A Baking Lesson For You

If you're going to make muffins with cinnamon and toffee bits and a sort of coffee cake kind of taste to it (minus the coffee), don't put cranberries in it. Just don't. It doesn't work. I don't even know what I was thinking on that one.

I am Obsessed

with The Sleeping Sickness by City and Colour. This fucking song has me by the goddamn balls and refuses to let go. Which might hurt, but it is the sweetest of bitter sweet caresses.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xiq0IiGilXE&feature=fvw

I'm pretty sure I could listen to this for an hour solid and feel nothing but joy at having done so.

Forgive me, I must go listen some more. Enjoy.

Miscellaneous School Blatherings

Classes are going well. I'm taking a fiction writing workshop, a scriptwriting workshop and the requisite English class.

I was taking an art class and looking forward to learning to draw thankyouverymuch, but that is no more. It's mostly about painting and drawing shit that is way beyond me. This saddens me. I spent the first class being told to paint whatever. So there I am painting Pacman and getting it wrong while the goddamn girl next to me is doing fucking fully rendered shit. then we get the course syllabus and they're all "draw interpretations of so-and-so's art" and I'm all "please tell me how to hold the fucking pencil without stabbing myself in the eye." Incompatible!

So I'm on the hunt for a real beginner's art class, which the college doesn't have so I've had to broaden my horizons out to other potential schools and even local art stores. Maybe I will keep you posted, maybe I won't. That's the beauty of this place, you never know.

But seriously, the work-shopping classes are going well so far. The scriptwriting one is way out of my comfort zone, I don't even know how to write a script, but I'm learning and enjoying and that was the whole point of taking them.

I had more, but I've lost my train of thought.

I may have an "essay I'm not allowed to write" coming up soon based off a play we have to read for script class. We'll see. My homework load is insane.

A Balanced Meal

I am not allowed to have pretzels for dinner.

I am not allowed to have pretzels for dinner.

I am- om nom nom nom

Goddammit.

Today's Random Thought

The smell of bacon is wafting through my open window.

Mmmmmm

Bacon.

I Can Write Things That Don't Contain the Words Shit or Fuck in Them

I wrote the most amazing short story today. It's about a monster. It has no swearing in it! It was almost kid friendly, but then it had a little old lady lying unconscious in a puddle of her own fear-piss. I don't think publishers like that sort of thing. Then again, today’s youth are a cynical lot, maybe a woman lying in her own pee won’t phase them and everything will be fine.

Publishers! I haz story for you!

Lit 101: or How to Increase the Rate of Suicide In Students!

Also known as:

Lit 101: Cause I wasn't suicidal enough!

Seriously. WTF is up with your depressing need to make a student's life – already rife with stress and misery – worse by subjecting us to the most depressing shit out there? The only thing possibly more depressing and really, it's a toss-up on which is; in fact, more depressing, is the newspaper. Lets rundown the list and see what they have in common.

Depressing subject matter? Check for both.

Rape, murder and humans committing atrocities against one another? Check, check and check! Woooo doggie!

Depressing subject matter? Check and check.

Stories that make me want to take the Knife of Bittersweet Release to my wrist? CHECK.

I was going to write something atrociously funny about the latest novel we've been force-fed, but I don't even have the fucking energy to. It's all just too much. Instead I'm going to curl up in a hot tub, (er, that is a tub filled with hot water. I am not privileged enough to own a hot tub, hot tub) and the Knife of Bittersweet Release and run into the light to that great, wide, nothingness beyond.*


*No, not really. There's no plug for the fucking tub in this goddamn fucking place.

**Yes, yes, I still owe the story of my two times near death experience. It's coming! Stop hassling me already. (And by stop I mean someone please? Harass me for the story. Anyone? Bueller?)


Literature teachers. Here's a clue, because you seem to be in desperate need of one. In your mindless zealotry to turn us all into lit snobs, you don't seem to realize that the boring ass, depressing, distasteful shit you force-feed us only serves to send student after student running as far and fast away from your precious literature as we can possibly get. If you want more people to actually enjoy reading this god-forsaken shit, try writing something happy. I'm pretty sure it wouldn't kill you. Unlike the rest of this shit.