Isn't it Glorious?

^ Written by the lovely Alex Mugford^

As January comes to a close, winter re-enters and makes Callie very happy.
It was majorly sucking before. All the snow had melted, you could go out in sweaters and the stupid Sun just kept blossoming from behind the clouds to take all the precious cold and whiteness from us. But no longer must we suffer through premature spring weather! A blizzard brought our rightful January climate back in a hurry and it continues to sprinkle us with beautiful flakes of snow. Heavenly.
The only downside about that being that it's really cold even inside, but I can lick it. I walked to the library with Mugs last night through -28 degrees and crazy wind just to return my stupid books, which were so overdue it cost me 21.50$. Sheesh. Anyway, the point is that I have been colder.
As you may have noticed in my facebook status, I went for a pedicure and a facial yesterday. It was AWESOME. My feet feel so good and my blemishes are practically gone. I'm going for another facial soon to finish up with my awful skin. I hate having combination skin. Do I use moisturiser or oil removing wipes? It sucks. Anyway, in the pedicure she put my feet in this purple hot wax stuff that moulded to my feet and felt so, so good. And I got my toes painted, of course. It was wonderful. I felt like a princess. I decided that if I ever have a daughter I'm going to send her for a pedicure and manicure for one of her birthdays and let her wear a tiara so she feels extra princessy.
Plus the lady who was doing it was so sweet! She was adorable. Kind of spacey. I liked her.
However, at one point during the facial I started feeling claustrophobic because she put this really warm, moist washcloth over my face (which felt awesome), which was fine in itself, but then she put the really bright light for looking at my skin right over my face and she had the steamer blowing steam at my nose and I was under about four blankets and her hands were covering my face too, so it was freaky. I dealt with it though. When the cloth started to cover my nose and mouth completely though I just reached up and said I couldn't breathe. Too scary.
Anyway, my skin felt and looked great. My nose was kind of swollen, but I felt great anyway. The foot wax makes me want a manicure so they can wax my hands too.
PS This lovely treatment was complements of my mother, who works in that spa. So thank you.

Who are we without our Cats

i'd say this sums up jon arbuckle completely.

http://www.garfieldminusgarfield.net/

I'm Not Crazy.

Life and Beauty

Watercolour painting requires great patience, even a studiousness. If darkness is what you seek, you must first paint in a lighter, thinner version of that colour and allow it to dry before you add yet another thin layer, and layer upon layer until the proper shades and gradience and depth are achieved. One can't simply jump into it, for if one falters it can be very difficult to hide, particularly if it is a dark colour. All watercolour paintings require strategic thought, logic and planning, all while maintaining colour theory, which is of utmost importance when your medium is so very translucent--almost absent, even. And yet, so often, after this tedious, sometimes exhausting and usually frustrating quest your labour proves to be fruitless. Countless times does an artist begin with good intentions and stunning ideas, only to find themselves in a block, or a rut, or a loss of interest--another unfinished potential masterpiece.
Perhaps that is what it's all about. Perhaps an artist's life isn't based on the masterpiece that "makes" them, but the many incompletes that led to it. Perhaps the great series of inconclusive creative ambitions define the artist, moulding and shaping the mind and body and spirit of the person until the culmination of these ambitions and maybe even the actualisation of self are presented in the form of the magnum opus. An artist's soul is made up of pages half-empty, songs unwritten, brush strokes undefined. They say that all great art comes from suffering. Maybe it is this hopeless emptiness that makes up the artful human, that inspires work, that places audiences in awe.
This begs the question: is the satisfaction, the admiration, the accomplishment, the oneness and the peace that art embeds in us worth the deep and true pain experienced on the artist's behalf?
The answer is yes. It is worth it to see your work admired by others, be it to the whole of the world or in the poverty of your makeshift studio. It is worth it to know that others will look upon your work and feel the flames ignite within themselves to create works of their own. It is worth it to witness the universal nature of art, and how it unites even the most contrary of peoples. Most of all it is worth it to finally see all of your tragedy and hardship turn into something beautiful, to feel the sense of direction and reason it gives you and to see a part of yourself, your most tortured self, in a new light--as something noble and worthwhile--as art. To know that despite all the sorrow it may have taken to reach this point, you know you endured it with purpose and your endurance provided you with the gift of knowing yourself deeply.
A musician wrote that if life isn't beautiful without pain then he would rather never see beauty again, but I beg to differ.

Coconut Thingies

Did you ever notice that shortly after a car is turned off it still makes little noises under the hood, like it's settling or something? Perhaps it's pining for it's owner to return and is making the car equivalent of sad whimpers and mournful sighs. Or maybe it's grumbling and cursing the driver for making him sit out there in the coldness of the elements instead of in a nice dry garage! It's mystifying.
I realised I have this habit of checking to make sure that my alarm clock is on, set at the right time and in the right position for hitting snooze. It's a travel-size Big Ben clock, so it folds up and if it isn't unfolded exactly right I can't just reach over to turn it off, I have to struggle through the infuriating beeping until I can get it set right for turning off. It's not really that big of a deal to do, but it's an inconvenience I would rather avoid, and I do, with my checking and re-checking and re-checking.
My mom has this need to always turn the heating dials in the car to exactly the right position, and she will move her wrist and apply pressure as if she's turning them even if they're already turned. She likes the heat to be on its hottest, highest and on defrost. Sometimes my feet get cold so I turn it to defrost/feet, but it usually gets changed back anyway. I don't mind, I just think it's funny because whenever I start the car I change the dials to how she likes for this specific reason, but she does it regardless. It's interesting.
Katelyn and I are going to start going to the Y together since we'll have more time this semester. I've been feeling so very lazy, but I keep telling myself it's ok because we'll be going to the Y soon. However, this argument is starting to wear thin as I feel my arms get weaker by the day and while I can't feel it I can guarantee my cardio is virtually zippo. So, ghosts, I am indeed looking forward to the euphoria that is working out which will be coming upon me quite quickly!
PS Mugs and I made Pilsbury cookies. Mm. Fun times. See it in the album "Girl, Relax" on Facebook.
Yes.
Oh yeah, and I end today with a superbly happy period, even though I know that sounds like the Kotex commercial.

Oh Baby Yes

I was looking for a Non Sequitur comic from yesterday, but I found this instead, and it's just as awesome, so that's what I'm going to post. Ha ha.
That's all.

Caramella 70

Well, my big plan was to come on here and complain and have you share in the grief that is losing my most favourite and valuable cosmetics investment, which is cheap but rad lip gloss, due to the fact that I am painting a picture right now and when I paint my things get into a state of disarray and I have a tendency to forget where everything went. However, it seems I can do this no longer. You see, I have found the lip gloss. It was under my writing book on my desk, which is why I couldn't find it. My writing book is seldom on my desk, rather, it resides next to my bed where I can easily access it in my moments of inspiration, which is usually at night when my thoughts start to wander. In any case, I decided to look under the book, and there was the gloss, painfully lonesome, awaiting its own discovery by me, its fair mistress. And there I was to rescue it from the dangers of a cold, hard desk filled with stuff.
Needless to say, I'm terribly excited we have been reunited. I was beginning to lose hope by the end, which is truly awful of me, and I even tried my backup gloss which doesn't look or smell nearly as good. Ah, but joy of joys, I found the tender little tube, and its sheer shimmer and sweet smell now linger on the margins of my mouth with deep satisfaction and completeness.

Moony Night

I like the way the Moonlight glows
At night when I am all alone
How it reflects off of the snow
And settles in my eyes

I hope that when I look at you
You see in me what I see in you
The light reflecting off the snow
From the Moon and into you

Then we can feed off each other
The light flowing from one to other
The night growing inside of me
And back to you, we're one another

The way your eyes appear so bright
They must be storing up Moonlight
I love staring into your eyes
Filled with colours of the night

When the light comes from the Moon
And bounces off the snow to you
I hope you think of me too
And know that I'll be with you soon

I like it when the Moonlight glows
At night when I am all alone
How it reflects off of the snow
And I can see your eyes

Compliments of: Collingwood Orthodontics

Merry Christmas, by the way. And New Year.
As lame as it may seem to some that I hung out with my boyfriend on New Year's Eve completely sober (it wasn't lame, by the way, it was quite fun), it is nowhere near as lame as Katelyn and Alexandria were.
There is an application on Facebook called Sorority Life; perhaps you've heard of it. They are both addicted to this game and play it constantly, and lo and behold, they played it together last night. Isn't that just awful? Let's celebrate a New Year by playing a stereotypical college sorority game on Facebook until our eyes bleed. In addition to this, they watched a movie and then proceeded to play Scrabble. All of these things are great and good things in their own way, but for New Year's Eve? It just seems ridiculous. It kind of makes me glad I turned them down (Mugs asked me first). No offense guys, but, you know. Not my deal.
Not that I'm hating on their idea of fun, of course. As long as they enjoyed themselves, that's what matters. Although I imagine throughout the evening they brought attention to their activities on their own, they themselves being in disbelief about it all, echoing such phrases as, "I can't believe this is what we're doing on New Year's," or, "As if this is what we're doing," and the like.
In somewhat relative news, I wanted to hang out with Katelyn after work today, but seeing as it was New Year's Eve last night (very late) and I had to work at eight (very early) I'm thoroughly exhausted and I'll just want to leave her house at probably nine or earlier, so I don't want to waste her time being a tired, mildly grouchy friend who smells like McDonald's and wreck everything. So, sorry we can't hang out, but it's for the best, my love. Sunday, perhaps?
If you haven't seen my Facebook status lately, or even know my Facebook is around, I've been saying I dig Snowgoons. This is because I do. I like their rhymes, and good beats. It's not stupid rap with swearing used as filler. I mean, they swear of course, but with purpose. Anyway, I really liek them. They're all I've been listening to the last few days. Mostly.