(no subject)
Worked at the gallery today, and am currently eating some of my door prizes. A full pack of pita and some bree. Also got a bunch of beer and still have the bottle of red wine that I got from the last exibit. I somehow doubt that being a real bartender anywhere else produces such a high yeild of take home alcohol. But it was really great, and I met a bunch of people who came for the big party with the free booze. I'm now thinking that the artist may have been a lesbian because so many of the women who showed up were, and this isn't even strerotyping just identifying the obvious, gay. I saw more gay women today than at a night at Crews, yeah. That much. But no one paid me much attention in that respect, just some males, getting extra shots of liquor, one for some reason assuming I was from Yukon. I really loved it, talked to loads of artsy, well-traveled folk. Keep getting advice from all around for my future, which I need.
Stayed at the parent's last night, and that's all they talked about. All night long, just considering the future, what I can do with environmental sciences, what school I should transfer to, should I work abroad before deciding? Yada.
And I grocery shopped with my mother this morning, and realized, once again, why we just can't ever be allowed to live together anymore. I mean, she's completely lovely but we're just bad together, bad.
I learned some stuff about my sister recently, toally illegally. Found out that she was slash is this complete romantic. Like, her brain works on love time. Love o'clock. She just fills books with love poetry, and, yeah, she's good, but it's such a contrast to what I usually see from her. Cold, hard, calculations and stubbornness. She's like this rock that's made of water inside. But she won't let any of the family see this. She won't let me see it, and it sucks, because all I want to be to her is real.
This movie, Imagine Me & You, looks great. Piper Perabo kissing girls again.
I love the fact that I close the gallery, with my own keys. I love that I can come in some self-apointed time and do the things I appointed myself to do and be paid for it. I love that my boss introduced me to the owner of the gallery with "she's really, really good", and that I know what to do and have often done it before she even looks in my direction. It feels good to know what you're doing, be trusted, and finally have some freedom to make the right decisions.
And it feels good to have my fridge filled and my laundry done so early on in the weekend. These are all the good things, I suppose it's best not to dwell on the bad. But the bad usually makes for better reading material.
Bolers are the strangest type of trailer home. They look like they're right out of a cartoon. Like a painted egg with wheels.
Oh my god, I just want to work with insects.
Stayed at the parent's last night, and that's all they talked about. All night long, just considering the future, what I can do with environmental sciences, what school I should transfer to, should I work abroad before deciding? Yada.
And I grocery shopped with my mother this morning, and realized, once again, why we just can't ever be allowed to live together anymore. I mean, she's completely lovely but we're just bad together, bad.
I learned some stuff about my sister recently, toally illegally. Found out that she was slash is this complete romantic. Like, her brain works on love time. Love o'clock. She just fills books with love poetry, and, yeah, she's good, but it's such a contrast to what I usually see from her. Cold, hard, calculations and stubbornness. She's like this rock that's made of water inside. But she won't let any of the family see this. She won't let me see it, and it sucks, because all I want to be to her is real.
This movie, Imagine Me & You, looks great. Piper Perabo kissing girls again.
I love the fact that I close the gallery, with my own keys. I love that I can come in some self-apointed time and do the things I appointed myself to do and be paid for it. I love that my boss introduced me to the owner of the gallery with "she's really, really good", and that I know what to do and have often done it before she even looks in my direction. It feels good to know what you're doing, be trusted, and finally have some freedom to make the right decisions.
And it feels good to have my fridge filled and my laundry done so early on in the weekend. These are all the good things, I suppose it's best not to dwell on the bad. But the bad usually makes for better reading material.
Bolers are the strangest type of trailer home. They look like they're right out of a cartoon. Like a painted egg with wheels.
Oh my god, I just want to work with insects.