cool girl hobbies pt. 1

there is nothing i'm more qualified to talk about

people have been asking me to speak about all my hobbies since i mentioned i had a lot in my last blogpost. and i obviously do (i have an aquarius stellium). if you want to ask “how does she do it all?” oh i wish i knew… it feels like i’m really alive when i let myself do all of this. the time will pass anyway.

having hobbies is hot! i honestly don’t know anyone, that i think is cool, that doesn’t have some weird fucking hobby. what the fuck do you mean you collect vintage clocks? you’re fucking strange. i want you…

i’d also like to mention that i, number one, am super fucking weird. off-putting, strange… people will overlook the fact because they think i’m fucking sexy or something. NO i am not gonna date you, i have to write a 2000-word essay on a movie no one has ever seen before. and then i have to study why the Egyptians worshipped cats. and before bed, i need to tell someone, unwilling to listen, a conspiracy theory (what do you know about ego death?) please, give me my space.

reading

this one is pretty obvious. i’ve read about a hundred books in my life (which i don’t think is very much). the saying of knowledge is power really is true. you can never experience life in all its colors without reading; with books you get to live lives you’ve never lived, fix problems you don’t have, and gain perspective you have never thought of. and jesus christ, i sound like a fucking teacher or something. but i can kinda promise you, it’s only because of a reason much more sinister; i want to feel and understand EVERYTHING to a capacity no one but me will ever understand.

it’s good that reading has become so popular; but with the light, comes darkness, because holy hell, everyone is so pretentious (i may fall victim), and all popular books are dogshit. i’m gonna give you a rundown of books i’ve loved in another post, it will be notably longer than this one but not necessarily incredibly long, because i’ve had a pattern of hating most of the books i’ve read. i have however (due to the mercy of God, i suffered more than i could endure) found what i’ve liked and am trying to find more books like that.

my favorite book is the goldfinch by donna tartt. no, i will not elaborate; read it.

i mainly read on my kindle or i listen to audiobooks. lately, however, i’ve been loving my kindle so much, that is my actual baby. i feel like audiobooks ended up being so passive for me; i could never remember anything and that’s probably a common thing. i like physical books for when i know i need to annotate (which is, i kid you not, 90% of the time) and what i mean is i won’t get a physical copy of a thriller but what i will get is a book equivalent to fucking midsommar or some shit. like a fucking freak.

writing

i am a tortured poet; oh absolutely. and no i never show people my work; if i ever have, then i must literally be willing to die for you. i don’t think people understand this. i grew up very shy about my writing in particular, because it felt like a peephole in my brain and that was always uncomfortable, especially because writing is so fucking personal. i’ve grown to feel that it’s never wrong to let people know you; by being yourself and putting yourself out there, you get a higher chance of finding the right people for you. and that’s always a good thing. it’s my own duty to the world to let people see who i am (that is, a douchey artist). the truth is that you won’t lose anything, even if you think you will.

i write poetry sometimes, which just sounds so fucking pretentious; i’m so serious when i say i projectile vomited as i typed that. so i never say that. everyone thinks they can write poetry and it’s some bullshit like s(he) be(lie)ve(d), what the fuck is sbeve, and before you know it, it’s a new york times best seller. everyone needs to shut up and go home. (although, i have to admit; i admire all writers, especially if they’re losers).

i’m currently writing a book of which no one will know a thing about, thank you very much. it’s out of character for me to even mention something like that, so you’re a lucky one, that’s for sure. it’s been my dream to finish writing one and i’m working hard to make it happen. what pushed me to do it is a sudden existential crisis; and thank God for those. i don’t really care if it gets published—i’ll take things as they come—but i sure am having a great time writing it. sometimes i feel as though some entity possesses me when i write certain pieces; because why have i memorized it and recite it in my nightgown like i’m the next mary oliver? i guess we’ll never know, but if i don’t write, i’m telling you, i literally wouldn’t fucking exist.

art

i’ve been drawing the second i came out of the womb. i’m more open to showing people my art because it’s kinda objectively good, you know. when people think a painting is good, it’s because it looks fucking good, and you don’t need a lot of thinking to see that.

whatever, i don’t know what i’m saying. i paint and sketch. i use watercolor, and no, i don’t know why i put myself through that hell. it’s a mess. so am i, i guess it’s okay. i use some watercolor i’ve had for years, the brand name is literally gone, i ought to get a new palette soon. i like using the watercolor brushes that have the water inside, so i don’t have the paint water in a cup, possibly drinking it and borderline poisoning myself. (it is a miracle that this has never happened to me). i prefer canvases over watercolor paper. i like my work to be displayed in that fancy way. i mainly paint scenes.

i sketch. i use the faber-castell pencils and kneaded erasers. 6b has my heart, 4b is under-appreciated; my babies. it borders on realism rather than a cartoonish style. i like drawing my boyfriends. hey, are you bored yet?

i hated my work (any type of art i made, whether it be drawing or writing) a lot of my life, which didn’t make any fucking sense lol. i haven’t gotten back into it until a couple months ago. don’t ask me why i held myself back; i’m happy i’m here now. and i’ve come a long fucking way.

somebody on this godforsaken planet needs to pat me on the back for writing consistently on here. 2 in a row? without a 6-month disappearance with no explanation? mama needs a kiss, i’m not joking. i’m pretty proud of myself. i’ve been getting a lot of love lately and i’m eternally grateful; the world is so good to me. thank you for reading my work and i seriously pray that i stop getting sappy at some point in these blogposts, but we can only hope…

this isn’t all of what i do, but let me know if you want to hear the rest. i will write about the topics i said i would in my blogpost “long time gone”. i know, i say things i don’t do. see you next wednesday.

love always,

Haley