Okay, so remember that time I posted twice in like four days, it probably won't ever happen again

Life these days has been a confusing mix of busy as shit and boring as... well... shit. I guess. My job mostly accounts for the boring part and I don't know what to do about this, really. My job is kind of boring but I like the people I work with and for and I've been here for a long time and they're really cool about working with my hours since I'm in school. I come in at 11 the days I'm not in school and basically stay until whenever I want, depending on the amount of work I need to get done and the amount of crap breathing down my neck and begging me to come home and do that instead. But it's like a forty-minute drive from my apartment and did I mention that the work I do is pretty boring? Because it is. This paragraph is basically pointless because I'm not trying to come to any kind of decision about a major life change in the form of a new job. I'll probably quit working here eventually and find something more fun and closer to where I live, but for now this is working out pretty well. Mostly.

In other news, my summer photography class is kicking my ass. When I signed up for it I was like, "Well, I mean, I don't know if I really want to take a summer class but I really need to, and I mean, it's photography for God's sake, I've taken it before so it will totally be a breeze cause I already know everything anyway. No time spent outside of class studying! Lots of extra time to sit around and stare at my belly button!" WRONG. We covered the basics in like one class period and from there it has been TAKE PICTURES PROCESS NEGATIVES MAKE CONTACT SHEETS MAKE PRINTS MAKE MORE PRINTS FUCK THESE HAVE DUST ON THEM MAKE THEM AGAIN MOUNT THEM HURRY HURRY TURN THEM IN!!! CRITIQUE OMG!!! The photography class I took last year was like... well... NOTHING compared to this. Nothing. I could have done that shit in like two weeks, seriously. I have no concept of how it took us an entire semester to get through that class. I shot like maybe four rolls of film the whole semester and only processed one of them in the darkroom. I've already shot and processed six rolls of film in three weeks and wow, it is time-consuming. I love it, I really do, and this is definitely not going to deter me from pursuing photography, but this summer class is nothing like I expected it to be. We have two more assignments -- big ones -- left to go this semester and only three weeks. Between twelve hours spent in class a week and 21 to 24 at work, it's hard to find another twenty or thirty to spend taking pictures and working in the darkroom. At least it's something I love, ja? Except for the times when I end up crying in a corner because my prints won't come out correctly even though I've done them 18 times and someone keeps opening the drying cabinet while my negatives are in there, making dust attach itself permanently to all my negatives. Which is then impossible to get off and leaves spots all over my prints. But I love this class. Really.

Also, during our critique on Tuesday, my teacher made three people cry. Out of nine. That's like one-third of the students in the class that were in tears at some point during the class period. I wasn't one of them this time, but I fully expect to end up red-eyed and blotchy before this semester is over. Art is hard.

Moving on, I have been really hungry lately. Really, really hungry. And by lately, I mean like the last two days, but still. I was really hungry yesterday and now I am really hungry AGAIN today and that's enough to create a pattern or continuation or whatever, and now I find it weird. Yesterday I was at school and had my typical lunch of sandwich and chips, which normally keeps me good until class is out, but I was starving by about three hours later. This morning I had cereal for breakfast around 10:30, which usually means I won't be really hungry again until 1:30 or so, but I was ravenous a WHOLE HOUR EARLIER. And then I ate chicken nuggets and a large fry from Chick-fil-a and I'm still not wholly satisfied. I could eat more. Normally I can't even finish that meal. What's going on? Am I feeding the stress? Am I ovulating? Is my body determined to make me obese by the wintertime so I won't be so cold? Stay tuned!

Speaking of yesterday (with the food? remember? the hunger? I spoke of yesterday, just trust me) I twisted my ankle and fell down. I want you to visualize this in your head, seriously, because it was the least elegant and most awkward thing I have done in a while, and I do a lot of awkward and non-elegant things. I stepped weirdly on some uneven pavement, my ankle went TWIST approximately perpendicular to my body, and in about a tenth of a second I had flown onto the ground. Please note my choice of words: flown. Not fallen, not... some synonym of fallen... FLOWN. It was pretty acrobatic, I think, being that my lens cap from the camera INSIDE MY PURSE popped off and flew onto the sidewalk. And seriously? Who falls? I mean, people trip a lot, you know? And then they catch themselves after a bit of a stumble and they keep walking like nothing happened. Not me! I fell. Hard. I scraped my hand up pretty well and my ankle was going, "Um, hi? What just happened? I think I kind of hurt?" and then I got up and felt dizzy. Flash forward a couple of hours, my ankle hasn't been hurting very badly but suddenly begins to hurt VERY VERY BADLY (possibly due in part to the fact that I walked around a museum on it for three hours). I begin to freak out and ponder the fact that I could very well have fractured a bone in my foot and/or ankle due to my horrible awkwardness and clumsiness. Flash forward a few more hours, and the tear-inducing pain has subsided, and this morning I am convinced it's nothing but a simple sprain, because it hardly hurts at all anymore. Just a little bit. Also the big scrape on my hand is stinging whenever it touches something, but whatever. The moral of the story is that my body likes to freak me out with horrible pain and then say, just kidding! Oh man, I totally got you. You were totally scared that it was something worse than a sprain. Man, you are gullible. Too easy.


It's only been, what, like four days?

And I'm back?! SHOCK AWE! AMAZEMENT etc. You know what I really, really hate about living in Atlanta? The traffic. I love Atlanta, I really do, and I have no desire to ever live in the 'burbs or out on the rambling countryside, except when I am stuck in traffic.

Exhibit A: Last Wednesday I went to my dad's house after work to take him some paperwork for insurance, and a trip that should have taken me 45 minutes took me close to TWO HOURS. TWO. HOURS. OF SITTING IN THE CAR. NOT MOVING. It turns out that something had happened involving some sort of tour bus and a middle lane was inexplicably blocked (but the bus was pulled off to the side of the road? I DON'T KNOW WHAT WAS GOING ON). The H.E.R.O. trucks (is that what they are?) were sitting in the blocked middle lane with lit-up arrows pointing left or right, like, hey, this lane is blocked but choose any of these other available lanes! They are all equally desirable! But they were NOT. I moved into the right lane only to discover that it was ALSO CLOSED until past the exit, so I had to get OFF the EXIT and wait for fifteen minutes just to turn around and get back on the interstate. But did the helpful arrows inform me that this was going to happen? No! They didn't. This is why I hate arrows. Also traffic.

Exhibit B: Last Thursday (yes. only a day after horrific traffic incident number one) I left my apartment around 6:45 to attend the last Screen on the Green (an outdoor movie) of the summer at Piedmont Park in the middle of Atlanta. The drive from my apartment to Piedmont should normally take between ten and fifteen minutes, maximum. I left my apartment all jolly, like, yay, last Screen on the Green of the summer! And they're showing E.T.! And I haven't seen that movie since I was like, I don't know, six or something and I think it totally creeped me out and gave me nightmares for some reason but now I'm 21 and I'll be fine! And hanging out with friends! Yay Piedmont Park! My attitude swiftly changed when traffic completely stopped the minute I got off the exit. It took me an hour and fifteen minutes to get to the park. ONE HOUR. AND FIFTEEN MINUTES. That is fully an HOUR longer than it should have taken me. And then? SCREEN ON THE GREEN GOT RAINED OUT. CANCELLED. SEVENTY-FIVE MINUTES OF DRIVING FOR NOTHING. I called my best friend every five minutes and gave her traffic updates on my position since I was supposed to be meeting her at the park. Our conversations went something like this:

Brittony: Hello?

Whitney: IT'S BEEN TEN MINUTES AND I HAVE ONLY MOVED FIVE FEET. FIVE. FIVE FEET IS ALL I HAVE MOVED IN TEN MINUTES. SO ANGRY. If you hear something on the news about a car stopped because the driver had a concussion from repeatedly banging her head on the steering wheel, YOU KNOW IT IS ME. SO ANGRY GRARRHHGGGHHH SMASH ANGRY.

Traffic also makes me use an excessive number of capital letters. It's really not my fault; I turn on caps lock and then the anger pouring out of my eyes blinds me to the fact that it stays on for more than a socially acceptable amount of time.

Aside from Horrible Traffic Incidents 2007, I had a nice weekend. Saturday I woke up inexplicably grumpy and then compounded the problem by not eating breakfast because I had run out of breakfast food. I have low blood sugar, so not eating when I'm hungry is neverrrr a good idea. Anyone who's ever been around me when I'm hungry can vouch for this. My little brother was having a birthday party at a bowling alley and my dad told me to be at his house at noon to go with them. I got there five minutes after noon and they had already left. I stomped around the house for about thirty seconds yelling about how I couldn't believe they had already left because seriously, my dad knows I am chronically late because I get it FROM HIM, and if he was leaving at noon why wouldn't he tell me to be there earlier than that? Or call me to find out where I am before they left? HELLFIRE AND DAMNATION. I called my dad and he informed me that they had, in fact, already left, and that I should just meet them at the bowling alley. I hung up the phone with him, sat down in the middle of the kitchen floor, and sobbed for about five minutes. For no reason. Just sobbing for the hell of it, apparently, with the tears and the blotchy face and the feeling pitiful. When I decided enough was enough I picked myself off the floor, ate two bowls of Berry Burst Cheerios and went bowling. Which was, you know, fun. After the sobbing, and also the sweating because my car needs something done to the air conditioning and I can't ride in it for more than five minutes without the sweating. Down my back, on my upper lip, between my thighs (which I HATE ew), under my arms. Ew.

So yes, where was I? Bowling. We went bowling and it was fun. There were blacklights. And pizza and cake and pictures. Afterward we went to the river and sunned ourselves on the rocks like lazy cats before going to the rope swing that I was too much of a pussy to swing off of (even though I did it last summer. But seriously, it's intimidating.) And then later in the evening, I got a washer and dryer! Which I can't plug in yet because they got severely rained on while we were transporting them to my apartment and I'm afraid they will short out if they aren't dried out yet. I spent the night at my dad's house on Saturday for the first time in quite a while and spent Sunday laying around doing nothing because... I could, I guess. I should have been working on a photography project but the people who agreed to be my subjects were unavailable. So instead we went to the river again (and I swung off the rope swing twice! omg!) and then ate a big family dinner. When I came back to Atlanta I met up with my boyfriend and his brother and my friend Kathryn and we all smoked hookah (oh how I love hookah) and sang along to Prince. Life could totally be worse. Even though, you know, traffic.

By the way, regarding my profile picture:
1. I am not as ugly and awkward as I look in that picture. I don't think.
2. I am, in fact, eating a kitten. Please pay special attention to the way the kitten is looking helplessly at the camera, like OH MY GOD I AM ACTUALLY IN SOMEONE'S MOUTH. I REALLY THINK SHE IS GOING TO EAT ME PLEASE HELP.