Just thoughts.

It occurs to me that with the three places I've lived in my lifetime, my level of involvement in my direct, physical community is going down.

Minnesota, birth to eight and a half years old: Grew up in a suburb of the Twin Cities, in a close-knit cul-de-sac neighborhood where almost of the residents had children around my age. One of those places you see in movies; the yards are all tiny and neat, the houses all have porches, the kids play in the streets. We had apple trees in the backyard, strawberries growing in front, a little garden on the side. There was a pond behind our house and a playground across the street.

Massachusetts, eight and a half to seventeen and a half years old: Another suburb, but a larger one. Couple years of grade school, then high school. Houses spaced kind of far apart, with lots of pine trees front and back. There were a lot of people in the neighborhood around my age, but I never was close with them. In school, I hung out with a few people; I kept mostly to myself outside of school. Parties and gatherings were rare and almost always initiated by others, and mostly small.

New York, eighteen years old: Middle of Manhattan (that sounds like a movie title..). Surrounded by people. Usually can be found in class or shut in my room.

I don't know whether it's the places, or me. Probably both. Maybe I'm being influenced by the places, or maybe I'm just changing. In the beginning of the school year I tried to be social and hang out with people. It went in another direction, and for a while now I've been shut in my hole, but it (hopefully) seems to be picking back up.

I think I absorb the negative influence of the places I live, rather than the positive. My birth town, of course, was perfect for children. Then, as I entered the stage of life that's awkward even for normal kids, I changed settings, and suddenly became something of a recluse. There were a couple of years entirely friendless. Then I had a few friends and started hanging out with people again. Now I'm here, where you can either be supersocial or antisocial.

What am I now?

Olivia

PS. I love this woman.

Tiiiired, tired tired blah.

Sleepy time.

(DnD is fun.)

(Gotta really crack down on the homework tomorrow..)

Olivia

Bits, and a new web layout.

How the fuck does the 'Married Life' opening montage of Up still make me cry even when I'm watching the commentary version, and after I've seen the movie upwards of ten times?

Not fair.

...

Midnight: IT IS EIGHTEEN DEGREES OUTSIDE. ALSO IT IS CLOSE TO EIGHTEEN DEGREES IN MY BEDROOM.

I should probably close the window or something.

...

I really like the word bildungsroman. It's just a really great word.

/literature geek

...

I'm working on the new layout for my website. Because the old one wasn't good enough. Here it is so far. Since I'm currently working on it, it might look screwy when you look at it, depending when that is and whether or not I'm messing around with it.

I decided the sort-of theme would be hands, since I seem to often represent myself with pictures of hands on online networking sites (well, right now it's just that picture because I thought it was a really, really good picture, and that was a fun night; but my first Facebook photo was, in fact, a photo of my hand, complete with smiley face on the palm), and all three logos I've designed for myself for various class assignments have involved hands (and hearts, but that was mostly for another symbol with which the hands could interact). Hands are good. And important for art-making. Unless you're one of those very special cripples who finds another way to do it. I know I would never be able to sculpt with my feet..

I haven't decided whether or not to keep that border around the content box. We'll see. Anyways, I have most of the site content somewhere or another, I just have to get off my lazy ass and put it in the right places. Tomorrow morning will be the extermination of the old layout and the replacement of the new.

(Do you like the Twitter feed picture? I thought I was being clever at the time..)

...

We had an interesting discussion about philosophy tonight, one that will probably cause me to have horrible dreams about waking up and not being myself anymore..

-shudder-

I hate my stupid overactive imagination. "What if?" is such a horrible question for me.

...

That's it. Three in the morning. Good night, all.

Olivia

Ego, AFP at the Golden Globes, Clangers, and beating procrastination.

Heyo.

I think that, if I wasn't constantly beating down on myself, I'd have a blazingly rampant ego.

Just a thought.

...

So. It's probably a bit tiring how I fangirl about Neil Gaiman and Amanda Palmer all the time. But there's something interesting going on right now.

There's this. Also this.

And then there's this. And, of course, this.

For one thing, I find it really interesting how the first two articles classify and dissect AFP, as opposed to the third. You can clearly tell who the 'conventional' female writers are. And some of the comments are ridiculously amusing. Of course there's going to be a lot of people who think body hair is disgusting - which, frankly, I don't understand. Body hair is there to keep you warm. Then there was the taking-off of the dress as they were leaving the party, which I thought was ballsy and fantastic, but which most mainstreamers considered a famewhoring mistake, or an attempt to upstage Mr Neil. On one hand, it's almost embarrassing, the amount of her fans rushing to her defense. Let the big world people feel comfortable in their criticism; their big world stars and starlets are also whores for attention, and whores for media, and just plain whores, but in more socially acceptable ways. But Amanda Palmer is real in ways that they aren't, or can't be, in the public eye. She represents the people who want a more genuine world. They find it through her, through her red carpet shenanigans, and her constant honesty with her fans and with her detractors, and her confidence in herself.

I love that the fashion blogs are in an uproar about her audacity to leave her armpits unshaven, and to go slipless under the dress, and to not be ashamed of herself. It's just another example of how we really aren't as open-minded and forward-thinking as we would like to believe. As someone decidedly outside the traditional convention of physical beauty, I love their absurd reactions. In the land of the buffed and polished and painted ladies, a bit of body hair is disastrous and disrespectful.

Incidentally, I wasn't considering watching the Golden Globes until I heard that they were going, and then I wanted to just to see if I could catch a glimpse of them. But in Hollywood, neither of them are stars, and I didn't want to borrow my roommate's television on the string of a hope. I followed the evening on Twitter instead, with the tweets and the Twitpiccing from the ladies' room and such. It was better, I think; I would've lost interest very early on if I'd been watching it on TV.

...

Watched Coraline tonight. Also started watching it again, with commentary.

Stop-motion = genius.

Speaking of stop-motion, Neil Gaiman linked to this on Twitter and it's adorable and British and just so freaken cute.



...

Lala. Gonna get started on my drawing homework tomorrow. Totally not leaving it off to Tuesday night this time. Gotta do ten pastel portraits. Pastels are fun, and I need to work on them more. Portraits are fun, and I need to work on them more. Good assignment.

Good night.

Yay art,
Olivia

Halfway into this post I got really really tired. I've been ridiculously exhausted lately, it's kind of worrisome.

"Oh. I just realized that Chinese New Year is the same weekend as Valentine's Day this year."
"That'll mess up the holidays."
"Uh..why do you care?"
"Well, if Love is in the Air and the Lunar Festival are at the same time.."
"Oh. WoW. That makes more sense."

...

He keeps showing people my art. Augghhhh. I can't take compliments. I'm no good at it. I never know what to say. I feel bad saying 'No, you're wrong, I'm not good yet', but I have a hard time just saying thanks..

...

Good night.

Olivia

PS. Yes.

I'm so dumb.

Tuesday night, shitloads of drawing homework, no post.

I hope by now you are no longer surprised by these kinds of posts. I really need to learn how to use my time wisely so I don't end up cramming every Tuesday.

Olivia

PS. The Pokemon was totally worth it.

Pokemon. Pokemon Pokemon Pokemon.

I wrote last night's entry while I was half-asleep. Heh.

...

Did some drawing homework after class, then started playing Pokemon Platinum. Been playing for many hours straight now. Oops.

My Ponyta is named Fetish. She kicks ass. (She is a Pwnyta.) My Grotle (I am totally not in tune with these new Pokemon species; I had to check to make sure I had that right) kicks slightly less ass, especially since Fetish got ahead of him in level while we were taking down the Grass gym. His name is Inigo.

I talk to my video games. Example: In Professor Layton, I tell Luke to shut the fuck up whenever he says something dumb. In Pokemon, I talk to my party. I speak kindly to my favorite Pokemon and yell at the ones who aren't pulling their weight. I get very openly angry with opponent Pokemon who aren't fainting like they should be.

"Goddamn Pikachu. Goddamn, fucking Pikachu. No, stop using Double Team. Just fucking hold still and die. ARRRGHHHH. I am going to KILL this Pikachu. I am going to fucking stab it in its goddamn eyes. STOP EVADING MY ATTACKS. FUCKING PIKACHU."

I'm a weird bitch.

Dude's also playing, now; he downloaded a GBA emulator and Pokemon Gold. It's apparently his first time playing a Pokemon game, which I find hilarious.

"Okay, what am I supposed to do now?"
"Didn't you see what Professor Elm said?"
"I never read the quest text."
"Dude. It's not WoW. There's no quest log. You have to actually pay attention to the story line."
"Oh. ..I need a walkthrough."

"I am going to fucking take down all these mobs like nobody's business."
"..."

"I'm at like 99.9% XP, and I'm fighting like an elite mob."
"-facepalm-"

Oh, Pokemon. How I've missed you.

It's almost three thirty in the morning now. I've been playing since seven in the evening. Straight. Goddamn.

I just ate dinner.

Good thing my class is at noon tomorrow.

Pokemon is absorbing as fuck. Seriously. I am having so much fun right now.

Is it weird that I'm really upset that Fetish isn't going to evolve until level forty? She and Inigo are currently both at twenty-seven. I think Inigo's going to reach last-stage evolution first..goddamn starter handicap.

Yeah. I'm going to sleep now.

By which I mean I'm going to play for another hour before being able to tear myself away long enough for my head to hit the pillow,
Olivia

Creepy dreams and emotion-things.

Hey, blog-reading-people.

It's funny. It's been mentioned to me a couple of times over the past few days that I haven't talked about that guy lately, and while I was initially happy for keeping my emotions relatively in check, I realize that, now it's been brought up, I can't stop thinking about him again.

Fuck.

Shut up.

...

So, something I find interesting is the fact that I haven't had a real heart-pounding nightmare, per se, since I was younger. Like, before-high-school-or-probably-even-middle-school young. But I can remember a lot of them, especially the recurring nightmares. I don't have them anymore. A couple days ago while I was napping in the middle of the afternoon, I had the closest I've had to one in a really long time. It was a perfectly normal dream - which is to say, weird and messed-up because my subconscious likes to screw with me when I can't control it - and then towards the end it got dark and I knew something was coming and I was jogging through the slush in the empty streets of the city trying to get back to my house before it showed up, and then I woke up as I reached my door, and looked over my shoulder to see a large, strange creature's bright red eyes.

So random. I think it was a gorilla. The creepy old lady was singing about a gorilla, anyways. Menacingly.

Sometimes I have unhappy dreams, sad dreams, upsetting dreams. But none of the things that make me want to stay awake for the rest of my life. Not recently. (I must admit, though, that last one got close. I don't even really know why. I remember more of my old childhood nightmares than a dream from two afternoons ago.)

...

Christine told me to talk about her. Hi, Christine. Baby Lillian is adorable. Bye, Christine.

...

That's it for tonight. I have been really ridiculously tired these past few days. I hope I'm not dying or something.

Olivia

Cop-out yay.

I don't have anything to say today.

Also I'm tired.

So this is a cop-out blog post.

Sorry about that.

Go read a book or something.

Good night.

Olivia

PS. Remind me to talk about dreams tomorrow. Specifically nightmares, and not having them anymore, and the dream I had recently that came close.

Cold, and really not much else.

Hi there.

My bedroom is pleasantly freezing. I love being cold.

...

I was going to say things. I don't remember what they were. Maybe I'll remember tomorrow. Today was a weird day.

...

COLD COLD COLD OMFG COLD.

I am probably a masochist or something. But I really enjoy cold.

Bedtime. This was not a very productive post.

Olivia

An unexplained passage and a cussing Brit.

Hiiiiiiiiiii.

I am feeling both energetic and tired. I had ten hours of sleep last night. I had an hour-long nap this afternoon. I am fucken awake. But I don't want to do anything..

...

People in your world get sick or die. You fall in love, or out of love. You move house. Your aunt comes to stay. You agreed to give a talk half-way around the world five years ago, and suddenly you realise that that talk is due now. Your last book comes out and the critics vociferously hated it and now you simply don't feel like writing another. Your cat learns to levitate and the matter must be properly documented and investigated. There are deer in the apple orchard. A thunderstorm fries your hard disk and fries the backup drive as well...

...

Yes.

...

Okay now it's late good night.

Olivia

Bean.

Brooke bought a giant (hugemongous) bean bag chair at the thrift store half a block away, for twenty-five dollars. It's sitting in our common area taking up most of our space. It's marvelous. Its name is Bean.

I'm tired. Good night.

Olivia

My electronic buddies.

Hi, internetian beings.

Right now it's eight twenty-three in the evening. I am currently sitting on my bed, typing at you in between organizing stuff between my computer, my external hard drive, and my camera's SD card, trying to find a balance. My computer is dying, poor guy. Sure, his life has been a good length for his species, but still. Only a few years, and now he's winding down. I'll probably try to upgrade for my next computer (although the funeral has not yet been held, I shouldn't be talking about these things until he's in the grave; he's still puttering along just to make me go through this), ibacus (yeah, I named my computer, and yeah, it's stylistically uncapitalized; long story) wasn't meant for the kind of stuff I want to be doing. His little brother Lothario, my external hard drive, got all the brain power in the family, but the kid's kind of a wuss. He can't handle a bit of roughhousing. Already he's showing the signs - occasionally he'll get upset and refuse to connect properly to PCs. I gotta be more careful with him. That way, ibacus will live on inside him when ib's physical shell passes on.

This is getting a bit depressing. Anyways, back to what I was saying. Sitting here, writing bits of my blog, rearranging information on my electronic buddies. I have these really random blisters on my feet. They hurt. I'm not super happy about them.

I need to get working on my drawing homework. Ahh, procrastination. You are not my friend but you continue to hang around me. You leech.

...

I was going to talk about my drawing homework and today's acting class, but now it's three thirty and I need to sleep for class tomorrow. Good night.

AAAAARGH,
Olivia

On girly things, on grammar, on Gaiman, on guniqueness. (That last one was because I didn't want to break the pattern, could you tell?)

Hi there, internetalonians. I have things to say.

You know what's a funny concept? That which assumes that if you're a girl who doesn't want to spend effort putting thought into the gifts you give to other girls, beauty products are the readily acceptable standby.

...

One thing I've noticed about myself: Though I'm slightly obsessive when it comes to grammar usage, my own takes on a stylized incorrectness in certain modes of writing. I enjoy run-on sentences and sentence fragments and over-hyphenation. In some cases, I like to write as if I were speaking. My mood affects my sentence structure.

Personally, however, I think I know to draw the line. I do nothing so despicable as to, say, overuse commas. To me that's one of the worst offenses in the textbook of badness.

...

I read Neil Gaiman's newest children's book, Odd and the Frost Giants. Then I read the biography. This is what it said.

NEIL GAIMAN writes books. Some of them are for adults, like American Gods, and some of them are comics, like the Sandman series, and some of them have pictures, like Crazy Hair and Blueberry Girl. He was awarded the Newbery Medal for The Graveyard Book. (Hello.) Other awards he has won include the Hugo Award, the Nebula Award, the World Fantasy Award, and, hardest to spell, the Mythopoeic Award. (I bet you could win awards just for spelling Mythopoeic correctly.) His books Coraline and Stardust were made into films. (Does anyone read these biographies?) He is practically fifty years old and has three children. (Help, I am being held prisoner.) He wears lots of black clothes and probably needs a haircut. (They make us write these biographies of authors all day.) He wrote Odd and the Frost Giants for World Book Day in the UK, and thinks there are more stories about Odd he would like to tell. Visit him online at www.mousecircus.com.

His author biographies at the ends of his books are always goofy and entertaining. I enjoy reading them.

...

"There's no one on Earth quite like her."

I am interested in this concept of uniqueness. Nobody is unique. People are not snowflakes. We would like to think we are special, and perhaps in our own spheres of world we are, but there are way too many people out there. Many others share our weirdest thoughts.

True, there are celebrities, who for one reason or another are different than the rest. But the fact that they are known for these differences is circumstantial. Ten other girls like Amanda Palmer were creative enough but not brave enough. Ten other girls were confident but talentless. Ten other girls were strong but not supported. Ten others found the wrong sound for there special-new-genre-of-music. Ten others could not find their drummers.

...

I think the girliest thing about me is my strange little affinity for nail polish. It's been in and then out again for periods of time that have lasted years. I don't really get it. Last time I wore nail polish was probably at least three years ago, and suddenly I came to SVA and met my roommate and the second weekend here, she was painting her nails and I decided to join her. I hadn't brought any of my old things (which had mainly consisted of pen or marker doodles with a clear coat over anyways), but I found a color I liked in her collection, called 'Gunmetal' (I think I would not have liked it half as much with a tamer name), and suddenly I phased back in.

Colors are on my list of things I like. Somehow this makes sense.

...

From twelve to two tonight, I read three one-act plays aloud to myself, for class tomorrow. Purgatory, by Yeats, The Man with the Flower in His Mouth, by Pirandello, and Hello Out There by Saroyan. I quite like them all, though they are very different.

There's something beautiful about plays, that I've always admired. They are required by nature to be more expressive than other written forms. In characters' monologues one often finds the urge to yell.

...

Two thirty now. Time for bed.

Olivia

Psh.

The general assumption is that one is better than one's peers, above their level, more entitled and more powerful and much less vulnerable. After he overhears friends giggling about him he pulls on his coat and storms off.

Oh, the rampant hypocrisy of teenagers. "I can mock you, but when you reciprocate you're going too far."

...

She wants to be, needs to be the center of attention. Even when the conversation has moved on she clings desperately to herself, repeating her wasn't-it-funnies about her drunken escapades of the night before, until someone acknowledges her offhand. She is the girl who stares at herself in mirrors and in reflections, and who cannot go a day without attracting attention from a guy.

...

I am tired, even though it is early. Good night.

Olivia

Stuff about Neil Gaiman, stuff about Amanda Palmer, stuff about NGAFP, stuff about Twitter, stuff about relationships, and other stuff.

Hey, internet! News time!

YAY. YAY. AHHHHH YAY. HAPPY TIMES.

I love them. I'm so happy they're together. I'm so happy they're getting married.

...

Went to the Knickerbocker (heh, I like that word) Orchestra concert at the World Financial Center to see Neil Gaiman narrate Peter and the Wolf. Concert was wonderful, Mr Neil was wonderful, Ms Amanda was there and although I didn't see her, no doubt she was wonderful as well.

About halfway through the narration, upon the entrance of the wolf, a little boy ran into the aisles and, with bent knees and fingers for claws, yelled 'wolf!', which Mr Neil answered with a solemn nod. I tweeted about it, and he @'d me. Is it weird that that makes me feel special?

...

Speaking of Twitter, I connected to Twitter mobile today. I feel slightly dirty. I am going to hell.

But it's fun anyways.

...

Adding to my list:

Lockets.
Sketchbooks.
Paint chips.

...

Jen is so adorably girl sometimes. She's on the phone with her friend and I hear her from across the apartment yelling "I keep texting him and I shouldn't be texting him, and Brooke says I should tell him over text because I'll never be able to tell him in person. I don't want to like him anymore, Steph! I don't want to like him and it's so weird but I do, and it's so awkward, and arrghhhhh! Fuck my life! And I feel really dumb because I feel bad because I don't get to see him for two days of the week, and I feel stupid, because that shouldn't upset me as much as it does! I'm the most..ugh..oh my god." Then Brooke walks in and yells "Jen, did you tell him yet?" And then Jen yells "No, shut up, Brooke! I can't tell him! It's so weird and awkward and I can't tell him and it's so frustrating and I don't want to tell him and I don't want to like him and it sucks! Fuuuuuuck!"

Goddamn. It almost feels like me. But I'm not so publicly vocal about it..

...

Been watching too many movies while I paint recently. I like having background stuff going on when I'm drawing or painting or sculpting, so usually there's music or television or a movie playing. I think I've 'watched' like three today, although most of it is just listening to what's happening as I work.

...

It's one thirty; early bedtime for a Saturday, but ah well.

Blargh tired argh,
Olivia

Cool People.

Tonight was funtimes. I hung out with Cool People. The kind of Cool People who make chainmail and play with a Ouija board (and talk to a six-, I'm sorry, five-year-old ghost boy named BITCHBUR or whatever he ended up spelling..whose favorite color is GREN) and collect things. I'm really tired now. I'm going to bed.

Goodnight,
Olivia

Drunken party in the next room, list of Things, painting, and other bits of life.

Hey internet. I'm holed up in my room tonight; loud party thing in which I would rather not be involved.

So I've been thinking about it, and it's really not fair that in Eragon, the dragon dies with her rider. Racist. But somehow, if the dragon dies, the human can live. What, because he's stronger? Hah. I understand that Paolini's trying to emphasize the bond between the two, but human supremacy runs rampant in bad (and sometimes good) fantasy. Let the dragon live, I say; make her go insane or feral, perhaps, but let her live.

Bad movie. Anyways. Moving on.

...

Today in my narrative workshop class I made a list of Things I Like, instead of taking notes. (Well, I also took notes, but there weren't many. I also started working on a new story concept. It's kind of a script for a short wordless film. I was partly inspired to do this by Christine, who decided to write one of her own after watching Neil Gaiman's Statuesque. Mine might or might not actually be made, but I'd like to finish writing it anyways.)

Here's the list. I keep adding to it.

Gargoyles.
Keys.
Masquerades.
Masks.
Puppets.
Playing cards.
Tarot cards.
Dice.
Balloons.
Wings.
Ballgowns.
Monsters.
Mirrors.
Puddles.
Statues.
Patterns.
Numbers.
Dragonflies.
Fountain pens.
Ink.
Eggs.
Gemstones.
Plain stones.
Half-humans (mermaids, centaurs, harpies, the like).
Music notes.
Resonance.
Chalk.
Metals.
Glass.
Prisms.
Colors.
Colored lights.
Clocks.
Pocket watches.
Wristwatches.
Magical fishes.
Arrows.
Feathers.
Parchment.
Magnifying glasses.
Telescopes.
Greys.
Peacocks.
Music boxes.
Fire.
Candles.
Flames.
Tribal tattoos.
Reptiles.
Monocles.
Typewriters.
Large cats.
Small cats.
Buttons.
Fairy tales.
Lockets.
Sketchbooks.
Paint chips.

It's not done.

...

Today I had an inexplicable urge to paint. (Me: Ahhhhh I really want to paint for some reason. Other part of me: Then go paint, stupid.) So I set up my easel. Took it down. Slept for half an hour. Set it back up. Got all my painting stuff out. Sat in front of the easel for a very long time thinking about things I could paint. Lit on an idea. Got reference. Started sketch. Got more reference. Finished sketch. Did underpainting. Started uhhh..not-underpainting.

I haven't painted since summer. And this isn't strictly observational; that is, it's not a still-life. We'll see how it goes.

...

It is eleven thirty. There are so many loud drunk people outside my bedroom.

...

Awesome.

...

It's Miyazaki Day in Olivia Land. Started watching Princess Mononoke before class, finished it after class. Watching Spirited Away right now. Might go for Howl's Moving Castle afterwards, depending on whether or not I'm tired.

...

I've noticed something. Since I began my 'real art training' (read: when I got a drawing teacher last August to help me prepare my portfolio, and onwards), I haven't been able to do any of that shitty inventive drawing. All I can do is observational stuff. I'm getting a lot better. But all my 'Yay let's draw dragons and other weird creatures and environments and things' is gone. I guess it's partially a good thing. But I want it back. Maybe I just have to wait until I get better and real shit?

...

Twelve thirty, they're playing loud drunken poker. Or attempting to. One is teaching everyone else.

...

One o'clock. They went off on some drunken adventure.

I'm thinking sleep now, before they come back and be loud again.

Drunk people are only fun when I'm friends with them and can make fun of them,
Olivia

More drawing class, more Professor Layton, NGAFP ALSKLSDKGJ, silly conversations, easel assassins make an attempt on my life, and a bad movie is bad.

Heyo internet people and internet empty space.

TM gave us an interesting drawing assignment for this week. He says that this semester will be kind of different; our sketchbooks aren't completely free-choice; he's giving us a different theme or phrase every couple of weeks. The first week, we make a sketchbook based around the theme, and the second week we'll expand on our drawings. It's still pretty open, though, because the ideas are broad. This week, for example, is 'The Thief's Journal'.

I'm excited to start. I think I know what-ish I'm going to do.

By the way, I'm pretty sure I'm getting better at drawing. Awesome.

...

I am too old for toys but some just make me happy. Thanks for showing me, EAA. I want it.

...

Oh by the way if this photo means what I and everyone else think it means, AWESOME. GREATEST THING EVER. YESSSSSS.

If you don't know what I'm talking about you probably don't know me very well.

Anyways. I know the photo was only posted today, but the lack of confirmation or bloggage from either party is killing me. I am dying. Two of my favorite creative souls in the universe are killing me. Agghhh.

...

"It's not like you have to make dwarves shun alcohol from their society, but you don't have to keep them as drunkards either!"
"And you don't have to fucken make elves the perfect humans, either."
"...in retrospect, it would be funny to play on the trope by having dwarves force alcohol out of their society -because- they all became drunkards"
"Hah, that would be great. New DnD character: sober dwarf cleric."
"If elves were so much better than humans, why would humans still exist? Their racial feat, Really Fucking Stubborn?"

...

"I'm thinking that the substance that makes magitek possible in my DnD campaign should be called mithrorichamantium."
"I have no idea what that means but it's awesome."
"Combining mithril with orichalcum and adamantium. It's like the holy trinity of unobtainium. Or does orimithramantium sound better?"

...

I was attacked by two easels today. And I'm pretty sure that third one was coming at me too, but it missed by a wide margin.

Seriously though. One fell on me while I was getting the one next to it before class started. One almost fell on me but was caught less than an inch away from my head by the person who'd been leaning on it. And Tom's toppled over two spots away from me while we were drawing.

Today I was the mark. Not sure why.

...

"See, when you say 'Kksgslklsksgkllk', I imagine a gurgling, violent death."

...

Eragon is a Really Bad Book. It was my least favorite until Stephenie Meyer came along. But it's an Even Worse Movie. Seriously. Cheesiest thing ever.

What the hell. Really now. She just flew up in the sky and grew up. Even worse than the book.

Cheesy characters.
Cheesy music.
Cheesy one-liners.
Cheesy dialogue.
Cheesy set.
Cheesy montages.
Cheesy fight scenes.
(Ridiculously) cheesy villains.
Cheesy elf girls.
Cheesy effects.

Arghblargh.

I should probably sleep instead of watching this horribly awfully crappily bad movie. It's one fifteen. Tomorrow is our first narrative workshop class. I'm hoping it will be a good course; I'm excited.

Good night.

Probably going to finish watching the movie anyways, because she's apparently a masochist or something,
Olivia

PS. Angela just walked in. Cheesy costumes, too. (Although that was there from the beginning. I just forgot to list it until she arrived in that ridiculous getup.)

PPS. And really bad timing and pacing.

PPPS. Eragon, stop flirting with her, she's an elf, she's probably like eighty years old or something. Also, I just noticed she doesn't have pointy ears; why go for all the fantasy cliches in the world and then take out the pointy ears?

Tidbits.

I seem to be posting two today.

So my English class, The One-Act Play, turned out to be more of an acting class. This semester should prove interesting for me.

We stretched. The teacher made fun of our stretching. He led us in an exercise in meditation. For a minute I thought he was going to drop us off that cliff, but we made it up the mountain. Then we acted. I got in a huge fight with my husband because he wanted to take me out to dinner after he'd been cooped up in the house all day but I was dead tired from the day's work and wanted to sleep. It was fun.

...

This is Super Hilarious. Also very Dramatic.



Well it took me two views to fully understand the story, probably because I couldn't tell the difference between the two main dudes in the beginning. But now I think it's actually kind of cool. If still very Dramatic. And Silly. Except for, you know, the cancer bit..

...

Dude. So my phone has a 'xylophone' keypad sound setting, and I just discovered that when typing the word 'super' in T9 it will play the first few notes of the duh-nuh-nuh-nuh duh-nuh-nuh-nuh that everyone associates with the Twilight Zone.

Awesome.

Super.

...

Oh my gosh. I love whoever is behind TheLlama.

"Pinch your cheeks for a girlish flush. Smile pretty and say "Brassiere." Good."

"Wiggle your fingers up in the air, then check them for spiderwebs. Say "Radiant." Good." (Charlotte's Web reference, yessss!)

"Finger-gun-shoot something on your desk. Then turn that thing on its side. Say "You'll never cross me again." Good."

"Stare into the nearest beverage. Imagine tiny boats. Blow on it to make it ripple. Say "That's right. I'm king." Good."

"Place your hands on your hips and puff up your chest. Authoritatively say "I am a giant bird." Good."

"Pretend you can shoot lasers out of your eyes. Now destroy your desk. You may say "Pew pew pew." Good."

(And on a tangent from that last one, yesss. Yesss. Yeeaaahhh.)

...

The title of this song is awesome.



...

Whenever I say I'm going to sleep, I end up staying up at least another half-hour dawdling. So, good night internet. I'm going to sleep.

Spammed you quite a bit tonight, sorry about that,
Olivia

An open letter to the oblivious.

"Ewww, that so gross, stomach hangin out an shit!"

You're bigger than me. Fatter, too. And probably younger as well; this is around the time they let you kids out of school. You're the kind of New Yorker who shrieks with laughter while trying to get a rise out of passing strangers. You would not be doing this if your friends were not surrounding you in a pack. You've grown up hardened, but if I'd stood there and taken your crap and then told you that you're only doing this to inflate your false ego and that you'll never end up a respectable adult with your current facade, you'd know it to be true. And you'd probably deck me.

You're not hurting me. You're just helping to perpetuate my cynicism towards the world.

Don't take pride in being a bitch. It's idiotic and will get you nowhere.

Love,
Olivia

Pointless essays, DnD, and my poor eardrums.

Today I have nothing interesting to say.

Took my school's required proficiency exam. They have to make sure I can write. It's bullshit; I got waived out of the freshman English class because my SAT scores were really high, but I still have to take the PE. Waste of time. Still, though, I sat in that stuffy room for an hour and a half and wrote a kickass essay. Tomorrow is my first humanities class here at SVA, The One-Act Play.

Anyways. Nothing really else. Been reading the DnD player handbook. Looks like the most awesome game in the world. Looking forward to playing it for the first time, next weekend.

My roommates were singing pop music karaoke for many hours this evening. Slightly painful. Their enthusiasm is adorable and admirable. Their singing voices, not so much.

That's it. Good night.

Can't get the tone-deaf rendition of Just Dance out of her head, aaaggghhhh,
Olivia

PS. Today's date is awesome. You've probably heard it said several times already. But I will say it again. It's awesome. I like numbers and patterns and palindromes. Today is awesome. 011110

Wow I'm a messy bitch.

Wow you guys, I am so proud of myself. I spent almost the entire day cleaning my room. Now it is clean. And I'm pretty much dead. Dead dead. Dead. Or at least very very tired. So I'm going to go to sleep.

Whoa clean room what is this,
Olivia

PS. Ohhhh myyyy gooooosh why is she always talking about boys. (Okay I admit I sound a bit of a hypocrite. But I don't obsess to anyone who will listen about some guy who hooked up with me months ago and is now ignoring me..) STOP TALKING ABOUT YOURSELF. You are also the girl who is always looking at yourself in mirrors and fixing your fucken makeup in the middle of the night and please just SHUT UP. You're not even saying anything new or different. It's always the same thing. SHUT UP. SHUT UP. SHUT UP. Now you're just talking about getting him to want you again so you can reject him. SHUT UP. Since we started school you have been madly in love with at least five different guys. PLEASE JUST SHUT UP.

Back and sleepy.

Back in my New-York-home.

Traveling makes me tired. Good night.

Olivia

Home and then gone.

Hey'all.

Last day at home. I miss it already and I haven't even finished packing yet.

Been hanging out with my brother and my cat all evening. Helped him with a project for English, involving making a masquerade mask. Then he baked cupcakes and I drew Molly.

I am going to miss them both. And my parents. And like everything else..except the high school. I do not miss the high school. I saw all my art teachers and that's it.

...

Regina Spektor's a bit of a trip.



...

Remind me to pack my phone charger. It would suck if I didn't.

...

I need to find a job this semester. I need money to eat.

And with that, good night.

Olivia

Avatar.

I'm tired. Also I just saw Avatar again, this time in 3D. The first half-hour made me nauseous. Then it got better, but the execution of the 3D wasn't perfect. I liked the 2D version better.

3D is difficult, man. The only movie I've seen that's been able to pull it off successfully and gimmick-free is Coraline. I've heard that Up was also good with it, but though I saw it twice in theaters, I didn't get to see the 3D version. I'll bet the recent run of Toy Story and Toy Story 2 did it well too, but I never got to that either, unfortunately.

...

In other news..I'm ready for bed. My eyes hurt and my stomach is still kind of rolling from the movie; seriously, guys, the camera angle changes need to not be so jostling, the perspective not so focused.

Living in three dimensions,
Olivia

Google Wave, and another attempt at actually getting enough sleep. (Ooh, alliteration back there.)

GUESS WHAT.

I bought a charger for my DS today, yay, hooray. I am whizzing through this game; seriously, I'm probably going to finish it tomorrow.

...

Google Wave is fun. It is a fun time. I thought I was going to sleep at like ten thirty or something, but we started writing a story in Google Wave instead and messing with each other's sentences and shit, and I ended up sleeping at..a bit past one. (Oh, I have such good self-discipline.)

...

Uh. I'm going to try to sleep early again tonight. (Hah, we'll see how far that goes.) Good night!

Wave, Wave, Wavedy Wave, it's fun, seriously, it confused me for a while but now it's just another toy,
Olivia

PS. Seriously one of the most depressing things I've ever seen, even if whoever made it didn't pay much attention to quality..

PROFESSOR LAYTON, IT'S NOT GENTLEMANLY TO LEAVE ME HANGING LIKE THIS.

Hey internet people. Now I will tell you about my day.

Played my new game most of the morning and some of the afternoon, and then my DS ran out of batteries at an interesting part in the game and I wanted to cry but I didn't. Scrounged around for my brother's DS charger but couldn't find it. Also looked for my own in my bags, hoping I'd remembered to bring it, but evidently I left it in New York. Didn't think I'd be playing games; haven't used the thing in a while, so I guess I wasn't to expect to need it. Got my brother's friend to plan to bring his charger into school tomorrow to give to my brother to give to me. Got impatient. Drove over to brother's friend's house and picked it up. (It's okay, we're good friends with his entire family - spent Christmas with them too - so I'm allowed to do that.) Got home. Happily plugged in the charger. Grabbed my DS to connect it. Realized that the regular DS and the DS Lite (which I have) have different-sized ports for their respective chargers. Wanted to cry again.

I think I may go to Best Buy tomorrow.

...

My little brother is so much like me it's almost scary. Probably because we grew up close, not the weird warring siblings you see a lot. My parents used to call him my sidekick, because he'd do everything I told him to. But he has more friends than I did as a high school freshman. Probably still has more friends than me know. I don't know for sure because I can't weasel an answer out of him, but I think he likes a girl..

...

I WANT A GODDAMNED CHARGER FOR MY GODDAMNED DS SO I CAN KEEP PLAYING MY GODDAMNED GAME. I am a puzzle freak. Seriously, I claim not to want to do math ever again, but I'm a fucken liar. I see patterns in numbers and letters and objects everywherrrre. It's fun for me. I play games with license plates when I'm not driving, or when I'm sitting in traffic.

...

Yeah, that's it for tonight, I think. I'm going to sleep early, because I'm visiting the high school tomorrow. (Didn't think I'd ever want to go back, but for the art teachers. Love them people. They're Good People.)

IMPATIENT AHHHH just let me play my freaking game,
Olivia

New Professor Layton and not much else.

I don't think I have anything to talk about today. Got Professor Layton and the Diabolical Box, so I'm playing that. Puzzle games are fun.

Oh, and my brother and I had a chat in the car today about what things would be like if we had never moved.

Off to play my game now, yay, I like Professor Layton, I'm a geek what,
Olivia

Vanilla bean ice cream is delicious.

No, seriously. I am eating it right now. I have tastebudual proof. Yum yum yum yum yum. It is a good night for ice cream.

...

So. I really like Pomplamoose. They are Cool People. Their original songs are nifty and their covers are fun.

...

I had a therapist, or counselor, or whatever, for a few months early in high school. My mom thought she might help figure out why I always repressed my talent. Or something like that.

She was nice.

I lied to my therapist. All the time. I pretended my life was great.

She was of no use to me.

I can't help keeping secrets from strangers. Especially when I know they're being paid to analyze me. I am full of bullshit excuses for those who don't yet deserve my inner feelings.

I have friends who are therapy for me. They are not professionals, but they are good enough. I think the only person better for me would be a mind-clone of myself sans emotions. Because then she would be able to tell me what to do and I would listen to her.

...

I am feeling mostly less crazy than I was the past few days. Worked in Maya for a few hours today. Going to work more tomorrow.

Nothing more interesting that I can think of, so good night.

Pomplamoose makes me want to -dance-,
Olivia

Dead people, going crazy, geese.

Hellooooo, internet.

Been watching episodes of Dead Like Me on Hulu; it's a good show, you should watch it. It's about a bunch of grim reapers who take people's souls. They also eat waffles.

That was such an ineffective summary. I am ashamed. But the show makes me think about things. Like that question: If today were your last day alive, what would you do?

I don't even know.

...

I've decided it's probably because I'm not at school. I don't have work to worry about, so I latch on to something else to screw with me.

I'm back at home, where I know people and people know me, and I am putting myself under bullshit pressure just by coming in contact with them.

I don't know why they like me. So I punish myself for having friends.

I really need to get out; I need to do something.

Maybe I need to go back to the city, where I can worry about being hit by taxis and disappointing teachers. Those things I can overcome.

...

There is a game on Kongregate involving geese migrations. It's a fun game.

...

Maybe I'll try sleeping early tonight. (Maybe it will help.)

Olivia

"Draw me, happy."

A pretty quote. It sounds so sad.

I suppose this is an in-between. I made my post for January first, but I haven't yet gone to sleep. I thought it needed its own post, though. So here's an extra.

Olivia

PS. And in case it wasn't clear in my last post, I am a big ol' bundle of fucken nerves right now. I am going to drive myself insane.

PPS. It is now five in the morning. I am not sure whether or not I intend to go to sleep. It would probably be the healthy thing to do. Because, of course, all the decisions I make are one hundred percent good for me..

Resolutions. (Also, it seems tonight I am jittery.)

Alright, internet. Resolutions first, then a summary of last night, then random blogthoughts.

Keep working on drawing skills.
Stay ahead of the pack in animation.
Excel in liberal arts classes.
Stop procrastinating so much
Achieve more A's.
Read more.
Write more.
Spend less money.
Make more money.
Practice the piano more often.
Try to make more friends.
Care more about health - physical, mental, emotional.
Work on self esteem issues.

Get a guy (the guy, The Guy).

Be happier.

Be awesome.

...

Last night was fun. Five people who are easy to be around came to my house - I had to pick up four in my parents' minivan; apparently none of my friends drive, for some dumb reason or another - and we did Nothing In Particular. Watched a movie. Hung around.

I love them. Some more than others, but them more than most.

...

I fucken hate being a cliche I fucken hate being a cliche I fucken hate being a cliche.

I know that humans are very much the same and there really aren't any 'different' people, but I hate that. I don't want to be the same.

I don't like to feel attraction to someone, because it feels too overdone and overtired and overworked. It's an idea and I hate it and I can't fucken help it and you know I'm one of those people who has to be in control, even in control of myself, so you see my frustration, right? Life's fucking with me.

Hopeless. Hopeless, hopeless.

I am obsessed with the truth and the evidence and the proof. I can't do anything off a whim. Impulse is not my strong suit; I am a nervous person.

I will take my own truth, then: I am not meant for relationships. If only because I'm too much of a coward.

Life is kind of difficult. Everything sounds scripted, everything seems like I've seen it before. But I seem to have forgotten my cues.

...

Do you ever think about writing your will? I do, sometimes. I'm too young, probably, to care. But I am a careful person, I am a just-in-case person. I'm the one who wants to get there early so I don't miss out; I'm the one who makes sure there's extras.

It occurs to me that writing one's will in something like a blog - or just somewhere online in general - would be an interesting thing to do. Probably not valid. But there, if anyone who reads it cares. There, enough that things might happen as the deceased had wished.

...

Today I spent a few minutes in front of a mirror to see what I look like when I'm happy.

I was, too.

I look better when I'm happy.

...

It is later at night now. Talking on Google voice chat, but his internet's patchy and sometimes lags. We lose audio connection occasionally. So when the audio dropped just now, I typed 'I lost you' at him. It looked out of the corner of my eye so much like something else that I had to triple check to make sure I hadn't slipped.

...

Motherfucker. He's asking me about blog sites.

I am a nervous person.

...

I'm just slipping everywhere. Slipped twice last night.

Motherfucker.

...

My hands are so dry during winter. My lips, too. My skin in general. But I always forget to do anything about it.

...

My throat hurts and I'm feeling queasy. Blaaargh. Was someone sick last night?

...

This is my sixtieth entry, by the way. Two months. I didn't think I would be able to write a post a day. I didn't think I had the ability.

Apparently I do.

Gotta keep it up.

Good night, if anyone is reading. Have a year. A good year would be nice. Make it good.

Olivia

PS. Neil Gaiman is just fucking amazing, and his words are fucking beautiful. I am jealous of anyone who attended AFP's show with the Boston Pops last night; it sounds like it was fantastic. (Is that her being led on under a blanket at the end of the clip?)



PPS. It occurs to me that my blog can probably be found through my email address, fuckyoupleaseGoogleifthisistrue. It also occurs to me that another resolution of mine should be to Be Less Nervous Or At Least Less Fucken Self-Conscious. And I should be less secretive as well. I am writing to the internet, after all. The internet knows nothing of privacy.

Blargh argh blargh.

Happy new, guys.

...

"Oh, you still read it? Awesome. I'm almost at sixty posts now."
"Yeah, I haven't in the past few days, I need to catch up."
"Cool, I - oh my gosh I just realized Zoe told me she reads my blog."
"Oh, she..ohhhhhhh."

Hurr hurr. It's alright, though. Zoe is Good People.

On the other hand, why is it so fucken difficult?

I'm in love or in like or infatuated or insane. I want life to be easy and it's letting me down. Maybe I'm just not giving it enough of a chance.

Maybe I'm deluding myself.

Maybe what I've been telling myself is true, that I just can't have normal relationships because I'm not good enough or not special enough or not attractive enough or not clever enough or just not likable.

Maybe this is the year I can get that part of my brain to shut the fuck up and let me go about my business.

I wish I weren't so nervous. I am tiptoeing around this thing and ignoring it really doesn't help my cause.

I don't want to fuck things up. I'm comfortable right now. I would rather my life be simple than fuck with what I have.

I am not confident enough to try to make things better.

I'm a coward.

...

I'm a bit muddled after tonight. Since tomorrow's post is technically my new year's post, I will think over my resolutions and write them out for the next entry. I'll talk more about tonight, too.

Right now I'm just a bit confused.

Also frustrated.
Olivia

PS. Watch. Adore.

Statuesque
by trentisthenewpink