Me and my pal Caffeine

Every so often I try to go a day without drinking any coffee.  Usually this idea doesn’t really materialize as a concrete plan, but more as a lazy and hazy unwillingness to go through the process of setting up my coffee machine or wait in line at a coffee shop.  I get myself up and ready, and since I’m able to remember how to open the front door and I don’t fall down the stairs on my way outside, I’m able to briefly convince myself that I am stronger than a morning cup of coffee.

Except I'm not.

I am, in fact, much much weaker, as becomes apparent after about half an hour outside my apartment.  I don’t know why I keep trying to fight it because it always ends up the same way: I get a headache right in the middle of my forehead, my eyelids start drooping, and this image takes up permanent residence in my mind:

It was especially bad when I was still in college because about five minutes into a morning lecture I would stop taking notes and would instead start drawing out elaborate plans detailing the quickest route to the best coffee shop, and counting out coins under my desk.  But now that I’m not in school and I have no job, it just means that I get to sit here in the public library, one hand supporting my nodding head, and the other wearily drawing a picture of an ideal world where I have a giant cup of coffee for a BFF and the sun wears fashionable eyewear.

You can't tell from the picture, but my sun also wears sunblock.

Since my head hurts, I think I'm just going to post some of my old pictures:

This is an artist.  You can tell by her funny hair.

Oh, and I guess also by her paintbrush and easel.

I just realized I forgot to draw her paint.  I guess this particular artist lives life on the edge, walking from the palette in one room to the canvas in the other, daring--daring--the paint to side with gravity and fall on the carpet along the way.

I feel like I should write something here.

DONE.

And now it’s time for me to cave like the weakling I am and go purchase an iced latte.  I think I’ll ignore the fact that I don’t have a job and buy the biggest size because I’m in an overcompensating mood.  Have a lovely day!

How Breakfast Ruined My Day

I started Saturday off with the very best of intentions: I was going to wake up early and spend the day writing my next blog post so that on Sunday all I would have to do is draw a few pictures.  I woke up on time and everything was going smoothly until I made the fateful decision...to eat breakfast.

Now, I’m not a monster--I know that breakfast is not in itself a bad thing.  It can be a very good thing--heck, along with lunch and dinner, it’s one of my favorite meals of the day.  But sometimes breakfast is a jerk.  This is one of those times.

The thing is, I cannot work while eating a meal.  In my brain, mealtimes are designated break-times and to even think about thinking otherwise is unthinkable.  So since I had decided to begin my day with a nutritious breakfast, I could not in good conscience start my intended blogging right away.  And this is where my productive day began to slide downhill.  Because before doing anything else I had to take a break.

...from sleeping.

After slaving away in the kitchen for five minutes, I came out with a bowl of cold cereal and a mug of hot coffee, and set up my laptop to watch an episode of Firefly online.  When I finished my episode, I decided to check my email, you know, since I had the internet open and everything.  But, as always happens, checking my email quickly turned into checking my Facebook and wandering aimlessly around the internet, and before I knew it, I heard my stomach grumbling again.  I looked at my watch--I lie; I don’t have a watch--I looked at the upper right-hand corner of my computer screen and saw that it was lunchtime.

Well, we’re all familiar with the no work while eating law that governs my existence, and so obviously I had to watch another episode of Firefly.  There really was no other choice.  So I ate my lunch and I watched my show, and then I decided it would be best to ease myself into getting to work by washing the dishes that have piled up in the sink since I moved in.

I hate washing dishes (even though you might not be able to tell it from the picture) and so by the time I was done with them, I felt like I really really deserved a break.  I’d worked hard!  I’d cleaned dishes from when I cooked chicken the night before, dang it!

And so I returned to my laptop for a Facebook and internet-wandering break.  I didn’t set a time limit for my break, though, so by the time I remembered there was something I was supposed to be doing, it was late afternoon, I was still sitting on my bed in my pajamas, and I had not done any work at all on my blog.  My brain was no longer in the gung-ho let’s write mood that it was in earlier, before that ill-advised breakfast.  It was more in the let’s spend hours on the internet doing nothing mood.  It was like I physically could not get myself to start writing.

I finally gave up and accepted that nothing was going to get done.  I’d have to do the whole blasted thing, drawings and all, on Sunday.

So I watched another episode of Firefly, cursing breakfast all the while.

Aaaaand because I feel like there weren't enough pictures this week:

Ponderous does not mean Wondering

Being in a new place with new people has caused me to be especially introspective this past week, contemplating who I am and what makes me me.  I therefore had the idea to make the investigation into the corners of my personality my next blog post.  But then I decided that would be super boring, so instead I just made a list of some stuff I like.

1. Giraffes.
I don’t know why I love them so much.  Actually I do.  It’s because they’re ridiculously ridiculous, with their spindly legs, blue tongues, and fuzzy do-nothing horns.  They appear at first glance to be the epitome of peaceful, quietly munching on their trees with their sleepy eyelashes, but then you YouTube “giraffes fighting,” and oh my goodness, you didn’t think it was possible for them to top their ridiculousness, but now you’re watching them hit each other with their noodle necks like monsters.  When I first saw it I was horrified, then a little bit heartbroken, and then I fell right back in love. Because of course giraffes do battle with their necks.  What else would you expect from animals who drink their water like this:

2. Art supplies.
If I ever get sucked into an addiction that leads to bankruptcy, interventions, and general devastation, I can almost guarantee that it would be an addiction to art supplies.  I just love them.  Even the ones I can’t really use effectively, like paints, charcoal, and pastels.  I just like having them around so I can pretend like I know what I’m doing while making a mess all over the kitchen table.  And markers and crayons will be my downfall.  I’m forever having to force myself to put a box of markers back on the shelf at a store, reminding myself that I already have a billion at home that are JUST AS GOOD.  And I love the neat sharp points of new crayons, which makes me just keep buying them.  Also, new crayons smell better than old crayons.  Yeah, I said it.

3. Socks.
I have weird looking feet, partly from playing basketball in high school and partly because of genetics (my mom’s got weird toes too) and I like wearing sneakers, so socks are my natural ally.  But plain white socks remind me of blank canvases, which could be art if only there was some color on them.  So I opt instead for colorful socks.  Also, when I was a kid, I was a proud member of the Weirdo Power Club, whose members made friends with fire hydrants, slept in my garage, and wore mismatched socks.  I believe the whole socks idea came from a sing-along type video tape that one of my friends owned that included a song about Happy Socks, which are--you guessed it--unmatched socks.  We kept up our happy socks for a long time, and for a while in junior high a boy in my homeroom class would helpfully point out my mismatched socks to me on a daily basis, honestly not understanding that it was intentional no matter how many times I told him.

It should be noted that in junior high I dressed like a boy scout.  It was an unfortunate consequence of my school’s uniform including khaki and the color green, and my fear that I would be sentenced to death if my shirt was untucked and my shorts didn’t reach the tips of my fingers.  Also for some reason I was really into hiking boots.  I don’t know why, because I disliked the outdoors even then.  If I had access to a time machine, I would go ask 12-year old me about my decisions concerning footwear and report back to you.  Oh, but the point.  The point is that bright, mismatched socks make my feet happy.

So, in conclusion, if ever I stumble upon a watercoloring giraffe in happy socks, I would implode of happiness on the spots.

The giraffe spots.

driving, moving, drawing

Goodness, I am not doing well keeping to my every Monday posting schedule at all.  In my defense, though, these past two weeks have not exactly been typical for me.  As I already told you, two Mondays ago I was helping my little sister move in to her dorm.  Well, this past Monday, I was moving myself in to my new apartment, seven hours away from home.  Even after moving into my apartment I didn’t really have much of a chance to update this thing last week, what with my apartment’s lack of internet, my focus on settling in, and a shortage of hard, flat surfaces on which I could set up computer and mouse (the following drawings were done on the touchpad of my laptop, so please excuse their somewhat wobbly nature).
So, as I said, I drove the seven hours up to my new abode last Monday, and I’m proud to say I only got lost two times.  I’m slightly less proud to say that both times were within view of my intended destination, but that's another story.  Oh, no, wait.  That's this story:
The first time I got lost was when I drove straight past my new apartment because I was so focused on not running over any bicyclists.

After realizing I was in the process of driving past the entrance to the buildings, I confused myself by trying to circle around the block (and at the time I was sure I had found the single weirdest block on the planet--if you had asked me on Monday, I would have sworn it took me five right turns and a dramatic loop to get back to where I started, but I retraced my path just a few days ago and found that the only weird thing about it is that the block is slightly curvier than is in fashion for most modern rectangles).

The second time I got lost I was actually already inside the apartment complex, trying to get from the leasing office to the parking lot near to my apartment.  What I didn’t realize was that the two parking areas are connected (by even more parking) and I could have driven straight across and I would have arrived in less than a minute.  Instead, it took me fifteen minutes to figure it all out.  I first drove out of the parking lot and circled back around the wavy block again (still more confused by the area than appropriate) only to find the exit to the parking lot.  So I drove around again and turned into the entrance for the neighboring apartment complex’s parking lot, thinking the two lots might be connected to each other and I would find the entrance on the other side.  And I did find that entrance.  And, as a bonus for my hard work, I also found a gate blocking that entrance off.

Luckily though, I could see past the gate to the connecting parking lot that I had missed before.  I used my finely tuned detective skills (learned from my good friend Veronica Mars) to figure out how the parking lots actually work and drive on over.

So it’s been a week since I moved up here.  Our boxes are mostly unpacked, I’ve discovered a few grocery stores (I have yet to find the elusive public library, but worry not!  I shan’t abandon the search!), and I’ve yet to run over any cyclists, pedestrians, dogs, cats, or geese.  I just have to find myself a job, and I’ll be golden.


Fingers crossed!