Just B*tchin' Just Kiddin'

Whenever I have to draw my self portrait, it's as if my body knows and starts to wreak havoc. 

My face breaks out, becoming red and blotchy. My hair is greasier while simultaneously dry and frizzy. My eyes seem even more slanted than usual. My eyebrows look more and more like Bert's from Sesame Street. My lips dry up like a prune. My ears sprout out like Dumbo's. My nose? Oh my nose....

Bottom line: I feel ugly. 

I'm supposed to draw from observation, but the longer I stare at myself I can feel my face disfigure. 

My options are that I could lie or draw exactly what I see. Romanticizing my face could end up me looking like Jessica Alba, and then it would just be a picture of Jessica Alba. Not me. i look nothing like Jessica Alba. Man, I wish I looked like Jessica Alba. 

Now, if my draw from actuality, will people even recognize me? Or worse, what if the Admissions desk find me absolutely hideous? 

I hate drawing my face. Also, the mirror is my arch nemesis. 

I hate sharing my work. I feel utterly exposed.

However, in order to embark on my journey of artsy fartsy adventures, I have to show it, to prove I'm not a total loser. Here's a of preview of what will be on my Online Art Portfolio, which is coming soon...

Also, these pictures will look slightly different on my portfolio and in life, since they are not the finished products. I figure, showing my stuff "in works" will leave you, my readers, a cliff hanger.

Bad weather sucks.

A LOT.

After the earthquake, Hurricane Irene came rolling in. Oh did she do some damage...

She killed my tree:

And she took ELECTRICITY from my house for an entire week. Let me repeat:  an entire week.

Now, some say they can survive without power because third world countries can, it's just a reduced lent sentence. But I, for one, am not one of these crazy people. I love electricity. I assure you, I would choose electricity over Prince Charming any day.

However, if that wasn't enough, Storm Lee caused flooding, an extension of power loss, and self induced house arrest. (Yes, I'm one of those girly girls who hates walking in acidic rain. So I refuse. That, and I can't sing or dance, let alone both. I'm no Gene Kelly.)

All this awful weather not only turns me into Mr. Hyde, but steers me away from rational thinking. I've been a bitch. A very mean one. And since Storm Lee is yet to finish peeing from the skies, I remain one as so.

I hate rain.