Excuses, Excuses..

Maybe I bit off a little more than I could chew with this, just assuming that I’d have time to update this and do so well. I think the same week I made this account I realized that I had so much to do and so little time to do it. Then I freaked out, questioned my existence and the system and all that deep kind of shit. I was angry at the world and the Industrial Revolution (thanks for everything, Samuel Slater) and was convinced that I could never thrive in this fast-paced Western society that doesn’t allot enough time to practice what is preached and that I’d never be happy and, and and.. I stayed home from school and got my period, hey.

But really, being an overachiever is hard. Especially when you have a job, a best friend who you only see one of the two days you don’t work, and absolutely no work ethic at all. It is a miracle that I stay on honor roll. I am constantly torn by my priorities; overachiever, artist, employee, slacker. I guess I was hoping to use my love of English essays, illustration projects, insight and psuedo-wisdom, and all the information I absorb in my “free time” that remains dormant in my head- and I was hoping it would be a brilliant medley that would take.. somebody by storm!

But really, it doesn’t work that way. I have lonely papers to write, self-portraits and design projects to bullshit, phones to answer, and episodes of Stella to watch on Youtube instead of doing homework. Not to mention eating (in excess, compulsively.. like Nutella straight out of the jar) and notsleeping.

I really want to update this regularly, just like I want to exile my muffin top to Siberia and become fluent in every crazy language you can find an online textbook for. Of course those goals are a lot more idealistic than updating a blog every so often, so there’s a possibility that I can do it! The weather is reluctantly, hesitantly fading into spring and my 12 hour day is coming to an end. Maybe I can do it.
I’ll do it for you! And for you I mean myself because this obviously has no readers yet.

ćao!

From this point forward I will pretentiously, sporadically, and irrelevantly share my input on whatever rouses me at whatever moment. I hope to have enough incentive to illustrate these things, seeing as visual arts are the only bailiwick I claim at the moment. Hopefully this will lessen the number of real-life tangents I go and proselytize my friends with; topics such as Mike Gravel, the disintegration of Yugoslavia in the late 80’s/early 90’s according to the mere 4 chapters of a book I’ve read about the subject (here’s an example of the pretentious part), adopting babies from third world countries, my opinions about body image with a tint of fat-child bitterness, how great I think Andrew Bird is, how annoying I find Pop-Art and maladroit teenagers with digital cameras, and anything else may come to mind.

I don’t really know about the title “pintovca”, I’ve just been using it as a username online a lot lately. Pinto is my last name, which my friends use more frequently than my first name half of the time. “Ovca” means sheep in Croatian. Why “pinto sheep” and why, of all the languages in the world, Croatian? They’re just milestone things I have a stupid fixation with currently. No I don’t have a sheep fetish or a creepy myspace boyfriend in Zagreb that I’m planning to visit secretly in the near future, I just think sheep are cute and Croatian is the first Eastern European I wish to tackle.