Actually Working

Hi, sweet angel babes.

I've been working like a motherfucker. Sure, it's just been baking, but I'll tell you what- it sure takes it the fuck out of you.

I've challenged myself to bake something new every day of the week.

Monday was Apple Pie (pretty great), Tuesday Hostess Creme Cupcakes (could have for sure been better but the creme was fucking amazing), Wednesday was vegan cookies (for my roommate. They were very okay.), Thursday we got some other thing that I'm not remembering. And today I made decadent as fuck chocolate cake with cute little words on it. 

I'm working pretty fucking hard to make my dream happen, and the only way I can do that that I know of is by baking shit, and putting it up on Instagram.

If y'all have any other ideas - you let me know. 

But in the mean time go check-out the "food" portion of my site.

Love y'all!!

 

Okay, baaaiii!!!

Editing

Woah. What a, like, vague title. 

I don't mean editing my life or anything. But my boss has been teaching me about video editing, and I fucking LOVE it. It's super complex and not easy, but I can see it becoming something I really like. 

It's definitely not something I can afford at this moment in time.

(Ya girl is hurting for cash and will be transitioning my life into the Call Girl profession within the next month or so). 

I feel like I have learned so much this year and I am so grateful, dude. It's not too common that you meet someone who is so willing to take the time and help you learn something. I really appreciate her help.

Again - I have been feeling so inspired, and lucky. 

Thank you all for supporting me and reading my illusory posts.

 

Okay, baaaiiii!!

Spoken Word

I remember that when my ex and I had started dating I was in a poetry class in college. My professor was so great, and I actually really enjoyed being in that class. 

I remember that the first question he asked was "Why did you take this poetry class?"

I was so excited to answer. I remember so vividly that I responded "I'm in love and I can't wait to express it on a page".

Cut to a couple of months later and I am speaking a poem about how sad I feel for him

Two months later I'm writing about the true meaning of a martyr.

Three months and it's a feeling of worry, fear and entrapment. 

Four months and all I want is him to stop fucking asking to remember why I took this class. 

I wouldn't even let my ex get close to my computer because I was so scared of him seeing my poems. It was the one place I didn't have to lie, or smile through the relationship. 

Funny how that works - isn't it?

 

Okay, baaaiii.