photo enthusiast,
twitterer,
iphone lover,
traveler,
amplifier,
movie-seer,
bookworm,
thinker,
learner, &
worker bee.
Contact: patrice@g.com or click here.
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Theme: Heather Rivers.
Too cute, hehe.
I really love everything about this.
(via sweethomestyle)
And why does the new Tumblr app post to Twitter automatically?! Grrrr
Why is the new Tumblr app saying I don’t have permission to access my own Tumblr?! :(
Who wants to donate a pair of glasses? Mine are crooked. (or quite possibly my nose is…)
me at a birthday party w food all over!
me, Shannon and baby cousin Brad
care bears slumber bag!
me
laughing with Shannon
my birthday, broken hand
masquerade ball, sophomore year
high school graduation w the boys!
OH MAN Jules, how adorable were/are you?! You should go blonde again ;)
hmmm, I didn’t get to my Smile Friday post, which I meant to do this week. so here’s a bunch of me as a little kid. and a couple as a teenager. just because. :) smile Sunday? xoxoxo
Well, hallo there!
pinoytumblr: padayon: gelalalove:
Congratulations!
TOTORO!
(via glitterbubbles: nickholmes)
I like her real self much better.
lady gaga before she became gaga. stunning.
t - 42 till take off! (to home)
(Submitted by me, many, many moons ago.)
Model: (photo of) Emma, Joshua Harris’s daughter. (She’s too gorgeous!)
This is terrible work. I didn’t even finish her dress. And her eyes look too old and not sparkly like they should be. I must draw and practice more. :/
But thank you for the compliment, burgerphone! :)
grrr i hate people who are naturally amazing at art
First real attempt at drawing, ever. :)
TOP: Ken Taylor (host), Josh, Teri, John Perry (host), Ben, me, & Richard
BOTTOM: w/Dr. Fiala
After the show photo op!
(Posting this although I look like a lumpy oompa-loompa.)
Needles
Assignment: Write a poem about a medical procedure.
Where am I? What is happening?
My eyes are closed, my eyelids heavy.
I try to open them but they are tight,
sewn together with yellow crust—
I must have been crying
before I passed out? fell asleep?
My eyelids wrench themselves free
from the salty flakes of dried tears,
and I see metal tools around me.
A drill is buzzing from a distance.
I cannot remember how I got here.
I see a bloody rag over that corner.
Is that my blood? Am I bleeding to death?
Oh, God, am I going to die on this table?
A white-coated woman is towering
over me, tinkering with some thing.
I cannot see below this paunchy belly.
Did I wake up in the middle of surgery?
I am surprised to hear snickering.
I turn my cricked neck painfully and
realize: I am getting a tattoo on a dare.
