The Day the Blog was Born.

Good day, bloggers (namely, Jennifer Chau, probably the only person who will ever read this),

Despite the name of this post, I actually decided in August that I wanted to make a blog about my time in Davis - and wrote two entries on a Word file so I could create a blog when I had the time. In case you are unaware, it is now March, and this is the first time a blog is being created since my lovely Xanga days. I believe this is an omen of how this blog is going to go.

But, to be fair to my August self, I will post the entry now:

August 31

I hope that no matter how old I get, going back to the studio will always make me so happy. And hey, maybe some day I will actually go back there to train.

Filled with post-studio euphoria, coupled with “Aunt Jane got me a salad spinner!” joy, I decided to take on my room. Mission: pack clothes. Sounds easy; after all, I believe in living simply. One suitcase ought to do it, then I can return to my life of lounging.

I filled an entire garbage bag with dresses and jackets alone. Next came the stack of tank tops the size of a microwave (I should know, I just bought one!). Underwear has taken over my bed, jeans are everywhere the eye can see, and then of course there is the dirty clothes pile. Oh, and let’s not forget the chest of sweaters in the hallway.

I’m utterly appalled with myself. There are people who can’t afford school supplies for their kids, and I have enough clothes to survive the apocalypse of washing machines. Being a self-aware person, I decide that I have a problem and must start cutting back. To begin this new life style, I toss aside 5 or 6 shirts to donate. Look at me, helping the world. There are a good 12 or so left in the closet, but what if the past three years of me not wearing them was a mistake?

And I took this picture to accompany it:

So there you have it, my first interaction with blogs since high school. Now allow me to catch you up on that past 7 months. I live in Davis, we have a flock of wild turkeys for pets, I prestigiously work 2.5 hours a day, and yesterday our kitchen sink broke and our landlord does not seem to care.

This morning I woke up at 7:30am from a very vivid nightmare about a man breaking in to our house and killing our (nonexistent) friend Dylan. I woke up shaking and had to get up and walk around the house to check for suspicious activity. I forgot about the broken sink and almost cried when I heard a noise coming from the kitchen. It has been a rough morning. I hope this is not a sign of what Mondays without Greek are going to be like from now on.

Luckily, my artsy boyfriend must have anticipated my troubled times, as I received this in the mail today.


He drew faces on the shamrocks and everything :)

Seeing as this is quite possibly the only post I will ever make, I hope you enjoyed it!