IT GETS WORSE BEFORE IT GETS BETTER

Cleaning = the art of shoving one pile on your floor into another pile on your floor. It's an acquired skill that requires a great amount of focus and attention to detail, i.e. how to carefully stuff as many things as possible into as little space as possible. Today I kicked off Spring Break 2013 by dumping out the contents of one of my closets  and conjoining it with the already existing mess eating up my floor. 

Confession - if you siphon off the top layer of dust in my room, you can peel papers back sheet by sheet and find things dating from pre-3rd grade. Call me sentimental but I always develop this weird mentality at the end of every school year that every single worksheet/piece of homework/assignment will somehow become something that I'll definitelydefinitelydefinitely need one day and that the one thing I throw away will just happen to be the one thing that will save my life someday (i.e. be the million dollar question on Who Wants To Be A Millionaire - THERE'S A SOLID CHANCE OKAY). So every few days (since these days I pretty much spend my nights camping out on the couch and embracing my inner-hobo), I venture back into my bedroom and carve a little path through the forest of papers and lost pen caps and strewn cardigans and forage my way to whatever it is I need to grab, then emerge unharmed and unscatched back in the civilized world (re: my hallway).

Anywho, about twice a year, I do a wardrobe overhaul and get rid of any clothes that I can't fit into anymore or just don't really wear (okay so maybe I just keep it all and stuff it under my bathroom sink but still). Today though, I convinced myself that this time is going to be different. I spent a good two hours Googling/Youtubing closet organization tips and I'm proud to say that I only got to the weird part of Youtube in the last fifteen minutes. I was so hyped and mentally prepared and then I looked back at the monster of a pile sitting in my room and I was like, "Welp. TIME TO COLOR THE WALLS."

And so I did. I've actually been meaning to decorate my bedroom walls for a good two or three years now. I'm going to (eventually) put up Christmas lights and add more line art/wall art and stick on cutouts of Lord Lagerfeld and mah gurl Cara like the Tumblr wannabee I am. I can't claim credit for the pugs though. My soulmate4lyfe Jen had it saved on her phone and I sneakily sent it to myself because let's be honest guys - no one can resist dat face with dat hat. Also don't judge my goldfish (they're obviously goldfish what are you talking about).

LOOK AT THE NUBS THOUGH. Unfortunately my poor Sharpies didn't survive unscathed. I think I've gone through about 3 or 4 now but they all lived good lives and their sacrifices shall not have been in vain. I SHALL USE THEIR BRETHREN WELL.

What is my life.

Love,
Chloe

P.S. Oh. Wait. I probably should've told my mom first what I was going to do to my wall. Um... o___o

DEFINED BY A NUMBER

So tomorrow is the ACT exam and instead of cramstudyingfreakingout I've started stress baking. As in ohheymyfutureisrapidlyapproachingme but I'm going to go make a cake. I'm literally running out of shelves in my fridge. The struggle is real. 

I can actually feel my childhood dreams of being a rabbit lady resurfacing. It used to be cat lady until I realized that cats really aren't all that fond of me. Which is why I stick to cat .gifs instead. Anywho. 

I feel so anticlimactic about this whole collegefuturegrowingupadult thing right now. Possibly because  I already took the ACT for the first time back in September (October?) so I feel slightly better. Also possibly because I've been watching too many episodes of Suits and Adventure Time and have lost my touch on reality. 

So, um, SOME CHLOE TIPS FOR ACING THE ACT: (← CATCHY SLOGAN RIGHT THERE :'D)

1. Stay hydrated. But not so much that you have to constantly pee
2. Don't get worked up over weird patterns. Unless there's been like 8 A's in a row
3. Don't even think about using the phrase "in conclusion"
4. Try to write an essay against the prompt (ANARCHY)
5. Be nice to yourself. Give yourself that extra pancake or syrup or Fruit Loop in the morning — whatever floats your goat. Remember that the only number you can be defined by is 1 because #yolo. Just kidding. But srs guys. If all else fails, you're always welcome to join me and my future band of tribal rabbit lady hippies

Good luck tomorrow and may the odds ever be in your favor. (:

I think I'm going to go redo the ombré in my hair. totallynottryingtoavoidstressingwut
(also I still have to do that haul post al;kdsjfl)

Love,
Chloe

(^just realized I flubbed up "ever be" and "be ever" WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME)

HOW MUCH U MAD ON A SCALE OF 1 TO 46 TEXTS

Confession #1: Sometimes, on the rare occasion when I get mega pissed off (over probably something super petty), I dispel my irritation in the form of texts . . . lots of texts. You can think of it as going Hulk-mode where my equivalence of smashing cars is spamming the inboxes of my friends. 

For instance, last night, a certain thing (which I won't mention online because that would be childish and actually really unfair to the other involved parties/persons) got me really worked up. Long story short, let's just say that I absolutely cannot stand people who try to take credit for things without wanting to put in any actual work — but I digress (especially since I don't want this to be a one-sided tale, harharhar).

Anywho, to back things up a bit, I had gotten home at about 4:40pm after working at the Township Supervisor's office. After dinner and getting halfway through a K-drama episode, I fell asleep on the couch until about 2:00am when my mom returned from work. I went upstairs to my bedroom, decided to go online just for a quick moment, and that's when I stumbled across the whole conversefrontation (I was trying to combine those two in a really clever way lolol). And of course, like any other normal teenage girl, I reacted by bombarding people's phones with my ravings and Adventure Time/K-idol gifs (because nothing defines my emotions better than an animated donut man :D).

I think one person ended up getting maybe 11 and the other person got 40-ish. I feel like it's always super awkward reading my long rants because they eventually just turn into me typing out my thoughts and then responding to my own thoughts. 

. _________ .

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the world of Chloe Pan. 

Confession #2: In AP Physics yesterday, there was this kid with bubble wrap in the side-pocket of his backpack. Like the bad-ass I am, I reached out and popped two (#NOREGRETS #YOLO #HARDCORE — but actually if you ever somehow see this I'mreallysorry and Ihopehopewecanstillbefriends). I even took a picture as proof. BAM.