Category Archives: photo blotts

an artist and her tools

I have a lot of makeup.

Well, maybe not that much, but certainly more than most people I am friends with. I’m not sure what this means, but it makes me feel like less of a poser art student. I contour and paint and sketch every day! Before breakfast! I belong.

Thankfully, these are the only things I use with any regularity.

the detail-oriented observer will notice that I have a lot of blush.

If I still danced, this pile would include lots of eyeshadow, glitter, and false eyelashes. And no, it wasn’t drag. Jerks.


My bedside table. Everything was actually there – except my giant color pencils and my makeup brushes. Ignore the weird advertisement on my kindle.

Spring Break is finally heeerre! Even though it’s actually already half over, and I’ve spent most of it blissfully doing nothing academically productive, there’s still Coachella to look forward to, and this little project.


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When is it not a food day?

If I have a vice (I’m sure I have many) it’s late night snacking. Image

I wanted a savory snack, but discovered the Costco-sized chip bag already in the garbage. Neither my brother nor my dad will own up, but I know it was one of them – perhaps the both in conjunction.


That gigantic opaque blob in my bowl is not a gigantic booger. It is an unmelted piece of sugar that I nearly broke my tooth on.


Lurv my mug! Thank you Jenno! <3 You know me so well.

In other food news, Peel and I drove all the way to San Jose to get us some Boiling Crab. Well, he drove from East Bay (omigodsofar) and back, which was very gentlemanly of him. Also because he was extremely late.


He says we’re friends, but in photos it’s debatable whether or not he actually enjoys my company.

I told Mowgli we were going to lunch and he couldn’t come, on account of his lack of table manners, so he went and hid in his cave in a huff.


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Why hello there


I know I call you many names, and most of them are mean, but I love you. And you can’t understand me anyway, sneaky little trashcan thief.

Play with me, Human. Or the lobster dies.


fuck it, i’m painting my nails

Some days, trying to be creative is the most hair-pulling, ulcer-inducing thing in the world. I can put myself in a very foul mood, on occasion. But then I am reminded (by an outpouring of affection and a long list of inspiring hyperlinks) that I’m not doing myself any favors, and although it’s challenging work, it shouldn’t be hateful.

And that’s when I decided to take a break and paint my nails.

I’ve also found that my nail polish collection has grown exponentially in the past three months. I’m not sure what happened. This isn’t even the entire collection. Just the prettier ones. And Teresa in the background. Rawr.

And while I was waiting for them to dry, I went on website-tangent after website-tangent of quirky, beautiful work. There is so much talent out there. I could never be better than every single one, but I can do me like no one’s business.

On an almost entirely unrelated note, I don’t like valentine’s day. You can’t eat roses. So we had steak instead.

And it’s not that I didn’t have an amazing day – a visit to Tartine and Bi-Rite on a blustery Sunday morning is exactly my cup of tea, as is a home cooked meal consisting of a huge slab meat and a nice glass of wine. But in general I scoff at V-day, since my man is amazing and un-cheesily romantic the other 364 days of the year, why punish him with all things pink and frilly?

[edit] I’m going to have to amend my previous statement. When I picked him up at the airport this afternoon, he had a bouquet waiting for me. He told me he was worried they would get squished when they went through the security conveyer belt. <3

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and on weekends, I’m a mother

Sometimes I wage war. On cavities. Armed with poultry flavored toothpaste.


we are negotiating the terms of his cooperation. unfortunately this treaty is forgotten as soon as the toothpaste is gone.

Since he can’t give his  John Hancock, a firm (paw) shake will have to do.

He loves that toothpaste.

My word of honor that I’m not choking him. I’m just trying to rescue the poor toothbrush from Mowgli’s jaws of death. He’s already eaten (eaten, not chewed) up half a toothbrush. -.-

I concede defeat. Now he is simply chewing to his heart’s content.

My little blur.

Look what arrived in the mail today! My new Creative Recs. But I can already tell they’re going to hurt. Time to break ’em in. Who wants to go dancing?

p.s. who can spot my Harry Potter trunk in the back? <3

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