people think. When you see something and it invokes an emotional reaction, it's not just the art that's doing that. It's the connection that art can give to people. Not all kinds of art, though. Pictures and movies, they entertain us. They give us a little escape from reality. And while some escapes leave us alone in our own little worlds, art connects us on a level that isn't available any other way.
When I was in kindergarten and the teacher asked us what we wanted to be when we grew up, I said I wanted to be an artist. My goals flitted back and forth for a long time, but after asking myself about it for years and years, I realized that I knew it all along. I was supposed to be an artist. That was why I was always drawing. That was why I was the only kid who liked going to art museums. That was why I read The Series of Unfortunate Events and obsessed over the illustrations, not the words. That was why I watched animated movies long after they were age-appropriate. I was meant to do this, I saw. I just had to figure out how I was going to.
College. I needed to go to college, specifically art school. It was scary though. I didn't know anyone who had gone to art school, and everyone who was looking at colleges was aiming for math and science. I was all alone. Then, Mr. Boyer stepped in. He asked me what I wanted to do with my life, pushed me to figure it out, and do so for myself. I researched. I looked into careers, trying to find the one that was perfect for me. And in the end, I had it narrowed down, but I wasn't sure. I knew I wanted to be commercial more than fine arts, and I knew that I wanted to make things that told stories. I've loved stories for a very long time, and I knew I wanted to have something to do with that. Animation or illustration, those were perfect for me. That is where I belong. And Columbus College of Art and Design is the school that can take me there.
Those goals will guide me through the next for years and on into my career. I hope that I can wake up every day and realize that I'm living the dream and telling stories that light up peoples lives.
Be amazed. For serious.
It's like Bill Clinton's book, but more awesome.
I was born. My parents named me Samantha. It was all pretty exciting from then on, but to save time, we’re going to focus on high school, the past three and a half years. Freshman year was okay. Notable events included writing my first novel (no, you cannot read it, yes, it was terrible) and joining the quiz bowl team. Even though I joined it on something of a bet or dare, quiz bowl has been a really great experience all through school. I’ve met a lot of friends through it and will miss it when I’m gone. I also participated in debate and freshman/sophomore play, which really enriched my experience.
On to sophomore year! It too, was okay. I wrote another novel, this one not quite as terrible (although I’m not really sure what it was about) and blogged some more. I took AP Euro, which was a totally amazing class, and, for the first time, I was in a class that I liked,* but was not particularly successful in. That year, I also participated in quiz bowl, debate, and freshman/sophomore play. I got my driver’s license too, which was exciting. That summer, I became a counselor at the summer camp where I’ve gone for years. It was, in short, fantastic. I also remember writing something of significant length that was post-apocalyptic, although I’m not sure what the circumstances of the apocalypse were. Then I, like so many others, became a junior.
Junior year was a little different in that suddenly, college was a big, eminent issue for me. I would have to decide right this minute what I was going to do with my life and if I didn’t, I would die sad and alone and my internet connection would be cut off and everything would be horrible. I kind of knew that all I really wanted to do was sit in my room and write all day, but writing silly novels and blog posts isn’t really a career. Then, about three weeks into the school year, I tested out of World History. This wasn’t really a big deal, but it allowed me to switch into Art II, which Mr.Boyer taught. One day, he asked me what I wanted to do with my life. I was caught off-guard and sputtered out something about history. I like buildings too, so I turned to historic restoration. In essence, I wanted to buy up a bunch of historic buildings, restore them, and then bask in their awesomeness all day long. Then I decided that I didn’t really want to do that any more. Instead, I wanted to be an architect. Woohoo architecture, right? Erm…maybe. Or maybe what I wanted to do was design furniture. Actually, I probably did want to design furniture. Not woodworking, but design. The differentiation is important. To pursue that, I began taking figure drawing classes, which were pretty interesting. That summer, I counseled at camp again, and I might have written some short stories.
Senior year came crashing into my life, leaving me shocked and ill-prepared. College! College! College! I settled on applying to three art schools, and also applied to Lawrence Tech on a whim, because it was free and had one of four architecture programs in the state. Clearly, I am a master of research and planning. Anyway, I continued into my senior year, my first without an art class, with some trepidation. Would I be able to handle two AP classes at once? Was I really good enough for Lit, having taken regular English for the two previous years? Would I be the only senior in my Health class? Would I be able to stand the humiliation and pain of gym? Would I be able to memorize the location and capital of every country in the world for International Relations? Most importantly, would I be able to sing “Under the Sea” in French?** It was tough, and it was a real journey for me, but somehow, I survived the first semester of my senior year and ended up here, in Finance.
*Comma abuse has been a constant struggle for me. It’s hard, but with hard work, and perseverance, I think I can overcome it.
**Yes. Yes. No, surprisingly. Yes, it wasn’t that bad. No. Yes, that was a test in French V.
Posted by Samantha at 12:34 PM