NUN-Sense, Life After Death

NUN-SENSE LIFE AFTER DEATH

NUNSENSE

"The Masked Nun: A Surreal Journey Through the Everyday" Welcome to a whimsical exploration where the sacred meets the absurd. The Masked Nun is a visual narrative that steps beyond the ordinary, inviting you into a world where a veiled figure humorously navigates the routines of modern life. Without a single living being in sight, each image tells a story that’s both ironic and thought-provoking, blurring the lines between reverence and rebellion, tradition and playfulness.

Through vibrant scenes and unexpected juxtapositions, this project challenges perceptions and evokes curiosity about the roles we inhabit, the identities we mask, and the humor hidden in the mundane.

Turn the page, and let the nun guide you through a world where the sacred finds joy in the everyday.

Thank you, Colton Keller for always stepping up when it comes to my homework. Love ya, kid!

Dear Diary, “Today, I tackled laundry, which is apparently more complicated than it looks.

Sorting colors? Forgot. Detergent? Added way too much. And let’s not talk about the sock I lost in the vortex of doom. Somehow, I ended up with a room full of suds and a newfound respect for people who can do this without creating a scene. Who knew clean clothes could feel like such an accomplishment?”

Dear Diary, “I’ve discovered the best reading nook in my place—the bathroom. There’s something liberating about leaving the door open, being semi-nude, and reading about missing people.

Irony, much? It’s amazing how a good read pairs perfectly with the sound of dripping faucets.”

Dear Diary, “Today, I ventured out with my loyal companion. Sure, he’s inflatable, but loyalty doesn’t need breath, does it? The neighbors stared, probably wondering if I’d finally lost my mind. But for the first time in a long while, I didn’t care. It was a good walk.”

Dear Diary, “Grilling seemed like a wholesome, normal activity… until I turned my food into charcoal briquettes. I swear, the flames leapt higher just to spite me. How do people do this without summoning the fire department? The neighbors stared as I fanned the smoke, but I think I saved one burger. Victory? Maybe. Edible? Doubtful.”

Dear Diary, “They say freedom comes with risks, and today, those risks included me face-planting on asphalt. I thought skateboarding would make me feel alive, but it mostly made me feel like I need a full-body cast. At least I provided entertainment for the neighbors—if humiliation counts as community service, I’m nailing it.”

Dear Diary, “Camping has taken a wild turn. Last night, a skunk wandered into camp, and instead of running, I decided to adopt it. I’ve named him Earl, and he fits right into this unconventional family of mine. Sure, he’s a little stinky, but who am I to judge? With Earl by my side, a campfire crackling, and a questionable can of beans for dinner, I think I’ve officially crossed into redneck territory. Honestly? It feels oddly right.”

Dear Diary, “I swapped my scythe for a glue gun today and dove into the world of crafting. The results? Let’s just call them ‘abstract.’ They say art is subjective, but I might have invented a new category: ‘crimes against creativity.’ Still, the inflatable Dalmatian didn’t bark, and the plastic cat didn’t hiss, so maybe I’m onto something. Who knows—maybe I can craft myself a whole new circle of silent, judgment-free friends.”

Dear Diary, “I’m so used to people screaming and being terrified as I chased them down, but on the one day I’m supposed to be spooky, the kids laughed at me. Maybe it was the rabbit costume. Next year, I’ll make sure they never laugh again… oh wait, no I won’t. I’m not doing that anymore. Personal growth, right?”

Dear Diary, “So, it turns out you actually have to pay bills to keep the lights on. Who knew? I mean, I have the money—I’m not broke, just clueless. Back in the day, working in the dark had its advantages— less mess, fewer witnesses. But now I’ve seen the light… literally. And by light, I mean the kind the electric company provides after you pay your bills.

Lesson learned. Sort of.”

Dear Diary, “Today, I stumbled upon an alligator in the wild. Naturally, my first thought wasn’t to run, but to make it a part of my eclectic little family. I’ve named him Morty and am currently in the delicate process of taming him.

So far, marshmallows were a flop, and the game of fetch nearly turned me into the fetch item.

But hey, every family needs that one unpredictable member, right?”

Dear Diary, “The stillness of nature feels less like peace and more like a cosmic side-eye, as if the universe is judging me for trying too hard. I sat under the night sky, pondering life’s mysteries and my apparent inability to do anything right—like burning marshmallows and somehow messing up Pops cereal. At least the stars didn’t laugh; they just twinkled quietly, probably out of pity.”

Dear Diary, “Today, I celebrated my very first birthday. Well, the first one where I wasn’t tempted to ruin anyone else’s. It was just me, cake, confetti, and my silent, judgment-free companions—a plastic Dalmatian and an unimpressed cat. Being alone felt good, safer even. Who knows? By my second birthday, I might even be ready for real friends… without the urge to harm them. Progress is sweet—literally, it’s buttercream.”

Dear Diary, “Girls just wanna have fun, right? So, I threw myself a little slumber party—plastic friends, old toys, and all the drama of a Gossip Girl marathon. The highlight? Finding a jail boo to chat with. Turns out, it’s surprisingly easy to bond with someone when you both have a dark side.

Who knew pillow talk could be so… sinister yet entertaining?”

Dear Diary, “I heard nurturing plants can help with personal growth, so here I am… watering my plastic ones.

I know they don’t need it, but I’m really trying not to kill anything these days. If nothing else, I’ll have the most hydrated fake garden on the block. Progress is progress, right?”

Dear Diary, Giving up my sinful ways sounded noble at first, but honestly, it’s been more exhausting than running a marathon in heels. The world is full of temptations and weird challenges no one warns you about, like resisting the urge to bingeeat cookies while pondering life’s meaning.

But I’m not doing it alone, and that’s the real plot twist. My tiny, chaotic family—a drunk cat, a superhero therapy dinosaur, and, well, me— makes this uphill battle oddly bearable. Sure, we’re a mess, but we’re my mess.

If this is what redemption looks like, I guess I’m okay with it.

Almost-Saint Me