6.10

I think of all these beautiful things to tell you. and I always forget. Always.
I spend all my time doing homework, thinking about homework, eating so I can stay awake for more homework, and laying in bed "dreaming" of homework. It's more of a staring at the ceiling type dream.
I had a bad experience after making so much progress. My mind was more fearsome than I had imagined. When faced with a landscape of infinite creation my mind decides to spend its time proving what is reality and what is fiction.
I am always told I am a black n' white person. It either is or it isn't. In short, I am always told I am a bitch.
But how are things not what they are or are what they aren't? I either have a notebook or I don't. Now, I might go get a notebook. There is a 50% chance that I might go to the store and pick out the biggest and thickest notebook possible, but that doesn't mean I have 50% of a book. I still don't have the book.
If I feel sick then I am sick. I'm not kind of sick. If I am not well, I am sick.

I call this one, "I've lived in this apartment for two years. I'm an American."

I call this one, "I'd rather be murdered than do this again".

I call this one, "Spots on the nose go down to the toes".

I call this one, "If you steal this fucker, I will murder you".

6.5

So, I thought I would blog before my other class starts. I've deleted my last few idling blog submissions due to the fact that they might be read as personal attacks, and so I have come to a standstill.
I feel a great rush coming over me.
This blog used to be a secret, but I let my need for attention come over me and slowly told more and more people until a post on Facebook happened. Now, I can't shit-talk any of you fuckers.
I am still awaiting an essay that decides our fate. pate is a weird looking word. and the word slit has been bothering me more and more with each passing day. I love my literature class. I am blindly fumbling around my weaving class.
I think my isolation really fucked with my social skills. I am back to square one with eye contact abilities; too much staring- not enough during conversations.
But during that time I built a fort!

It was very womby.
Elk really liked it but kept trying to walk on the ceiling.
Lc was unimpressed.

 Shelby and I are learning how to sectionally warp the Jacquard loom. It's pretty ballsy.
HI SHELBY! You're pretty cool.

These are some men we saw.
They are building our studio spaces.
One's name was Sam. He wore Adidas.
Our architect wears really expensive shoes.
The other two wore hiking boots.
People's shoes tell a lot about them.

 This is how she looks at me when I eat.
Like, "are you really going to eat both of your pieces of bacon? Because sharing that jazz would be preferable."
To which I respond, "Who's a good girl!? You are! ohhhhhh ohhhh", just to piss her off.
Lc is not one for baby talk.

This picture is amazing.
And I love it.
I want everything about it.
yes.
please!