#stillloveitthough

Got this beast done by @nateartist today 🤘🏻Discovery of the day: back of the leg is actually a gnarly spot to get tattooed 😬 #StillLoveItThough 💚🖤💚

"Can you [just] make this small change?" Was talking to a friend about how the word "just" and "change" gets said so lightly in the industry but we are spending hours and hours to fix the drawings for this SMALL CHANGE because Mr Change Order is sticking his grubby hands over all the pages. #interiordesignerstruggles #drafting #design #arewethereyet #stillloveitthough https://www.instagram.com/p/BqyzosnnuQy/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1g5p8l5ppt0w6

By yours truly :3

Doesn’t look like much but this tiny lil wall kicked my ass 😔 time for a yoga break! #twentyhourslater #paintingishard #stillloveitthough #workinprogress #thinkspacegallery #thinkspacefamily #antlergallery (at ACTION)

🎼Highway to the Danger Hole!🎶 part of the sidewalk collapsed by our building. #StLouisIsAnOldCity #StillLoveItThough

Imagine you have a show, watchers primarily geeky women. You make a character, female, smart, geeky, intelligent (again), lgbt (which is uncommon is your show) generally amazing. You have two options, continue her being an amazing character, or LEAVE HER DEAD IN A BATHTUB. What do you do? Well, if you are like these sick show creators, you do what you do to EVERY vaguely intelligent female character, which is kill them off. Preferably with the least clothes as possible.

“University of Guyana brings out the animal in you” is the phrase that ran through my head as I stood in the snaking line in front of Student Loan agency. The ‘pokers’ were out in full force, boring in front of the young hyenas at the head of the line. The little cretins just laughed. Each giggle incensed me more as I felt my inner bad ‘oman will to be unleashed. “Sigh.” I didn’t even have a right to be mad, I thought. It was my own full-blooded Guyanese procrastinating that led me to this predicament in the first place. In my defence, finding glittering El Dorado was probably easier than finding a guarantor for this wonderful institution. Why do you ask? Because almost everyone over 18 in Guyana owed two places…Courts and UG. The line plodded along whilst simultaneously gobbling my lunch hour. I never felt so third world than I did in that moment. It was like I was begging for this loan like Loan Agency was a big lady getting into her car and I was a street urchin pitifully annoying her with my pleas of “Ow Aunty, please fuh dis loan nah?”. I checked the time. My lunch hour was long gone. My manager had no doubt laid an egg by now and I was nowhere near the steps of that little quaint building of misery. Everyone smelled of sun and the air was still, budding with a ‘busing. The little hyenas chattered with accents over-ripe from too much Barney. I wondered if I was so ‘annoying’ at that age. Suddenly, a ‘poker’, flew like a cockroach to the head of the line, with cries of he “had a child”. The hyenas laughed. At that point, I’d had enough and snapped saying “You little clowns have people 'boring’ in front of you all the time, some of us have jobs to get back to!” It was, of course, a domino effect, and 'busings began to pelt left right and centre. “You musy doan even care ya child!”, “Somebody call Travis Chase, I fed up.” “I got a child too, so what!” Someone from the loan agency peeped outside. The cockroach, in true cockroach fashion took the blows, unmoved. Everyone knows, you can’t crush a cockroach. The ruckus grew louder as two hours of waiting in the sun boiled over. A woman came out of the building and asked us to remain calm, she said they were trying their best. The line began to trot a bit faster. I chuckled to myself thinking, “Guyanese 'bai, they only respond to animal behaviour. I think they secretly like it.” I was beginning to make some progress, only three people away from the steps. My relief quickly turned to anxiety as student after student emerged crestfallen as if their US Visa application had been rejected. I pulled out my application and guarantor’s form, double and triple checking everything. No chances could be taken with this ‘go back come back’ organization. An agency of sadists that took great pleasure in wasting your time. Fifty shades of student loans. At that time, a fellow mature UG hopeful brought a most unwelcome distraction by firing up a discussion on the recent decision to increase ministers’ wages. “Oh 'gash!” I thought, all of us were already in a kiss-me-ass mood, this conversation was pouring gasoline. She then proceeded to say that she agreed with the increase, eloquently stating her reasons. I felt like I was witnessing a chapter of Animal Farm in living colour and madam was Squealer, the pig saying, “Comrades,” … “I trust that every animal here appreciates the sacrifice that Comrade Napoleon (the pig) has made in taking this extra labour upon himself. Do not imagine, comrades, that leadership is a pleasure! On the contrary, it is a deep and heavy responsibility.” I fought the urge to roll my eyes, thinking that all she needed was a podium. I turned my attention back to the line, I was already angry. It was best I kept George Orwell to myself after all everyone had the right to their opinion. I was finally at the head of the line, feeling like a drug mule that was trying to pass pellets through customs. I silently prayed. One of the clerks started to extoll herself loudly, saying “I hungry! I in able wid dis!” I prayed harder as she snatched documents from the young man in front of her. I hoped that I would get the other lady. Angry clerk barked at him, “That look like a trace over, come back.” The poor thing looked traumatized. “Please.” He pleaded. “I was here already…” She glared at him, uncaring. “Please move aside. Next! Next!” “Uh oh.” I thought. I walked up to her plastering a smile on my face. She collected my documents and I said: “U must be tired.” She nodded. I held my breath. I looked up and saw the honourable Finance Minister hung right below a hole in the water stained ceiling. My smile broadened at the irony. Angry clerk handed me a piece of paper “Come back next week Thursday to sign your contract.”. I exhaled. “Thank you very much!” I replied. I was hearing colours and seeing sounds, relieved and happy. As I tried to exit, a poker pushed past me and the next rightful heir to angry clerk, fumbling with her documents. Overcome with rage, Angry clerk flew up and screamed “I DONE! I DONE! I FED UPPPP!” She left the counter in a huff. I counted my lucky stars. The line had come to an abrupt halt and I gave my condolences to the poor students that were behind me. I made my way off campus, silently praying that I would not be in trouble for having spent an entire half day up at U.G. As I sat in the bus whilst it wormed its way to town, I couldn’t help but think of Dave Martin and the Trade Winds. They had sung many years ago about Cricket in the jungle. I had an idea for a remix.

Most of The Fame Monster feels dated listening to it now, but this one will always be timeless to me.