Dead Hearts

I keep forgetting that I don't live on a sprawling estate of 100+ acres and that I'm not entitled to have the woods as my private photo studio. Today, a group of elderly women stopped and asked my mother (who was sitting in her car on the outskirts of the forest) what I was doing. Their conversation went down like this:

"Oh my, isn't that young girl freezing? Do you know what's going on? Is this going to be in a movie?"
Not exactly. She's just taking pictures.
"Really? Of what?"
Herself.
"Oh... I see. Is it for a class?"
No. Just for her.
"That's very interesting. I think you should tell her to put on a sweater."
I'll be sure to do that.

End scene.

And now you know where I get my enviable social skills. While I'm flattered that the women thought that I was some kind of local movie star... I have to bare in mind that they were at least seventy years old and with my luck they probably thought that I was shooting a scene from "The Blair Witch Project." There were presumably a lot of awkward pauses and uncomfortable glances shared between both parties so it was probably fortunate that I wasn't there. Oh the life of an artist. So tortured. So misunderstood.

Over the course of the year, I've accumulated a lot of runs in my tights. Virtually ever single pair of stockings I own contain at least one hole. I've been dubbed the Asian Taylor Momsen of Pennsylvania and we're not talking Cindy Lou Who.

The past two days I've been lying in my bed doing absolutely nothing. I try to get up and leave, but my bed's all like ""No one's ever gonna love you more than I do. STAY WITH ME, I'LL PROVIDE YOU WITH WARMTH AND COMFORT" and so I'm compelled to climb back in. It's a vicious cycle. Though this time I had an excuse. After school on Monday the doctor diagnosed me with having a kidney stone. Instead of doing anything productive, i.e start my English essay... I made my Christmas list.

1. Starry Night Knee-Socks
2. Heavy Rain
3. Instax-Mini
4. Dreamy Focus Lens
5. Peter Pan Collar Necklace
6. Bambi Sweater
7. Studded Heart Bag
8. Bunny Ring
9. Double Bird Ring
10. PS3
11. Missed Connections

Thought of You from Ryan J Woodward on Vimeo.

Golden Baby

I'm going to save you all the arbitrary details and cut right to the chase. In short, my life has been taken over by the monstrosity known as every high schooler's worst nightmare, the SAT. Normally I'm not one to stress over tests because school has shown me that "winging it" is not only an art form, but a way of life. Unfortunately though, as I need a 2100 to get accepted into essentially any college I'd want to apply to... I'm going to have to reacquaint myself with the two subjects that I've grown to hate. Meet Algebra and Grammar. So for the next month I'll be taking up permanent residency at my local library and eating nothing but nutrigrain bars and green tea. The only good that's come out of this pre-college anxiety is that I think I finally know what I want to do with my life. I'm planning on majoring in Public Relations and taking up either Journalism or Marketing as my minor.

If we were playing word association games just by looking at these pictures, the two words that come to mind would be 1. gypsy 2. skank. That's completely okay. I take your comments in stride. The skirt was only seven dollars at goodwill. When presented with a price that contains only one value place, I'm sold. Apart from my goodwill hauls, my wallet's been taking quite a beating. I finally convinced my parents to take the perilous trek up to the mall, so I could do my last minute Christmas shopping. I believe that after today Mariah Carey's voice has been permanently embedded into my brain from having listened to "All I want for Christmas" for what seems to be the 100th time today... Other than that, the mall wasn't too unbearable.

Let's Dance to Joy Division

This week has contained nothing but copious amounts of stress. It's now November, which means it's the end of the first marking period. The end of the first marking period translates to only one thing for me and that's "holy shit". Various forms of the f bomb occasionally get thrown in the mixture depending on how creative I'm feeling that day. I take on the appearance and mannerisms of Gollum. If you were to ever pass me in the halls, you'd see a little angry sleep deprived Asian girl mumbling foul words under her breath. See stress this is what you do to me...

In other exciting events in my life, I contracted an eye infection. Meaning I couldn't wear my contacts all week. And because I wouldn't dream of wearing my glasses in public and would rather fumble haplessly around the school... That's exactly what I did. This proved to be a win-lose situation.

Win: I had a viable excuse for ignoring people in the hallway. If I can't differentiate between the faces of my friends and my eighty year old history teacher, then how am I supposed to acknowledge you in the halls?

Lose: I was accused of being either a. drunk, or b. just plain stupid. If on the odd chance someone would in fact try to talk to me. I would have to get extremely and uncomfortably close to their face, just so I could identify whom I was speaking with.

Lose: The process of copying board notes was next to impossible.

Lose: My lack of vision combined with my non-existent coordination = frequent and embarrassing collisions in the stairwell.

Also last week was my schools annual ~Pep Rally~. Cue the confetti and school spirit. I have really nothing to say about that other than it was really loud and awful. One of the kids in my class brought heavy duty sound blocking (I'm a construction worker) type headphones and his Nintendo DS. Honestly I think he had the right idea.

I leave you with a hipper than hip downloadable playlist.

Colors Festival

This past weekend I had the pleasure of attending one of my close friend's birthday party. Now as I am normally a social piranha and run the opposite direction upon hearing the words "party" and "people", I wasn't really sure what to expect. There was a disclaimer at the top on the invitation. It read "wear clothing that you can get dirty." Because my mind is always in the glutter and I have the ability to see sexual innuendos in virtually anything... My curiosity had been peaked. I wore my shirt I had made for the Harry Potter premier (stop judging me) and a pair of plain red sport shorts. The entire party itself was incredibly fun and convinced me that it is actually okay to leave your house every so often. I've made a mental note that I need to improve my ~mingling~ skills. My small talking capacity is that of a vegetable. Put me in a room full of little kids and I can talk about fluffy kittens, rainbows, and lollipops until my mouth falls off. Put me in a room full of teenagers and I immediately collapse into a puddle of lifeless goo. The best part of the party was the ending. During the last hour we were all rounded up to go outside. We were then handed plastic bags that were filled with "color" (think heavily saturated pixie stick powder). From that point on I guess you could say it was every man for themselves, which explains why it looks as if a scene kid just threw up on me. See video above. I have never taken a more colorful shower in my life.