The ring to rule all.

I want a ring.

I'm shopping on Etsy. I love Etsy. It appeals to me for so many reasons.

Various search keywords: leaf ring sterling bug onyx jade.

When I was leaving Hawai'i like five years ago, Reid wanted to buy me a ring. Just like ... a friend ring, I guess. He picked out this awesome pink gold ring of delicate leaves. It was so perfect. But I couldn't let that fucker buy me a ring. It would've been wrong to accept it. And it was too much money to be spending on just a friend.

Now I'm struggling to find a perfect ring on Etsy. I should've let him buy it for me ...

I am that which I despise most.

A crafter. I've gotten into crafting. God save me.

I am an image hoarder.

My mom is a hoarder. A pack rat. I've known this for some time. She saves everything. This sprouts from a childhood of moving around. Her dad was an army officer and moved the family at least once every year. Mom had to desert keepsakes countless times. Now that she can cling on to material things, she does as often as she can, no matter how useless the item.

Sometimes, she would throw something away, but then later realize she could've used it for such and such. This worsens her affliction. So she collects and saves the dumbest little things.

I realized yesterday I'm the electronic art and design version of her. Tumblr and GoogleReader are my enablers. Everything looks good to me. Things on Tumblr get the heart and things on GoogleReader get the star and if you're good enough, you'll get reblogged.

Love everything. Save everything.

Vaj to mouth

So ... I finally saw Alex after eons.

I worked. Jim went to the bar. Alex was at the bar. I met them at the bar after work.

"So what's up with the latest girl you were trying to hook up with?" I ask.

"Done." He had to break it off. I give him the look of disapproval. I see the surface of him. He's a player. "She wouldn't go vaj to mouth," he says.

"You'd break up with a girl because she wouldn't go vaj to mouth?" I'm dry and frank. That's a dumb reason. He laughs the 'Yeah, I'm an asshole' laugh. But then he justifies it and I'm surprised at his enlightened perception of the situation.

"It means she thinks her own body is dirty," was all he said.

I leaned back. Sometimes he surprises me, that guy.

If a girl doesn't have respect for herself, how can I respect her?

Happy romantic Friday the 13th

I was totally bummed out last night that I hardly see Jim. Yesterday was exemplary of how its been recently. I left in the am to run errands. I come home to see him for an hour. He has to run off to do website stuff with someone. Then I go to work. He comes home right after, but has to go to a production meeting. I don't get off til 1230am. I was hoping to get out at 12 and even contemplated asking for an early out (the shift lead cuts you first when traffic dies down), but need I the money desperately, so I didn't. I figured when I got home, Jim would be sleeping because he has to be up unGodly early in the morning to teach snowboarding lessons at Lee. I was so downtrodden. 

Moreso when I texted him: "I'll be working til 1. Don't wait up," and he replied with "Awwww. But Hookah's ready and I bought other stuff." What could this other stuff possibly be? 

I raced home as soon as I was cut. He was still awake. Hookah was set up and unlit. And apparently "other stuff" was champagne, strawberries and blueberries, and chocolate. Dude. Jackpot. 

And, bonus. We've been fighting ants in our kitchen for the last couple days and finally, tonight it looks like they're seceding. Yes *fist pump*. 

Jim isn't big on romance. And he's especially not big on Valentine's day because he thinks its a consumerist pitfall. So this whole champagne and berries schpeal came as a surprise. He kept insisting we were celebrating Friday the 13th, not Valentine's day. Either way, it was a great way to end a melancholy day. 

I sucked on CityCenter's balls.

I interviewed for CityCenter today.

CityCenter is MGM-Mirage's current project, the "end all." They sold off Treasue Island to fund this project and they were talking about selling off Mirage, too. I don't know if they ever did.

Its supposed to be a "city within a city" or whatever. Its basically four behemoth buildings on one property. Hotels, shopping centers, condos, casinos. Everything Vegas and gaudy, crammed into a corner of the strip near Caesar's Palace, I guess.

They have thousands and thousands of spots open for hire. I applied online for a valet position a month ago. Right after I finished the application, I was like, wtf did I do that for? I kind of forgot about it. When I looked at my calendar last night, I was like, Oh yeah, I have that stupid interview. I almost didn't go, but I decided at the last minute to go. I didn't even shower up.

I promised myself I wouldn't bullshit during the interview. But its like they expect you to. The screener is all like, "Why do you think we should hire you?" and I'm like blah blah "exemplary" blah blah "beyond what is expected of me" blah blah "customer service skills." Shameful. I don't care if those fuckers don't call me back. I'll prolly fail my drug test anyways.

Vegas is so hypocritical.

Vegas is so weird. I mean like WEIRD. Not good weird like Austin. Just. Weird.

"Are you a dancer?"

My photography class has a lot of non-art majors. One of the girls is a dance major. My instructor asked me, "Are you a dancer, too?" I suppose I took it as a compliment at first. But later deduced the subtext was: "(You have a really flat chest)" ... are you a dancer?

Nana? Its Jenny. I love you.

If I call Dad's cell and he doesn't answer, I call the house. Nana usually answers, but she can hardly hear, when just a couple years ago, she could hear fine.

When she picks up, she asks who I'd like to speak to. I say, "Stefan." She says, "Stefan? Who's calling?" I say, "Jenny." She's one of the few people in the world who titles me so intimately. "Who?" And my heart breaks.

"Jenny." "Penny?" Louder still: "Jenny."

She's still unsure who's calling for Stefan, but turns my call over to him.

I miss you, Nana.

My aperture is wide open.

I'm finally taking a full load again this semester. Two online core requirement (bleh) classes, one art studio class, and one art history lecture class. The studio class is photography. All of this means I'm not taking any classes that pertains to my emphasis, painting & drawering.

Its weird, this not being obliged to paint or draw. Of course I can whenever I want. But I haven't had time.

I always think I feel like such a busy person, not because I have a lot on my plate, but maybe because I don't manage my time wisely. This semester, I actually don't have much of my own time. Between school, work, family, and life. But I feel like I'm doing more.

Photography is fine. Its totally not my medium and I feel out of place. The majority of the other students in my class are non-art majors; just taking the course to satisfy their art/ humanities credit. A lot of them are fresh out of high school. It sucks not having a good collective of arty peers in class. But it makes for great stupid situationals. These bitches ask the dumbest questions and I love it.

I counted the classes I still have to take to achieve my BA. 9. That's like two more semesters, for a normal, motivated person. But like three or four semesters for me. BUT, if I apply for my BFA, its only 11 classes more.

This fall has been tighter. Time and money.

My cousin enlisted in the army. He aspires to be a Ranger. My family is taking it pretty well, considering. He ships off on Monday, Feb 9th. I could kill him for leaving us. But I think this is what he needs to shake this adolescence.

I give you, all of my love.

Moving Forward

We were at the home improvement store. Mf was picking out lumber for his most recent project. I kind of hung in the shadows. He smiled and thought out loud, "Pretty soon I'm gonna be paying my bills with my own paintings."

His most recent project was a commission.

I'm happy that he's doing what he loves and getting the credit he deserves. But I can't help but feel a pang of jealousy. We are basically starting from the same point, but somehow it seems that he's advanced so much further than I in such a short time.

And in spite of all the shit I talk, I'm really just a hack, riding his coattails.

I want to be his equal. Not for my sake, but for our sakes. I know I'll lose him if I fail to be the person who challenges him. I know he thinks submission is unattractive. I need to always be pushing him.

I need to get painting ...