VIOLET BAMBI

and all I see for miles and miles are ships.

then again, the avatar fandom is primarily filled with 15 year olds. its not their fault the writers keep on introducing devastatingly good looking characters and―

oh wait.

WHAT WAS I SAYING AGAIN?

I FORGOT.

LET ME REWIND FROM ALL THE RELEVANT SOUL CRUSHING MOMENTS OF THE SEASON AND JUST WATCH ASAMI MASTER HAIRBENDING.

LIFE IS EASIER THIS WAY.

Aw yeee

Me: Oh god I got rather dark
Me: I didn’t even mean to. How many shades did I change?
Shawn: like 10
Shawn: you look like an Indian orphan child I saw on the discovery special last night.
Me: …
Shawn: I mean that in the best way possible.

when the deli up the street closes and you go to the grocery store that’s on the other side of town to get cold cuts. But when you go there you have no flipping clue which smoked turkey is good or which type of Italian martadela to get. What are you going to do? Suck it up do some research and figure out the right one, and it won’t be that bad. Wrong. It’s not bad, it’s just not the same because the one Ma gets is just slightly different in texture. They look and taste the same but deep down you know you messed with the fridge ecosystem. No one is complaining nor do they care but you just know. It’s the idea that you can’t go grocery shopping for your house anymore. As soon as you left the taste of the household changed. There’s no tea in the fridge anymore, or the fresh herb stash, or stacks of croissants and sourdough. They found a new default for the smoked turkey you would always get and worst of all, there is no mango sorbet in the fridge. None. And what the fuck is this brand of mayo doing in there?! Do we even use mayo? I guess this means my fridge will be looking a little different from now on. And the truth is, the fridge i grew up with now isn’t my ridge. My fridge will be on Wilshire somewhere and it will be shared with my roommate and two gentlemen from the engineering school. They will probably help with the shopping and there will be homemade Korean food ready to cook and pita bread and seeded pomegranates in a glass bowl in there somewhere.. What I’m trying to say maybe trivial but it is a significant rite of passage into adulthood. My settings are changing by the day and it’s getting weird. I woke up this morning in this strange new room I’m in after I gave the room I grew up in to my little brother. I woke up and saw the fan on he ceiling turning doing nothing but circulating warm air. My little brother asked me through my door of I wanted cereal and I whimpered through the pillow, “Nothing is the same.” And that’s when I realized I pray that it never will be.

I was convincing myself that a glass of chocolate milk would suffice until I stumbled upon a box of Oreos my little bro hid in the back of the pantry.

The perks of having a preadolescent brother, man.

Lost track of a spider that suicide bombed itself from the ceiling onto my canvas and somehow disappeared into our Persian carpet. I can either:
a) watch the floor until I see the patterns in the carpet move, kill this cheeky fuck and leave it as an example for the others or
b) wait for it to eat me whilst I sleep and feed my remains to its children.

Let it be known that i was i grown ass adult about this and picked the latter tonight.

this is what happens at 330 in the fucking morning when your little brother says he can kick your ass at a flash game.

you softly chuckle with endearment through the crooked smirk that splinters cross your face you say,

NOT TODAY, LITTLE MAN.

THIS IS LIKE EVERYTHING I’VE EVER STUDIED ON HUMAN BEHAVIORAL PSYCHOLOGY AND EVOLUTIONARY ANTHROPOLOGY.
OMG
I
THIS IS
JUST
GREAT
SUCH EXCELLENT USE OF TELEVISION.

AND COMMUNICATING TOPICS OF RELEVANT RESEARCH TO AN AVERAGE AUDIENCE MEMBER.
AND MAKING MY RESEARCH ENTERTAINNNINGGGGG.

Just evil.
And fucking brilliant.

This ice cream

I could swim in it FOR DAYS.
Oh baby
Oh

baby.

This is what happens when I start making desserts an hour before midnight.

is go watch Prometheus with a handful of good people.

laugh and drink margaritas after as we talk about the movie and add our own plot twists and recite the most ridiculous moments over ice cream

and then go back home to pack my life away again.

and get into my paint clothes and work with a large canvas until 3 am

take a shower and scrub off all the acrylic paint of my hands and legs

and sleep.

and eat bagels and like a box of butter croissants from Costco (maybe two.. no, wait. actually, three. who the fuck am I kidding? those babies are decadent.)

and read great stories.

and come up with killer recipes.

and fill my brain with random facts and come up with social experiments I can carry out for an independent study in the fall.

sunlight would be good too..

where i think to myself, “if i could just make it to the counter to make myself some coffee. I’ll be okay. I don’t want a nap. I’m better than that. I can do this.”

and then I look at the counter.. at it looks like its light years away from me.

someone spoon feed me coffee.

or better yet give me an I.V. of that French roast business.

MUST.
RESIST.

THE TEMPTATION.

approx 135 minutes of sleep and maybe 3 cubic centimeters of crazy diluted in my current air supply.
How has my body not shut off yet?
How.
What chemical processes are occurring with what residual nutrients to get my fingers to type, legs to move and brain to form abstract ideas and words?
Also, where is nap time in my schedule?
It should be here.
But isn’t.

Maybe it’s somewhere between my meeting at seven and turning in my findings at five?
No..
that was dinner

but now it’s naptime >:)

erinsymphony replied to your post: AHAHAHA YOU GUYS ITS JUST THAT SIMPLE. YEAH OKAY… For a moment, I thought those were your hands until I watched the video.

_____

Oh god, Erin (it is Erin, right?). I just had horrible “into the future” thoughts of my hands looking like the animated grannies hands from Disney’s Hercules. I r e f u s e. *furiously rubs cream around knuckles. And how ridiculous are these double pointed needles?! It took me like 20 minutes (the time it takes for me to figure out most difficult things) to get the hang of it. At least I can make myself cool things now and they can travel with me and on other people?! #Baller. Next order of business is to return to painting and piano! LOL RIGHT AFTER I WRITE 15 pages worth of research.

I would like to comment on just a few details (also me trying to imagine what the director was thinking while he was getting his actors to… well… act):

• Chris Hemsworth can Narrate Dr. Seuss to me and I will still eat it up like a dirty dime romance novel. Truth.
• Florence and The Machine on the Soundtrack was also one of this movie’s few ( very few ) redeeming qualities. That, and the set was fucking pretty and eerie and I approve of both of those things whole heatedly. As for the rest however:
• Charlize Theron: Acting is in fact spastic yelling and unnatural pacing. The more you pace the more conflicted your character is. Yes. Good. Yell some more and do ambiguous witchy things like dipping yourself in milk or.. what even was that?
• Also could totally see Rupert Sander’s just asking her, “Can you enunciate a little more on the vowels. No… like.. um.. yeah, okay Charlize just run with it.”
  “Let them break their skulls on these stone WOOOO-ALLLLS.”
  “GIVE ME HER HEAAAAAAAAAAART”.
  “I’ll give this retched world a queen it deseeeeeeeeeeeeerves.”
  Yes.
  Acting.
  Excellent.
• K.Stew: Acting is breathing. Lots of deep breathing. Make sure they see your collar bones so the audience knows you mean it.
  Emotion.
  Yes.
  Acting.
• Slo-mo everything K.Stew does to make it look epic without her really doing anything.
  Jump through that small fire there.
  Yes.
  Now slo-mo close up every time her mouth opens more than a few millimeters.
  Yes.
  Epic.
• Add sloppy lens-flare. Abrams does it. It should make it pretty. Yes. Now add the Gollum looking fairies.
• Have Hemsworth be a drunk and swig at the bottle every time his character is feeling feelings.
  Yes.
  ACTING.
• Character development No.
• Oh, I almost forgot William.
  HOW COULD I?
  LOL THAT’S RIGHT, CUZ NO1CURRZ
• Have the most anticlimactic chick-fight ever.
  Yes.
  Tension.
  Charlize, gasp a few more times. Say I’m melting.. Or not, okay gasp more.
• More deep breathing and pensive staring.
• END CREDITS.

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