I will be a student FOREVERRRR!!!

So yesterday I was sitting in the hallway waiting for my art history class to start and I randomly started up this conversation with a girl who used to be a photography major at my school. USED TO being the operative term there because the reasons she told me for dropping out made me want to curl into a fetal position and cry right there in the middle of the cold tile and amidst the awkward stares exchanged between my fellow students, like, is she ok? Should we do something? Call someone or something? Is she seriously about to throw up?

There are four classes that photo majors must take entitled Directed Study 1 & 2 and Portfolio 1 & 2. These class titles did not used to reverberate with such tones of DOOM inside my poor weakened heart but alas, those happy days are over. Only a few days ago I had plotted out the rest of my courses so that I had slated myself to graduate in spring of 2009, which, holy hell! That's only a year late, even with the transferring of schools and the changing of majors and all the lost hours and WOW I AM AWESOME. SO, SO AWESOME. But as it turns out, I am not awesome. Way not awesome. Because yesterday I found out that both Directed Studies and both Portfolios must be taken separately from one another. And by that, I mean that you cannot take any one of those four in the same semester with another of those. Four. Consecutive. Semesters. Which I had already kind of planned on, right? Because I had planned out four more semesters for myself? WRONG.

You cannot even begin taking these four consecutive semesters until you have completed ALL OF YOUR OTHER STUDIO CLASSES. ALL. OF THEM. I will not be done with all of my studio classes until the end of fall semester of 2008, and you know what that means? I am TENTATIVELY expecting to graduate in FALL OF 2010.


Okay. I'm breathing. Deep healing breaths, seriously, but SERIOUSLY, GEORGIA STATE. OH MY GOD WHY. Even if I had begun the program as a freshman it would have been impossible for me to graduate on time. I think. I'm holding onto that thought because seriously. It's not even really the graduating late that is irking me so hard, because let's face it, I kind of like school an awkwardly large amount and will kind of probably feel a little lost and empty once I graduate. It's just infuriating that the degree is set up so fucking awkwardly, like, sorry guys, but unless you start school in the last semester of your senior year of high school? You are fucked. Have a nice college experience!

Most majors involving directed studies don't even have to take them. Directed studies are usually an option to pad your hours requirement for graduation, but photo majors? Not only do we HAVE to do a directed study, we have to do TWO! OH THE JOY. I don't know, I just never thought getting an art degree would be so complicated, but I guess we really take our art seriously here, huh? The good thing is that people know that GSU photo degrees are no joke and from what I've heard, people who graduate with a photo major from GSU usually do pretty well for themselves. So that's something, you know? Except it is also something that when I finally graduate and people are like, what happened? Did you take a couple of years off? Like three? I will have to be like, NO. I JUST SUCK. SO, SO HARD.

On the other hand, hi! I really do love photography and even if I switched majors at this point it would take me just as long to graduate, and on the bright side? Taking this long to get through school means I get darkroom access for the next three years. So I guess it's not all that bad.

On the other other hand? I get to buy one of these this semester, because I need it for school, which means I can totally rationalize making a purchase that I have wanted to make for the last three years:

Medium format, baby. Twin-lens reflex camera using 120MM film to make 6x6cm negatives OR 6x4.5cm. That I will then get to develop. In the darkroom. And also impress unsuspecting bitches with my awesome big camera, like, look at what a SERIOUS photographer I am. I am very SERIOUS about what I do. Look at my LARGE CAMERA. No, you cannot see the picture on the back after I take it, this is FILM, YOU IDIOT, NOT DIGITAL! WHAT DO YOU TAKE ME FOR? HAHAHAHA!!!!!



Dear constant exhaustion,

Why? Why do you plague me with your exhaustive-ness? I have so much to do and yet by the time I return to my apartment at night, all I can do is lay on the couch in a heat-fueled stupor and drool on myself until I gain enough energy to haul myself into the shower and then into bed. You are very, very inconvenient for me. I have cleaning out to do! Movies and shows to watch! Books to read! I haven't bought groceries in approximately five weeks! But I can do none of these things while you are hanging around. GO AWAY.

Pressing the keys has wiped me out,

Dear dull, throbbing, nagging headache,

I really hate you. Why are you here? It's not allergy season. Well, okay, I have been around a very large number of cats lately, but REALLY. I live with cats on a daily basis, what difference should three more tiny, almost invisible kittens make? NONE, HEADACHE. Are you allergies? Are you not enough sleep? Are you and exhaustion simply teaming up to drive me into the ground? You make me feel like I am walking through life barely conscious of what is going on, because that is WHAT I AM DOING WHEN YOU ARE AROUND. Please vacate the premises immediately.

My eyes are throbbing from looking at the screen,

Dear Whitney,


You're welcome!!!!!!!
Exhaustion and headache


The run-on sentences and parentheses are out of control

Things I Have Learned Today:

1. It is a bad idea to eat applesauce straight out of the jar when you are very hungry because all you had for breakfast was a pack of peanut butter crackers because you have not gone grocery shopping in four weeks because you are tired and lazy and busy and also, you really fucking HATE going grocery shopping and would kind of rather eat ramen noodles three times a day for a month than go grocery shopping. Eating applesauce straight out of the jar, especially when you are at work and distracted by the shiny computer monitor in front of you, will probably result in looking at the jar after thirty minutes and realizing there is only about a third of the original amount of applesauce remaining. You will then need to sheepishly re-cap the jar and place it back in the refrigerator before your crazy applesauce-eating self begin to chomp on the applesauce-flavored glass without realizing it.

2. Actually, mostly just the applesauce thing. I think that's all I've learned today. Not from experience, of course, just from... uh... hypothesizing? Yeah. Totally just an untested hypothesis.

Speaking of the Food-Related Crazy, I hoard condiments. Is that weird? I get fast food at work probably once or twice a week (except when I haven't gone grocery shopping in four weeks and am forced to forage for food [holy shit, look at all that alliteration] elswhere than my lonely, cold refrigerator, in which case I get fast food a little more often than that), and a lot of times I go to Wendy's because it's really close to my office and it's cheap. (Are you still following after all the punctuation? IT'S A PUNCTUATION PARTY OVER HERE! PARENTHESES! BRACKETS! COMMAS! WOOOOOO CRAZY TIME!)

Anyway. What was I saying? Oh, right. Condiment hoarding! (I feel like it's some kind of illicit sexual act or something... you rotten hoarder). Anyway OH MY GOD PARENTHESES. So the Wendy's I go to does not offer mayonnaise packets for some ungodly, unexplained reason, and I like to mix my ketchup with mayonnaise to dip my fries in, I know, weird and ew. Whatever. So whenever I ask for mayonnaise they give it to me in a tiny condiment cup but that just gets kind of inconvenient, you know? Also I get tired of asking for mayonnaise and ketchup all the time and the guy behind the window totally KNOWS ME because I am all the time asking for mayonnaise and now he brings it to me without my asking and I don't know, that's just kind of embarrasing.

So now whenever I have extra ketchup packets or I get mayo packets from a different fast-food establishment, I totally toss them into a Wendy's bag and keep them for next time I get fast food so that I won't have to ask for condiments. And I hide the bag behind my computer monitor so no one else can see it, like it's some kind of dirty little secret, you filthy condiment hoarder. I mean, seriously, who does that? I think it's some kind of weird sickness. I think it has something to do with the Type-A and OCD and shit. Who even knows.

In other obsessive news, my Netflix queue has somehow shot up over 100 (Holy shit! Arrested Development, I totally want to watch that! And Big Love, omg! OMG SO MANY DVDS!) and I totally upgraded to three DVDs at-a-time because in addition to being a filthy condiment hoarder, I am totally a filthy DVD hoarder. I cannot help myself.


A bunch of random paragraphs masquerading as an entry

So I'm totally obsessed with Netflix right now. Netflix and I are having an illicit and highly improper love affair and I probably should not be typing this for the Internets to read but I don't care because I LOVE NETFLIX, DON'T YOU SEE? WE LOVE EACH OTHER AND I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU THINK! I got a free trial a week ago and opted for the two DVDs at a time plan and now I kind of want to upgrade to the three at a time plan because oh my God, the possibilities. I have spent several hours in the last week surfing around the site, internally screaming things like, "Oh my God! Clarissa Explains It All! NETFLIX, YOU HAVE CLARISSA EXPLAINS IT ALL? Oh my God! Grey's Anatomy! I totally want to watch that! Oh, and Lost! And Prison Break! And... this? I don't even know what this is, Netflix, but you suggested I would like it based on my other choices and I trust you fully! One hundred percent! ALSO I LOVE YOU. SO, SO MUCH." So after a week I have approximately 80 DVDs in my queue and I have finished and returned exactly one of them. Methinks the love affair will probably be lasting long into the foreseeable future.

Speaking of love affairs, I love organization and storage (news to anyone? thought not). Yesterday I went to Target to pick up a prescription and accidentally got absorbed in looking at the plastic storage containers because I am cleaning out my room right now and about to start packing to move and that means that I obviously need many, many more storage containers than I currently have in my life. All of the storage containers I already have are inferior and must be replaced with newer, shinier models. ALL OF THEM. Everything I own must have a storage container to call its own! It would be organizational heaven!

I didn't even realize that Target has a lot of storage containers on sale right now until I got over to that section and then I just stood there in awe as I stroked the containers' discounted plastic exteriors while a little bit of drool dribbled down the front of my shirt. I snapped rudely back to life when I realized that I have approximately $40 in my checking account to last me until Friday, but I bid a loving farewell to the containers and told them I would come back for them before the sale was over. Fear not, my loves! I shall return!

My roommate did a bad, bad thing. For me, anyway. As I understand the story (and to be honest, I don't really understand the story), one of her co-workers had a cat who had kittens and then he had to move out of his apartment/house/wherever he lived, and so Sara took the kittens until they could get their new homes. Most of them already had new homes (I think there were six to begin with?) and the others found homes almost immediately after Sara took them. However, and here is the bad part, there is now one kitten remaining. One tiny, lonely, oh my God adorable kitten. A friend of Sara's has already laid claim to this kitten but won't be taking her for another week or so, which, as it turns out, is about six days longer than it took for me to fall dramatically, irreversibly in love with this kitten. She is a tiny, unbelievably fluffy gray ball of fuzz and she's rambunctious and playful and runs around crazily pouncing on specks of dust, but then last night she curled up next to me and slept that way all night. All. Night. If I moved or turned over, she would move so that she was still touching me. But she didn't want to be ON me - if I put her on my chest, she would almost immediately climb off and lay back down next to me. She wanted to be touching me, but still in her space. Oh my God, she is so adorable. I AM SMITTEN. SMITTEN WITH A KITTEN, LOL THAT RHYMES!

And basically, now I want to keep her. But I can't. So I am sad. The end.


What? This is still here?

Hi! Still alive, albeit just barely, occasionally! Still in class, although only for one more day, and thank God because if I didn't have the (meager, two-week) break between summer and fall semesters very, very soon, I'd probably be going crazy! And excessively using exclamation points again! I love punctuation!

I got an A- on my last project, which, on the one hand, cool, because it's totally not like a B or a C or a D (all of which my teacher has handed out joyfully and without mercy to numerous people over the course of summer semester) but at the same time my inner perfectionist/type-A personality is totally abusing me because DUDE. You TOTALLY should have gotten an A, you worthless piece of dog poop! You are no more than a smelly pile of feces to me! You hear me? FECES! And I cry a little and promise Type-A that I will do better next time, I swear, I'm sorry, I really am. I didn't mean it! I don't know what happened! I... please don't hit me!

Anyway, so yeah, aside from my crazy-ass multiple personalities (which were actually what the project was based on, ooh!), one of which tells me that I suck unless I'm perfect, I'm well aware that an A- is a good grade, especially since I think I did better than almost anyone in the class. But still, it's kind of like, I worked so fucking hard on this project, I mean I literally put like 35 hours into this shit in the span of maybe a week, and so I kind of feel like my best work is only worth an A- to my teacher. Like she's laughing at my pathetic efforts, all HA! 35 hours? WIMP. AMATEUR. I scoff at your efforts. A-MINUS FOR YOU, BUT ONLY BECAUSE I AM FEELING KIND TODAY. Begone with you! Better luck next time!

The project I'm working on now is our final project, and I had a really hard time coming up with a concept because I think that the project is, frankly, stupid. Really stupid. Especially for a final project. We are to create at least five postcards. Postcards. Where we take pictures for the front of the postcard, and then we do stuff to the back. We can write to anyone, from anyone. The pictures have to relate somehow to what we write. And! We can manipulate the postcards and use techniques that don't involve pictures! Like painting! And drawing! And... um... stamping? I guess? I really feel like this is an idea that could be successfully executed by third graders, and actually, maybe I did a project like this once in elementary school. I can't remember.

Since I've had such a hard time coming up with an idea for this project, and I think it's kind of stupid, I'm writing to things that frustrate me, and taking pictures that illustrate these things. The recipients of my postcards will be:

- Money (that vicious minx)
- My apartment (fuck you, apartment. seriously.)
- My packrat tendency (see also: I've Saved Everything Since I Was Born, and No, I Am Not Kidding)
- Cigarettes (why, cigarettes? you are so bad for me, yet so enjoyable!)
- uh... one other thing I can't remember right now. Probably not a good sign.

So yeah. Stupid. Very, very stupid. But look! Pretty pictures! Which I will maybe eventually scan and put up here, but probably not!

In other news (that is the only segue I seem to be able to use appropriately), someone left the office for good (again) yesterday, and when I arrived this morning there was a cake sitting in the refrigerator. A chocolate cake, with chocolate whipped-looking frosting. My stomach was immediately screaming at me to eat this cake, I mean it, NOW OR ELSE! and so I finally got a piece and oh my, is it ever delicious. There's chocolate syrup or something on the inside and it is covered with a huge layer of chocolate-flavored whipped cream instead of icing, which is good because I hate regular icing. I am almost finished with my piece and I am sort of sad. I kind of want to announce that I am quitting just so I can get a cake and then come back the next week and be all, just kidding guys! I still want to work here! But damn, that was a good cake, huh?