I'm so worried that I won't get into this Fine Arts program. I dunno, maybe I'm just inventing reasons to be worried. I have a theory that I'm only truly comfortable when I have something to worry about. Well, maybe 'comfortable' is the wrong word. But it's like worrying reminds me of what my priorities are. Whenever I find myself relaxing, it's like I remind myself that there are things out there that need my attention, that I can't stay in dream-mode forever. It's kind of sad, yeah, because relaxing is nice, but I never let myself be relaxed for very long. And that, ladies and gentlemen, will be the cause of my inevitable heart-attack.
But in all seriousness, I keep worrying about this program. I turned in my application to the program on time, but I hadn't already re-applied to Langara yet, which is something I needed to do in order to change the name of the program that I was going to be in. BUT WHAT IF THAT MATTERS?! What if they looked at my Fine Arts program application, checked my file, and saw that I hadn't changed the program name? Ohhh dear, now I'm all worred. Let's see, the lady at the Info Session said that if I hadn't heard back from the program in 2 weeks, I should give them a call to see what's up. The info session was on the 2nd, and today's the 17th OH GOD IT'S BEEN TWO WEEKS. And no email or nothing. That's it. I bet I'm not in. Did I fuck up on my application? What am I going to do for a whole year before the program starts accepting people again? I can't spend another year not doing something. I feel like I'm going stir-crazy.
If I don't get into this program, I'm just going to say "fuck everything" and spend all my money on traveling and tattoos. That is my plan for real. I'm just going to go and see places. Anywhere, from Seattle to Spain, Idaho to Italy, California to the Czech Republic. I'll just draw and get tattoos and travel. Hmm, why am I imagining myself in a long, grey coat, skinny and smoking with a bored look on my face while at a train station? I watch way too many old movies.
This week, I am going to make a coconut cream pie if it kills me. I miss baking to much, and I promised my dad around Christmas that I would make him one. I was going to try and bake something for Valentine's Day, but I slept in, haha. Oh, speaking of Valentines Day, I had a very nice one. I'm not big on the whole tradition, although the idea that it's a day for love is nice, even though the guy it's named for didn't have a lovely ending. It's just all the commercialism that kills me. Now, don't confuse me for a dirty hipster, because hipster I most definitely am not. I just think it's dumb that people spend so much money on it. Like all the commericals are telling you to "Buy your boyfriend a phone! Buy your girlfriend diamonds!" Really, you guys? This is not Christmas.
I actually worked on Valentine's Day, which was only a drag because I ended up having a pretty crummy day. I won't even get into that. Anyway, Max and I had agreed to meet up the next day to just hang around. I made him a card, which was the card the Lisa gave Ralph in that one episode of The Simpsons (I choo-choo-choose you!) and he loved it. He bought us Season 2 of 30 Rock, which was fantastic. I fell asleep waiting for him to get out of class, and then we went and had dinner at Bau Chau. Then we went to his house and watched our new 30 Rock DVD's, and I slept over. It was a pretty swell day.
Haha, just remembering our first Valentine's ever. We'd been officially dating for 2 and a half weeks. He met me at school and gave me a stuffed pink elephant and a comic book. I was so overwhelmed with how awesome it was that I teared up. Oh, silly 16 year old Lisa. I don't need anything though, except maybe a bouquet of rose's would be nice (HINT HINT). Hahaha, oh Max, don't worry, I'm just teasing.
Well, I'm going to go sleep off this anxiety now, so goodnight, and good dreams.