My mom (I would use  ”mommy” but that would just sound creepy right?), being the cool mom that she is, bought me a carton of ice cream. Expecting it to be rocky road flavor or my favorite, Ben & Jerry’s Chocalate Fudge Brownie, it ended up being something super weird and unfamiliar. The main colors that were used for this carton was white and purple. White and purple. To me, that doesn’t make want to believe there’s real ice cream in there. Not only that, the carton says it’s “ice cream made with coconut and sweet purple yam.”

I don’t mind actual coconut itself and heck, I didn’t even know sweet purple yams existed but when it comes to ice cream…where the FUDGE are my chocolates?! My oroes!? My cookie cream delicoiunsess!?

But you know what? My mom bought this for me and she didn’t have to. She knows I’m old enough to drive to the store and buy these things for myself but she’s a mom and she loves me. So I sure as hell ain’t going to start acting like those ugly ass kids who get pissed off for getting an iphone for Christmas instead of an ipad. I thanked my mom and pretended to be excited about it.

It took me a two nights to muster up the courage to try this, this purple thing they call “ice cream”. I went to the fridge and took out the carton. Opened it for the first time and realized it was frighteningly purple. Much more purple than the picture on the carton. This is scary. Why couldn’t it just be brown or vanilla looking? Or at least had more earth-tone colors to it?

1st bite: “I hate purple.”

2nd bite: “It’s funny because I look like I’m eating playdough.”

3rd bite: “Yeah, I don’t know about this.”

4th bite: “I mean, it’s OKAY, but it’s purple. My skin might turn that way if I eat it more.”

5th bite: “It’s alright…it’s gross, but it’s alright.”

6th bite: “This is freagin’ delicious.”

In other words, I LOVE PURPLE STUFF. It’s weird because I’m pretty sure after my brain registered that I was about to eat purple ice cream, my brain was all warning me, “Uh, no dude, it’s purple. When’s the last time you ain’t something that purple?” The color of this ice cream initially impaired my judgement on the taste of it. It took several bites for my brain to realize that it was a racist jerk for judging ice cream by its color.

I’m not that jerk anymore.

Well, anyhoo, Pinterest. If you’re not aware of what it is, it’s really like an organized, digital format of an inspiration board. And since I’m really into arts & crafts, jewelry-making and interior design, Pinterest is there to shower me with a crapload of inspiration and motivation. It’s really great. Sure, it may look like a huge f*cking mess of random hipster-related images piled together, but once you give the website a chance, you’ll understand why it’s laid out that way.

Follow me on Pinterest!

I’m not sure what exactly made me remove “shopping” out of my life. I think one of them had to do with going to the H&M store on a regular day that ended up being retardedly packed. The lines for both the fitting room and cash register looked so painfully long, I couldn’t grasped the idea of why these people here were willing to sacrifice more than an hour of their time to buy a pair of pants or something. You have a closet full of clothes. Go home. Wear those clothes in your closet!

Speaking of closets, another reason is because I noticed I wasn’t wearing uh, 50% of the clothes that I already have. This is just stupid. Surely if a homeless person would ever hear me whine “I don’t have anything to wear!” when my closet is overflowing with all sorts of things to wear, they’d smack me upside my head–a well deserved smack that is. So now, I’ve been trying to give most of the clothes I rarely wear, a chance. And I’m liking it so far. It’s like getting new clothes all over again.

And the last reason is because fashion is constantly changing and evolving. I’m freagin’ sick of trying to catch up with the latest fashion trends. I just don’t care what’s hot anymore. It almost feels like buying the latest Photoshop CS software only to find out that they’re releasing a newer version of it the next week. Sorry but I can’t catch up if ‘yall keep on making new shit every day! I’m just going to ignore the world while I enjoy what I have, it may be a tad bit outdated, but at least I can finally relax.

I believe I’ve stopped going shopping for clothes for three years so far but have only shopped for myself only TWICE out of those three years. And of course, there are a few exceptions to my not-ever-shopping-rule:

1. If I plan to attend someone’s wedding, I will probably shop for a new dress if I feel like the dresses I already have are inadequat due to cultural norms or w/e (ie: When I knew I was going to a wedding in France, I made sure to buy a particular dress that didn’t scream “silly American”).
2. If it’s somebody’s birthday and I have to get a gift for them.
3. If it’s a cute purse. LOLZ.

Well, I guess that’s it. That, and perhaps visit the Goodwill once a year or something. But those three things I’ve mentioned have a purpose to them. I will go to a mall and shop if I have a purpose to buy a specific item, but to browse? I vow to never browse again.

I decided to take a breather from the polymer clay madness and moved on to making my Lady Deathstrike costume (one of the comicbook versions) for this year’s San Diego Comic-Con. Seeing as how I only have a little over two months to finish this, I don’t even know if I can finish the costume on time. Right now, I’m pretty calm but in another month I’ll probably be in HOLY-SHIT-WE-GOTTA-GET-THIS-DONE MODE.

I’ve accidently burnt and cut myself several times from making a small portion of Deathstrike’s armor, and couldn’t help but think, WOW! Blood and burnt marks have been shed, it’s like I’m making REAL, badass armor…or I’m just really accident-prone. I love trying to create fake armor, but what I really want to learn is how to sew.

Burnt marks have been shed!

Sewing intimidates the hell out of me. When I decided to start cosplay a few years back, I took a costume class at a community college but the learning process was so tedious and complicated I decided to drop the class. The teacher I had was kind of old so she taught in extremely boring and old-fashion ways. I’ve always thought she looked like a fake old person–you know what I mean? It’s like when you watch a tv show, and you can tell a young actor is playing an elderly person because the special effects makeup is so bad. So that’s what she is. It’s almost like having a Mrs. Doubtfire for your teacher.

The class was made up of girls (big surprise), a really gossipy shit-talking group of girls and I couldn’t stand it. One of the girls I interacted with was reeeally different though. It was because of her I learned what “furry fandom” was. She goes to “furry” conventions to dress up as an anthropomorphic character and meets up and socializes with other people dressed in animalistic costumes. She showed me a few pictures of her costumes and the conventions she attended for them, and to me, it looks like a social gathering for high school mascots from all over the states. It was kind of fascinating just because I found it to be so peculiar.

Oh, and the sewing machine itself, I’m better off piloting an airplane than taking pieces of fabric and using a machine to attach them together. I know eventually I’ll have to man-up and face this terrifying contraption we call a sewing machine *shivers*.

Me: I just need you to write your name and then sign here please.

Man: I don’t need to, I’ve been here before.

Me: Yes, but this is a new exam, I just need you to sign in.

Man: What is a new exam–do I have to write my address down?

Me: Oh, that? You don’t have to worry bout it.

Man: What is a new exam?

Me: (explains)

Man: Look, when I ask you a question, you better answer it (he points his finger at me).

Me: I–

Man: Don’t fucking tell me “not to worry about  it” when I ask you a fucking question. (He leans closer to my face) When I ask you a question, I expect a fucking answer…

Woo, ok. If you guys can’t tell, I meant to tell him that he doesn’t have to worry about…writing his address down! Afterwards, I said something about how it was just miscommunication, my voice was trembling so terribly I didn’t know what exactly came out of my mouth, I was just trying to hold back my tears. I left my desk and let the doctor take care of him.

I cried a bit in the break room. I’m just not use to a man go off on me for something so small, and I absolutely cannot understand why some people’s way of dealing with issues are so pathetic and primitive. Why do some people make assumptions right off the bat and then decide to act like the world’s biggest asshole to you? How about you keep your cool, ask questions first, and once you get a clear confirmation of the cause-and-effect (I sound like an elementary school teacher!), use that as your reason whether to stir up shit or not. COMMUNI-F*CKING-CATION, people! Use it–it’s really great!

Yay! I like channeling my stress into clay-success!

I guess I should finally confess to you guys that I’m far from being a decent talker. I believe that going on the internet all the time and rarely socializing with real life people since I was 12 had a little something to do with my lack of ability to carry a smooth conversation that didn’t have any stalling and stuttering. It’s awful. Let’s say if I decided to do a vlog right now, without any scripts or rehearsals, you’d have a YouTube video with one HELL of an awkward girl in it.

“Um…hey…..um guys. Yeah, so, uh…yeah, um…this is my vlog. Hmmmmmmmm….” (fades into the dark)

Now back to the interview. My answers were made up of ums, yeah, uh, and lots of stalling. Most of the questions thrown at me were pretty…WTF HOW AM I SUPPOSE TO ANSWER THAT!? and I was extremely nervous since I didn’t have a lot of experience with job interviews. I was so nervous that the interviewer had to say, “You’re so nervous, just calm down! We’re chill people.” I knew right then and there he wanted to grab the side of my shoulders and just strangle the ever living nerves out of me.

Geez. If only talking to a person was like writing a Facebook comment, where you can edit and delete what you say before “submitting”, life would be much easier.

But you know, there is one thing, the only questions I think I rocked at were the technical questions. If I had it my way, I would only allow questions such as “What tools from Photoshop would you use to recreate this picture?” instead of “Where do you see yourself in 10 years?”–JUST, NO!

I knew my chances of getting this internship was pretty slim, and seeing how many other candidates were waiting to get interviewed had stifled my confidence a bit.

The great twist to this story is that I heard back from the guy who interviewed me, saying how he wanted to offer the internship to me.

Yep, really didn’t expect that one. Time to celebrate–here are s’more polymer clay creations I made!

I’m so grateful to have such a close friend who happens to be a very talented makeup artist. Jules, that friend, has once again transformed my face into something better and more tolerable to look at. She asked me to pose for most of her jewelry (she did not make them) which she plans to sell. And in return, she gave me her silvery bedazzled collar necklace (pictured top right). I love it so much!

Oy, I just love her l33t makeup skills. If only I looked like this naturally, but ey, we all know what’s really underneath it all. I don’t want to remove this face when I go to bed tonight. I just don’t.  Tears will surely run when I wash my face tonight.

The dress is from H&M. I have a love and hate relationship with it. Sometimes, I think it’s sweet and simple but most of the times, I feel like it’s too granny for my uh, youthfulness. Every time I wear this dress to work, only the 70+ women would compliment it. Which is totally adorable and all, yet I have to question my taste in fashion at the same time.

If you’re curious to check out the rest of the pictures then le Flickr is where you want to go!

Moar polymer clay, MOAR! So yeh, I made some more, but this time, with a little more cuteness and less blood and poop. When I first started it, the thought of mixing colors with other colors had never occurred to me. Which explains why there were so many basic boring colors used in the first pictures. Now I’m mixing them and playing with the colors, so far the pastel palette is pretty rockin’.

In real life news, I’m so stressed that it shows in my health, and my zits. I rarely talk about my personal life anymore on here, but I’m pretty stressed that nothing comes else to mind when I want to blog (besides polymer clay, it is my stress reliever!).

Here are a few things I want to get out of my system:

• I could have gotten my B.A. years ago, but decided to skip school to pursue acting. I’m sure some of my old readers remembered that, and in case you were wondering what happen…I actually did a couple of acting gigs and took acting courses for two years, and eventually given up after realizing I had no support from most of the people I cared about.  Afterwards, I became very lazy and unmotivated for almost 3 years, with everything. And this year, I’ve barely started picking up where I left off from, school-wise. I can’t fuck up my own future by being dependent on other people’s support.
• If you follow my Twitter you know that work turns me into a very grumpy, ungrateful person. This is by far the hardest job I’ve ever had. I’m fortunate to have a really awesome boss, but it’s the customers that make me want to remove my eyeballs out with an ice-cream scooper. When you’re working in a field that does both medical and retail/cosmetic (optometry), you need to grow some tough skin, but sometimes I have a hard time achieving that.
• Oh god, the expenses! For the first time, I’m unable to pay my credit card bill in full. I think going to France had a little to do with it. Also the medical bills (I has no insurance), driver license renewal, car insurance…it just never ends.

Welcome to the adult world, Tiff!

So a few days ago I talked about discovering a new hobby that is working with polymer clay. For the past two days, I’ve been messing around with them, using tutorials on YouTube–albeit mainly done by 9-year-olds–to help improve my polymer clay art-skillz. And here’s what I’ve made so far!

In this photo, you have your usual macarons, a bitten donut, a happy boba, an angry toilet paper roll, a chibi version of myself, a zombie chibi (because everything needs to be zombified at least once), and yes, a cute turd.

If I ever get any better at this, I would really love to turn these badboys into charms, pendants, necklaces and other sorts of jewelry. For now,  playing “house” with them like barbies and dolls will do just fine.