I want to love you, Anthropologie, but you're making it very difficult.

I was horrified to open up an email from Anthro and see this:

Who...why...I don't...ugh.

And then I looked at their dresses, and the world was good.


Talking to myself.

I've been struggling with the idea of moving back to Chicago. I'll only be taking one class in the fall that is one night a week, so I'd only have to make the hour and a half commute to DeKalb once a week. It's closer to the museum. It's closer to most of my friends. It's closer to places I like to visit, food I like to eat. I could live somewhere that actually allows me to have a cat.

But money's tight...err, practically non-existent. Rent would be higher, and my living space would be smaller. My small one bedroom is cluttered enough as it is. I hate moving. I'm only guaranteed a job at the museum until they start looking for a new curator...and I don't know when that will be. What if they decide to hire someone else, and I end up with a job that's not close to Chicago? I hate moving. Gabe likes coming out here, so distance isn't an issue. I doubt I'd see him any more than I do now if I were to move to Chicago. It's not like I have much of a social life now anyway, even though I do still have friends here. I probably wouldn't see my friends in Chicago any more than I do the ones who live in DeKalb. It's not going to make much of a difference if a large portion of the people I know move away. I'd like to go to gallery openings more, which I don't have to live in Chicago to do since I stay at Gabe's on the weekends.

Yes, yes...the sensible thing is to stay put. My life would be different living in Chicago, but it wouldn't be any better or worse.


Big Love.

I've never seen Big Love. As a non-active Mormon, I've been mildly curious, but I figured since it's an HBO soap opera, it wouldn't be worth my while.
I heard about this last episode in which they show a temple endowment ceremony...something very secretive which I never experienced. I left the church before I would have been old enough to receive my endowment. Gabe and I talked about it...he felt it was very offensive and sensational for the producers of the show to include a scene of a sacred practice in the show. I didn't really know how I felt about it, so I played devil's advocate in the discussion.
However, the next day, I went to work, and at some point, my co-workers began discussing the episode. None of them had actually seen it, except for one, who watches it regularly. She had thought that the polygamists were "fucked up"...but after seeing that scene, she decided that the regular Latter Day Saints were the ones who were really crazy. My gut reaction was to defend the church, but since I hadn't expected the conversation, nor had I seen the show, I didn't know what to say and just said that the polygamist family were FLDS.
I don't go to church any more because I disagree with certain aspects of it. That doesn't matter to me, but the fact that I drink, have sex with people I am not married to, and do not believe in the Book of Mormon would certainly matter to them. I would rather quit than be ex-communicated for those things. But I do feel protective of the church, and it hurts me when people say bad things about the church which I feel are not bad at all.
In a way, I'm glad that Big Love depicted the endowment ceremony. I think a lot of peoples' distrust of the church is that Mormons tend to be insular. I think if they knew what an endowment ceremony was and what it meant, I don't think the majority of people would consider it a "freaky" thing. And I don't think that that would compromise the sacredness of the ceremony, or more importantly, the sacredness of one's relationship with God.

Claude Monet can kiss my ass.

I am yet again at a party (a bbq hosted by Gabe and his roommates), not interacting with the fellow guests, but alone in a room with a book and a computer. In my defense, I have a cold, and I did have reading to do for class tomorrow. I read the first article on the docket. The second one, though, is about Monet and Impressionism (it's a 19th century studies class), and since I've been to the Art Institute a bajillion times and have visited the Musée d'Orsay in Paris, I feel that I should be exempt from having to read this article. Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn about Impressionism.



Yep, I am hating Wednesday, March 11th, mainly for things I didn't even anticipate. I have negative money, my right arm, hand, and shoulder are killing me because of an impromptu 4 hour long handwritten letter campaign at work (which I agree was a good idea...but it would have been nicer to let us do it at our leisure by a due date instead of all at once), which also resulted in blahblahblah.

I have the sweetest cat on my lap, an awesome boyfriend, and a foot spa.
Lather, rinse, repeat.

EDIT: AND I got my favicon working!!!

I must have gotten in on the wrong side of the bed.

I really should not be worried about favicons at 6am. I suppose that's what happens when one can't fall asleep. I've done everything else...my new massaging foot spa, neck massage, making a mix of baby-friendly music for my new mommy friend...and then listening to it, laying in bed with the lights out in various positions.
So now I'm working on my professional website. I figured out how to upload stuff to my .mac account that I made in Dreamweaver instead of using that crap iWeb program. And instead of working on the other pages, I've been trying to figure out why my favicon code isn't working (the little picture that shows up on your browser tabs).
I already know that I'm going to hate today.


I have a doppelganger.

I recently began making a website for my professional work (www.emilybarney.com) and decided to see if it would show up on google. I typed in Emily Barney, and no, my site did not show up (which I'm not too upset about because I'm not happy with it in its current state). However, what *did* show up was a lot of pages that mention another girl whose name is Emily Barney, also 27 years old, and who also lives in the Chicago area.


I hate money.

I really, really hate money. Or, rather, the lack thereof.
I know this is a very "duh" statement to make, but I just put another payment down on my credit card which seems to make only a tiny dent in the balance, and it makes me feel like I should start life over in some middle of nowhere town working as a waitress in a waffle house.
Hrm, I was supposed to take my anti-anxiety medication 15 minutes ago.