...'the Heck??

I'm so legitimately weirded out right now. And the only way I can explain this is to go through my entire day. By the way, when I say 'unlocked my door', it pretty much means that I unlocked it from the inside, so that I wouldn't have to use my key to get back in. I usually did that when I was just going down the hall, and planned on coming right back.

I woke up this morning alone in my dorm. My roommate was gone for the weekend. Since it was monday, I got up and got dressed, and went to the gym. I got back and grabbed my shower stuff, unlocked my door, and went to the community bathroom to cleans myself of my hard-earned sweat. I finished my shower around the same time my roommate got back. I did the usual routine of blowdrying my hair as my roommate slept through the remarkably loud noise. Since my Tuesday-Thursday classes are messier than usual (charcoal and paint galore), I decided that I would dress kind of cute for my cleaner class. I pulled a tank top out of my shorts-and-tanks drawer. I'm going to emit the rest of my getting-ready shenanigans, but that part was actually important, so I felt it was worth mentioning.

*insert less important activities of my first class*

After, I went back up to my room to chill for a bit before my next course. My roommate was in her own classes, and nowhere to be seen. I had about an hour, so I dropped my belongings, unlocked my door, went to the bathroom, and came back. I sat there for a while, then left again, locking the door on my way out.

*insert more pointless classroom activities*

After class, I came back to find my roommate cleaning up her side of the room. The door was hanging open, since the RA of our floor initiated a Door's Open contest in order to encourage social interaction. Because I'm a rather layer back person, and was hoping to relax a bit before I headed off to work, I decided to change into something a bit more comfortable. I stripped off the grey skinny jeans I had been donning, and opened my shorts-and-tanks drawer, so I could slip on some athletic shorts. And then... there it was.

Let me remind you, I had opened up this particular drawer earlier when I was getting ready for class, and nothing was out of the ordinary. However, this second time I opened it... There was a strange t-shirt. A rather cute one, too, just my style. It was the perfect size, to boot. But still, not mine. "so you accidentally got it from the laundry room", eh? No! This shirt was not only in the wrong drawer, but it was also folded weird!! Like, what the heck?? Where on earth did this thing come from? I asked my roommate, who was completely oblivious (if not slightly amused by how much I freaked out), and assured me that she had hardly left with the door unlocked, and had not seen anyone come in. And she isn't the type of person who would lie (or rather... lie continuously. She's the sarcastic type, which is why we get along so well), much less secretly give me a gift.

I'm seriously confused. Some person snuck into my room and put a shirt in my drawer!! One that fits me perfectly, both stylistically and physically.

So... Thanks, I guess.

The Loved, The Lost, The Lonely

I'm blogging again.

What was with that little spurt of an ending? Ah, well, that was Summer, my friends. And as it is, I got hooked on another blog-like thing (though it's hardly fair to call it blog-like, since it is, in fact, a blog). I always feel weird about the whole 'promoting' thing, but so long as I'm promoting myself and not having another person do it (which would result in endless... embarrassment.), I suppose it's okay. allthatslefttodo.tumblr.com is my new photo blog. All the pictures are mine and whatnot, and are images of the most important thing that happened to me on that respective day. I suppose it would be important to say that I don't care if you use the pictures. In fact, I don't care that you give me credit. My only request is that you don't do anything mean to them... I hate that. My ability to keep up with it is also dwindling, as with the beginning of class comes with my camera bag being a bit more of a burden to carry around. Seriously, being an art major requires more arm space than I currently posses.

And that's where I'm going to begin here...

Art major. I've spent the last year and a half laughing at my friend's (if I have any here) homework assignments: the essays, the projects, the math problems, the whole lot of them. After all, my homework is to draw a picture of the flower sitting on my desk. I laugh and I laugh and I laugh, as I have always done on the outside. But the inside? Instability. Confusion. Hopeless. What on earth is an art major supposed to do with their life? If there are any art majors out there reading this, please ignore me for a while. I tend to have a very pessimistic view of the whole concept, even though its a part of my being. The way I see it, your future as an artist is to become a starving artist, digitally draw what other people want you to draw, or teach other people to go down the same path. No matter how I look at it, all I see are dead ends. I like to eat, I'm far to selfish to draw for others, and I don't want to lead other people down the same road.  Don't get me wrong, though! Art is important. It's expressive and creative and an outlet unlike any other. But for me, I think it's more of a hobby. Sure, theres my impending dream of writing my own manga. But as it is, I think I'd feel more comfortable working on that on my own.  Deadlines kill me. And so I've come to this conclusion. It's time to change majors. And theres only one major that I can pick.

...
.....
........

Biology.

What?? Where on earth did that come from? Well, you see, ever since I was a kid, I'd wanted to be a vet. I don't know how your schools work, but in my Jr High careers class, they made us go 'job shadowing', which basically meant you followed some person around at their work place. I chose to go to a vet clinic. Not gonna lie, I used to be quite queasy around guts and blood. They happened to be doing a surgery that day. I wasn't allowed inside, but my imagination was enough to, essentially, make me never want to step foot in that place ever again. However, over time, I've grown used to it. I've always generally liked my biology classes, especially after I found out I was terrible with physics and chemistry (I'm even struggling in my astronomy, and it's only my love for stars that keeps me going). So I figured, what the heck? Lets do this thing. Lets get a career!! Depending on who I talk to about this, I get different responses. My mom was surprised, and as always, supportive. I don't think she liked me being in art courses. My best friend, who is now my boyfriend (I hate that word. His name is Dane. I'm not sure if I ever mentioned his actual name before, but... gahh screw internet security.), is super excited, since he's currently enrolled in RN courses, and sees this as us going into the same field. A few random friends are also excited and shocked for me. But then theres the random comment every once in a while, "you need to do what you love! Don't just quit for money!". Uhm... okay. I'm not quitting art. I'll never quit art. That's like telling me to quit taking showers. One of those necessary-yet-not-actually-necissary things, you know? Also, I love not worrying about my future. That sounds like a really... materialistic thing to say. But I'm not gonna lie to you. Heck, you don't know me! It's true, though. I hated thinking about what I was going to do after I graduated. I hated working for hours in a fast food restaurant so I could pay for a second-hand school, because taking loans out for a questionable future was out of the question. In the end, it all comes down to money, doesn't it? That's so sad. Seriously, though. I'm really excited about this. I mentioned before that Dane was, too. Hah, I can't say he's to pumped about my desire to open a dog kennel on my future property. He's allergic to dogs.

Uhm... I don't even know how if everything in this post is even legible. I feel very sick today. Light headed and borderline depressed. Not in the mood to talk about it. Well, perhaps I would have if the post before this one wasn't so heavy. The point is, I didn't proof read, and I feel like I'm about to pass out. There may not have been any life in it. I'll never know. For once, I think I'm grateful for work today. At least I don't have to continue sitting around this room, drifting in and out of sleep, alone and silent. I promise I'll get better at writing again.