// swimming hole ft. a girl with mossy rock eyes //

salutations. :) my mom took den mother and me to neat swimming hole on thursday. i brought my camera, of course. here are the pictures, in a more or less random order.

there’s something sad and lovely about dying flowers.

butterfly fren. :)

there was a rope swing, and you had to climb up the face of the rocks to reach it. i was too short to grab ahold of the rope, so we had to find a stick for me to use as an arm extension. what we really needed was a tall person to use as a ladder.

my mom thinks that the rocks at the swimming hole look like animals. she found one last year that has an uncanny resemblance to a trout. b and i poked around for a bit and found this one, who is apparently a giraffe. his name is jeffrey the giraffe and he is the love of my life.

my name’s blurryface and i care what you think.

we were trying to be artsy and it totally failed. we should just stick to being losers.

skipping stones.

this is a rock and his name is gloria.

i tried to find a rock that matched her eyes.

we were having a competition to see who could make the biggest splash with a rock. i was planning on cheating and throwing her in.

she was writing a love note in the dirt. :)

the sun made tiger stripes on the rocks.

we were trying to cross one spot of the river, and we came up with some creative ways of doing it. originally, the plan was to stand on a large piece of bark and paddle/pull ourselves across with a stick. then we tried making a bridge. finally, b offered to give me a piggyback ride so i wouldn’t have to get my feet wet (yes, i’m aware that i’m a loser). it was only when we were crossing the river the second time that we realized we could both just walk across.

the sun was shining the entire drive to the swimming hole, but once we got there, a bunch of clouds popped up out of nowhere. waiting for the sun to come back out, we wandered around and photographed the wildflowers. once it had warmed up a little, we got into the swimming hole, which was absolutely f r e e z i n g. we found a couple of warm spots and huddled there until the current moved them elsewhere. we were comparing “tans” (which is in quotation marks because we are both extremely pale), and my shinguard tan is amazingly striking when underwater. my thighs are kind of tan, but everything below that is incredibly freaking white. shinguard tans are probably the worst thing about soccer. and we did this race, where instead of swimming or running, we bounced along the river on our butts.

we are not the most mature people.

i had seen pictures of the rope swing online, and that’s how i knew it was there. the swimming hole was kind of shallow that day, so jumping into it on a fraying rope tied to a dead branch was probably not the smartest thing i could have done, but i’m an idiot, so i did it anyway.

i didn’t wear a bathing suit (another brilliant idea, loren!), so even after we had been out of the water for awhile, i was still damp and shivering. while i was looking through the pictures b took of me, i realized that a) my lips were nearly blue, and b) i look like gollum when my hair is wet.

my mom set up a picnic (because she’s a genius), and i got some very  interesting pictures of b kissing a skittles bag. i might post them some time, but she has a lot of blackmail on me, so that might not be the safest thing to do with said pictures. but i definitely won’t delete them. :)

after we ate, b gave me a piggyback ride across the river, where we tried to skip stones and complained about the lack of tall people. really, though, most of my friends are scarcely more than five feet. it would be funny if i weren’t 5’2″ myself.

i’d love to go back to the swimming hole sometime, preferably when it’s hotter, so i don’t spend the whole time freezing. i need to remember to pack a tall person next time, so they can reach the rope swing for me.


a not-very-funny joke told many times that day:

b: why is it so cold here?!

me: because of your heart.


xo

loren

// it’s called ukulele screamo and it’s art //

because you’re clearly not a real twenty one pilots fan until you post pictures of your ukulele on your blog.

and, yes, i did pick wildflowers and cover the ukulele with them just for these photos.

i can’t even play the ukulele. yet. i’m trying to figure it out, but i’m not very good at playing instruments. i get frustrated too easily. but i’m going to try to learn it over the summer, since i don’t have much else to do. i want to be able to play the only exception by paramore, stomache tied in knots by sleeping with sirens, and can’t help falling in love (a song that has grown to mean the world to me. thanks, n.).

i’ve been playing it for a little bit each day, and my fingers already hurt like heck. i don’t know how people who play string instruments exist. they have too much endurance for one person. i know that i’ll get calluses on my fingertips if i play enough, but it hurts right now and i am in so much pain. (i’m being a little bit dramatic, but that’s just how i keep my life from being incredibly boring. also, i’ve been in one play and two musicals, so that gives me the right to be dramatic, yeah? i’m being sarcastic, by the way.)

i’m just going to talk about my awful music teachers now.

mrs. t

so. i always wanted to play the flute. and one year, my mom decided that my brother and i should learn to play an instrument, as part of our school. i, of course, chose flute, and my brother picked drums. we found an old homeschool mom who knew how to play pretty much every instrument invented, and we took lessons from her once a week. her name was mrs. t. this was a  m i s t a k e, let me tell you.

when we arrived at her house for the first time, her two sons were playing basketball in the driveway. there was a dilapidated playhouse which was being claimed by the wild. we went into her house, and there was this really distinct and overwhelming smell. it was kind of like homemade spaghetti sauce with way too many fresh herbs in it. mrs. t was a plump lady with white hair that looked like a bunch of cotton balls glued to her head, and she had this slightly evil, strained smile. the only good thing was that she had lots of cats, and they would walk into the room while i took my music lesson and lay on the sheet music.

my brother’s lesson was first, so my mom and i spread out a blanket in the shade and did school until it was my turn. it was nearly impossible to focus, though, because of the racket my brother was making. he was pretty awful, honestly — hesitant taps, unsteady rhythm, etc. the worst part was that he thought he was really good, because he finished his book of sheet music way before i finished mine. but he didn’t need to learn notes and fingering and how to breathe properly.

anyway, my first lesson was incredibly awkward. i barely talked at all, because i hated how her house smelled and i didn’t want to breathe it in if i could help it. well, breathing is kind of important when playing a wind instrument, i’m not sure if you guys knew that.

mrs. t spent the first lesson teaching me how to put the flute together, how to clean and hold it, and how to get a crisp sound to come out of it. the flute smelled like my grandma’s nasty little schnauzer dog, by the way.

i realized a few things after that first lesson: flute is a lot harder than it looks, i would never be able to eat homemade spaghetti sauce again, and i really did not like mrs. t.

my mom made us stick with our instruments of choice for a year. by the time i got to quit flute lessons, the most impressive thing i could play was two lines of camptown races. i was very happy to quit, and although i still have my flute, i have barely touched it since then.

mrs. u

the two other music teachers i can remember were both from my co-op: mrs. u and mrs. c. mrs. u wasn’t a bad teacher, just a little too enthusiastic. she directed the musical that our co-op performed every other year, and i got the main role the first year i was old enough to audition. i played zoe (originally zach), the star of the basketball team who twisted her ankle before the big game. i had a fair amount of lines (snarky responses to other characters), but i mostly just got to sit there and look annoyed while everyone sang at me (i remember mckenna dancing around with a bible and basically telling me to change my attitude). the only song i got to sing in was the last one, after i had had a change of heart or whatever, and to this day, i will start singing it whenever someone says “everyday.”

mrs. c

mrs. c was a different story, though. she wrote the musical herself, and i don’t want to say that it was bad, but . . . i could have written a much better one. pup was one of the main characters for that musical. i was only part of the first act, so the practices were really quite boring for me. the only good things about that musical were that i got to laugh a lot with q and n during the practices, even though we got in trouble for it a few times. i also got to see n in a lot of dark eyeliner, which still stands as one of the most amusing things i’ve ever witnessed. i have lots more to say about this . . . slightly lacking musical, but that would be enough for a whole other post. i could write that, if you guys would be interested.

so, that pretty much sums up my experience with music classes. for someone who listens to music so much, it’s probably a bit surprising that i can’t play anything very well. hopefully i can become a little more than “absolute trash, seriously, why are you even trying” when it comes to ukulele.

i want to know about your awful teachers, because i’m sort of a bad person, i guess. so go ahead and rant about them in the comments, i won’t mind. 

xo

loren

// i’m not okay (i promise) //

i just don’t wanna be

so many things

and now that i see

i just wanna sing

i just wanna breathe

i just wanna fly

i just wanna close m y  e y e s

and take in the sun

and take in the air

i just wanna run

and murder my care

i wanna believe that i will be free  e l s e w h e r e

time to say goodbye // twenty one pilots (cover)

it rained and rained and rained yesterday. i rather like when it rains, though. it means i’m not crying alone.

i’d like to try writing poetry. i keep reading poems online, and they give me such a calm feeling, and it amazes me how even a short poem can stir up so many emotions. i don’t really know how to go about writing poetry, as the only ones i’ve ever written have been along the lines of, “if it can fly, it should die.” any tips would be greatly appreciated. it doesn’t matter how simple you think the tip is. i’m quite clueless and would like all the help i can get.

xo

loren

p.s. this is my 300th post. that’s kind of cool, i guess.

// sketchbook #3 //

flowers from a patch of wildflowers in our garden (i’ll post pictures of that soon), and the lyrics of would you be so kind by dodie. my hand hurt a lot by the time i finished this.

i drew this one right after i heard the song drugs & candy, from all time low’s new album.

lyrics from last young renegade by all time low, plus a weird bullet journal sort of thing.

“alternatives to self-harm: snap a rubber band on your arm. hold an ice cube. draw on yourself. make a playlist. tear up paper. break sticks. paint your arms red. take a hot shower. youtube funny videos. hug a pillow. call a friend. write out the lyrics of a favorite song. play with something squishy. go for a run. google ‘the butterfly project.’ pull weeds. say ‘this feeling will pass.'”

lyrics from kids in the dark by all time low, and a list of alternatives for anyone who needs it. :) (can you tell i really like all time low?)

 

i can’t draw eyes or eyelashes, but . . . i made this thing! it was rather fun! i used lyrics from when the day met the night by panic! at the disco. (although it should have been “all was golden when the day met the night” — “in the sky” wasn’t supposed to be there, but oh well.)

“it feels like it should still be that day in seventh grade when i realized you mean the world to me. nothing feels real without you. i forget how to breathe from time to time when you’re next to me, and it helps me to understand that i am alive. how do you make my heart beat so quickly, when i don’t want it to beat at all? // june 8th, 2017”

???

i used watercolor.

cute girl with weirdly long arms + lyrics from ultralife by oh wonder.

 idk what this is. i just slapped some flowers on the page and doodled around them.

in case you can’t tell, i like using song lyrics in my art. when i don’t know what to draw, i’ll put my music on shuffle, pick a lyric i like from the first song that comes on, and base my art off that. it’s a pretty good to way to fend off artist’s block.

xo

loren

// how to make a flower crown //

i posted some pictures of my friends with flower crowns about two months ago (read it here), and a lot of you didn’t know how to make them. flower crowns are a gift to this world and you all deserve to learn how to create your own, so here’s a little tutorial. :)

first, of course, you need to pick flowers. the best ones for making flower crowns with are dandelions or clover, because their stems won’t break as easily. most flowers will work, though. i chose california poppies.

start by taking one flower and using your fingernail to make a hole in the stem.

how far up the stem you make the hole will change the appearance of the flower crown. if the holes are near the top,  the blooms will be closer together, making the crown look fuller. but that method uses up more flowers. if they’re near the bottom, the flower crown will look more loose and relaxed. it will look pretty either way, so it’s really up to how you want it to look, and how many flowers you have.

take a second flower and put its stem through the hole in the first flower. make a hole in the stem of the second flower, and thread a third one through it.

keep going until the chain of flowers is long enough to wrap around your head.

for the last flower, choose one with a long stem. add it to the chain, just like you did with all the other ones. then find the first flower you put on and poke another hole in its stem. slip the last flower through the hole, joining the ends of the chain.

move on to the second flower that you added. make another hole in its stem and tuck the stem of the last flower through it. keep going down the chain, weaving the last flower through the other ones, until the stem runs out.

now it’s finished.

wear that flower crown and be the lovely queen that you are. :)

stay strong through your pain
grow flowers from it
you have helped me
grow flowers out of mine so
bloom beautifully
dangerously
loudly
bloom softly
however you need
just bloom

– to the reader

(milk and honey by rupi kaur)

xo

loren

// i don’t like thursdays //

« post idea from izzy’s rad blog »

songs in bold are explicit.

roger rabbit // sleeping with sirens

me in my own head // beartooth

down // blink-182

missing you // green day

avalanche // bring me the horizon

fourth of july // fall out boy

hard times // paramore

coconut sharks in the water // twenty one pilots

yes, i really did put that last one on there. and there’s nothing you can do about it, no matter how angry you are at me. that song is so underappreciated.

 600 followers?? wow, you guys actually like me, you’re so precious. i feel like a proud mother duck with a couple hundred cute duckling babies following me about. you guys are my adorable children and i must protect you.

whenever i try to type “frank iero,” his last name autocorrects to “jerk,” and i die a little bit every time, because HOW PERFECT.

my family is going on vacation to the beach sometime this summer. we’ll be there for a week, at a place with a gentle drop off and a cute beach house and vibrant sunsets, and i’ve got to say . . . i’m not looking forward to it at all. i would do absolutely anything to get out of going. the ocean is lovely enough, but i don’t do well with heat, and i don’t like bathing suits, and i have this newfound slight fear of large bodies of water. although i do love smelling like the sea and the kinky way my hair dries and when a huge wave slams me against the bottom. still, the thought of going makes me feel a bit sick. i just hope some miraculous way for me to get out of this pops up soon.

den mother said something that i thought was rather nice, so i decided to put it on here. “a colorblind person sees no color on the bee, but we all insist it’s yellow and black. they think we are simply making up an unfathomable concept of color. you’re blind to your own beauty, and even though we all insist it’s there, you don’t believe us because you can’t see it yourself. just as that colorblind person must trust the concept of color, you must trust your own beauty.”

 

Jack barakat snapchat

i probably could have used one of his “inspiring quotes” as the caption for this, but the only one i can remember is “sometimes you gotta look yourself in the mirror and say ‘you are the prettiest princess in all the land.’ i do it once a week.” and i’m not sure how well that will go over with you guys.

x

i got a new plant yesterday. :D he’s the weird orange thing in first picture. go stare at him, he is beautiful. i named him barakat, after jack barakat, the guitarist from the band all time low. he’s the dude in the photo above. hopefully i won’t accidentally kill my lovely new plant friend, but we’ll see. i nearly killed my baby plants from this post, and they’re cacti, so they’re supposed to be quite easy to take care of. things do not look good for barakat.

i’ll be going to public school part time next year. that’s a thing. i’ll be taking one class a day, i believe, but one day it will be spanish, and the next day it will be math. and to see which math class i’ll be taking, i’m going to have to go to the school sometime next week and take a test. that might not seem like a big deal to most of you, but since i’ve been homeschooled my whole life, i don’t have that much experience with important tests. i’m not that good at math, and tests really stress me out (i’ve been known to completely break down while taking them), so my chances of passing and getting into the class my mom wants are quite low. i might just fail on purpose, who knows. i’ll never be good enough for my parents anyway, so why even try? my brother is brilliant, he gets all a’s and got awards in multiple classes. i’ll never be that good, so my parents will never have a reason to be proud of me.

i’ll always be a disappointment. i can’t change.

xo

loren