I must apologize for my absence. What with having a tiresome infection, being stuck at home for spring break, and basically coming to the realization that I am nothing if not dull and anti-social without alcohol (and a poor writer in such times to boot!) I have simply not had it in me to check in. However, I would hate to evince the sort of melancholy you would think is entailed in such balls-to-the-wall bore-fests as I have just described. The fact is, I've been enjoying my time away from the world of neuro-functioning street dwellers. I've caught myself up on every single episode of House that has ever aired. I've developed a huge infatuation with this little beauty from America's Next Top Model:

And, if that weren't enough to convince you of my overwhelming contentment, I have recently taken to sewing patches on everything I own and talking to myself all the while. I'm not entirely sure how this bodes for the following month, which is all the time I have to make the girl I'm crushing on in real life fall head-over-heels in love with me, but as I recently told a friend of mine, at least work for the art department is going well.
"They're going to make busts of me for the final project. Won't that be special??? I think I'll steal one, spray it with alabaster and set it aloft on my television set in the hopes a bird of some sort, mocking bird perhaps, will fly in through my window, perch upon it, and then proceed in the voice of my father to tell me what a loser I am and how everything I complain about 'sounds like a personal problem' to him. At least then I'd have something besides reruns of Project Runway to look at."

By all accounts it does not look entirely unpromising.


In other news (as if you needed any!), I was looking through old pictures in my alacrity and will probably add a few of them to the old albums. In addition to these, I have every intention of taking new ones now that my MRSA is vanquished and time that could be better spent is...

I must apologize for my absence. What with having a tiresome infection, being stuck at home for spring break, and basically coming to the realization that I am nothing if not dull and anti-social without alcohol (and a poor writer in such times to boot!) I have simply not had it in me to check in. However, I would hate to evince the sort of melancholy you would think is entailed in such balls-to-the-wall bore-fests as I have just described. The fact is, I've been enjoying my time away from the world of neuro-functioning street dwellers. I've caught myself up on every single episode of House that has ever aired. I've developed a huge infatuation with this little beauty from America's Next Top Model:

And, if that weren't enough to convince you of my overwhelming contentment, I have recently taken to sewing patches on everything I own and talking to myself all the while. I'm not entirely sure how this bodes for the following month, which is all the time I have to make the girl I'm crushing on in real life fall head-over-heels in love with me, but as I recently told a friend of mine, at least work for the art department is going well.
"They're going to make busts of me for the final project. Won't that be special??? I think I'll steal one, spray it with alabaster and set it aloft on my television set in the hopes a bird of some sort, mocking bird perhaps, will fly in through my window, perch upon it, and then proceed in the voice of my father to tell me what a loser I am and how everything I complain about 'sounds like a personal problem' to him. At least then I'd have something besides reruns of Project Runway to look at."

By all accounts it does not look entirely unpromising.


In other news (as if you needed any!), I was looking through old pictures in my alacrity and will probably add a few of them to the old albums. In addition to these, I have every intention of taking new ones now that my MRSA is vanquished and time that could be better spent is weighing on my shoulders more and more as the end of the semester approaches. Do look for them. One loves her some comments, you know.