party fouuuulll
i'm sure i'll catch hell for this. and yea, i know i'm just contributing to it, and i'm contradicting myself, but i really do wish everyone would just shut the hell up about valentines day already. no, i don't care what you and your bf/gf did/plan on doing nor do i care what they got you. am i bitter? not so much. sick of reading the same entry a thousand times over on my friends page? just a little. it's rainy and cold and ugly. take THAT valentines day. take THAT, you hateful holiday, you.
i know, i really do sound bitter, but that is not at all the case.
i've never had a valentine, so i have had ample time to get over it.
however, my mother is coming over on her lunch break to spend some time with me. i think she's think i'm depressed or something about this february 14th thing. i don't know. all i can hope is that she bought me something sweet. because i'm all about the recieving of sweet gifts.
classes for today are over and i plan on laying in my newly HUMIDIFIED room, watching television and writing overly analytical essays about art. because after all, what do we make art for? why, to be studied and filed down to the very last pathetic, obscure fucking observation you can think of, of course! it's not there just because it's beautiful. it needs to be chopped into little pieces, like liver! we need to KNOW what the artist was trying to convey to us with this piece.
i will invent the perfect art school where your only focus is your chosen major and essays are optional/extra credit.
hm.
ps. whamoo this saturday. that makes this week worth living through.
i know, i really do sound bitter, but that is not at all the case.
i've never had a valentine, so i have had ample time to get over it.
however, my mother is coming over on her lunch break to spend some time with me. i think she's think i'm depressed or something about this february 14th thing. i don't know. all i can hope is that she bought me something sweet. because i'm all about the recieving of sweet gifts.
classes for today are over and i plan on laying in my newly HUMIDIFIED room, watching television and writing overly analytical essays about art. because after all, what do we make art for? why, to be studied and filed down to the very last pathetic, obscure fucking observation you can think of, of course! it's not there just because it's beautiful. it needs to be chopped into little pieces, like liver! we need to KNOW what the artist was trying to convey to us with this piece.
i will invent the perfect art school where your only focus is your chosen major and essays are optional/extra credit.
hm.
ps. whamoo this saturday. that makes this week worth living through.