all you gotta do is have no faith in yourself.
Friday, April 29, 2011
Thursday, April 28, 2011
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.
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.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
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.