the magic's in the make up
Stream of consciousness is a funny thing. All of these thoughts that would not otherwise be connected find a way to relate to each other. The way the human mind works is fascinating. Or maybe it's just me. Perhaps I am crazy.
As I was walking to campus this morning, I saw a girl in a blue coat who reminded me of one of the cheerleaders from my high school. Why? Because she had the same blue coat. And suddenly I had this vivid memory of her frosted eye shadow she wore every day. It's funny how in high school and middle school, girls think they are so grown up when they wear make up. But have you ever noticed that young girl make up is centered around candy? How grow up is that? It's like a cross between playing with an easy bake oven, finger painting and dress up. The eye shadow is the color of frosting and the lip gloss or lip tint is candy flavored. I remember how Bonne Bell was a necessity. To be honest, Bonne Bell's Lip Smackers are still a guilty pleasure of mine. I'm particularly keen on the strawberry flavor. But I usually buy the strawberry chapstick brand because it is cheaper and more grown up.
When girls start wearing make up there is always the matter of learning how much is too much. It takes awhile sometimes. I remember one of my guy friends making fun of my eye shadow one day. I was so mad, I think I gave up on eye shadow for a few days. That was in middle school. By high school I wouldn't go to school without eye liner. I still rarely leave the house without it. It's funny how we trade literal security blankets for different objects. Eye liner and mascara are my new security blankets. And it's all because I think I need the make up to be beautiful.
I totally know how ridiculous it is and that my beauty does not come from make up. I know my foundation does not really perfect my skin. And yet I feel better after I put it on. Is that so bad? Is it better than any other coping mechanism? I bet no one notices the difference when I wear certain kinds of make up, and yet to me it makes all the difference in the world.
It's funny how I felt so grown up when I started wearing make up, when in reality it revealed how juvenile I still was. Looking back on how foolish I was then, I wonder how foolish I'll think I was in my 20s when I'm in my 30s. Scary thought. But at least now I admit that I know nothing. I know for a fact that I don't know it all. Funny how things work out.
Pondering my adolescent foolishness and my current young adult foolishness, of course the idea of love sprung to mind. Oh the first kiss. Sophomore year spring fling in the courtyard. I was wearing an outfit from Old Navy because back then I was the Old Navy poster child. Oh wait, I am now. But there was a phase when I refused to buy from Old Navy because I thought I was punk and Old Navy was too preppy.
I remember thinking I was in love in high school. Boy was I an idiot. I cringe thinking about how serious I was then. I don't know the first thing about love, to quote Thrice. (Find the song, it's excellent.) Relationships are so frustrating and boys drive me crazy and yet there is still that desire to find someone to spend the rest of my life with. I'll bet when I'm 30 I'll think about how stupid my boy obsessions of my 20s were (are?). I came to Syracuse expecting to find a husband. That truly is a hilarious thought. I remember going to my first Campus Crusade for Christ meeting and wondering if my future husband was in the room. Yes, I really thought that. Unless my future husband is Tor or Ryan, I was dead wrong. Oh ignorance.
Of course what's even more hilarious is that even though I say that I've given up on finding a man during my undergraduate career, I still hold onto these absurd crushes that I refuse to act upon. Well, I act, I just act like that awkward school girl who doesn't know how to use make up and wears too much cotton candy body spray. (I was totally addicted to that juice bar body spray. It smelled delicious.) If one thing has remained consistent, it's how much of an ass I make out of myself on a daily basis. It's quite embarrassing really. After all these years I still lack vast acres of social skills. But I have friends, those people who love me despite of (or is it because of?) all my awkwardness. God bless them.
Sometimes I wish there was a computer attached to my brain so that my streaming consciousness could be recorded in midstream, that my thoughts on my morning walk were transmitted to this blog so the true absurdity of all of my ponderings could be written down in their original context. I swear I was a lot more intelligent and eloquent this morning. Or maybe not, and this is just a misperception of myself. The self is just a subjective construct after all.
Okay, now it's not, but in some ways, yes. But I don't want to get into that. My classes have me thinking about memory and the self and subjectivity and perception and all sorts of psychobabble. And let's not forget about all of the self diagnosing I've been doing. Taking abnormal psychology certainly has been an adventure, even more than personality.
But you know what?
I can laugh about it. Sure, I have my issues, but I do have excellent coping skills for the most part. Knowledge of my "deficiencies" does not paralyze me. Well, mostly. I've been blaming my lack of motivation on senioritis but deep down I know that's not it. But who do you talk to about that stuff? I'm not searching out a shrinky dink in Syracuse. I'm not home long enough to have one there. Maybe after I graduate I'll start to tackle some of these issues. I don't know.
I do know that I'm okay.
And that God loves me.
And if I look like a frosted cake, it's because I meant to.
All of that from a blue coat.
Isn't the human mind amazing?
As I was walking to campus this morning, I saw a girl in a blue coat who reminded me of one of the cheerleaders from my high school. Why? Because she had the same blue coat. And suddenly I had this vivid memory of her frosted eye shadow she wore every day. It's funny how in high school and middle school, girls think they are so grown up when they wear make up. But have you ever noticed that young girl make up is centered around candy? How grow up is that? It's like a cross between playing with an easy bake oven, finger painting and dress up. The eye shadow is the color of frosting and the lip gloss or lip tint is candy flavored. I remember how Bonne Bell was a necessity. To be honest, Bonne Bell's Lip Smackers are still a guilty pleasure of mine. I'm particularly keen on the strawberry flavor. But I usually buy the strawberry chapstick brand because it is cheaper and more grown up.
When girls start wearing make up there is always the matter of learning how much is too much. It takes awhile sometimes. I remember one of my guy friends making fun of my eye shadow one day. I was so mad, I think I gave up on eye shadow for a few days. That was in middle school. By high school I wouldn't go to school without eye liner. I still rarely leave the house without it. It's funny how we trade literal security blankets for different objects. Eye liner and mascara are my new security blankets. And it's all because I think I need the make up to be beautiful.
I totally know how ridiculous it is and that my beauty does not come from make up. I know my foundation does not really perfect my skin. And yet I feel better after I put it on. Is that so bad? Is it better than any other coping mechanism? I bet no one notices the difference when I wear certain kinds of make up, and yet to me it makes all the difference in the world.
It's funny how I felt so grown up when I started wearing make up, when in reality it revealed how juvenile I still was. Looking back on how foolish I was then, I wonder how foolish I'll think I was in my 20s when I'm in my 30s. Scary thought. But at least now I admit that I know nothing. I know for a fact that I don't know it all. Funny how things work out.
Pondering my adolescent foolishness and my current young adult foolishness, of course the idea of love sprung to mind. Oh the first kiss. Sophomore year spring fling in the courtyard. I was wearing an outfit from Old Navy because back then I was the Old Navy poster child. Oh wait, I am now. But there was a phase when I refused to buy from Old Navy because I thought I was punk and Old Navy was too preppy.
I remember thinking I was in love in high school. Boy was I an idiot. I cringe thinking about how serious I was then. I don't know the first thing about love, to quote Thrice. (Find the song, it's excellent.) Relationships are so frustrating and boys drive me crazy and yet there is still that desire to find someone to spend the rest of my life with. I'll bet when I'm 30 I'll think about how stupid my boy obsessions of my 20s were (are?). I came to Syracuse expecting to find a husband. That truly is a hilarious thought. I remember going to my first Campus Crusade for Christ meeting and wondering if my future husband was in the room. Yes, I really thought that. Unless my future husband is Tor or Ryan, I was dead wrong. Oh ignorance.
Of course what's even more hilarious is that even though I say that I've given up on finding a man during my undergraduate career, I still hold onto these absurd crushes that I refuse to act upon. Well, I act, I just act like that awkward school girl who doesn't know how to use make up and wears too much cotton candy body spray. (I was totally addicted to that juice bar body spray. It smelled delicious.) If one thing has remained consistent, it's how much of an ass I make out of myself on a daily basis. It's quite embarrassing really. After all these years I still lack vast acres of social skills. But I have friends, those people who love me despite of (or is it because of?) all my awkwardness. God bless them.
Sometimes I wish there was a computer attached to my brain so that my streaming consciousness could be recorded in midstream, that my thoughts on my morning walk were transmitted to this blog so the true absurdity of all of my ponderings could be written down in their original context. I swear I was a lot more intelligent and eloquent this morning. Or maybe not, and this is just a misperception of myself. The self is just a subjective construct after all.
Okay, now it's not, but in some ways, yes. But I don't want to get into that. My classes have me thinking about memory and the self and subjectivity and perception and all sorts of psychobabble. And let's not forget about all of the self diagnosing I've been doing. Taking abnormal psychology certainly has been an adventure, even more than personality.
But you know what?
I can laugh about it. Sure, I have my issues, but I do have excellent coping skills for the most part. Knowledge of my "deficiencies" does not paralyze me. Well, mostly. I've been blaming my lack of motivation on senioritis but deep down I know that's not it. But who do you talk to about that stuff? I'm not searching out a shrinky dink in Syracuse. I'm not home long enough to have one there. Maybe after I graduate I'll start to tackle some of these issues. I don't know.
I do know that I'm okay.
And that God loves me.
And if I look like a frosted cake, it's because I meant to.
All of that from a blue coat.
Isn't the human mind amazing?