one step closer to that pulitzer

I was going to attempt to do a week of "What I Wore" but after a few days I realized that perhaps pictures of me in my bedroom at five in the morning aren't terribly interesting. And also I am not particularly fashionable, but rather a classic, timeless beauty-having type. As you know. But exactly TWO persons suggested I might like doing outfit posts and really, any excuse to take pictures of and admire myself.  Maybe definitely should fix this camera situation and make effort to take pictures in places slightly more exciting than my bedroom. [I have left this space for you to insert your own pun about my bedroom being a VERY exciting place. You see, I am always thinking of you.]

  Paint, sweat, black mold, soil, plaster dust/drywall dust/canyon dust/sawdust, clay, kid boogers, mud - lots of substances memories in the fibers of that sweatshirt. But as the memories are many years old all germy properties are neutralized. SCIENCE. Also sweatshirts are a conveniently transcendent pajama/daytime clothing item.

sweatshirt - courtesy of nccc. get things done, plus get a sweatshirt. 

t shirt - don't remember

jeans - don't remember

shoes - chanel slingbacks (not pictured)

 dress - target/goodwill

cardigan - not sure, possibly stolen from roommate

shoes - diamonds in the soles of (not pictured)

 

 dress - goodwill/target

cardigan - same one. still probably stolen. although i can hardly be blamed for theft when things are all mixed in together. also because i black out when i steal things.

shoes - glass slippers, cinderella-style (not pictured)

sweater - knitted by angels in forever 21 factory

earrings - "let's move in together" present from ex boyfriend. cute despite questionable karma of having hurt feelings of giver. 

shoes - channeling socrates, not wearing any

 shirt? dress? - goodwill/h&m

other shirt - old navy

shoes - ruby, like dorothy's (not pictured)

Hm. Not exactly sure how successful this experiment was. Let me know in the comments below - oh, nope.

[I'm about to complain for a minute, skip this if you want.]

You guys. I feel so annoying about this, but one of my professors gave me a completely unfair grade on an assignment I recently did. The reason I feel annoying about it is because I got a 98. I know I know, wah wah wah. But I earned a 100, I know I definitely did. And in the comments on the grading sheet she wrote how wonderful (exact words: vivid, interesting, relevant, engaging, excellent) it was, nothing about why she'd taken points off, and at the end of my speech (the assignment) I got a standing ovation from the class INCLUDING the people of the stoned/disinterested/asleep variety. Listen, I give BOMB speeches. For real. It's the universe making up for me being completely inept in every other social arena. If this class weren't a requirement I wouldn't need it, which is why it is burning. my. ass even more that the professor is so... whatever she is. I like her fine, she's just outrageously unorganized (ie, losing people's work, insisting that people never turned things in even though they are holding in their hands the exact work that she has already graded and handed back) and I am beginning to think she must not like me so much because it's not like she's grading me harder than everyone else, which might be equally unfair but at least would be something I could understand. Actually I'd appreciate that because then I'd be forced to improve and might actually get something out of the course. But she's not, and as I've looked back over other assignments I'm realizing that any point I have ever lost has been either arbitrarily taken off or has been the result of her being unclear about what she wanted. Oh oh! AND on this particular assignment she had originally written "10/10" next to what she'd taken points off off and then gone back and changed it. UM. And the icing on her poor communication cake is that she's legally deaf, which doesn't necessarily impair a person's ability to effectively communicate or teach but in her case means that any and every conversation you have with her involves repeating yourself nine hundred times because first it's that she actually can't hear you and then that she's just a hot mess. Anyway I have to meet with her to talk about my grade and the fact that she's lost another one of my take-home tests and hopefully this scheduled conversation goes better than our other ones, because I hate turning things into "situations" but I absolutely fucking will if someone's just not doing their job. And I like her as a lady. I really do. Sigh. Awkward.

Ultimately of course this doesn't actually matter, and I know that and have had to deal with far more difficult people in far more serious situations and don't worry, yes I am feeling as guilty as ever about complaining about my first world problems because at least I have a toilet (which, let me take a minute to complain about that too: LADIES. WTH. Wipe the seat. God.) but still. Boo hoo, 98.

/complaining

Also I feel I must share this with you, as it is an age-old question that I myself have been faced with THREE TIMES so far in my twenties: How do you know if you're on a date with a lesbian or if you're just two pretty girls hanging out? It makes me feel enormously better that it's not just me this happens to, although full disclosure requires me to admit that I have definitely encouraged said Sapphic sisters in these "Are we girlfriends or are we, you know, girlfriends?" situations. I have to keep reminding myself that there's a difference between being "open-minded" about, hrrrm, "engaging in certain activities" and being gay and that I need to get a grip because let's be real, I'm marrying a boy. Anyway Samantha Irby is my favorite and I'd definitely go on an on-purpose date with her. SO OH HEY, SAM!