ex-boyfriend voicemail frenzy

The other day I recieved missed calls and voicemails from two old assholes in my life (the BRO, and the Abuser) both asking if I wanted to hang out with them (one was about to get drunk while the other could fail a sobriety test with flying colors.) Of course I declined but talked to them anyway for a while, shooting the shit about their botched relationships (no surprise) and total lack of comprehension over the fact that I'm in the best/last relationship of my life. I like Mike's response the best, especially when I told him that Steven had just called and left a message.

"Isn't that the name of that guy you're dating?" Last month he thought David was asian, despite having seen pictures of him.

I look back on all the guys I've been with (only two of the six* total were great. the rest were an amalgam of embarassing/abusive/dysfunctional) only to come to the conclusion that my ugly past with them will always be my fault, regardless.

Also, who continues to talk to terrible hymen & emotional breakers anyway?




Me.

*it really should be five. the relationship between jeff and i lasted for only a day-- of which, a considerable amount of it was devoted to making out, with me being my usual pathetic self (clinging onto him like velcro, because I was alone and sad.)

...

During the critique in class today, a guy described my drawings as being, "so expressive-- they could bring someone to tears." I politely responded with a thank you, but was extremely creeped out. WHO SAYS THOSE SORTS OF THINGS? After class, he kept talking to me about how suprised he was at his own progress in school, but that he'd been drawing all his life, so it's all natural to him. He also tried to extract compliments from me about his own work, which ironically, I could've returned the latter part of his critique comments in verbatim.

"Your ego and artwork are so inflated-- they could bring someone to tears (the kind of tears shed when your retinas are scraped with pinecones.)"

lists, in no particular order

1. while i was placing some boxes in my grandparents' old closet, i saw grandpa's old red hawaiian shirt (his 93rd birthday: candid pictures of him eating huge watermelon wedges, me having him pose 'cash money records'-style with all the money he got that day) i gingerly felt the fabric between my fingertips and began to sob uncontrollably.
2. a fortune a read awhile back said that my life is uneventful (depressingly, it's true)
3. was to hang out with dale tonight but am too tired and cold to go out. we talked on the phone for a bit instead.
4. went to jury duty today and almost finished reading 'Lolita'
6. found my DS this morning while mom was showing me how to use a manual blood pressure cuff on grandma (who is currently, not feeling well.)
7. there is an overwhelming lack of passion in me right now.
8. i threw out more personal belongings today while cleaning my room, but neglected the website work i'm going to present tomorrow night.
9. i ate one of the tastiest mahi-mahi sandwiches today, with a big side of steak fries.
10. instead of school and work tomorrow, i wish i could ride a bike along the boardwalk (i took a jury excuse form today since i was released from duty, maybe i can use it for another day?)

findings from room excavation

"I think assholes emit some sort of high pitched squeal that force my entire conscious to become hopelessly attracted to them. Namely, grumpy asians who write yards of beautiful prose about their love life being a piece of shit, yet play videogames all day long. One would think my persistence pays off, but unfortunately, it just adds up in one-word answers via AIM...

... and me, sitting slumped infront of my monitor, questioning my fleeting emtions towards a boy whose whole heart needs more defrosting than Alaska itself."


I save fragments of things I write in hopes that when I read them again in the future, I'll note that the differences between past and present are for the better. That, or realize nothing's changed and promptly hang myself. WHATEV!

I've been throwing out TONS of stuff from both my room and personal life, which really in the end amounts to a moderately-sized landfill full of miscellaneous crap. However, it's always the little pieces of paper containing the scribbled emotions of the moment that I can't bring myself to throw away. I always think that they'll be a treasure to someone else eons later, when I'll only exist in whatever is I leave behind.*

Right now I am overloaded on fish tacos and beans, David is half-awake playing Animal Cross ing on his DS (watching him doze off as he holds the stylus, hearing tiny high-pitched squeaky noises eminating from the game), and grandma is asleep in her room.

I haven't had a good run in a while; my love-handles jiggle in agreement.











* a moderately-sized landfill full of miscellaneous crap

dear netflix,

Remember that "Umbrellas of Cherbourg" DVD I borrowed from you, from about two months ago?

Yeah, I've pretty much lost it. I can't find the damn thing! Yet, I'm still paying you $10 a month for it-- with money that I do not have.

I hope to find the DVD soon, as it is most likely hidden under the mounds of crap in my car.

However, when I say soon I mean, like, never.

retardedly yours,
becky

admission to OTIS? our feelings are mutual

apparently, my total lack in desire to attend OTIS (doesn't offer much to me in terms of illustration resources, staff, or experience) is mirrored by their lack of wanting me to go there in the first place.

upon talking to shin earlier on the phone, she asks about when I'm starting school at Otis (the semester, it already began? I wasn't informed!) to which I later discovered that I had sent my high school transcripts (yes, they actually still ask for them after 239420394802348 years of junior college) a little too late.

I think I'm going in for Fall 2007 now. I think.

This is fine, seeing that I'm far too jaded in my own retarded living situation to even deal with working out my new place to live, forking over my nice job at the Advising Center, and stopping my new progress at Reve*. Also, I'm still shooting for CalArts and now, ArtCenter (why not?)

*Reve is turning out nicely. I've had nothing but company-paid lunches, freelance projects (one currently with a budget of $25,000 WTF?!) and an office I simply have to log onto every day. Though I constantly wait for the inevitable life-wedgie, so far, everything's been great.

My to-do list however, is a completely different story. I spent most of my free day today looking up stuff about Divine & John Waters, which also somehow lead to me wiki'ing serial killers (this always happens-- I have no idea why.)

new years, laziness, and time travel

drinking, card games, sean connery sporting mutton chops and a red thong (see also: Zardoz) and falling asleep peacefully with a soft cat on my chest; i can't think of anything nicer. There was of course, some beligerence and nudity-- not on my behalf though, and nobody threw up so it was all A-OK!

waking up beside david, wading through piles of beer bottles, letting mark discover the miracle of cable television ("you mean to tell me that i had no reason to watch the same three channels for the past five hours?!") we all met up to eat at happy family for some fake meat fantastic.

woke up this morning from the most michele gondry-type dream ever. there was timetravel, voodoo, large 80's cellphones, a younger david, and bianca and I, ultimately screaming our heads off around her old college. In my dream I decide to travel back into a toss-up between 1997 (rudimentary internet cafes and another version of me with ugly hair) and 2002 (bianca in college and a tourturingly cute david.) After colliding with my past self and having the whole space-time continuum ram itself in the ass, I woke up.


My new year's resolutions remain constant since they always remain unaccomplished:

1. Exercise daily.
2. Become Vegetarian (or Seafarian? I still like to eat the ocean animals.)
3. Attend another college other than Mt. Sac.
4. Move out.
5. Spend less.
6. Sew for $$$.
7. Walk my own dog more often.
8. Avoid chocolate for at least five days. C'MON!
9. Maintain a consistent sketchbook.
10. Call people back more. I MEAN C'MON!

do the last three sound like I'm just reaching? probably.