Arts and Crafts

Given the fact that "La Boheme" is now crashing at her parent's house (and yes, by "crashing," I mean "living at until she figures out what she's doing with her life") I figured I had better change the name of my blog to "the Mooch." It'd be false advertising otherwise.

And yes, I am a mooch. I own up fully to this fact. What can I say? I like free things. I've realized that out of the 4 cell phones that I have owned, I have only paid for one of them. The stereo in my car? Free. A healthy portion of my wardrobe? Free. All the mints in my purses? Free (thanks to those big bowls full of them sitting by restaurants doors just waiting for greedy hands and large purses). 

I've pretty much spent the entire year, up to this point, mooching off the goodwill of those around me.  I've crashed on a couch in Provo, a spare bedroom in Tel-Aviv, and now I'm in the guest room at my parent's home in Mesa.

But enough of all that. I want to share what I did today. I'm quite proud of it. I mod-podged a lamp shade using little things that I saved from my first trip to France. I was 18 and absolutely nuts--I just bought a ticket and went by myself. It was a pretty pivotal experience for me and was probably pretty instrumental in creating the nomadic lunatic that I am today.

So I now have a lamp shade to remind me of that amazing experience. Ticket stubs, maps, and brochures now adorn a lampshade on a really cool lamp I bought today at Goodwill for $4.99. While I do not easily part with my money, this was well worth it.  

UPDATE

1) I've decided that the only way to keep myself from a building ledge or walking into oncoming traffic is to leave. So come rain or shine, this girl is heading to Washington D.C. September 1st and is fully prepared to sell her soul for the right salary.

2) I am a reject of rejects. I sat for 1 hour waiting with the poor people or Provo to sell my body (plasma) only to find out that while the plasma of the smelly guy next to me was perfectly acceptable, mine was not. I've visited not one, but THREE countries on the malaria scare list. But with fibromyalgia, the technician said I could never donate regardless of where I went. They'll never want me. I was crushed. Sixty dollars a week extra would have made it possible to stop mooching rides, food, postage stamps, and laundry detergent from roommates, friends, and on occasion, complete strangers. But at least the guy let me take a juice box and bag of crackers (i.e. dinner) for my time.

3) I finished the last paper I'll ever write as an undergraduate and handed it in. It felt good. So good I might have actually leapt through the hall as I left Dr. Green's office, and incidentally frightened the guy coming around the corner.