I watched a Biography (well, the last thirty minutes of one) on J.K. Rowling, and can already tell you I wouldn't be able to stand talking to her. Dragging on about her imperfections partially for attention, partially to stop her insecurities by getting that attention, would make me want to throw something heavy and sharp at her. Too much like me. Trying to do artsy cool stuff and ending up feeling mediocre, and then complaining about mediocrity just so people will reassure her of her talent. That's just annoying. But, at least she got over herself enough to finish something. I start something, stare at it, and rip it up. Countless pictures, stories, poems lie unfinished because I fail to see the genius in them halfway through. Which is even more annoying than just complaining. Or am I just acting insecure about my work to beg for reassurance?
I'm so modest, comparing myself the the world's best selling author ever. It was a sort of back-handed compliment after all.
I plucked my eyebrows a little more than usual. See, I let them grow out a little, but they're so dark and I'm so pale that my eyes weren't the first things noticed. My face is so pale that my eyes look dark, but they're actually really light blue. So, I need some way for them to stand out more. Less brow, more brown shadow and liner and mascara! And it works! Yay! The browner the makeup, the bluer the eyes. Pretty cool, pretty cool. I can't tan, it's nearly impossible for me, so I just go with what I've got. Which is very little...
I'm starting to think that makeup tips are a little boring, huh? Yeah. But the eyebrow thing was drastic for me. Little shallow now that I think back on it, though... But that's what summers are for. Superficiality. One can't always be serious, can one? Well, one could, but that would be depressing. (Really? Huzzah! for eloquence.) Once and awhile, the Hardy and the Eliot and even the Dickens and the Thackeray get too stuffy and too dark and too heavy, and one must turn to Fitzgerald or Shakespeare for a laugh and enlightenment. Because they can come together, though all too often it's one or the other. And no amount of jokes will make Dickens less depressing.
I don't know where that's going, so I'll drop it. It was really silly anway, which could have, ironically, detracting from the point on preserving silliness. ...Poopie. I'm too boring.
By the way, I need a new layout. ANYTHING would be great. Ideas, pictures, ideas, html snippets, ideas, sites, ideas... all welcome. Nothing too dark, nothing too cutezy, nothing with music quotes, nothing with bands or actors, nothing fan-girl-ish, nothing with made-up quotes from the creator... I should just make one big mass of grey with typing on it. Brilliant!
And whoever it is working on advertisment space for Nickelodeon (yes, I'm 18 and I watch Nickelodeon... Fairly Oddparents is hilarious...) needs a payraise, because those segments with artists showing their drawings are the coolest! I'm really motivated to work more on cartooning, and less on realism. Realism is blah after awhile. I also need to update my art page, because you'll see much progression.
Well, I'm kicking my brother off of Halo 2 to play blitzball. I almost threw the PS2 out the window last night, because right before I scored, halftime cut me off. I don't even have to win, I just really want to! And it's nearly impossible! It's like playing soccer again, but I don't get hit in the face with the ball. ...I did get an assist the one time it happened, though... I even cut off some of My Hero last night just to play! And that's saying something. My mum came up with a theory that that show is simply to pick fun at the backwardness of Irish society. I was wondering that myself when Janet's dad referred to George as "her leprechaun". I'd be offended if I didn't think it were hilarious!
Title's from Fairly Oddparents. Surprise, yah?