Painting some today, since I haven’t had too much time to with other projects/homework needing to get done. Finished my self portrait… from a pic a couple years ago… back before school took over my life.

I’m far more confident in my ability to work, create, design, etc. Which is nice, I guess. There’s always still that nagging little voice that says my stuff is crap, but I think most people have that voice at least sometimes… it makes us strive to be better than we are, in whatever it is we are doing. So long as you don’t let it take over and actually hold you back out of fear, just tell it to fuck off and you’ll be just fine, I suppose.

I’m prettier in the painting than in real life, though not from trying… it just came out that way. Which is funny, because I snapped a few pics of women in my class yesterday and every one of them said “paint me prettier than the picture.” Obviously I won’t have a problem there, but I must say that I find it a bit funny. We talked about it St.Patty’s day… we’re all (at least women are) completely insecure about how we look in pictures, and we seem to universally believe that most photos of us are horrible and ugly. Is it that the picture is uglier than we really are? Or is it that we can only see the flaws? Or do we have such distorted sense of self that we can’t stand actually looking at the “truth” of a photo?

Eh, whatever.

I can’t say I’m in a great mood. Allergies, missing mousie, and generally feeling like shit. Haven’t worked out since last sunday… not the one that just passed, the one before that. I feel like such shit by the time I can work out, from the drugs and the allergies and the headaches and shit… I just can’t. Otto’s not much better off.

Which means that tomorrow is my birthday and I am no lighter or smaller than at the beginning of the year, despite the three months that have passed. My eating has been shit, marginal, and really good, but then you see the issue with the first two, I assume. My workouts have been inconsistent. I’m sorta falling into a nice pit of self-loathing, but without the benefit of motivation to change myself, yet all the fun of being fucking miserable and wanting to solve all my problems with icecream and chocolate. And I’m not even a fucking emotional eater. I just honestly don’t care, so I don’t eat, then when I do eat nothing is available except vending machine crap. And you know there’s not a single healthy thing ever put into a fucking vending machine. Except the nuts, but even then it’s peanuts and cashews. And while I like them bunches, they are probably some of the worst of the nuts out there.

Whine, moan, bitch, complain.

I really just don’t fucking feel good. Fucking allergies. Fucking benedryl. Fucking three weeks.

Just fuck.

2 Responses to “Blah”

  1. FishrCutB8 Says:

  2. Aoife Says:


Leave a Reply

You must be logged in to post a comment.