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Beware the toxic fumes of turpentine!
07 August 2008 @ 11:03 pm
Paging through the sketchbook I'm using now, I realize that since I've been using it off and on since 2005, it's become a little time capsule of evolving artistic skills. Thus, I bring you, withe the help of a couple other scans,


 
 
Beware the toxic fumes of turpentine!
04 December 2007 @ 04:41 am
I have ceased to care.

Pity, considering I *like* Art History.  But, no, my brain refuses to work.  I'll read through my notes and then go to bed and try to do better in the morning.  (hah.)
 
 
Feeling:: exhaustedexhausted
 
 
Beware the toxic fumes of turpentine!
I wanted to use a Stars lyric as my Facebook status, but the only one I could think of was Kate is "looking good in the shoes of an outcast"  and I was hoping to be more subtly emo.
 
 
Feeling:: insecure
Hearing:: Elevator Love Letter
 
 
Beware the toxic fumes of turpentine!
I feel like the phrase "...wow, and it's not even 3 yet!" is highly indicative of a flawed sleep schedule.




The melancholy of the possibility that my friend-base will be a third smaller next quarter is incredibly disheartening.
 
 
Feeling:: sadselfish
 
 
Beware the toxic fumes of turpentine!
08 October 2007 @ 05:28 pm
It's back again, that desire to go to Art School.

I wonder if it has anything to do with the fact that I'm trudging through Adam Smith right now.  Or if it has more to do with the beautiful art in the comics I've been reading lately, added to the fact that I'm not taking an art class this quarter, and haven't been doing any art outside of class...

The practical reasons why I shouldn't even try to care are numerous.  I'm not a terribly good artist, I have an awful work ethic and I work slowly, I probably wouldn't fit in, I probably wouldn't get in, I'd probably end up artistically crushed more than anything else, and, oh, right, my parents wouldn't pay for it in the least.

And then they'd probably disown me.  (Though I've been getting used to that feeling.)



And none of this mitigates the fact that, sitting here, I wish I was drawing instead.
 
 
Feeling:: restlessrestless
 
 
 
Beware the toxic fumes of turpentine!
22 July 2007 @ 12:28 pm
Dear Friends from Chicago:

I miss you all so fucking much.

Love, Kate




Dear Friends from both Chicago and Houston,

HP7 is a really surprisingly good book.

Love, Kate



Dear Summer Plans,

I will get to you soon, I swear.

Love, Kate
 
 
Feeling:: awakeawake
Hearing:: Scott, on the phone, and thus, Paper Mario.
 
 
Beware the toxic fumes of turpentine!
07 June 2007 @ 08:42 pm
Things you learn when Sadie gets things stuck in your head:

1. Thomas Sangster, the little kid Sam in Love Actually, was born in 1990.  He is SEVENTEEN.

2. Rodrigo Santoro, Very Attractive (Brazillian, apparently) Office Drone in Love Actually, also played Emperor Xerxes in 300.

 
 
Feeling:: stressedstressed
 
 
Beware the toxic fumes of turpentine!
It is five in the morning.

I have just noticed that what I am writing and what the prompt is asking me to write do not quite match up.
 
 
Feeling:: discontentdiscontent
 
 
Beware the toxic fumes of turpentine!
He friended me back.



shit.  now what?



possible message:  "Hey, I wanted to apologize if I seemed aloof last night at dinner- I wasn't trying to be, I was just caught off-guard."


well, thats kinda dry and stupid and really short.  but it beats out the other contenders, which are:

"look! i finally figured out your name!"
or
"okay, so *how* and especially *why* did you find me again, after that party months ago!?"



Maybe I should wait a bit....I mean, he only friended me an hour ago....
and at the same time....
 
 
Feeling:: distresseddistressed
 
 
Beware the toxic fumes of turpentine!
05 April 2007 @ 02:39 pm
Holy Crap, Regina Spektor's coming to Chicago does anyone want to go to the concert with me?!?!!
 
 
Feeling:: excitedexcited