From yesterday's Rally to Restore Sanity (not the D.C. one -- the one here):
sanity 6
Took every bit of strength and control I had not to snatch this baby and run. Because NOM.


Uncle! Uncle!

I have 74,000 things to blog about (seriously, there is a list open on my desktop) and I really really really want to but OH, y'all, one word: MIDTERMS.

What's my name again? Which class am I going to? How often does Severus need to be fed? THESE ARE ALL THINGS THAT I DON'T KNOW RIGHT NOW. My brain is mush. Zuh gah.

So what I'm trying to say is...(whimper moan groan sniffle) I'LL BE BACK as soon as I can remember what century this is.

Hold me.


Update on Wynter:

I got the tattoo pic :)

Wynter tattoo

(By the way, I asked him — he regrets the tattoo. It's a product of a drunken night. Poor Wynter.)


Why I love this city

So tonight I was exhausted and grumpy and exhausted coming home from my 6-9:45 p.m. class and I hadn't been home in 14 hours for the third day in a row and did I mention I was exhausted and grumpy?

As we crossed the river toward my apartment, I caught a glimpse of myself in the subway window. And I decided I'd shoot the picture, post it here, and be all "I'M EXHAUSTED AND GRUMPY BUT LOOK PRETTY LIGHTS!" and call it a day. So here's what I shot:

Crossing the river

See me? I'm the one hiding behind my camera.

Then, just as I'm putting my camera away, this guy comes up to me. "Are you a photographer?" he asked. After I picked myself up off the subway floor after ROFLMAOing, I told him no. Definitely not. But:

"Want the best picture you'll ever make?" he asked.

"Uhhh..." I said.

"No really — want the best picture ever?"

(In my head: this is so sketch-balls WHAT is he talking about?!)


"Here. Take your camera back out."

I feel awful for saying this, but I was half-afraid he was going to steal my camera. But that's kind of ridiculous, because we were IN the moving subway car, and where would he run with it? So I took it back out.

Then he takes his big metal briefcase and wheels it over to a man sitting across from me. The poor man was just trying to read his book, and looked quite startled to see a metal briefcase appear next to him.

"Don't move!" the guy exclaimed. "Keep reading!" Then to me, "Go ahead! Shoot the picture!"


I gaped at him, but then decided to just take a damn picture, thankyouverymuch. So I did. And got this:

F**k it

(I'm twitching, posting this picture online. Ignore the overexposure and too-slow shutter speed!) ANYWAY. I took the picture and looked back up at the guy.

"Isn't that HILARIOUS?" the guy asked.


"Look! Look at the sticker on the briefcase! This man is just sitting here reading a book, and it looks like the briefcase is HIS, and look at the sticker!"

So I squinted and looked at the bumper sticker. In case you can't read it in my blurry picture, it says: "People say I have a bad attitude. I say F*** 'EM!"


I look back at the guy, and he is just so delighted by the whole thing. Like, legitimately delighted that he's created this shot for me. So of course I thank him.

One of the other passengers on the train asks what's in the metal briefcase. And the guy smiles and says, "Barber tools. I'm a barber." And he pulls up the sleeves of his sweatshirt to reveal scissor tattoos on both of his wrists. And then a CLICK, a lightbulb turns on in my brain.

"You're a barber?" I ask.
(Inside my head: SCORE.)

See, I have this assignment due where I have to shoot "a day in the life of...[INSERT NAME OF PERSON WE DON'T KNOW]." And I swear I've called at least 30 people/places trying to find someone cool to shadow, but no luck. But this! This guy may be a bit crazy, but good gravy I at least want to photograph his tattoos!

So we both get off the subway and I pull him aside and explain my assignment. And I basically invite myself to his barbershop on Saturday at 7 a.m. to shoot him throughout the day. And he says, "I'd be honored, baby!" and hands me his card and introduces himself to me as Wynter.

So this Saturday I'm going to photograph a barber named Wynter who I only met because he wanted to help me make the best picture ever on a subway train on a Wednesday night.

God, I love this city.


A mouse mess

So we have mice in our apartment. That's no secret, we've seen the little buggars from time to time in the living room and kitchen.

We originally put out those sticky pad things, but we felt terrible being so inhumane so we took them up. We looked at buying no-kill traps, but DEAR GRACIOUS $15 a pop?! We don't have that kind of money! So we decided to just live in harmony with the mice and hope please jeebus that we don't see them very often.


Yesterday (Saturday) morning, my alarm went off at 4:45 a.m. I had an event at work and needed to be on campus at 6:50 a.m., and boy what they pay me isn't enough to compensate for me getting up that early on a Saturday, but I DIGRESS.


I had gotten up at 4:45, cursed the world and my alarm clock (aka Sasha the iPhone), staggered into the kitchen, made coffee, downed the coffee VERY quickly, French-kissed the coffee pot, showered, and then I was back in my room putting on makeup while watching Thursday's episode of The Office.

And then something caught my eye.

To my right, I saw movement on the floor. I looked over and a MOUSE HAD COME SCURRYING OUT OF MY CLOSET OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD.

It scared the crap out of me, so I gasped really loudly, which spooked the mouse, WHICH THEN RAN BACK INTO MY CLOSET UNDERNEATH MY CLOTHES OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD.

Two things:

1) Yes, I'm still grateful mice are not cockroaches. BUT STILL.

2) All my shoes, winter coats, toiletries, scarves, dresses, and storage stuff live in my closet. I don't need those in my life, right?

So basically, here's the deal. I've closed my closet door and taken a vow of Closet Items Abstinence permanently. I can *totally* wear my black suede boots every day for the rest of my life. And I can buy new shampoo! And dresses! And suitcases! And etc.! Right? RIGHT. We're just going to pretend my closet no longer exists. AWESOME.


This is why the internet is a good thing.

Se moved into our apartment about six weeks ago, the people (college kids) who lived here before us left various things behind - a couch, some candles, a few winter coats, etc. Random stuff.

They also left us alcohol in the form of a partially-drunk bottle of Irish cream liqueur and a few beers.

Which, even though they've been in our refrigerator for six weeks now, we've not done anything about. I think we probably just got used to seeing them? And forgot about them?

Until tonight, when we pulled out the bottle of cream liqueur just to check it out. But I was kinda hesitant, because a) we don't know how long it had been open, b) it wasn't ours to begin with, and c) WHAT IF THERE WAS POISON IN IT.

We couldn't decide whether it was sketchy or not. I mean, I thought it was, but two of my lovely and intelligent roommates disagreed. So I did what any rational person would do: asked Twitter for advice!

Here's what I asked (read the bottom one first):


And within like .03 seconds, here's what I got back (read from bottom up):


So I replied:


And then I got (read bottom up):


And this is why I love Twitter. The end.


I'm a slave for you guys

No really, I am. Due to the insane number of texts, tweets, comments, and emails about my Brit-Brit video, I oh-so-graciously decided to make you all another video. I'm just so nice.

Er. Actually, I have a midterm tomorrow, and I reeeeeeally don't want to study for it. So I decided that this was a much better use of my time. I'm totally going to make straight A's this semester.


1) No, I don't know the second part of the first verse. BECAUSE I HAVE A LIFE.

2) No, I don't know what to do with my hands. This is why I don't dance, people.

3) Yes, I have glasses. No, I never wear them. Except for late at night when I've been awake for so long that my contacts have turned to shards of glass in my eyes. Is fun!

4) Remind me to post about the sweater I'm wearing in the video. It'll be a good'un.

i want it that way from hallie on Vimeo.


Disclaimer: this post was written after I had 2 cups of coffee.

So I have a deep, dark secret. And oh lord, I know you all are going to JUDGE ME HARDCORE after you read this post. But I'm going to say it anyway.

I love Britney Spears.

There. I said it. It's out for the world to know.

I haven't always loved her. My parents, bless their hearts, kept Brit-Brit and her fellow teenybopper heathens (*ahem* XTINA) out of my sister's and my lives all throughout our childhood. We were so innocent!

And then I came to college. AND ALL HELL BROKE LOOSE.

The most valuable thing I learned my freshman year was the words to Hit Me Baby One More Time. And sophomore year I mastered Oops! I Did It Again. And this year I proudly yell I'M A SLAAAAAAVE! FOR YOU!

(Right now, my parents are reading this and crying. I'm so sorry, mom and dad.)

(Please don't cut me out of your will.)


ANYWAY. Even with my schedule being insane and there being no sleep and lots of work and stress and blah, I still FORCE myself to save a weekend evening for a girl's night. And my roommates and I gather with some of our friends and relax and talk and drink (gasp!) and sing our little hearts out. Any kids of the '90s and '00s reading this? Last night we threw down some Complicated, Sk8er Boi (OH YES), Michelle Branch, Brit-Brit, I Want It That Way...oh, it was glorious.

So here's my embarrassing, fueled-by-two-LARGE-cups-of-coffee present for you, Intranets:

One more time! from hallie on Vimeo.

You're welcome.


P.S. GUESS WHAT! I'm getting free stuff! Once again, I'm working with CSN — I've done a review and two giveaways with them. Time for another review! Obligatory plug: CSN has awesome ottoman coffee table! I'll share what I scored soon! BLOGGING IS AWESOME.


In which I profess my love for teh intranets because you are ALL the bomb diggity

they remind me of baby cabbages

Thank you all a million times over for your support. Honestly, it means so much. I really debated whether or not to post that because so many people are going through SO much worse, and I felt guilty for feeling so low. Anyway!

A while ago on Twitter, Jacki started listing things every day that she was grateful for. I love that, and it's something I need to do more often. So here's my grateful list for today (in no particular order):

1) My cheetah print flats
2) Making the decision to put my homework down tonight, and instead watch trashy TV with my roommates
3) All the love I've received since I first started this blog 3+ years ago. Thank you.
5) Sev, my fish. He's badass.

Also, a bit of happy for any of you Harry Potter uberdorks like myself: the most recent Potter Puppet Pals! Draco likes hoooney. Cannot. stop. laughing.


Coming up for air

My sweet friends,

I've been away from here lately. I've wanted to come and write so many times, but haven't found the words, or the courage, to do so. So I've stayed quiet.

I've been struggling for the past month with my eating. Struggling is an understatement. Eating has consumed me. My every waking moment has been drenched with thoughts of food and cravings that I just can't push away.

The mounting stress of school and work, and going on 2-5 hours of sleep a night (on average), pushed me back into behaviors I don't even want to admit to. All of the progress I'd made this summer fighting this eating disorder went out the window as I surrendered to its pull. I didn't fight. I just gave in. I just existed.

From the moment I woke up until the moment I went to sleep I ate. I couldn't stop. I ate until my stomach ached and I nearly got sick. I ate until I cried just because I couldn't keep my hand from putting food into my mouth. I just couldn't stop.

All of this plunged me into an awful, awful depression. In the past, I've dealt with bad anxiety, so it was unusual for me to deal with depression. Anxiety I can (sort of) handle by now. Depression was new. Oh, it was so awful.

The effort it took to get out of bed in the mornings was enormous. The simple act of showering and dressing myself left me exhausted. I couldn't force myself to do my homework and I can't tell you how many hours I've spent this past month hiding under my covers, just trying to get through that second.

As binging and depression tag-teamed me, I sunk lower and lower. I sobbed on my bed, in my roommates' arms, and (um, today) in the library. The enormity of what it would take to fight away the depression and eating disorder crippled me. I couldn't function. I couldn't do schoolwork, I wasn't doing well at work either.

Last week, I finally made the call for help. I went to see a counselor at my school and spent that hour spilling every fear, anxiety, and eating problem I have. She listened, and promised to help...the next week. I couldn't wait that long. I had no hope. I had no hope. I was just done.

So I continued down a path of physical destruction. (Note: I wasn't ever hurting myself physically. I've had no thoughts of that. This is only eating I'm referring to.) I spent another week drowning in depression and being unable to stop eating. I looked in the mirror and saw the weight I'd gained on my face, in my stomach, my hips. I cried.

Today I went to see another counselor at my school. She saw me, she listened to me. And she was honest with me.

She told me she didn't think I needed inpatient therapy yet.


That stopped me cold. Yet? Inpatient yet? You mean, I'm sick enough that I might need to go to a facility for my eating disorder?! I was so scared that it took every last bit of energy I had to keep listening to her.

She went on to say that she wanted me in intensive outpatient therapy. Seeing her, another eating disorder counselor, a psychiatrist, and attending group therapy weekly. Starting now. She made an appointment for me to see her again in a week, but said that if I felt I needed to come in sooner, to just email her.

I left her office with a handful of therapists to call. And then I went up to the library and cried. Sobbed. Overwhelmed with the beginning of this fight to get better again. Overwhelmed with the strength it'll take that honestly, I don't know if I have.

I cried and cried, called my parents to fill them in, and sent an email out to my professors to make them aware. And then I started to feel this amazing sense of peace.

Peace and calm flooded me. I felt like a weight had lifted from my shoulders. I'm doing this. I'm getting help. I'm getting better again.

No longer will this eating disorder control me. I can do this. I can fight this. I CAN.

It's going to be a hell of a time reversing the destructive behaviors I've fallen into this past month. But I can do it. I can't do it alone right now, and I know that. I'll be getting the help I need.

In the meantime, I finally feel ready to be back here. Things got so terrible at the end of September that I couldn't bear to come on here and be happy. So I stayed away. I'm more than ready to be back now.

I can do this. I can do this. I can.

I'm getting better.