Warning: I'm about to get all feminist on this blog.
*sigh* So, I'm watching tv. A commerical comes on. Some girly pop song singing, "Girls play toooooo!" plays on repeat, while little girls are seen playing Hannah Montana on the PSP. Oh yes. Girls play video games too, so hardcore are these girl gamers, they play Hannah Montana. And since these are GIRL GAMERS they have packaged an exclusive Hannah Montana skinned PSP, you know, something that the girl gamers want. Because they play too.
What.The.Fuck.
I know it's for marketing purposes, but I'm SICK of the whole thing. In order for a girl to LIKE video games it has to be Barbie games,HSM, Hannah Montana, etc. etc. ETC. These stupid games are pushed on every little girl, and no higher up actually takes in to consideration that...hmmm. Maybe girls like playing the same games guys do? BLASPHEMY!
Guy gamers know it, they know we play WoW, Halo, Grand Theft Auto, all of those exceedingly boyish games, and yet the media/executives/designers are still under the delusional that 'Girl Gamers' is still a myth.
Take G4 for example. It started off as a channel directly targeting video gamers, and well, 17-30 something men. It had everything there that you ever needed to know about video games. Buuuut, the only female presence(s) on the show were young slender gorgeous women that had NO IDEA what they were talking about. They weren't gamers, they were there for the eye candy. Because girls don't play do they? Why would they watch a channel dedicated to video games? NOW, G4 is losing it's video game edge and is almost entirely targeting the male audience now, appearing more like a 2nd Spike Network for the younger/tech-savy generation. Thanks guys, I really did like watching shows on that channel, but it's getting exceedingly annoying when my presence is CONSTANTLY ignored.
Comic-Con just happened, and you know what the main focus of female presence is there? You got it. Booth Babes. Girls don't play games, they stand there half naked by a booth with 40-something hairy mangeeks salivating all over them and the designers and producers of the game company sit there proudly knowing that anyone coming to their booth for actual knowledge on the development for their newest title will remember them fondling because of their hot hot blonde busty blonde twins.
It's like one big fucking joke. What's the image of a girl gamer anyways? Is she overweight? Devastatingly UNATTRACTIVE? Ungroomed, boyish, weirdo crazys that know one wants to talk to? Oh, and the smell of FUNK?
Why the hell can't a normal girl play video games without being force feed High School Musical for the Wii? Why are we constantly seeing Carrie Underwood, Liv Tyler, and so on playing the DS as another standard of unrealistic aspirations of a girl involved with video games? WHY CAN'T BOOTH BABES KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT THE GAME THEY ARE MODELING FOR? Why can't they even be intelligent for that matter? (Speaking entirely based on all of them being interviewed by G4 on Comic-Con Live, all together the total IQ of all of them can't reach double digits).
I am a girl gamer. I am a girl geek. I am an Internetz savy girl. I am a Star Wars girl.
I am no different than any other guy who likes the same things that I do, and the higher ups better get that damn straight.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Pass me the Henny and Apple Juice.
Hipsters annoy me. Well, not generally. Just the snobby ones. Those are the kids who so wholly hate the mainstream that they’ll go to great lengths to make sure that nobody listens to the bands they like, reads the authors and poets they read, or enjoy the same artists as they do. Best of all, they have the audacity to trust their own tastes well enough to discern what materials have worth and what does not, which is fine, but they also happen to scoff at everyone else. The frequency at which they make sweeping qualitative judgments based on their own personal whims is always astounding, yet it has ceased to amuse me.
Within the art community, there has long been this somewhat controversial aspect of “high art” and “low art.” High art refers to almost any manifestation of traditional art that was created in the periods of high art, like the High Classical periods of Greek antiquity or the High Renaissance works widely commissioned by the power-grabby fingers of the Catholic institution at the time. Low art refers to pretty much any art that has mass appeal, which, to my understanding covers pretty much everything made after about the 13th-ish century. The appeal of high art and high culture lies heavily in the technical mastery of those creating the works, especially considering that everything was done the longest way possible. The refinement was in the clear mastery every artist had over his (they were all dudes at the time) chosen medium. Low art is a somewhat derogative term for popular culture, referring to the McDonaldization of art.
The concept of high vs. low art has always been criticized as being elitist, and I agree, if only with the semantics and the qualitative aspect of it. It really is elitist. I’m a novice; I don’t know how to make qualitative judgments about any kind of art on a deep level. Sure, I can kinda gauge technical skill, but that’s all I got.
So this whole new generation of hipster-indie kids… irks the very calluses on the ends of my toes. Why? Because they uphold their own version of the elitist concept of high art and low art… except their concept doesn’t really have any sense of technical refinement.
Elitism without the refinement.
Trashy elitism?
Beautiful.
Within the art community, there has long been this somewhat controversial aspect of “high art” and “low art.” High art refers to almost any manifestation of traditional art that was created in the periods of high art, like the High Classical periods of Greek antiquity or the High Renaissance works widely commissioned by the power-grabby fingers of the Catholic institution at the time. Low art refers to pretty much any art that has mass appeal, which, to my understanding covers pretty much everything made after about the 13th-ish century. The appeal of high art and high culture lies heavily in the technical mastery of those creating the works, especially considering that everything was done the longest way possible. The refinement was in the clear mastery every artist had over his (they were all dudes at the time) chosen medium. Low art is a somewhat derogative term for popular culture, referring to the McDonaldization of art.
The concept of high vs. low art has always been criticized as being elitist, and I agree, if only with the semantics and the qualitative aspect of it. It really is elitist. I’m a novice; I don’t know how to make qualitative judgments about any kind of art on a deep level. Sure, I can kinda gauge technical skill, but that’s all I got.
So this whole new generation of hipster-indie kids… irks the very calluses on the ends of my toes. Why? Because they uphold their own version of the elitist concept of high art and low art… except their concept doesn’t really have any sense of technical refinement.
Elitism without the refinement.
Trashy elitism?
Beautiful.
More negativity
Aaaagh… Why? Why?! Why did I go and do that tonight?
I’m more temperamental than I’d like to admit.
I like to get things done my way, so I do it all myself; my bad moods affect people close to me, so I’m totally comfortable being distant and unemotional; I’d be very hostile when my mood is interrupted, so I like to keep to myself.
“Most people don’t know this, but I don’t have much of an inner calm. I actually have this consistent outer calm that tends to ripple every now and then in accordance with my roiling inner lack of calm.”
Most people with whom I have developed very close relationships have some level of understanding of why I don’t fall all over everybody with sticky-sweet, gooey love and affection. Once I’m a friend, I’ll stay a friend regardless of how long it’s been since we last interacted. I’m not a high-maintenance friend; my friendship requires minimal upkeep. I really like my space, and I like to respect everyone else’s.
So I’m a little distant and, to the less-than-patient people, I’m an apathetic loner. I promise I’m not. I know and love enough people to die happy and fulfilled (not that I’d want to die anytime soon), and I know there’s very little I would refuse them. And there’s the preface.
Now, facebook is fun to play with. Since I’m also highly sentimental, I like to flip through the pages of my messages to see what I’ve been up to within the past year. It’s a past-self/present-self interaction. It helps me stay outer-calmed.
It’s therapy.
But tonight was a bit of a different story. After weeks and weeks of artist’s block, a couple nights of pent-up annoyance at numerous things, and an hour or so of “tidying up” my already tidy room, I flip through about the 28th page of my old messages. You just have to tweak the numbers in the address bar to jump to a ridiculous numbered page.
One name stood out.
Recently, I’ve taken to using his name in casual conversation without flinching, and I’d even gotten all fifteen pages of his birthday comic out in a public gallery for the whole world to see (well, all of dA, anyway). It used to sink me into an immovable depression to even think of him, but something new definitely came out of the emotive folds when I committed the cardinal ex-boyfriend sin, the ultimate transgression of self-dignity; I reread the old messages.
MAN, it makes me sick to even think about being in love again. All that mushiness, all that sacrifice, all that understanding… it makes my stomach churn. It’s a real blow to my pride to think of all the things I would have been ready to give up at the drop of a hat because I thought he’d like it that way. It also didn’t help that I was terrified of his parents at the time because, for some inexcusably stupid reason, their opinion of me mattered. I actually allowed someone else to have an opinion about me. That’s how bad it was.
Now, though, there wasn’t even so much as an annoying twinge of sadness or despondency.
Now I’m just enraged.
I want to find him and bash his face in with my foot. Repeatedly. Ruthlessly. Rhythmically (you know, so I can expend all my anger and frustration in even, measured spurts for the benefit of my own little neurotic tendencies).
I kept thinking to myself, “He witnessed it… it witnessed me at my lowest, most pathetic altruistic self. I want there to be no witnesses.”
I sound like the premise of a CSI episode.
I do recognize, though, that beyond my long-constrained inner rage, there was a time when I would feel ok if the world as I knew it faded out of my memory as long as someone special to me remained the constant. Admitting it is humiliation.
And I’d give almost anything to be able to feel that strongly again.
I’m more temperamental than I’d like to admit.
I like to get things done my way, so I do it all myself; my bad moods affect people close to me, so I’m totally comfortable being distant and unemotional; I’d be very hostile when my mood is interrupted, so I like to keep to myself.
“Most people don’t know this, but I don’t have much of an inner calm. I actually have this consistent outer calm that tends to ripple every now and then in accordance with my roiling inner lack of calm.”
Most people with whom I have developed very close relationships have some level of understanding of why I don’t fall all over everybody with sticky-sweet, gooey love and affection. Once I’m a friend, I’ll stay a friend regardless of how long it’s been since we last interacted. I’m not a high-maintenance friend; my friendship requires minimal upkeep. I really like my space, and I like to respect everyone else’s.
So I’m a little distant and, to the less-than-patient people, I’m an apathetic loner. I promise I’m not. I know and love enough people to die happy and fulfilled (not that I’d want to die anytime soon), and I know there’s very little I would refuse them. And there’s the preface.
Now, facebook is fun to play with. Since I’m also highly sentimental, I like to flip through the pages of my messages to see what I’ve been up to within the past year. It’s a past-self/present-self interaction. It helps me stay outer-calmed.
It’s therapy.
But tonight was a bit of a different story. After weeks and weeks of artist’s block, a couple nights of pent-up annoyance at numerous things, and an hour or so of “tidying up” my already tidy room, I flip through about the 28th page of my old messages. You just have to tweak the numbers in the address bar to jump to a ridiculous numbered page.
One name stood out.
Recently, I’ve taken to using his name in casual conversation without flinching, and I’d even gotten all fifteen pages of his birthday comic out in a public gallery for the whole world to see (well, all of dA, anyway). It used to sink me into an immovable depression to even think of him, but something new definitely came out of the emotive folds when I committed the cardinal ex-boyfriend sin, the ultimate transgression of self-dignity; I reread the old messages.
MAN, it makes me sick to even think about being in love again. All that mushiness, all that sacrifice, all that understanding… it makes my stomach churn. It’s a real blow to my pride to think of all the things I would have been ready to give up at the drop of a hat because I thought he’d like it that way. It also didn’t help that I was terrified of his parents at the time because, for some inexcusably stupid reason, their opinion of me mattered. I actually allowed someone else to have an opinion about me. That’s how bad it was.
Now, though, there wasn’t even so much as an annoying twinge of sadness or despondency.
Now I’m just enraged.
I want to find him and bash his face in with my foot. Repeatedly. Ruthlessly. Rhythmically (you know, so I can expend all my anger and frustration in even, measured spurts for the benefit of my own little neurotic tendencies).
I kept thinking to myself, “He witnessed it… it witnessed me at my lowest, most pathetic altruistic self. I want there to be no witnesses.”
I sound like the premise of a CSI episode.
I do recognize, though, that beyond my long-constrained inner rage, there was a time when I would feel ok if the world as I knew it faded out of my memory as long as someone special to me remained the constant. Admitting it is humiliation.
And I’d give almost anything to be able to feel that strongly again.
Negativity... a post long overdue
This past weekend, my family and I went over to my mom's old English teacher's house to have dinner. We covered a great deal of topics, from jail-time in Commie-occupied Vietnam to social justice activism, and I was really pleased with the present company. The week before it, I went to a screening of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince with some of my closest friends, and before then I went to see Night at the Museum 2 with some of my oldest (and some of my only) guy friends.
It was a great time, to be sure. I felt awesome, and, for a little while, I found myself totally satisfied with my life as it is.
Then I got to thinking that it was a rare moment that I got to feel that way in college.
Mind you, I do have friends in college, but no matter how close to my college friends I am, I can't help but feel something lacking. It's not all of them, either. Just most of them. My roommate's definitely someone I can spend time with and feel perfectly at home, and the kids from MISA are a very comfortable group of people for me to hang out with (although we're always so busy that we rarely have a moment to spend together).
To make this post a little more compact, I’ll just say that too many of my college friends are overwhelmingly negative people. It affected the way I felt and the things that I did and the interests I took up, and I really don’t like it. I suppose the old grin-and-bear-it routine fooled me over anyone else.
Now what do I do?
It was a great time, to be sure. I felt awesome, and, for a little while, I found myself totally satisfied with my life as it is.
Then I got to thinking that it was a rare moment that I got to feel that way in college.
Mind you, I do have friends in college, but no matter how close to my college friends I am, I can't help but feel something lacking. It's not all of them, either. Just most of them. My roommate's definitely someone I can spend time with and feel perfectly at home, and the kids from MISA are a very comfortable group of people for me to hang out with (although we're always so busy that we rarely have a moment to spend together).
To make this post a little more compact, I’ll just say that too many of my college friends are overwhelmingly negative people. It affected the way I felt and the things that I did and the interests I took up, and I really don’t like it. I suppose the old grin-and-bear-it routine fooled me over anyone else.
Now what do I do?
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Ah. It feels like Con season...
The Sci-Fi Convention was in early July.
Otakon just finished?
And either Comic-Con is now/in a bit/or just over?
Not to mention some anime thing was a few months ago I think...
Anyways, I've only been to the Sci-Fi convention, and since I don't like anime, me going to Otakon would be pointless but...
God I want to go so baaaad.
I want to go to all of them. Not to mention Comic-Con is like my E3 convention. One day, one day.
See, I never dressed up at the Sci-Fi convention, and the person I was with the whole time didn't either, and we never did ANYTHING because she had seen everything a million times before. So. We just kinda sat in chairs, and I listened to her life dramas. I didn't get to see or really experience the geeky side of it all.
And I mean really, that's what it's all about right?
You get together a group of geeky losers, you all dress up (looking like losers), than you take pictures and videos of all of you acting like a bunch of retards/losers, and it's all absolutely ridiculous and not funny at all but...you have a friggin' BLAST!
Everyone else there is just as ridiculous as you and just as much a loser. Nobody judges you, nobody cares. Actually, the more of a loser you are, the more praise/squees/hugs you get from the general populous!
Well, I really want to be a loser. Right now.
I want to hit up all of these conventions with all of my loser friends, make an ass of myself, look like a tard, and post hundreds of videos and thousands of pictures of the whole thing, thinking about how cool I must look.
Doesn't that just sound...liberating? Nobody is judging you, people want you to make a fool of yourself. If your fat, so is everyone else. If you're ugly, so is everyone else. If you speak broken, retarded Japanese and spew out random phrases like "Neko Neko! (pronouncing it wrong of course) and the "Desu" bomb (Also pronounced wrong), than hey, everyone else does too.
Ah. It would be a lovely time. When I don't have to worry about how obnoxious I could come across. I don't have to be self-conscious of ANYTHING. I could dress up as my favorite characters, pretend to be them, and people will let me. Heck, they'll even take pictures.
Only problem is...I've separated myself from all of my geeky friends who enjoy things like this...
How in the world can I experience this with out them?
:/
Otakon just finished?
And either Comic-Con is now/in a bit/or just over?
Not to mention some anime thing was a few months ago I think...
Anyways, I've only been to the Sci-Fi convention, and since I don't like anime, me going to Otakon would be pointless but...
God I want to go so baaaad.
I want to go to all of them. Not to mention Comic-Con is like my E3 convention. One day, one day.
See, I never dressed up at the Sci-Fi convention, and the person I was with the whole time didn't either, and we never did ANYTHING because she had seen everything a million times before. So. We just kinda sat in chairs, and I listened to her life dramas. I didn't get to see or really experience the geeky side of it all.
And I mean really, that's what it's all about right?
You get together a group of geeky losers, you all dress up (looking like losers), than you take pictures and videos of all of you acting like a bunch of retards/losers, and it's all absolutely ridiculous and not funny at all but...you have a friggin' BLAST!
Everyone else there is just as ridiculous as you and just as much a loser. Nobody judges you, nobody cares. Actually, the more of a loser you are, the more praise/squees/hugs you get from the general populous!
Well, I really want to be a loser. Right now.
I want to hit up all of these conventions with all of my loser friends, make an ass of myself, look like a tard, and post hundreds of videos and thousands of pictures of the whole thing, thinking about how cool I must look.
Doesn't that just sound...liberating? Nobody is judging you, people want you to make a fool of yourself. If your fat, so is everyone else. If you're ugly, so is everyone else. If you speak broken, retarded Japanese and spew out random phrases like "Neko Neko! (pronouncing it wrong of course) and the "Desu" bomb (Also pronounced wrong), than hey, everyone else does too.
Ah. It would be a lovely time. When I don't have to worry about how obnoxious I could come across. I don't have to be self-conscious of ANYTHING. I could dress up as my favorite characters, pretend to be them, and people will let me. Heck, they'll even take pictures.
Only problem is...I've separated myself from all of my geeky friends who enjoy things like this...
How in the world can I experience this with out them?
:/
Monday, July 13, 2009
What a Girl Wants.
*Sigh*
That's a good sigh by the way. One with the eyes closed, a smile on my face.
I've been in sort of a lovey dovey mood as of late, and I promise there is no reason for it whatsoever. There hasn't been any new meeting with a handsome fellow or any new happenings for that matter. I've just sort of been swooning all over the place, and I'm perfectly content with just that.
So I've been doing a lot of thinking, and fantasizing about what I want.
So. I just feel like. Gushing all over this blog. In complete randomosity mind you.
First up is *swooooon* Nishikido Ryo. It's not just that he's Asian or that he's gorgeous, great singer, lovely actor yadda yadda. Those are all labels, they're not who he is on the inside right?
From what I've gathered, which is a lot (I like to swoon over his translated interviews and blogs, and does that boy have a lot of them) he's a very poetic kind of soul. He's shy, he's quiet. He loves to keep to himself. He wants to adventure all over the world (I know right? Soulmate? XD) He reads in his spare time, and he loves to analyze what he's reading. He enjoys music, he really loves playing guitar. He prefers to sit at home and watch a movie. He sees things the way I see things, he doesn't under appreciate life and he doesn't worry needlessly over things that don't matter. He prides himself in being a professional, and he loves to cook.
Plus, he believes in 'living his life in a way that he can accept'. Which means he never wants to look back and say, "Hmm. I could have done that better." He lives to make sure that never happens. I love him for that, for giving me that strength in myself and striving to do the same.
Next, I was watching National Treasure today...just, spontaneously. I was thinking how attractive Benjamin Gates was. Not Nicholas Cage (I'll pass), but his character. The history geek, who spewed facts and was excited over anything from the past. The one who thinks logically, is good at figuring out puzzles, protecting his friends and family, and his sense of adventure. Than I thought of Indiana Jones, who I've always been crushing over, and heck, even Tom Hanks character in Angels and Demons/DaVinci Code. I would be so intoxicatingly happy if I had a man like that. Being some what of a history enthusiast myself, I can just see me melting over anyone who rattled off facts whenever they saw something that turned on their handsome little lightbulb.
Now how about my cunning scoundrel? Han Solo...since I've been a little girl, I have loved forever. *gush*
I watched Paris Je'Taime the other day. Some of them didn't really affect me at all, some were more powerful than others, but the overall feel of it made me feel all giddy for love on the inside. I was a little irritated that my dreamboat Gaspard was playing a gay boy in a very cute scene in where he confesses to a complete stranger in French that he thinks he's found his soulmate and dashes off, only for the stranger to have no idea what he was saying because he didn't speak French, but strangely finds himself running after Gaspard anyways. I don't need my list being teased with another potential addition thank you very much, even if it is acting. XD
So the new Harry Potter is coming out, I'll be seeing it tomorrow night. I'm beginning to think this feeling I've been experiencing has to do with it. I've been literally feeling abnormally large amounts of affection for every lead actor/actress and their characters in question. I watched the fifth film, and felt so over powered with love for the movie, I teared up when it started and when it ended, just because I thought it was so beautiful. XD
The morning, and the sun and smell of it...I'm in love with that as well. Hmmmmm! Lovely!
Anyways, I didn't know what to do with myself, I've just been sitting around all day, thinking about love and whatnot. Giggling madly to myself and with a big goofy grin on my face.
Hah! How sad it is that all of the above around fictional people/characters. I don't know Ryo or the Harry Potter actors, so they would practically be fiction in and of themselves since you create an image based on what little information you know.
Oh well, I enjoy being in my little dream world about it all, it's safe in here. There is no awkward, inexperience, and I don't have to think about it ever happening, just get to enjoy the feeling. ;)
Back to my swooning!
That's a good sigh by the way. One with the eyes closed, a smile on my face.
I've been in sort of a lovey dovey mood as of late, and I promise there is no reason for it whatsoever. There hasn't been any new meeting with a handsome fellow or any new happenings for that matter. I've just sort of been swooning all over the place, and I'm perfectly content with just that.
So I've been doing a lot of thinking, and fantasizing about what I want.
So. I just feel like. Gushing all over this blog. In complete randomosity mind you.
First up is *swooooon* Nishikido Ryo. It's not just that he's Asian or that he's gorgeous, great singer, lovely actor yadda yadda. Those are all labels, they're not who he is on the inside right?
From what I've gathered, which is a lot (I like to swoon over his translated interviews and blogs, and does that boy have a lot of them) he's a very poetic kind of soul. He's shy, he's quiet. He loves to keep to himself. He wants to adventure all over the world (I know right? Soulmate? XD) He reads in his spare time, and he loves to analyze what he's reading. He enjoys music, he really loves playing guitar. He prefers to sit at home and watch a movie. He sees things the way I see things, he doesn't under appreciate life and he doesn't worry needlessly over things that don't matter. He prides himself in being a professional, and he loves to cook.
Plus, he believes in 'living his life in a way that he can accept'. Which means he never wants to look back and say, "Hmm. I could have done that better." He lives to make sure that never happens. I love him for that, for giving me that strength in myself and striving to do the same.
Next, I was watching National Treasure today...just, spontaneously. I was thinking how attractive Benjamin Gates was. Not Nicholas Cage (I'll pass), but his character. The history geek, who spewed facts and was excited over anything from the past. The one who thinks logically, is good at figuring out puzzles, protecting his friends and family, and his sense of adventure. Than I thought of Indiana Jones, who I've always been crushing over, and heck, even Tom Hanks character in Angels and Demons/DaVinci Code. I would be so intoxicatingly happy if I had a man like that. Being some what of a history enthusiast myself, I can just see me melting over anyone who rattled off facts whenever they saw something that turned on their handsome little lightbulb.
Now how about my cunning scoundrel? Han Solo...since I've been a little girl, I have loved forever. *gush*
I watched Paris Je'Taime the other day. Some of them didn't really affect me at all, some were more powerful than others, but the overall feel of it made me feel all giddy for love on the inside. I was a little irritated that my dreamboat Gaspard was playing a gay boy in a very cute scene in where he confesses to a complete stranger in French that he thinks he's found his soulmate and dashes off, only for the stranger to have no idea what he was saying because he didn't speak French, but strangely finds himself running after Gaspard anyways. I don't need my list being teased with another potential addition thank you very much, even if it is acting. XD
So the new Harry Potter is coming out, I'll be seeing it tomorrow night. I'm beginning to think this feeling I've been experiencing has to do with it. I've been literally feeling abnormally large amounts of affection for every lead actor/actress and their characters in question. I watched the fifth film, and felt so over powered with love for the movie, I teared up when it started and when it ended, just because I thought it was so beautiful. XD
The morning, and the sun and smell of it...I'm in love with that as well. Hmmmmm! Lovely!
Anyways, I didn't know what to do with myself, I've just been sitting around all day, thinking about love and whatnot. Giggling madly to myself and with a big goofy grin on my face.
Hah! How sad it is that all of the above around fictional people/characters. I don't know Ryo or the Harry Potter actors, so they would practically be fiction in and of themselves since you create an image based on what little information you know.
Oh well, I enjoy being in my little dream world about it all, it's safe in here. There is no awkward, inexperience, and I don't have to think about it ever happening, just get to enjoy the feeling. ;)
Back to my swooning!
I'm a little teapot!
So I finally sat my little butt down and finished one strip. It didn't take very long, but I'll be trying my darndest to get as much done as possible before the school year comes around. I just got a loan proposal from Wells Fargo, too! I'm so excited. I can borrow up to 25 grand a year! Whoot!
Anyhoosies, here's a product of my labors. LABOR OF LOOOOOOOOOOVE!!! <---[yeah...]
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