Fuck it, man.

I'm getting out of here.

I have great hair.

Everyone can fuck off.

My new wine glasses are so big they echo.

I am making my dreams come true, and the only person I need to prove that to is me. Friends are amazing, and have shown me more love than anyone. It's nice to have people supporting you, especially when the ones closest to you don't believe you can do anything.

See you in a week, LA.

Merp.

Sometimes I look back on most of the shit I've created and I hate it.

Practice makes perfect, and I need to practice. And hope Mulder doesn't eat my paint.

Motivation

Sometimes I feel like the weekends are made for staying in bed and watching Netflix. I did do that for quite a long time this morning, actually. But getting back to motivation, I watched an episode of Hoarders. It’s disgusting and all, but I am glad that I watched it. It made me clean my apartment so hard. I don’t even really want to go out tonight because I’d like to continue organizing, cleaning, and making the most of this dorm room-like space. Miranda and I went to Target and I re-upped my cleaning supplies. Probably won’t end up going out since saving money is my #1 priority. 

I’ve never been a dirty person, I’ve just always had way too much stuff. See: college apartments. Probably going to sort through clothes tonight and get a Goodwill run ready. Girlfriends are welcome to come over and stuff once I tackle this monumental feat. It’s time to downsize some things for sure. 

Got two records for $2 at the Exchange, David Bowie Fashion and Paul Revere and the Raiders. David Bowie record pops, I guess that goes into the art project pile. The Paul Revere one is awesome, and has “Not Your Steppin’ Stone” on it, which is one of my personal jams. I took my desktop computer down since it’s fried, and actually have a working desk again. I also organized all of my colored pencils. 

Got my “Combat Rock” record out and was given reassurance in how amazing my dad is. It was my first record, given to me in 7th grade. He wanted me to hear “Know Your Rights” while I was having a rough time. That album changed my entire life. 

It’s the little things, right?

Blue Album

I don’t post much original content anymore. That’s pretty sad and lazy, right? I sure think so. It’s so easy to be brain dead and reblog post after post. It’s a wonderful way to wind down after work. Well, that and Netflix. And eating salami. I did submit a post over at Shotgun Reviews, and you can read it here.  My coworker created the site, and I’m lucky to have been able to submit something. I’ve met and networked with so many amazing people over the years I’ve gotten active on the Internet. I’ve always been a fan of sharing books and movies, but I feel in the past four years I’ve been really able to share knowledge. My lunchtable discussions at work have shown me that there is so much that I have yet to see, and I almost feel like I’ve been too scared to admit that.

After watching SLC Punk recently, I do feel like the person I used to be would hate the person I am now, but not because she was embarrassed. I don’t feel like I’ve changed to unrecognizable proportions, I still claim that the song “Brown Eyed Girl” is annoying, but not so secretly would probably be flattered if that song meant something to someone. I don’t have weird hair, I don’t wear flamboyant clothes, I’ve settled in to being me. When I was 18, all I wanted to do was move into downtown Chicago, or Bucktown, or the Ukrainian Village. Why? I had no plans for work, or how I’d get around. I wanted to go to punk shows. I’ve realized that it’s not places that hold magic, most places are the same no matter how many buildings, expressways, or hot dogs stands there are. It’s about making the most of yourself wherever you are. Think back to all of those times you wanted to pick up and get out. If you don’t have a plan, you might as well be perpetually in the suburbs in your childhood room calling your mom to make you a sandwich. (You know moms love to mom you and make sandwiches. They always make them the tastiest way possible.)

I’m 2 minutes away from making it through my first full 25 year old day. I’m ready to cut the crap and be realistic, for once. Remember when I was going to be in a girl punk band? Remember when going to Art School sounded like the coolest idea in the world? Yeah, me too. I’ve realized that there is really nothing I can’t handle if I plan. I’m not a perpetual teenage dirtbag. I worked really hard to not only get a piece of paper that says I could wake up and attend enough classes to pass, but that I strived to learn some things while I was educating myself in the middle of a corn field. (There is more than corn in Indiana, but it surrounds everything, ps.) Saying that you would go back to high school for a do-over means that you learned something. I can laugh at my mistakes now, because I learned from them.

In the past four years, I’ve met the most talented, interesting people, and I hope to continue this. Thanks for helping me grow as a person. 

I really like this picture. I've lost like 30 pounds and I feel great.

No one reads this blog. Indy has offered me nothing for almost a year now.