Coughing. Also, fuck. Does anyone want to do my homework for me?

Hey, internet, guess what?

It seems I am developing a rather nasty cough. Fuck. It's a cough in the family of coughs that plagued me all of seventh grade. In the manner of good-natured juvenile teasing, it was said that I had SARS that year. That cough rather fucked up my throat. I was a soprano in the middle school chorus (with admittedly not the greatest diction, but I could hit the notes), but now my ability to sing varies day by day, depending on the mood in which my voice finds itself.

Here I sit at my desk downing a bag of Luden's wild cherry throat drops. These things are fucking addicting. They're like candy. I don't know if they have any actual medicinal value, but they are very yummy so they help anyways.

...

I will probably be up all night on this project. Fuuuuuuck.

...

That's all. I think I was going to say something interesting but I had that in my head hours ago, and now it's probably gone. We'll see if it comes back tomorrow night.

Okay good night then, go get some sleep because I won't,
Olivia

PS. Oh, it seems I left a reminder for myself. "Hatreddddd." I will expand tomorrow. Or possibly the night after, because tomorrow I will be cramming drawing homework. Ugh. I need to not be so bad at this doing-homework-earlier-in-the-week-so-it-doesn't-turn-into-three-all-nighters-in-a-row-or-something thing.

PPS. So I decided to put five minutes of procrastination into hitting that 'next blog' link at the top of the page and seeing if anything interesting came up. I've passed through at least fifteen blogs by now and they're all religious! What the fuuuuuck. I am going to beat somebody up. Preferably a god.

Nothing interesting.

Sleepy sleepy ahhhhh.

I didn't do anything interesting today. I woke up at noon with my cat sleeping next to me, then made dumplings with my family for lunch, then sat on a bus for five or six hours, then got back to my dorm room, then talked to The Guy about nothing for a while. (I didn't actually sleep when I said I would last night. I ended up talking to him until like three thirty about his weird math class and his weird math project.)

Jen made a little fireplace out of a cardboard box, with a stocking tacked on for each girl in the suite. It's very cute. Here comes the holiday countdown.

I can't decide whether I like here more, or home more. I can't decide which to call home, actually. Both are, I guess.

Good night.

Actually sleeping probably,
Olivia

Not enough content for a real title..

Yo.

I'm going back to the city tomorrow afternoon. I love being home, and I love being there. I'm really not sure what's better. But I've missed being with my family, and I've missed being with my cat. Back here in a few weeks for winter break, though, so there's something.

...

Okay so I'm talking about some person a lot lately; gonna shut the fuck up for as many entries as I can, unless something changes. I bet it's getting annoying.

...

I am still eating gummy worms, but not checking so much this time OH FUCK now that I've reminded myself I'm going to be paranoid again. I suck.

I'm really tired. I think it's time for bed.

Used up all the talkative at the dinner table tonight, I guess that shows us one benefit of eating alone in the dorm room,
Olivia

Why Christine, Molly, and gummy worms are awesome.

Hey, guess what? These gummy worms may be the most delicious gummy worms I've ever eaten. I don't really know why. They just taste really good. (In a cheesy television show, or a just-as-cheesy horror movie, this would be the point at which I realize I am eating real worms, or tapeworms, or something. And I had to check, just now, to make sure that the worm I pulled out of the bag was clear and half-orange-half-green and fruit flavored. Thanks a lot, me.)

Had an intense conversation with Christine tonight about how I'm too much of a coward to do anything about The Guy. She does not appreciate it. Neither do I, but I seem to have convinced myself that I really can't do anything about it.

And, listen, Christine can fucking write. Here's a bit of a poem in a series she's working on that address the hazards of girlhood:

I want to throw my fists in the faces
of people who talk about me
and I want to see their bodies
as bloody pulp
spewed like my vomit across the cement.
Instead I cross my legs at the ankle
pull my skirt up a little
and pretend like I'm praying
or forgiving
and look at boys like they are
holy
and hope they notice my 34DDs and eyeliner.

I love that first part, about beating people up. It's something I've thought often. I can't, of course; violence may present itself in my soul, but I'd feel too bad about actually doing anything.

I'm really glad I have her. She's pretty much the first girl-friend I could ever actually talk to about, I don't know, feelings and shit. She has been trying for the past hour or something to convince me to tell him I like him or jump off a building or whatever. Well no. I eliminated the bit about the metaphors. Anyways. She's really awesome, I just can't listen to her advice because I'm a nervous nerve-wracked freak.

I don't even want to think about it anymore, which, of course, means that it will be on my mind even more.

Ahhhhhhh.

...

I love Molly. She's the greatest cat in the world. (You are all probably sick of me saying that, or will be in a matter of days.) She stays by me whenever she can. She is sleeping next to me on the couch as I type this. Shouldn't her love be all I need?

...

Dear lord I've been checking every gummy worm before I eat it. There's overactive imagination for you.

Anyways it's time for bed. My little New Jersey cousins came up for Thanksgiving, and they will probably be waking me up at seven, or something. My brother is snoring. Heh.

Good night.

Still overthinking every fucking thing in life ahhhh,
Olivia

I am thankful for you reading this blog, too, by the way.

Amanda Palmer calls today the National Day of Mourning. Poor turkeys. I love it.

What am I thankful for?

Well for one thing, I'm thankful for this. This is fantastic. The first paragraph of this is also fantastic. Uh, this is wonderful. And hey, so is this:



Okay. Done with linkspam for now.

I am thankful to be at SVA. I get to do what I love all the time, and I am preparing myself for my future, and it's wonderful. It is stressful at times, but attending art school is one of the most fantastic opportunities I've had in my life.

I am thankful for my friends - my real real friends, and the ones I usually like when I'm around them, and the ones who are more like acquaintances I'd like to get to know better, because they seem cool. I like to be alone but I also like to be around people.

I am thankful for turkey and mashed potatoes and pumpkin pie because these things are all delicious in moderation.

I am thankful for Neil Gaiman and Amanda Palmer and Henry Selick and John Lasseter and Pete-Docter-Andrew-Stanton-Brad-Bird-that-whole-Pixar-gang and everyone else who inspires me, through words and through work.

I am thankful for my teachers because they are amazing. I honestly feel like I really lucked out, as far as instructors go. I hear about other people's drawing teachers and it seems like TM really is the best. And Eric is so supportive and always genuinely glad that people are doing so well with the assignments.

I am thankful for The Guy. He really really makes me happy. I am most thankful for him when I am falling apart and driving myself insane with that stupid self-loathing self-conscious self-doubting self-deprecating thing-I-do, because he knows when to do his weird goofy sarcastic whatever-it-is thing-he-does and when to be..I dunno. Real? Sincere? Earnest? Nice? (He's so nice sometimes. I really like him. Fuck. I hate that I don't have the self-confidence to fucking do something about it. ..Fuck.) (I saw him yesterday, kind of. Google video chat, at least. Seeing his face just kind of made me happy. I hate being like this, sometimes; I like to be in control of my emotions, so it's the worst thing in the world when I am in that weird hateful depressed mode or..whatever this is. This is new. It's like being really happy and unconsciously trying to repress the happiness at the same time, and it kind of sucks, and it's weird..but I still like him anyways. Fuck. Ahhhhhh. Fuck.)

I am thankful for Molly. She is the greatest cat ever. I am so glad I'm home, so I can be with her. I adore her.

I am super-ridiculous-thankful for my amazing family. It makes me sad when people don't like their families, or can't go to them for help. I am so lucky. I love them all so much.

...

Oh, by the way, sorry for the linkchange. Uhh. I have a link to this on my Twitter somewhere, and we were looking at someone else's account last night and he thought it would be funny to read mine so I snapped into full-on panic mode and made it private and hid everything..

Things should be back to normal soon, because he probably didn't get the link anyways. I need to stop being so defensive and jumpy and shit. Or posting my inner turmoil on the internet for all to see. (Who am I kidding that's not going to happen.)

That's all, I think, for tonight. Hope you had a good one, too.

Superthankful most of the time, yay,
Olivia

La la.

I am home I am with Molly I am so very happy.

I need to sleep. I need to pick up (Andover-)Sarah early tomorrow morning. More talking tomorrow.

Hoooooome sweet fucking home,
Olivia

Molly and Thanksgiving and sleeping augh.

Heyo, interwebs-o.

So my homework last night was total bullshit, and even though Sabina liked it I'm ashamed to show it to you in this stage. Instead I've uploaded my drawing midterm, which I promised to post like three weeks ago.

..Actually I'm uploading them now, and it's taking fucking long. Gaaaahhhh. I always forget that the photos I take are really really large, and I should be resizing them before I try to get them on the internet. Bluh.

..Still waiting, wow.

It takes like half an hour to upload three photos. Fuck this aahhhh.

(Click for larger.)



Wow that took way longer than it should have.

...

I'm excited to go home for Thanksgiving. This is the first break from school we're getting. I get to see Emma for the first time in quite a while, too; we're taking the (omfg super fucking expensive) train up to Boston together.

...

I've been sleeping way too much lately. I've taken like two, three hours naps in the afternoon for the past four days or something. It's ridiculous. And I'm still tired. It's only eleven, and I'm going to bed already. Somebody slap me.

Good night ahhhh,
Olivia

UGH HOMEWORK.

AHHHH WHAT AM I DOING I'M STILL PROCRASTINATING AHHHH.

I'm so bad at this.

Also we were supposed to have one finished page and I decided to do the first page of the actual comic and then I realized I was being stupid and I should just do the cover page. AHHHHH I'm dumb. If I finish at a reasonable hour tonight I will post shit. If I end up making myself wake up early tomorrow to finish it..I'll post it tomorrow. Blah.

Likes comics most of the time but not tonight,
Olivia

PS. Oh, I forgot to tell you, we got another roommate. Her name is Brooke, she's an illustration major, she's living in Sarah's room. She's awesome so far, I like her. Yeah.

An excuse.

Hi internet people on the internet.

I'm making a comic for digital imaging - the assignment is to make a book, with original artwork. Homework for Tuesday is to have a storyboard and at least one finished piece of art. I am working on the storyboard and character design. I'll talk to you tomorrow.

I will post pictures. Promise.

Love and things like that,
Olivia

Mellooow.

Heyo.

This week I reread all ten volumes of The Sandman, and three of the extra-book-things that aren't strictly part of the series.

I like those nights when nobody's around (or around me at any rate), when I can just hang around and read. Maybe that's why I don't attract many friends; I suppose I am inherently a loner. I am the only person here I know who actually likes to read. That, I guess, would be artists for you. Or the ones I know, at least. Or just real life in general. Sometimes books are my best friends.

Gonna go read some more. Then maybe I'll sleep early, or then again maybe I'll sleep late.

Something in italics,
Olivia

PS. I just realized that Mr Neil scribbled a pair of eyes into the mask on the front page of my copy of Endless Nights, when I asked him to sign it last Saturday. They make it look silly and make me happy.

On yesterday, on today, on tomorrow.

Hey.

My last entry was a cop-out. It was completely and utterly a manipulative bluff. I needed an early bedtime, I was about to collapse. Yesterday, although perfectly nice as any day may go in terms of events, was mentally distressing for me, and I could not write anything. Sorry.

Seriously, though. I spent the last few hours of my day whining and crying with my headphones on, forehead on the desk, talking to The Guy over Google voice chat about how much I hate myself. It was not a good day.

But I'm feeling well today. And the whining and crying really only lasted maybe half an hour in total, because he kept distracting me whenever I started back in on it.

...

I have days when I feel like I don't exist, and that if I truly didn't exist people would be happier than they are now. On these days everyone looks mad with me, and everything I do is an embarrassment to myself and all witnesses. I feel I am so overly conspicuous that people go out of their way to ignore and avoid me. These are the times I wonder why anyone likes me, or acts like they like me (and I'm somehow able to convince myself that everyone's always just pretending so that my feelings won't be hurt), when I can't find anything to like about myself. I am both extremely vain and filled with self-loathing - as I've said before, everything that happens inside my head is a conundrum - so I hate myself but also hate when people don't listen to me or include me or take me seriously.

...

Today was a feed-Olivia's-ego day. My lip sync animations for class turned out well - I got applause, even - and my classmate Monty and I stayed almost an hour after class ended for the night just talking to Eric about computer animation, and learning, and the future. He told us that we both have more talent than some of the third-years he's seen or taught. I didn't know what to say.

I am so fucking determined to kick ass at this school. There is no option. My thesis will have to be the greatest, when senior year is over. I love the little nuances, the tiny subtleties in animation that make them believable. They take a long time and a lot of effort to create, but getting them right is so satisfying. The greatest feeling in the world is when I'm in class, during the homework critique, and after I've played my animation, and it's on a continuous loop, nobody says anything. For several loops. And then after a couple of minutes somebody says "Wow," or "Oh my god," or "I hate you". Greatest feeling. In the world.

It's happened a few times for me in this class. My goal is to make something that will awe the whole wide fucking world.

...

There is an undergraduate summer program at Pixar, taught by their technical directors, meant for freshmen and sophomores. They don't take many people. Twenty, or something. Dear lord do I want to do that. I guess I also have to kick ass in the application.

...

On a lighter note, look what I found. If you don't know me, why are you reading this blog? I am not a fan of Twilight. I am rather an anti-fan. The writer of this article expresses my feelings very well.

It brightened my day, as a sparkly-skinned vampire could never do.

...

And on that, I say good night. It is two, my alarm clock is set for five thirty. I have to escort Reggie to Penn Station; he's staying the night because he has an early bus to catch and he didn't want to have to come into the city from Rutgers tomorrow morning. I hope tomorrow is also better than yesterday.

Looking up, for now,
Olivia

Uh, well.

HOLY SHIT.

Bits.

Hey internet. It's almost two, I'm tired and I can't afford to miss tomorrow's class, so here are some bits upon which I will elaborate tomorrow.

...

"Does The Guy read your blog?"
"No, of course not."
"Good. That might be awkward."

...

Sometimes it amazes me that I still retain my belief in the inherent or potential goodness of people.

...

Although I am physically a large presence, it seems I am very often overlooked. An elephant in a room, perhaps. All the fucking time. Even in conversations over the fucking internet.

...

I'm feeling barfy today. Just in case you were wondering.

Uhh, yeah,
Olivia

Comic books and dancing guys.

Why hello there. How are you? (Here's where I pretend you're answering me.) Well that's all very interesting I suppose. Anyways, on to my life.

We have an upcoming assignment in my digital imaging class; we have to design a book. I'm planning on making a fucking comic book. I've always wanted to make a comic book - I have, a few times, when I was little and thought I was good at that kind of stuff..

Fuck. I'm not a cartooning major. I will just have to make do.

...

Dude, this guy is both hilarious and fucking fantastic.



I don't know if it's mocking or earnest. Either way, I rather admire him for actually doing it. And, uh, posting on the internet for all to see.

...

Christine wants me to write about her. This is a reminder.

Aww, but I'm tired, Christine. I'll write about you tomorrow.

Off to bed at one in the morning for the second night in a row, I'm impressed with myself,
Olivia

Winter's coming and still I sleep with the window wide open. (Also, self portraits and professionals.)

Yo, hello.

One suitemate has moved out. Two leave tomorrow. Jen, Sarah and I will have a three-bedroom apartment to ourselves. I worry that I will become the hated roomie. While the three of us are closest, the two of them are closer, and girls find themselves constantly in need of an object of gossip, of disdain. Jen and I currently share a double, and she will be moving into the soon-empty room next door. She is mostly tidy, I am decidedly not. Occasionally I get the feeling that she doesn't like me but tolerates me. (She hasn't said anything to make me feel this way, I guess. On the contrary, while talking excitedly about having her own room, she makes a point to clarify that 'she loves me, but she'd just love to have a room to herself, you know?' It's just a feeling. I can be paranoid sometimes.) And lately, whether out of design or accident, I have been feeling left out of most things that go on.

One of the girls moving out tomorrow was the previous object of scorn. I hope the three of us remaining will continue to enjoy each others' company without dividing. Social ties are fickle and deteriorate with overexposure.

...

I watched Lar deSouza draw last night. It both inspired me and struck fear into my heart. Or if not fear, at least..I don't know. Apprehension. Or something. He's fucking good, and skilled, and fast. I know that he's had a lifetime of experience that I haven't, but it really bothers me that I'm in school for art and still don't know why I'm here. I mean, I know what I want to be doing. But it still sometimes surprises me that I actually got in. When people say my work is good it delights me, and then that horrible bit of my mind comes in to crush my joy and tells me that I still don't have any real worth.

It's good, though. It means I won't stop striving. Ever.

...

Dude we've gone from never being online at the same time for several weeks to talking every fucking night. This makes me happy and also frustrates me greatly. You make me nervous and tense and happy. It makes it that much harder to get myself to shut the fuck up and not say anything stupid.

...

Did a self portrait for tomorrow's digital imaging class homework. (Click for larger image.)



I really don't like self portraiture. Especially when I am told to 'have some meaning behind it', as was the case for this assignment. It always turns out kind of upsetting. I guess I am inherently an upsetting person. I mean, almost everything I've posted so far in this blog is, if not exactly unhappy, then at least dissatisfied with life. I don't usually think this way, or at least when I'm distracted.

...

One thing that will be nice about having my own room is not having to worry if Jen is too cold. I like leaving the window open while I sleep, because I like being cold rather than being hot. It makes it that much more comfortable tucked underneath my blankets.

I'm off to bed now; it's one in the morning, a rather early bedtime for me. Or reasonable, at least. I want to be awake in class tomorrow.

That frigid bitch,
Olivia

Guh.

Good afternoon / evening, internet.

So about relationships..

Last night at the concert there were several couples standing around me. They were very affectionate and seemed happy.

Sometimes I hate couples. They make me feel lonely, and alone. Other times I am angry at myself for thinking like this; I have been alone my entire life, and am mostly used to it by now. Mainly friends to me have been occasional and convenient, and - I assume - I to them. There are a few who have been around for some good time now and I hope to keep around, but only a few. Not many people seem to want me, except when it's easy for them.

And sometimes that thought comes back; 'Why can't I have something like that? What is wrong with me that I can't?'

Fuck it.

...

I am too lazy and too tired to upload anything tonight. Perhaps tomorrow, when I have not spent most of my time in bed. (I woke up at three thirty this afternoon and decided that since I'd wasted most of the day I might as well lie around reading books and listening to music instead of doing anything productive..) Uh. It's two in the morning, which is a perfectly reasonable bedtime for me.

Procrastinating going to sleep (that probably isn't a good idea but it's going to happen anyways),
Olivia

On WKAFP concert and reading.

Oh hey. There is an awesome concert tonight and I am going. Just so you know.

My brother and I grew up on books, not television and video games. I do not regret that my parents limited my time in front of the tube. I am grateful, even though lately I've been missing out on some of these 'Hey do you remember this show, and that show? It was better when we were little' conversations that I'm hearing a lot in college, because I never turned past PBS - Arthur, Wishbone, Bill Nye the Science Guy - until we moved to Massachusetts when I was in fourth grade. Going to bookstores was something we'd do after dinner on the weekends, or something. It was exciting. We'd spread out to our respective shelves and browse the selections to our various interests, and we'd sit around for several hours in the chairs at Barnes and Noble, or bring books home and read on the couch.

Reading is awesome. I have the vocabulary and the brain capacity to prove it.

...

I like to pretend he misses me. We talked for three hours last night; I went to bed at five thirty.

...

It is three in the morning now, many hours after I began this post. Got back from the concert about half an hour ago. The Nervous Cabaret is fucking amazing. Amanda Fucking Palmer is fucking amazing. Neil Gaiman was there too, and he is also fucking amazing even though he was just sitting around after the show signing things.

I babbled like a fool while they were signing my stack of books. Ugh.

More tomorrow. Perhaps photos.

...

Oh hi there. You sound like you care about me. I really like talking to you. Um.

...

I'm tired. I was literally on my feet for eight hours tonight. Now I am in bed talking and typing. I probably won't be sleeping soon. But I can pretend. Good night.

Sleepy and slightly embarrassed,
Olivia

Ahhhhhh.

Why hello, blogosphere.

The politics of friendship are convoluted and compromising. Sometimes I feel severely left out, cut off. Sometimes this bothers me more than I'd like to let on. I miss innocent friendships between small children. Before the gossip and the conniving and the snide opinions and the gangings-up. It is easier for me to like people I don't talk to often. There are a few exceptions, but very few. I don't understand why we can't just like each other and forgive them and not be so fucking sensitive and not be so fucking exclusive because when somebody is shouldered out of a conversation or ill-concealed jokes about them are made right in front of them, they don't feel good about themselves. In fact, a lot of the time it makes them feel bad.

Most of the time I don't mind, because I am used to hearing me tell myself that not many people actually like me. But it's still appalling how manipulative 'friendship' can be.

...

I think I have trained myself to hit the snooze button instead of turning my alarm clocks off. It's a good thing. I am subconsciously trying to make sure I am bothered enough to wake up, after the first few jarring notes.

...

Hello I've missed your voice even if you're geeking up a storm through my headphones it's still something.

...

It is three thirty in the morning. Amanda Palmer and Neil Gaiman this evening. AHHHHHH.

Um,
Olivia

Quick thoughts on blogging and cats and sculpting.

Thoughts in a blog, thoughts in a blog.

It's funny how I'm able to admit shit to the world in a public posting, but I can't say anything to anybody out loud. Naive faith in the anonymity of the internet. But I forget sometimes that I'm writing to people. I forget that I link people to this site and that some of them actually read it. It's uncomfortable, when I think about it, but at the same time therapeutic.

I resolve not to censor my thoughts in this blog. The only thing, I think, that I want to keep to myself is the identity of The Guy; it still feels too personal and awkward for me, even though the people reading this don't know who he is. And if they do know the both of us, they probably know about this weird situation already.

...

I was in DaVinci's today buying sketchbooks and pens. In the basement there was a cat lying on a stack of newsprint pads. I was derailed for a very long time, sitting next to her and stroking her beautiful fur. Her name is Harriet, and I fell in love immediately. I miss my girl so much. Meeting Harriet tore a little hole in my heart; I haven't seen Molly in weeks, and I want so badly to be with her. I can't wait until Thanksgiving weekend, when I'll go back home and have four whole days in her company.

I've had her for a little over a year now. I would joke often that my cat is the reason that I don't really mind not having a boyfriend.

Now I am sulking over both cat and boyfriend. At least I will see Molly soon.

...

It's been a couple months since I sculpted something for fun. I'm doing that now. It's fun. This is my first attempt at a likeness other than my self-portrait. People are difficult to sculpt..

It's two thirty in the morning now. (Heh, sometimes I start these posts and abandon them for a couple of hours and then come back to them.) I should sleep. Gotta go do my computer animation homework tomorrow morning.

Ready for sleepytiiiiiime,
Olivia

Wishing day!

It is a wishing day; happy wishing day! I hope any wishes you happened to make today will come true, as long as they are nice and not malevolent and bad. I hope my wishes come true too.

These are my wishes for this wishing day.

I want to work for Pixar. Not now, of course. Not next year. But I need to get an internship and I need to amaze them with what I can do.

I hope some day (preferably some day soon), I will be able to confront an intimate relationship head-on and be at least slightly prepared. And I hope there is somebody who will take me as I am. I think I know him, but I honestly cannot judge from an objective perspective his feelings for me; anyone who looks at it from the outside only says what they say because they don't know that we are both inwardly extremely nervous people when it comes to this, or so it seems. I wish I knew for certain what he thought about me, because I drive myself slightly crazy whenever there is something that I do not know and cannot figure out. I can't figure him out.

I wish my life was sincere. No more of this inevitable and intoxicating bullshit.

Wishes should always come in threes. (Or tonight, elevens would be fitting, but I am not that greedy.)

...

Andrew Dayton, an SVA alumnus currently working as a technical director on set at Pixar, talked to us about getting a job there, and working there, and why they are awesome. It is true that they are awesome. It was probably not possible for me to be more enthusiastic over working there than I am already, but he put words and visuals to my madness. The world's best animators work at Pixar. I need to be there.

John McIntosh, the computer art department head, walked with us part of the way to the theater; we met up with him on a crosswalk a block away. He's really friendly. He talked to Andrew Dayton about some of the computer art students who were going to be there; he had a list, I assume of people from the department, probably only upperclassmen, and pointed out - highlighted, even - people in whom he and the teachers have taken special interest. Andrew Dayton replied occasionally with 'Oh, yeah, I know her portfolio, we liked her work a lot'. I don't know who this 'we' are, I assume it's people reviewing for jobs or internships. But I am going to do everything I can possibly do and I am going to get on that list in a couple of years. I am going to be one of the highlighted students, the one whose name the Pixar representative recognizes because people like my reels and my ideas. Holy shit you have no idea how much I need to be one of them.

Most of my class went; TM let us out of drawing an hour early because he is amazing and reasonable and fantastic. Monty (a classmate with similar dreams of Pixar) and I were shaking each other the entire time, whispering 'This is it. This is what we need to do. This is our life in something-number of years. We need to be kickass-awesome'. A few friends and I have a mock competition betting on who will be hired there first. "I'll put in a good word for you. I'll say to John Lasseter, 'Hey, I have a friend named Olivia, and she's a great animator, so could you maybe give her a job?' " "And then he'll reply, 'Oh, I already know Olivia! She directed that awesome film for us three years ago, remember? She was the one who told me about you!' "

...

I finished my homework relatively early tonight. I'm really hungry; I didn't have dinner. Drama club was fantastic fun though. I love the improv stuff we're doing. I wasn't so good for the last one - I've never read Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, so I really only had a very very vague idea of my character - but it's still a great thing to be a part of. I am proud to say that I am now participating as often as I can. I want to break myself of the nervousness that tries to overtake me each time I stand up in front of people.

It's something that's ingrained into my mind. It's that perfectionism thing coming back and trying to control me. It's there everywhere I turn, but I'm getting so much better at ignoring it (most of the time). I have no confidence so I try to build it up from scratch.

From scratch; now I'm thinking about food again. I'm hungry. I guess that's the sign that I need to go to bed.

Sleeping early tonight! It's only twelve seventeen in the morning.

Still a night person, of course, just not tonight because of the stabbings in my stomach,
Olivia

PS. Whoa, hold it! Neil Gaiman's going to be at AFP's NYC concert? Double the fun! This is going to be my greatest (and only..) first-non-classical-music concert ever. Everrrr. EVERRRRRR. Seriously this is super amazing news and I am so very glad that two of my favorite people in the world are dating. Note to self: Bring Endless Nights along in addition to the mysteriousponysculpt and The Drawings. <3

New friends and excitements.

I suppose I should be saying good morning; it's three o'clock.

I made some friends today. I went down to the basement to see what Dixon was painting, and ended up toting down all my drawing supplies and doing my homework there. The people who hang around there are quite an entertaining bunch. It no longer really surprises me to be in art school (although sometimes the thought creeps up from behind and astounds me again - I'm actually here, I'm actually doing this). A cartooning major and I got into a long discussion about art snobs and the immaturity of college students and the difficulties of being in art school and being an artist. She's a cool person. She provided an interesting hour-long distraction from my homework.

We are all going to play D&D very soon. I want to learn. I am excited.

Off to bed for me. I have drawing at nine tomorrow morning, and then AT THREE IN THE AFTERNOON AN ALUMNUS WORKING AT PIXAR IS COMING IN TO TALK AND THERE'S GOING TO BE A SCREENING OF UP AND I AM IRRATIONALLY EXCITED ABOUT THIS YAAAAY ALSO I BOUGHT THE DVD THIS AFTERNOON BECAUSE I ADORE THIS MOVIE SO GODDAMN MUCH.

Enthusiastically,
Olivia

Oho, Olivia goes emo for a little while and then returns to normalish.

Hi.

Happy first, then less-happy.

I got a belated birthday present from Danielle in the mail today. It is awesome. He is hanging on my wall above my bed. He does not yet have a name, and I have yet to decorate him. But he still kicks ass (even though he was born without legs or ass or, for that matter, anything below his neck).

...

Now. I never love myself; usually I don't mind myself; sometimes I kind of like myself; occasionally I hate myself. I have these ridiculous self-esteem issues that I can't get rid of and, frankly, usually don't mind having around. But sometimes I just get so fed up with myself and go around picking on every stupid fucking thing that's wrong with me. I'm not attractive and I'm overweight and I'm not particularly likable and I'm obsessive and I'm vain and I try to be creative without actually being good at it and I am undisciplined and I am elitist and I am conspicuous and I think I'm inconspicuous and I'm lazy and I'm compulsive and I worry too much about physical appearance and I don't worry enough about physical appearance and I like to pretend I'm completely fine when really I'm very much not fine.

I'm lonely. Sometimes I'm so fucking lonely.

I hate it when I hate myself, but I can't help it.

I am so afraid of compliments - occasionally they make me visibly cringe - because I am never meeting my own expectations, and I feel I don't deserve praise. But when I am criticized I have to repress the urge to go defensive and self-righteous on my critic.

It is easy to love my family and it is easy to love my cat, but it's so hard to love anyone else. Especially The Guy. Relationships fascinate me when they only involve other people, but it is terrifying to consider myself caught up like that. My mind tells me, if I'm so self-absorbed and I can't find anything to love about myself, how can anyone else possibly find it? Only when I told a friend about The Guy did it become real to me, that my subconscious has been happily entertaining notions of a connection with him and pretending to my face that nothing was out of the ordinary. I've never felt attraction like this before, not really. I haven't talked to him since then.

I love making art. I wish I could love the art I make.

Gods, I sound so emo sometimes. I'm not. I just don't really like myself very much.

...

Aw man. He messaged me earlier and I didn't notice. Now he's logged off.

This is new to me.

...

It's almost two in the morning now. I should get some sleep for class tomorrow.

My roommate's phone plays the Kimmunicator beep from Kim Possible whenever she receives a text message. I'm jealous.

Also I want ice cream.

Currently icecreamless and possibly off to bed,
Olivia

I'm a downer.

Internet! Nice to see you.

I play World of Warcraft. My main character is still only at level fifty-one, after like half a year of being into it. It is quite a fun game, though. I haven't played seriously in a while; I need to level. I feel like I am perpetuating a stereotype of fat and ugly girl gamers. Or girl gamers who aren't into a game because..they're girls.

But it's fun. So whatever.

...

There are other things I was planning on saying tonight, but I am in a good mood. Probably tomorrow. Off now to watch Meangirls with Jen and Sarah and Danny.

Hopefully not a mean girl, though,
Olivia

TT;DW. (Too tired; didn't write.)

Oh hi there.

I'm still in New Jersey, with the family. It's been a long day, and I've been running around keeping up with the little cousin Alex and littler cousin Adam. I'm exhausted. Profoundities tomorrow.

(I haven't thrown a football in a very long time, but I have discovered that I still can. Also, I had birthday cake and I am taking many leftovers back to the dorm tomorrow.)

Sleepy and satisfied and apparently liking alliteration, why does this happen all the time (okay, it seems I've stopped now),
Olivia

More about school, and Pixar and other things.

Hello, fourth day in a row of blogging. Okay, so technically it isn't yesterday anymore, but I'm still awake, so this counts as my Friday post.

I love my computer animation class. It's so cool that during my first semester freshman year, I actually get to do this. Maya is such a fun program (although sometimes she's a bitch and freezes while you're working), and I really like being able to animate. Most of the other majors here have a general foundation year, but animation, film, photo, and computer art (mine) have different classes; for instance, while graphic design and illustration and cartooning majors have to take sculpture and painting, my only 'fine arts' class is drawing. It's funny; I have a graphic design class (digital imaging), while the graphic design kids don't have one until next semester.

John McIntosh, the Computer Art department head, is a really friendly guy. He walked into my class today and was saying hi to everybody, and said he liked my new headphones and asked to try them on. It was funny.

I feel so good about this path. I really want to get into this industry, because whenever I animate something well I feel great. It gives me a sense of accomplishment that I don't get in most areas. I love art.

...

Up is coming out on DVD on Tuesday. I'm really excited; I want to get it. I don't usually collect movies (or DVDs at least), but certain ones I really want to have. Jen, my roommate, has all the Pixar movies but Toy Story, and I plan to get them all at some point. I have Coraline - it's beautifully done and I love Henry Selick and I love Neil Gaiman. I have favorite movies, but I don't own them. Some time I'm going to have to start a DVD collection for myself. Maybe once I sell that Macbook.

I love this - it's an extra on the Up DVD. Dug is such a sweet character:



...

It's the weekend! I love my classes, but it's great when the weekend comes around. I'm so tired by Friday, it's ridiculous. Today I woke up at noon. (Then again, we had a Nintendo 64 party in my room until like three, and then I ate dinner..) I look forward to the sleep I get over the weekend. Although I won't get that much tonight; I'm in New Jersey, at my uncle's house, and my little cousin always wakes me up at like seven. Which is fine, because he's an awesome kid. And I can function on low sleep. Hell, if I go to bed after I finish writing this, I'll be getting more sleep than I usually do.

My family came down for the weekend, which is why I'm in New Jersey. I've missed talking to my brother; we've been chattering nonstop for hours now.

...

Tralalaaa~. I think I'm done now. I'm hungry; off to bed! (It's so weird, how when you stay up late you get hungry. That's what midnight snacks are about, I suppose. Usually once I get really really hungry I just go to sleep, because I usually wake up in the morning not-hungry. Funny what stomachs do.)

Hungrily,
Olivia

...

PS. I love this comforter. It's so comfortable and light and thick at the same time. And there is no other adjective to properly describe it than 'frothy'. It is a frothy comforter.

Also, I noticed that it actually does say that I posted this on Friday, at eleven fifty-six. I guess Blogger publishes by the time the post was started, not when it was finished and actually put up. Silly Blogger.

Classes and food and money and Neil Gaiman and other extracurriculars.

Good morning; I just woke up. Naps are pleasant and refreshing, and should be taken at least twice a week.

It's bizarre. I love sculpting - always have - but I have severely mixed feelings about my sculpture class. While I'm not there I dread going, doing the homework, sitting through the six hours. But when I'm actually there, I love it (most of the time). Sculpting has always been my element. I think now things are evening out more for me, which is good! I've never loved drawing more, and I hadn't tried graphic design until my digital imaging class, and I can definitely see myself animating for a career. I guess I'm just not really getting anywhere with sculpture, so that's why it's not exciting for me. I still love it, though. Part of the current project we're working on involved sculpting an object in earthenware. I chose my hand. Professor Baron told me privately that if it had been anyone else, he would have suggested something else. He knows, as I do now, that sculpting hands is fucking difficult. But it's so satisfying when you get it right.

My wavering dislike for the class probably is the result of a heavy schedule. It's on Thursdays in a building half an hour's walk away from my dorm room, and most of the time I find myself carrying sculptures back and forth. So it's probably not the class's fault in itself.

...

I'm getting sick of pizza. I really need to go grocery shopping, get some vegetables and meat and cook a real meal for myself. The pizza is cheap and good and right next door and comes with a free can of soda, but I find myself craving something genuine. I will buy food tomorrow after class, or some time tonight.

It's funny how being here messes up my eating schedule; I don't really have one anymore. The thing that is most certain is that on Wednesdays and Thursdays I will have breakfast, as long as I'm not late for class - there's a Starbucks right across from the building, and their multigrain bagels are convenient and have raisins and sunflower seeds and grainy bits in them, which I like, and the girls behind the counter recognize me. Breakfast on other days is iffy, and usually skipped just because I'm not hungry before I get into class. Lunch is whatever I can get my hands on (though I need to buy some bread and meat and cheese and lettuce for sandwiches, because chicken fingers and Subway are getting on my nerves), and dinner is something I cook or something I buy, and usually takes place some time between nine in the evening and two in the morning. On Saturdays I usually go to Flushing to have dim sum with my mom's parents and her brother's family, and then they buy me some yummy Chinese pastries from the greatest bakery ever, and these last me several meals.

I just ate a Snickers, one of those 'fun size' things. I don't know what's so fun about them.

...

So I just found out that the reason why Neil Gaiman was in China this past..weeks, or something, is that he's researching for a new book! Which makes me very happy indeed. Well, okay. I knew a while before today that it was for a book, because Amanda Palmer's tweets told me so. (I love her. I love how they both blog and are both on Twitter, so I can read their thoughts. It's cool.) But I just found out what he is writing about. Sun Wu Kong, the Monkey King, is amazing and kicks ass. I don't know that much Chinese folklore, but I know him. Apparently Neil Gaiman is also writing a nonfiction book about China. Which is also very cool.

...

SVA had a drama club until a few years ago, when everyone who cared about it graduated. My friends and I have started a new one. I'm treasurer; Danny, one of my classmates, is president and director. I wanted to be a part of it to help organize and support it. We have an amazing group of people, all fun and fantastic. Some of them are really good actors. Our first play, for which we held auditions last Wednesday, is Dog Sees God. It's a really fucked-up version of Peanuts; the characters are grown and in high school, and everyone has problems. I was extremely hesitant when Danny first told me about it, and when I started reading the script, but it's really a very good play. It's a small cast, four guys and four girls, and casting was easy, seeing as four guys and five girls tried out. Danny and the co-director, Mike, were two of the people auditioning, so I also sat in as another opinion, and a female voice during cold readings.

I really like this club. I cannot get on stage because of my insecurities, my lack of self-confidence and my poor self-image and I don't even know what; the excuse I give is stage fright, and I guess it's also that. But the readings were fun, and last night we did improv exercises. The group right now consists of maybe fifteen people, and we keep getting more each week. Mike, who led the activities, wouldn't let me sit out and just watch. I'm glad and grateful that he didn't. It was nerve-wracking but ridiculously entertaining, and I didn't freeze like I thought I would. I still don't want to get on stage in front of a bunch of people - I had vaguely considered auditioning for the play, but didn't in the end - but I'm really happy I'm a part of the group. I'm excited for next week.

...

There's this guy I know, and I haven't seen him in a while, and I won't see him for a while more, and I miss him.

...

I got a brand-new-shiny Macbook yesterday, my prize for winning SVA's Halloween party's costume contest. Well, technically I came in second, but the guy who won doesn't go here, so he was disqualified. I should post photos of my costume; I was Judith, one of the monsters from Where the Wild Things Are (which is a beautiful movie that everyone should see at least once). I will probably sell it. I'll try eBay, or maybe someone around here will buy it off me. TM, my drawing teacher, says that he'd buy it, but for a greatly reduced price. I mean, I don't blame him, they're really expensive. But I want money. We'll see.

...

My Friday class is computer animation, from two in the afternoon to seven in the evening. Most of the time I start my homework Friday evenings and finish it up the next Friday in the morning. (That's usually why I don't eat lunch on Fridays until four; I go to the lab and work, telling myself that I'll go down to Moe's Cafe in the basement if I finish with enough time before class, and then I get caught up in the details and have to work extra time to make it as perfect as I possibly can, and then it's time for class. But it's alright, because the important thing is that my animations look nice, and Eric gives us a break at four for food.) That means that I don't have anything to do tonight. Perhaps I will write something and perhaps I will sculpt something and perhaps I will draw something, or perhaps I will do a bit of each. Perhaps I'll even practice piano, which I haven't really done for real in over a year now. (Playing in bits and pieces out of my Dresden Dolls book and then accidentally breaking my keyboard and not being able to play it until going home a month later and getting my dad to fix it and then playing in bits and pieces again doesn't count. I gotta sit down and actually learn something.) Ta.

Perhaps productive,
Olivia

Inspiration versus motivation.

Hello, second day of blogging, and good evening.

Today the SVA Career Development department held a session with five recent animation graduates, talking about how they got into the industry and what their jobs are like, and how to find a job. It was kind of inspiring, and kind of scary. I talked to my computer animation teacher afterwards - it was his idea to have this panel; he's quite amazing - and..I don't really know what to say. He's really cool. I'm nervous about this career path, but I'm so in love with it at the same time.

I love going to art school. It used to piss me off that people thought that I should only put my intelligence 'to good use' in things like math or science or something. Without artists this world would be nothing. Now that I'm here, though, I feel valid. I am surrounded by fantastic (and some not-so-fantastic) people. Everyone's here because they want to create things. The environment is like..I don't even know. It's like I'm living inside my own brain.

It's not that the people are better here. They're still human. They're still shallow or judgmental or beautiful or kind or pompous. But life here is wonderful. It's such a great place for me. I wish my whole life had been like this, but if it had, I wouldn't be able to appreciate where I am right now.

...

I said in my last post that I'm trying to get myself to stop sitting on my ass, to get ambitious and work it off instead. I used to think that I needed my 'relaxation time' to stay sane, so I would lie around reading books when I could have been writing them. I still think the relatively mindless activities are important, really. But I want to do stuff. So I've decided that this year, I will do the NaNoWriMo. I probably won't finish. But I'll try as hard as I can. The animators' panel this evening made me think about what I should be doing right now. I need to keep my ideas flowing, not just in the visual arts but also in storytelling. I haven't really written anything in such a long time, and I need to practice. So maybe I'll just put down short stories or ideas or scraps.

One of the men my dad used to work with has a son who's helped to make nine of ten currently-released Pixar films. (He wasn't there for Toy Story.) This man's name is Wendell Lee, and we look for him in the credits under the Animators section after every movie. But his roommate from college has gone farther. He was one of the animators as well, but he had an idea for a short film and pitched it. He directed Partly Cloudy, the short that preceded Up in theaters, and now he's rising in the ranks. I think it's great that anyone can produce a concept and make it into something real. I want to be this person. This is why I need to keep myself writing.

...

I didn't really finish my midterm. I was planning out three drawings of Molly, my wonderful wonderful cat, but I only finished one and a fifth; my only white charcoal pencil broke to the point of uselessness at two in the morning, and nobody who was awake was able to provide me with a replacement. My drawing teacher liked the finished piece, but I am going to do the other two this week. I will take a picture of the first and post it some time soon.

Now off to my sculpture homework. Tonight I will make the tea in the teapot instead of dumping the leaves straight into my mug. Last night they floated at the top and I didn't want to drink it because I didn't want the leaves. I had no straw..

Inspired but tired (story of my life),
Olivia

First post, hopefully not the last.

It's my eighteenth birthday. Also, this is the first post of my new blog. I've tried blogging regularly before and failed, but I'm trying again. Busier people than I can do it, so it's just a question of willpower and a determination to have an interesting life. Here it goes (again).

...

I'm a freshman at the School of Visual Arts, located in Manhattan. I'm studying computer animation with a dream to one day work with the brilliant minds at Pixar. I also love to write stories, poetry, and songs, and I sculpt, paint, draw, cartoon whenever I can. But I'm lazy. It's the worst contradiction: I have so much I want to do, and not enough time to do it, and my motivation comes in little bursts and disappears, leaving me collapsed on my bed, curled up with a book, a movie, or Youtube. I want to do everything, but it takes me a while to actually get up and do it.

Maybe if I tell people to read this blog, I will actually have a reason to write it.

...

It's things like this that stimulate my fascination with Amanda Palmer. This amazing lady is thirty-three years old and can still make art this whimsical and free. It's beautiful. I wish I had a fraction of her confidence.



...

I'm working on my drawing midterm. I'll probably be up all night, fueled by cake and tea and a desire to earn my teacher's approval and respect. Remind me to post art on this blog as I finish it. More motivation? I hope so.


Technically older by every tick of the clock, but legally older for the first time in three hundred sixty-five days,
Olivia