I'll work on my sociology right after I finish this.

I swear.

First off, I'd like to interject something. My mother has been on a crusade to make sure that all things that may be on the floor near my bed are actually on my bed shelf. Small things. Small, but surprisingly heavy things. Like flashlights. Flashlights with unnessecarially rough edges. So, if you were to turn on the light on my bed shelf and possibly move it a half inch back in the process, a flashlight would fall off the bedshelf onto whatever is below said bedshelf. Sometimes, we are working on art, and we do so while sitting on the floor, leaning drawing boards with drawings on them against the wall. So, sometimes flashlights fall on those drawings and basically rip huge, unfixable holes in the centers.

Bottom line: FUUUUUCK. Also, I'm glad I didn't work on it more than I did. Procrastination pays off, kids.


Writing. Remember writing? I do. I remember all the fun we had together, running through fields of wildflowers, going on roadtrips, misusing commas late into the night. It felt so good, you know? I want it again, no, I need it again. I need to write something.


I can see the comments now "But Samantha, don't you remember the novel you vowed to edit into oblivion?"

But March, you see, is NaNoEdMo. I could edit the novel. In NaNoEdMo.

"But Samantha, you have to do two more pieces (yeah, that one piece that was torn? It was supposed to be for this. Win.) by the 19th to submit to portfolio day so you can get some scholarshippage!"

And then I came up with a compromise. With myself.

We're going to work on both of those pieces (cartooney self-portrait and hipster chairs) until the 19th, when we will go to Grand Rapids and probably get a full-ride of lovely amazingness, and then after, we will go into editing overdrive.

Party on.