This is my face

Covered in freckles, with the occasional spot and some veins.
That's a Kate Nash song, right?  I'm too lazy to look it up.  But...you should find it on grooveshark or youtube! I think it was good!

And this is what I look like today.  The blood that I mixed up last night was all congealed this morning, so that was kind of a problem.  Also, I suck at doing makeup.  In general.

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What are you saying?

What are you saying?  I'm saying...


That was not relevant, but I like Tick Tick Boom, and I wanted you to know it.

I'm having this pervading feeling of worry right now.  I'm worried that I'm not making the right decisions, that I'm not doing the right thing with my life.  Then, I ask myself what else I would be doing, and I don't have a clue.  That's scary, that I might not be doing what I should be doing, but that there's nothing else.  I sometimes wonder if I like writing better than I like furniture.  And then I panic.  I panic because I'm not good enough at writing, and I'm not dedicated enough, and there's no clear path to a career.  Would I be better off quitting school and hitchhiking around the country to try and find myself, or at least find something to do?
No, I can't do that.  Girls can't go hitchhiking.  Nice girls from the suburbs go to college and get married and get a job they can quit it when they have kids.
I don't think I was ever cut out for that, but wouldn't it be so easy?  It would be so nice to do exactly what you're supposed to do and be happy with it, to feel whole without making anyone angry because you don't fit into their mold.

I don't want to deal with the future.

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Mood: Mildly productive

My car is mildly broken.  Have I mentioned that to the internet yet?  The power steering is not working, so, while drivable, it is really, really difficult to steer.  Not that steering is important or anything.  From what I understand, it's either some tube that's leaking or it's the pump that's broken.  Or...the entire steering thing is broken.  The tube would cost around $40, the pump would cost around $150 and the entire steering thing would cost around $holycrap.  So...I hope it's just the tube that's broken.
I've been feeling mildly productive today.  I woke up late, had breakfast (the macaroni and cheese on a bagel concept.  It was interesting and carb-a-licous) and then studied some for Art History.  I have a test on Monday.  It'll be alright, I think.  We had a quiz that the teacher said would be an indicator for the test, and I got a 94% on that.  I wrote a little bit (a very, very little bit) as well.  And then I got dressed and went on a bike ride and called my mom (Little broski is going to homecoming tonight.  How cute!) and then I got home.  And then I blogged.
Last night I did social things and redid an old Design Drawing assignment.  I have a B+ in that class, but if I redo a few assignments, I think I can have an A.  I really want an A.  I'm proud of myself for doing both of these things.  Tonight...I want to get all the pencil drawings done on my Intro to Furniture assignment and do the most recent Design Drawing assignment.  That way, I can go to school tomorrow to scan the furniture thing, practice some rendering, study more for art history, and maybe redo another Design Drawing assignment that I got like...a B- on.
I think I'm doing okay in school.  Written Rhetoric is super easy, Art History is getting better, Design Drawing is alright, and I've made a slight breakthrough in 2D.  The class that's causing the most worry is...Intro to Furniture.  We don't have that many assignments, and...I just want to know how I'm doing.  This is furniture.  This is my major.  I love it, right?
I sometimes wonder if I'm doing the right thing.
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There was much internal debate

About me posting this.  Well, here goes.
Food is odd.  As a concept.  I just wanted you to know that I felt that way.  And people have relationships with food, and that's also weird.  I think I have a weird relationship with food, in the same way that everyone else does.  I'm just not really sure what is the right amount of food to eat a lot of the time, or when I should eat.  There are days when it feels like all I do is eat, and there are days when I go over what I've eaten and realize that it isn't very much.  There are some days when I think about it a lot, Also, I don't eat things that go together.  Remember the mac and cheese taco?  Stuff like that.  Food culture?  I has none.  And I don't snack as much as I used to.  This summer, oh my gosh, there was so much snacking.  I gained weight, too.  I don't think it was really noticeable to other people, but I noticed, and it really bothered me.  I don't know how much I weigh now, because I don't have a scale.  I kind of really want to know though.
So yeah.  Food is weird, and it sort of freaks me out sometimes.  Like now.
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Quote of the Month

When we lose twenty pounds, we may be losing the twenty best pounds we have! We may be losing the pounds that contain our genius, our humanity, our love and honesty."
Woody Allen

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Go college, go college

I love having Fridays off of school.  Today...I didn't put pants on.  At all.  Woohoo!  Loving the lazy life.
I did, however, try to do some schoolwork.  Schoolwork for school.  So that I don't fail all my classes and drop out of college and work at McDonald's for the rest of my life.
If you work at McDonald's, I think you have to touch meat.
Eww.

 I'm trying to design lamps based on organic forms.  It's...there's something.  But mostly, I just want to invent my own organic forms to base lamps on.  Is that too much to do?  I have no idea what I'm doing here.  Design drawing got hard, all of a sudden.*  I still have an irrational love for it though.

This was what I did in class yesterday.  We were working on lighting and shadows, and this drawing sucks so much.  Gosh.  Can we just call it a bad drawing day and pretend that none of it ever happened?

On the writing front (For some reason, I'm thinking of All Quiet on the Western Front.  trollololol) things are not going so hot.  I'm worried that I won't get this thing finished in time for NaNoWriMo and then it will just fester on my computer for all of eternity.  I don't want this to happen.  I need to focus and make this work.  I want this.  I want this future, I want to be living the dream, and I know that I need to work for it.  I just...don't want to.

*AHAAHAHAH.

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I constantly ask myself

If what I'm doing is right.  If what I've done is right.  If I'm going to regret this all later.  If I'm going to ask myself what could have been, and why it wasn't.

I don't expect any answers, at least.

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I don't think

That we belong to us anymore.  I am not mine, and you are not you.  We are us.  The things I make are things that I couldn't have made on my own, and I've never made anything original.  That's fine.  That's good.  You're nothing new either.  We're made of remixed, broken parts that we recombine in any way that we can make work.  All we ever do is keep on pushing, keep on going, keep on making something, something so that we don't go insane.
All we are is the mix of things we've heard and seen and imagined.  That's all.  Not human in the least.
I am fine with that.  I'm fine with not being that way.  I'm done with pretending, done with acting like I'm something different.  Like we've changed.
There is no you and me, just us.

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I found this piece of paper.

In a bag.  My AP Lit teacher (who was pretty awesome) passed these out to all of us on the last day of my senior year of high school.  Now, I'm sharing it with you.

blessing the boats
by Lucille Clifton

(at St. Mary's)

may the tide
that is entering even now
the lip of our understanding
carry you out
beyond the face of fear
may you kiss
the wind then turn from it
certain that it will
love your back may you
open your eyes to water
water waving forever
and may you in your innocence
sail through this to that

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Well...

#piecesthatwerefarbetterthantheonethatwonArtPrize

Thick-It, 2011 by Adam Fure

Just sayin'.

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It's a landscape.

Made of felt.  On a dress.

I thought it was pretty cool.

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What is this

I don't even...

ArtPrize is good because it brings a lot of art to the city.  A lot of that art is just...plain...bad.

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Gleecap. Season Three, Episode Three

I can hear you asking me right now "Why, Samantha, do you not have a Gleecap for episode two?" Well, I had notes for that episode, so that I could write a review.  I put them in my backpack.  They have not been seen since.  This is a source of great distress to me, and I'm working through the issues to the best of my abilities.  All I really remember is the giant huge crazy stressful Klaine cliffhanger.  Which, of course, was wrapped up in this episode.

Anywho, here goes.  I love the beginning bit.  Santana's back!  She's growing on me. Like a slutty fungus.  What is this focus on Mercedes all about?  I'm not used to her being treated like a real character, just like an extra who's there every single week.   I hate Mr.Schuster.  Still.  And I am shocked by the concept of Emma having parents.
Figgins:  You are brown*.  You should understand the Asian F.
I love Mercedes having a love interest.
Next, in rather large letters, I have written "Shake the foundation of Rachel!"  So...I think we know how I feel about that one.
Brittany...is that outfit empowering?  Really?  I think not.
Mercedes...Finger to the forehead.  Damn.
Bieste is awesome.
DO NOT MEET THE PARENTS.
Blaine...you are so BA.  Mwahahhaahahaha.
I love this song.  I guess that the whole "Mercedes having a plot" bit was just building up to this?
MIKE CHANG OH MY GOODNESS.  You're having the "Parents, I'm going to be an artsy person" conversation.  I had that conversation too, about two years ago.  I feel for you.  "We earned that part"  Um...okay Mom.
DIVA OFF DIVA OFF DIVA OFF DIVA OFF.
Kurt's comment was great, about how people will talk about this forever.   I love Kurt.
Have I mentioned that I greatly dislike Wemma?  Because I do.  Her parent's are horrible.  And they said something about redhead "heading" down the road they're on.   Lolololol.
Rachel Berry, rainbow flag in the locker.

And then, at the end of the episode, something random struck me as "OH SNAP" worthy.  I can't remember what it was.  It probably wasn't earth shattering.

So...Other than Glee.  Things have been happening in my life. Um....They're really cool.  Art History regularly causes explosions in my brain (the good kind) and makes me think about the universe in new and exciting ways andsometimesIconsiderswitchingmajorssothatIcanbeahomelessstarvingweirdowholikesfurnitureandhasaPhDinarthistory AHEM.  And Design Drawing is lovely.  2D is kinda dumb.  And I got my papers sorted out for my new job, so that should be starting soon.  I still don't know people who I can hang out with outside of school, and the fact that most of the people I've met don't have cars doesn't really help with that situation.  Still, I really like school.  Yay.  Derek is coming to visit this weekend, getting here tomorrow night, so that's awesome.
Other than that....Um...Apparently my blog has a lot of words.  For people who are used to tumblr, at least.  Sorry guys.  I like words.  A lot of them.  AND NANO IS COMING UP WOOOHOOO GUESS WHO HAS A PLOT.

I might have ADHD.

*Is it racist to say that?
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At least you have ambition.

I want to be the sound your shoes make, hitting the pavement, day after day.
I want to be the ribbons wrapped around your bony wrist.
I want to be all of the things you think it better not to say.
I want to be the things you throw away.
I want to know the things you don't want to share.
I want you to know how much I care.

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Chapel.

Rock.

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I have a picture of the exact time and place.

Of where I belong.  I wanna go back there.  So freaking much.

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Fiction Friday!

It's a Fiction Friday if I want it to be Fiction Friday.  Don't mess with me.

It was late June when I drove with Rachel out of town, to a field somewhere. We hadn't seen each other in a long time, too long, but we had talked. We had talked a lot. We never talked about anything that really mattered.

I parked the car at the side of the road. We got out and laid down in the grass without saying a word. Side by side, we looked at the stars for a while, not needing words to muddle what was going on between us.

Finally, I spoke. “Rachel, you know that I like you.” I turned my head and saw her nod in the moonlight, “I really like you. And I care about you. I want to spend time with you.” Those were all things that she had heard me say before, more or less. They were things that I assumed were true for her too. I hoped they were true. I hoped that I wasn't inventing all of our relationship. Not that we had a relationship. Not that we had much of anything. “I just want you to know how I feel about you.” This was supposed to be freeing or something. It did not feel freeing. It just felt terrifying, this dead space there was, between us. Full of questions. Suddenly, it felt like this was not a good choice, it felt like I had done all the wrong things and said all the wrong things and I was scared. I wanted to go home and curl up in my bed and never leave again.

She reached toward my side and grabbed my hand. I was okay again, in seconds. I didn't say anything else. We just stared up at the stars, dreaming and wishing.

“Do you know what I think of when I look at the stars?” Rachel posed non-questions like that often.

“What do you think of?”

“I think of the future. I think of the past too. I think of myself, a lot. And I think of you. I think of everyone else. I think of interconnectedness and loneliness.”

She always said things like that, in that way that made everyone around her question if she was deep and thoughtful, or if she was just full of shit. No one was ever sure, but that night, I was erring on the side of depth. This wasn't the time when she would joke.

“I think about you a lot. I hope you,” She paused. Holding her breath for a moment. “I hope you realize that.”

“I had hoped that you did.” I replied too fast.

She chuckled, and I heard her moving, on the grass. She moved closer to me, her face above mine, blonde hair brushing my face. “I like you. I like you a lot. I like you as more than friends.”

“I feel the same way about you.”
“That makes me very, very happy.” She kissed me, and touched my hip, in that little strip of exposed skin between my pants and shirt. My heart, for lack of better term, fluttered. She rolled onto her back, closer to me this time. Our sides touching, two layers between our skin.
We were quiet again, staring at the stars and contemplating our interconnectedness and whatever else she had talked about. She was perfect. I loved her. I loved her. I loved her so freeking much. I loved her in the way that a person who had never been hurt can love. I had no idea how to say that. I had feelings, but I didn't know how to express that. I didn't want to express that. I didn't want to put myself out there.

“I”

She glanced at my face again before I spoke. “What?”

“Nothing.” When you put yourself out there, you get hurt. I didn't want any of that.

“No, what is it?”

“It's nothing. I just like this. Being here, being with you.”

“I like it too.” We were quiet again, giving me the space to imagine us. I wanted an us. I wanted to hold her hand and walk down the sidewalk together. I wanted more, more than talking to her late at night. I wanted more than on and off conversation. I wanted a relationship, and all the little couple benefits that it could come with. There was a reason why we were here. There was a reason. There was something I wanted to tell her.

“I'm really concerned about college.”

Rachel was not thinking about the same thing that I was thinking of. “Oh. Why are you so concerned?”
“Because I need to get in. I need to get into a college that's good.”
“I think you'll get in. You have everything going for you. You're going to do fine.”

“Maybe. I don't know. I'm just really worried about it.”

“You'll be okay.”

“I hope so.”
“I believe you'll be okay.” She was so insecure, sometimes. She would be fine, we both knew it deep down.

“We should probably go home.” She sat up, arms straight out behind her, hands on the grass. There was a slight arch to her back, not quite like anyone else. I liked the way my arm fit right there, we belonged like that. She stood up.

I was still lying on the ground. It was now or never. I stood up, brushing bits of grass and dirt off of my back. “Rachel.” I held both of her hands. “There's a reason why I brought you out here. I want us to be something more.” She opened her mouth and I kept talking. “I love you, Rachel. And I know that you might not love me back, and I know that there's a reason why we aren't in a relationship. You don't want to be seen with me, you don't want to be known as my girlfriend. You're ashamed, you want to be with someone who other people like more. I know there's a reason, there's something. I don't care about it. All I want is you. You're my eleven-eleven, you're who I wish for when I blow out the candles on my birthday cake. I love you.”

She stared at me. She stared at me for too long. I had said that too much, too crazy. I sounded like I was too into her. There was an imbalance. No one wants an imbalance. It's weird and it's awkward.
She pulled her hands away from mine. Tilting her head to the side, she asked “Is that really how you feel?” She said it so slowly, like she was talking to someone who didn't speak the same language as she did.

“Yes. That's how I feel.”
“Oh.”
“We should probably go now.”
“Yes.” We walked to the car. I drove home, not speaking, not looking at her, trying to avoid thinking. I would have turned the radio on, but I was positive that the first song we'd hear would be something horribly love-related.

I got to her house, after years of driving. “Bye, I guess.”
“Yeah. Bye. I'll um, see you around.” She got out of the car, walked to the side door, and let herself in, taking care to shut the door as quietly as possible.

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