FTPs and Scanned HBs

Guys, can I tell you how pooped I am? I can? Excellent.

I'm pooped.*

It's the computer. It's a marginal excuse, I know. But can I just say "FTP" is now a permanent fixture in my vocabulary? I fought with the Great-Kahuna-Internet and I won. The only problem now is letting go of my little pet project and giving someone else the reins.

I wish all of my sketchbooks would look like this. Not dark, shiny and kind of hard to tell what it is, but more what it looks like in real life. Like I care. Because I do. It's just sometimes hard to tell. I'm telling you. I need a scanner.


*I don't actually like the word, "pooped" because it brings up images in my mind I would rather leave un-thought. Something like leaving bags of flaming fecal matter on doorsteps on Halloween only instead of laying there inconspicuously they're flying through the air toward my head. I'm going to venture a guess and say this was too much information.

Fail.

This blog is a good art tool. Example: here I am taking pictures of my latest homework assignment to post thinking, "Ha ha ha, these look exactly like me," when, I look at the pictures in photobooth and realize...they don't. Guess I wasn't as done as I thought I was. Sob.

I'm taking beginning drawing for the third time. Parts of it are a little exhausting but it's good to go back to the basics (again). It was the only drawing class offered during the summer and if I'm not forced to draw this summer my brain is going to turn to mush. It's also with one of my favorite professors and she's sort of adapted some of the assignments for me.

Haughty laugh.

(Kidding. I'm kidding.)

Productivity?! Sob.

I'm distracted, I'm procrastinating, I'm wide awake, tired, lazy and missed perfect setup to flirt with a cute guy today. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?! Hhh, I know. I haven't had my second cup of coffee today.

I had the whole day yesterday to work and all managed to do was a bit of half hearted doodling:

See the part I'm covering up? That part was more half-hearted than others.

Oh, I forgot to tell you: the guitar came in the mail the other day. Just about the only really productive thing I've done lately is start to teach myself how to play. I never imagined it would be so fantastic. I can play about 6 chords. I'm ready for a band. Sign me up.

Ignore the crazed, disheveled look.

On the Twelfth Day of Ashmas...

There are exactly twelve days until my 23rd birthday and I'm feeling old. If you're older than 23 don't take it personally. I don't think 23 is old. Just me. Although the fact that a quarter of my life is over contributes a little. Am I allowed to have two quarter-life crises? Because I've already had one and it might be considered regressive behavior if I curl up in a corner with High School Musical and like stop using punctuation and only srt talking lak thiz idk lol omg roflxkhhhylgsaklcn.

I need to get out of this house. Too much summer vacation.

Speaking of getting out: I'm playing wing man at an engagement shoot today. Woo! I'm excited.

Home Os-stretch

This is about how I feel today:

Because, seriously?

One more day. Just one more day.