art students don't have busy days

But we do have bend me over a studio bench and ra..... sorry, won't go there.

Anyway. As usual I apologize for not posting in ages. As much as i try i just can not get myself hopelessly attached to my computer or any site on it. My bad. 

Ever have one of those months where you just can't get yourself in a good mood. Little one little thing piles on after another. But then you feel bad for being so upset because nothing really really major has happened. So everyone just tells you that things will get better, things will look up.

Well it's about bloody time. Art school is amazing. Being able to paint and draw all day? The breaks in my drawing and painting classes are for hanging out with other people like me or for writing or learning about history. Could I ask for more? Nope, not much. 

While I miss the people I got to see every day before I went to school, I know they won't forget about me. At any rate, I'm stoked. I'll try to make nearly daily updates. Probably won't though...

Toodles

Love Letter

Dear Boy,

I would like you to know a few things.

For starters, I like you, a lot. So don’t f*ck it up. I know I can be impulsive and fickle and, okay, yes, occasionally I spew molten crazy. But I’ll always be there for you no matter what and I just asking you please put down the xBox 360 controller and give me a freaking hug.

Now for the future, don’t freak out. It’s just a couple little points. I want a big fluffy dog. I don’t care if it chews up the table legs and scratches the door. You will back me up on it and we will cut back on an expensive date to send him or her to puppy obedience school.

Also, I will never ever consistently, maybe not even occasionally sleep in one of those slinky little silk and lacy nightgowns. I will however sleep in your old band shirts and flannel pants. I will droll on the pillow at my own leisure and you know what, if I accidentally droll on your shoulder when I wake up we will both laugh.

I know this isn’t really a request but, you gotta let me play with your hair. And don’t even try to lie, I know you love it.

When I get dolled up, I take my bloody time. Just remember no one asked Michelangelo what was taking so long on the ceiling.

And last but not least, I want you to kiss me everyday. Not just a peck, but a real kiss.

Hold me when I’m sad or angry or upset, let me rant about the bitchy women I have to be around and even my friends occasionally.  Let me rope you into watching those sappy chick flicks and you know I will always be down for the action adventure films.  Miss me when I gone and give me a hug when I come home.

Lots of love,

Me

Theory Four:

Everybody Lies.
We all do it. Sometimes you do it to save someone from pain that you may cause them from telling the truth. Sometimes because you're ashamed or embarrassed. Sometimes because it is just flat out easier than telling the truth.
What makes it worse is when you yourself have a back for lying, you're really good at it and sometimes you do it just to see if you can, because then you start to think about how easily you can do it and if other people around you are also lying. It's like gossip, if you're talking about someone, who's to say they aren't talking about you. There is also the karma aspect if your a liar yourself. You find yourself thinking "Holy cow, karma is going to bite me in the ass for all the lies i have told". Then you just go mad wondering who is lying to you. Is it the guy you're laying in bed with, or your best friend, or a loved one keeping something from you for your own good? With todays society and everyone we interact with you have to figure at any given moment someone is keeping something from you or just straight lying through their teeth. There's the classics of the dating scene: I don't think I can handle a relationship right now, I don't want to be exclusive until I can be 100% in it for you, and my personal favorite (which I have used on more than one occasion) I just need some time to figure myself out. Now I'm not saying these are always lies, but considering I've spun that crap before they could easily be cop outs.
Thank you Panic! At the Disco, but no, liars do NOT turn me on.
Just some food for thought.

ithinkimwritingabookbutimnotsosure

My name is Leah Schneider, though, now that I think of it if this ever get published I suppose that will have to change eh? I hope they change it to something fun like Penny, or Sadie (Sexy Sadie, anyone?) In all honestly I don’t see this getting much of anywhere. It’s a project. A task. I find myself with loads of free time currently so I need to fill it with something. Why shouldn’t this something be starting, and actually finishing a book? Anyway, back to a little backstory of me, and my story. See what I did there? Word play, funny right? Okay, not so much laugh out loud (lawl, if you will) hahaha funny. But it made me at least consider the idea of letting out a small nearly inaudible giggle. That could have something to do with the fact that it is past three a.m. and I am running on, well, not much. I’m rambling. Forgive me. My story, it’s not insanely exciting. Average family, average childhood, just average. Don’t get me wrong, I love my family, I have fantastic friends (or did) and I perfectly pleased with my life…thus far. I don’t have any sob story I feel I need to pass on and spoon feed the masses so others don’t have to feel ‘alone’ in their ‘situation’, or to try to under mind anyone into thinking their life is really ‘not that bad’ and they should be ‘grateful’ for what they’ve got. That’s not my style. I’m not trying to preach or shove my beliefs down anyone’s throat. I’m doing this for me. Maybe, and this is one behemoth of a maybe, but maybe just perhaps this will get somewhere. Maybe you’re reading it right now. If not, peachy. I didn’t do it for you. I did it for me.

I’m writing this because I am 18 years old, and I have no idea what to do with my life, and I know there is absolutely no way I am the only one in this position! That and this is a great way to yank all those little voices and annoyances and witty remarks out of my brain and put them down on something solid. So here goes nothing, attack ‘til they crack, don’t give up, shoot for the moon and even if you miss you’ll land among the stars, I figure a pep talk was in order. Cheerio. Happy reading, and to myself: Happy Writing, don’t you dare delete this, finish it so you’ll have something to read to your 37 cats in 60 years.

Theory Three:

Some people actually want you and some are busy trying to convince themselves that they do.

Marshmallow Fluff Dreams

The thought of being an author is not so much a glamorous one as it is and bright shiny one. Like when a crow seeing something shiny and it is just lust for it? Like when I go to Aldo and see that pair of Italian leather boots worth more than my ’95 Mercury, I literally lust for them. It’s pure want, I covet those writers who just sit around in their lofts or country cottages and write. All. Day. Long. Would it not be fantastic to have your name on a New York Times bestseller list? To be legitimately published, travel from city to city and country-to-country signing books? But it’s really difficult to actually sit down and not only have the patience and drive to finish an entire book but to also have it be good? No one honestly expects an eighteen year old to write an award-winning novel. The just doesn’t happen. I mean, I have the attention span of a small rodent. To be completely honest I tried writing at least four other ‘books’ before this. And if I didn’t get stuck right about here, not even half a page in, then I got really stuck forty pages in. After countless hours of obsessing and re-reading and brainstorming. I procrastinated by making iTunes playlists. I set dead lines for myself. I told my friends they needed to pressure me into finishing something. But eventually I ideas ran dry. I would get that tight feeling in my abdomen like when you are really anxious for someone to come over so you try reading or scrubbing the stove or pumicing your feet but nothing holds your attention so you just end up thinking in turbo-speed-run-on-sentences, and just sitting on the edge of the couch checking your phone and the front door over and over. You know? It is an awful lot like the feeling I am getting now. Fantastic.

            Currently I have laundry to put away, laundry to wash, a bed to make, dishes that need washing. But I’m sitting here, just typing away. The fact that I have gotten this far so smoothly is rather encouraging. When ever I would come up with a ‘story’ to write I would just poke at it. I would poke holes in the plot, the rhythm, the length. Lucky for me, right now I have no plot and my rhythm is one hundred percent stream of consciousness paced. After failed attempts of trying to decide on a topic to write on that I was really passionate about I stated thinking. Well, what do I like to read? Romance novels, cute funny silly books about young women and quirky guys, I don’t want to write that. There are plenty as is. Then I tried focusing on how I write. As many of my English teachers have told me. I write how I speak. I write like a columnist. Not so good for third person, it’s alright for first I suppose. But then I just end up talking like myself. So I may as well just talk as, myself. I heard once, in a great Drew Barrymore movie, that to write well you have to write what you know. So that is exactly what I will do. 

Theory Two:

Age is earned.
One thing I just can't wrap my head around with today's society is the compulsive desire to look as young as possible. Turn on the television for more than fifteen minutes and you'll be accosted with ads for bo-tox and age defying cream that 'anyone who's anyone' is using for a more 'youthful' look. Hair dye ads to cover up all those 'unwanted' greys. But those grey hairs and those wrinkles are well earned. Grey hair from raising a family, having a successful career. Those wrinkles? From spending summers on gorgeous beaches in the sun and spending days making relationships with people you love. Aging is a reminder of a full life you have led. Why would you want to act like you haven't put all that work into building your life and your past by covering it up and stretching it out? Every woman that I look up to is proud of those crow's feet. They're secure in themselves and their age and they own it. I don't want to be 55 trying to look 35. I want to be 55 and proving that I still have the heart of a 35 year old through my actions.