I noticed that I paid more attention in Art History 1 than I do in Art History 2. Right now, we’re learning about what I like to call “Jesus-Art”. I don’t really like this subject because Art History turns into Religion Class. There’s some know-it-all in our class who irks us by showing the class how much Jesus trivia she knows. It gets to the point where this girl is practically trying to be the professor.

We were looking at this painting of The Last Judgement and a question about Judas’s placement in the painting came up. In the painting, he’s placed with the other Apostles instead of with the damned. Eventually, there was a debate between the know-it-all and another girl. The girl explained her theory: Jesus forgives Judas and maybe that’s why he’s not placed with the damned), and said that it was how she was taught. The know-it-all then yelled, “NOPE! HE’S IN HELL…. WITH HIS 12 PIECES OF SILVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Have you ever seen that Conan O’Brien bit where he’s talking to an image of Martha Stewart, and Martha turns into a green demonic thing? … Yeah. That’s exactly what this situation reminded me of.

[ random note about how strange/awesome my art history professor is ]
While in Italy, she tipped a waiter with Italian postage stamps because she did not have enough cash with her.

Yesterday, I think I pissed Roommate off by making too much noise in the morning. (Sorry.) Making too much noise for her is rummaging through my stuff to find what I need today.

This is the big difference between me and Roommate. Roommate will wake up if she hears the wind blowing outside. I can probably sleep through the Apocalypse.

On Mondays, we both have classes in the afternoon, so we sleep in until 11 or so. This morning the maintenance men decided to wake the whole court up by doing god-knows-what to the building. They started on one end and slowly made their way to the other. I only woke up when they got to our section of the building and were right on the other side of my wall.

I mumbled, “What is that?”, and I heard a perfectly awake voice coming from the other side of the room.
“The maintenance men. They’ve been doing this since 8 in the morning.”
I looked over at the clock and it was 10. Five minutes later, Roommate left the room because she couldn’t take the noise. I fell right back to sleep (as they are fixing pipes and making noise right above and next to my bed) and I didn’t wake up until they finished.

P.S. Sarah, you don’t have to ask to turn on the light because, chances are, I won’t even notice.

Life (school, actually. school = life. life = school.) has been boring lately so expect lots of random photo posts.

TrekkieRoommate is on the left. I am on the right. We are making necklaces with our fingers and with our toes. I believe that the Oscars were on that night.

[random thought] I just added Oasis’s What’s the Story Morning Glory album to my iPod. I owned a copy a long time ago and always fast forwarded through most of the “filler” songs. I finally listened to the entire thing and WOW, what a great album. Alanis Morrissette’s Jagged Little Pill, Dookie by Green Day, and this album all remind me of the 10-year-old me.

What were you listening to when you were 10?

Does everyone have to put a frozen bag of vegetables on the thermostat to get the heat running? … or is this another example of the “ghetto-ness” of this apartment and this school?

I was feeling pretty depressed about “the future” and how I’m going to end up homeless someday. I talked for a while to Abbie and felt better. I don’t like talking to others about this because, most of the time, I’m talking to someone who knew what they were going to be a doctor when they were 8. Abbie moved to Jersey from Tennessee when I was 13. I don’t think we became really good friends until sophomore year of high school. Anyway, she’s now got an LJ and a blog somewhere on the net. I told her how I used blogger back in 2000… and then I felt incredibly geeky and ‘old’. It’s weird telling someone you know in real life that you’ve been doing this for a while. I’ve been keeping a online diary throughout high school and I’ve posted things about you [positive words] and others [not-so-positive words] in it! Surprise! Abbie’s a cool kid. I’ll link her site when I get permission.

Sarah is Roommate. Roommate is Sarah. I’ve known Roommate since… forever. She lives on the next street over and we’ve been going to the same school since elementary school. (Which sounds pretty sad, but really isn’t.) In elementary school, she was the girl who did that magic show for the talent show. In middle school, she was the daughter of my art teacher. We really became good friends in high school where we both endured our high school’s horrible art program and teacher. According to the teacher, we wasted paint and art supplies. According to us, she wasted our time. ( I ALSO HAVE BETTER MUSIC TASTE THAN ROOMMATE. I HAVE THE BEST MUSIC TASTE IN THIS MOTHERFUCKIN’ APARTMENT. YEAH, I KNOW YOU’RE READING THIS BIATCH. )

This is Maurine. She from Missouri and is one of my first online friends. She recently broke away from Livejournal [and then LJ threw up on itself] and is FINALLY using up her space at mytwistednerve. She used to own a little empire called Rock-Queen.com. There were about 8 – 10 hostees. Most of us had music in common and got along pretty well. Sometimes there were late-nite superchats about other online people, crotch riots, rivers cuomo: the manwhore, and bob dylan. [imagine the potential google searches!!!!] Once, when I was sixteen years old, we came up with this elaborate plan to meet and hang out without my dad really knowing. With the help of The Who, Robert Plant, and my lying skillz, the crazy plan worked!

On Tuesday, I spent $116 on a photography book and two books about poisonous and venomous animals. Today, I spent $185 on photo paper, twenty rolls of Kodak film, and other photography supplies. I probably used up about 3/5 of my checking account. The semester started four days ago.

I feel nauseous.

[edit]
This semester has not been going too well… at all. I have a photography assignment (Objective: To waste a roll of film. No, really.) and my dad’s camera doesn’t want to work. I have to go home to see if he can do anything about it. I think the camera’s decided to die. (It’s more than 25 years old.) It’s really a shame if it won’t work anymore because A) I have to spend more money on an SLR camera that I probably won’t use after this class. B) It was a great camera and my dad kept it working for that long. I never really got to use it.

Why is photography a required course? Why don’t they rent out cameras for people who won’t use them after taking this class? It’s classes like this that make me reconsider being an art major. I love it, but really… $300 on one class? and then add in $900 for the actual class…

Hooray for college? Whatever.

Two days ago, I replaced my car’s timing belt. I’m not exactly sure what a timing belt is, but what counts is that the mechanic disconnected the battery while replacing it. When you disconnect the battery on a Honda, the radio fears for its life and disables itself. The only way to get it working again is to punch in a 5-digit code. [ Of course, I don't have the code. ]

So I was pretty upset about this… all day. The radio is what makes my car great. I don’t care if the passenger door has to be held shut with chicken wire and scotch tape! As long as the radio’s working and the car is running, the car is still good.

I searched and searched in the garage for the manual or anything that would give me the code. I would just go to the Honda dealership and get the code that way, but I don’t have time. I have to go back to school tomorrow. I would just hook up my iPod to a pair of computer speakers, but these speakers need to be plugged in. [grr.] I whined about this [like a little kid] to my dad. My dad doesn’t seem to think that this a big dilemma. It really isn’t, but the thought of driving to school without music or without anyone to talk to is frightening.

An hour and forty minutes of absolute SILENCE. I don’t think I can do it. I’ll go crazy(-ier)!

P.S. Singing to myself is NOT an option. It’s a sure-fire way to get into an accident.

I was going to write a detailed entry about yesterday afternoon, but I think this doodle says it all:

I keep editing this entry because I am getting some people from notmyself.com and staysix.org coming over here and I feel the need to write something… interesting. ( I’m not very good at this blogging stuff, kids. You can go away now. ) This is one reason why I should get rid of my tracker thing.
“Blog like there’s no one watching” – Lindsey
If that quote was not by Lindsey at all then… sorry. I feel like I’ve been everywhere in Central New Jersey and I’m a little out of it.

My big couch potato plan for yesterday and today:
- exercise
- visit my grandparents, aunt, and little cousin
- go home
- watch the pilot of Committed
- sleep
- exercise
- watch LOST
- flip between Project Runway and Alias
- watch the Black Keys perform on Letterman’s show

I ended up visiting four different people/families that I haven’t seen in a long time. Every time I was about to head for home, another person called up asking if I wanted to do something. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this popular.

Abbie and I took a trip to Vintage Vinyl and found that the shitty club next to it is turning into a hookah bar soon. HOOKAH! We also window-shopped at Menlo Park Mall. Does anyone else think that the GAP’s clothing looks great only on Sarah Jessica Parker? When I see it on their tables and mannequins (and on myself), I want to hurl it all into a woodchipper.

.25 pounds of tuna and 2 Black Keys singles later, my cousin calls me and invites me to sleep over so that we could go to the outlets the next day for some nice, cheap clothing. How can you refuse after seeing $850,284,034,802,432,740,284 [exaggeration.] jeans at Express? So I slept on the couch for half of the night and slept on the floor during the other half. Some time during the night, I decided the wooden floor would be more comfortable than the leather loveseat because I could stretch out. HA. RIGHT.

So anyway, the outlets. I found a blouse and skirt at a Banana Republic outlet for a grand total of 26 dollars. I saw a camisole on the fucking clearance rack at the regular Banana Republic store that cost more than that. a camisole. probably 1/5 of the amount of fabric that i bought today.

and here’s a question that has probably been asked before on this blog, but I’m asking it again just because.

Why do they put the short/ankle jean sizes on the top shelves, where the people who wear this size cannot reach?