emilyy's blog

Here are some bits and pieces from when I’ve last updated (i.e. trip to France). But now that I have a new beautiful baby, precious camera, hopefully I’ll get off my ass and update some more.

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Here’s a picture of my brother and I at a train station somewhere in France. Not exactly the most charming outfit, but I thought it described me and my family pretty well :)

This is an ensemble that I sported to a Ratatat concert. I just got back and it was so fcking amazing. Although after a couple of hours of dancing in a sweaty, conjested area of people, one begins to feel faint and the aroma of beer and um, in scents becomes overwhelming.

I ended up not wearing this jacket since body heat apparently is the equivalent to that of a blazer, only a bit more moist.

Time to go study! YEAH!

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I highly recommend you check out Ratatat. They’re awesome.

—and the second picture is the aftermath of my boots.

Wow, okay, so I was unaware that this actually uploaded, but then was deleted? I don’t know. Here it is again.

And the title is referring to what a guy said to me in my visual arts class. Welcome to my life.

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This is what I wore to school yesterday. Pretty boring day over all, today was much spiffier. Today I decided to join drumline (yeauhhh boii) when I found myself talking to the drumline leader. He said I have a pretty good chance of making it (score!) because I come from “music royalty” (shit.)

I don’t play drums.

I also wore a similar ensemble to my guitar lesson yesterday, and my teacher confirmed that he liked my shoes. I think he is my soul mate in the form of a cowboy boot wearing 50 year old. Half the lesson we just talk about random shit (namely, The Beatles) and very seldom play guitar.

I know, I know. I should probably go hang myself. I haven’t updated in quite some time, but I assure you chictopians, I shall be redeemed!

So this is what I wore on my first day of school about two weeks ago. My first day at a brand new school. Awesome. We had to dress up for the first day to for some tradition that I am unaware of. And apparently that tradition includes bagpipe players—complete with kilts….

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My title is me referring to the bagpiper who would not cease. I swear I’m not a pervert.