wrong

i guess all that bitching payed off after all.

all you gotta do is have no faith in yourself.

probably couldn't get a job if my life depended on it.

probably couldn't get a job if my life depended on it.

i'm not sure what i'm doing wrong, maybe it's the fact that i don't enjoy acting like a cocky piece of shit and that instead i'm honest.

as of tomorrow, i'll have had 7 interviews. none of which will have called me with good news. none of which will likely even return my calls.

the irony?

a lazy sonofabitch who really doesn't want the job, who likely steals, and expects time off, will likely be hired before me because they have experience forcing purchases down customers throats.

apparently people don't want to hire an honest, friendly, hardworking girl unless she knows how to manipulate people. apparently commitment is not worth the time.

i'm sorry that i'm not 100% sure if i can sell $350 worth of crap every hour.

i'm sorry that i'll try my hardest, but that's not good enough.

rant. rant. rant.

skip

i can't believe

how you're still able to make

my heart skip a few beats

and you didn't even say a thing.

what i'll miss:

the purple cat pants that Shirley wore to class every week

the awkward moments when naked people talk to you

staying up wayyy too late finishing something

spending approximately 4-6 dollars for a sheet of paper

being in love with a lesbian

going shopping between classes

thirsty thursdays at the pub with a bunch of friends who are way too old for me

finding out everyone is too old for me

using the walls as storage space

buying art and fashion magazines and calling them "textbook expenses"

feeling extremely inadequate

seeing a ton of penis, boobs, and/or vagina every class

the art kid graffiti on bathroom stalls

jokes that involve art history

having a foreign professor who couldn't say DaVinci

bullshitting the "meaning" behind your work

having the entire living room floor covered in feathers or cardboard

finding an excuse to keep things for future projects

learning that stealing isn't actually bad

wanting to do homework cause its fun

ogling over the beautiful TA

staying all three hours of the printmaking open studio

having 13 hour days at school

getting into the AGO for free

eating pancakes in class

learning how to use the woodshop

being told to cheat and plagiarize ideas, the right way

painting sticks and pinecones and steph's face for drawing class

creating a sculpture for painting class

being able to say "yes, i go to school in the crayon building"

drawing naked people

finding paint in your hair or on other places of your body

burning myself with multiple glue guns and soldering irons

hearing at least one person justify their project by saying, "i cut myself and got blood on it"

or something along those lines.

fuck yeah art school.