I'm not dead, just interweblesss.
but BUT, that means i've been painting like there's no tomorrow. as soon as i have internet at home, i'll update this account with all the pretties i've been creating.
i'm finally settled in San Francisco. i've been moving through rooms and looking for new housemates but i'm finally in a lovely house with lovely people and i'm really happy. my housemates are my favorites and i'm actually a little surprised on how much i enjoy this city. i'll be starting school and switching jobs in the next couple of weeks, but everything seems to be going according to plan. except well, for my romantic life, which never goes like i'd like to. but alas, i only live once, so i'll make the best of it regardless of boys. i hope all is dandy with you guys. tell me about youss <3

you jerk.

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"We all owe our lives to Woody Allen. If Woody Allen had never been born, I'm sure I would be doomed to a life of celibacy. Woody Allen made it acceptable for beautiful women to sleep with nerdy, bespectacled goofballs; all we need to do is fabricate the illusion of intellectual humor, and we somehow have a chance.
He makes people assume there is something profound about having a relationship based on witty conversation and intellectual discourse. There isn't. It's just another gimmick, and it's no different than wanting to be with someone because they're thin or rich or the former lead singer of Whiskeytown. And it actually might be worse, because an intellectual relationship isn't real at all. My witty banter and cerebral discourse is always completely contrived. Right now, I have three and a half dates worth of material, all of which I pretend to deliver spontaneously. This is my strategy: If I can just coerce women into the last half of that fourth date, it's anyone's ball game. I've beaten the system; I've broken the code; I've slain the Minotaur. If we part ways on that fourth evening without some kind of conversational disaster, she probably digs me. Or at least she thinks she digs me, because who she digs is not really me. Sadly, our relationship will not last ninety-three minutes (like Annie Hall) or ninety-six minutes (like Manhattan). It will go on for days or weeks or months or years, and I've already used everything in my vault. Very soon, I will have nothing more to say, and we will be sitting across from each other at breakfast, completely devoid of banter; she will feel betrayed and foolish, and I will suddenly find myself actively trying to avoid spending time with a woman I didn't deserve to be with in the first place."

-C.K.

fact: tuna sandwiches win.
fact: my roommates are lovely.
fact: i've been painting mucho.
fact: i feel lonely sometimes :<
fact: i acquired an accent in spanish haha
lie: I LOVE MY JOB!!!!!!!111!!!!!!1111!!!!!11111!!1!!one
fact: this city is colddd
fact: i need to do laundry.
lie: i'm not missing anyone right now.
lie: i've been eating waaay too much.
fact: i'm stealing all my roommate's music <3

toodles

A week from now i will be looking out a car window on my way to another city. I'm moving to San Francisco.
My heart is complete for the first time in a very long time and its all my merit.
I haven't been painting but i've been smiling a lot.
i have high hopes. high hopes.