take the baton, and girl, you better run with it.

hhhuuuuhhhhhhhh.

andiepants — Mon, 13 Jun 2011 01:14:59 +0000

My relationship with the internet is changing.

Firstly, I am neglecting my blog (mostly because I now have a tumblr, [much to my own disappointment with myself] which is a much simpler and sensical outlet for my picture-posting habits that were ill-fit for wordpress) and that makes me both happy and sad. Yay for more efficiency! But boo to so-easy-it-takes-no-effort-whatsoever, and I-have-a-fucking-tumblr….

I’m also neglecting my blog because I really have a lot of other things to do with myself. For a long time it was a nice little corner of the internet in which I could write and post stupid things and make my own (regardless of whether people looked at it or not). But now it just doesn’t give me the things I used to get out of it. I’m also starting to view the internet as a place/activity that seriously takes time away from other more real and interactive life-things I could be doing… so anything that sits me in front of my laptop for more than 10 minutes is starting to bug me. How valid these feelings are is hard to say (I might feel entirely different in a week), but for now I may be saying goodbye to my blog/tumblr- at least to just see how it feels. I mean, come on, I own like 15 moleskines, that’s a more appropriate place for a journal (my aim is to return to the scribbly/magazine collage-y diaries of my past, no matter how much more environmentally responsible a digital non-paper one would be).

In a side note, I’ve been home for 5 days, I’m already back up to 4 cups of coffee a day, having things confessed to me while I’m drunk and not remembering who did the confessing, running into people I forgot existed from high school, and eating spoonfuls of nutella straight from the jar. Also, I have a black eye.

eh.

andiepants — Sat, 11 Jun 2011 20:13:03 +0000

Follow your inner moonlight; don’t hide the madness.
Allen Ginsberg

(HC)

so cozy

andiepants — Thu, 09 Jun 2011 04:35:11 +0000

So now that 1/4 of my mouth has been successfully patched up using zombie gums I’m feeling pretty good. I can’t eat solid food (but let’s be real, some of the best foods are non-solid) and I’m not allowed to drive because of all the Vicodin so I pretty much have no reason to feel guilty about sitting around on my ass all day. Plus, I’m at home where I serve no real purpose but to eat my parents food and get all nostalgic over random objects that I find in my bedroom (…which aren’t really purposes anyway), so I’ve pretty much just been lazing around with the Bluth family and some Disney VHS tapes from my childhood. Additionally, hanging out with my 3 and 1/2 year old sister ain’t bad.

mmmmmmm vicodin.

(This Isn’t Happiness)

swordfight.

andiepants — Mon, 06 Jun 2011 18:10:29 +0000

(????)

Good enough.

andiepants — Sat, 04 Jun 2011 02:44:17 +0000

Artistic growth is, more than it is anything else, a refining of the sense of truthfulness. The stupid believe that to be truthful is easy; only the artist, the great artist, knows how difficult it is.
-Willa Cather

The Song of the Lark, 1915

(Scissors)

HOME.

andiepants — Sun, 29 May 2011 17:40:56 +0000

I AM GETTING SO EXCITED TO GO BACK TO CALIFORNIA.

(Miss Moss, Calivintage, ???)

mass.

andiepants — Sat, 28 May 2011 05:40:47 +0000

One of the strange things about living in the world is that it is only now and then one is quite sure one is going to live forever and ever and ever. One knows it sometimes when one gets up at the tender solemn dawn-time and goes out and stands alone and throws one’s head far back and looks up and up and watches the pale sky slowly changing and flushing and marvelous unknown things happening until the East almost makes one cry out and one’s heart stands still at the strange unchanging majesty of the rising of the sun — which has been happening every morning for thousands and thousands and thousands of years. One knows it then for a moment or so. And one knows it sometimes when one stands by oneself in a wood at sunset and the mysterious deep gold stillness slanting through and under the branches seems to be saying slowly again and again something one cannot quite hear, however much one tries. Then sometimes the immense quiet of the dark blue at night with millions of stars waiting and watching makes one sure; and sometimes a sound of far-off music makes it true; and sometimes a look in some one’s eyes.
The Secret Garden

(?????)

ok.

andiepants — Wed, 25 May 2011 05:38:16 +0000

(If We Don’t Remember Me)

isn’t.

andiepants — Mon, 23 May 2011 19:33:33 +0000

I am only one, but I am one. I cannot do everything, but I can do something. And I will not let what I cannot do interfere with what I can do.
~Edward Everett Hale