Cannot Find the Nail Polish Remover
My account of my trip to San Diego to see Patrick is still in progress and over a page in Word.
This post is non-FOB related, but I just feel like talking about myself right now. Maybe I should just have a journal on my computer, but I feel like maybe someone out there is reading and maybe can understand why I can be really awkward and feel really lonely sometimes.
So I went to Sephora last night, and since I know nothing about applying makeup and have some experience with a paintbrush, I played with the nail polish. I wanted to try on very different colors, so I painted on a berry, which I thought was kind of ugly so I added gold glitter, on my thumb.
My pointer/index/whatever finger got a pretty metallic blue, I think something with "...Boys..." in the name.
I'm not sure why I picked the next color, but it's a very bright pink, like highlighter pink, with pink glitter. I hated it after, but it's growing on me now. It reminds me of myself before high school, when I could talk to boys without overthinking everything and feeling like I need to try to be more girly, and everyone knew my favorite color was pink. I didn't even listen to rock music then...but that's a really long story, I don't know if I'll ever tell the whole thing to anyone, only my sister really knows how that went.
A dark brown went onto my ring finger, after the garish pink. It looks kind of fancy, but also kind of earthy.
I looked for an orange next, but could not find one. The last one looks like a dullish green you would use to trim a house, but metallic.
That was probably all pointless, but this is the internet, and no one reads my posts anyway (except for whoever posts in Russian on my first post), which is precisely why I came to type this long post instead of tweeting a short sentence or "updating my status" on fb to something so mundane as hesitating to fold my fingers down to see what it would look like if I put my middle finger on display (still attached to my body), which felt very unnatural and against my nature. I know certain people like to do it all the time, but seeing as I don't even use four-letter words, it makes sense. I don't even want to try it with my right hand, the nails of which are clean. Honestly, I remember doing it once when my grandma walked out of the room, after yelling at me for something that was not my fault. I'll probably never do it again.
I find myself imitating them sometimes. I wear Clan stuff, and I really do love my yikes bear shirt. I wear so much black and dress almost sloppily. I remember riding home from school one day and looking at the Chevron at the corner of Hacienda/Glendora and thinking, Why do people insist on putting up graffiti? It's vandalism, dirty and unpleasant. The world would be so much better if everything was painted white and pastel colors and we all dressed in preppy, cleanly cut 50s-ish outfits. This memory almost plays like a movie in my head. It's such a contrast to my present interests. Graffiti is art now (when you go into LA, not so much here) and prep is boring and almost annoying.
It's kind of crazy how it took force for me to listen to rock music that summer I was sixteen. My sister told me it's changed me almost completely. It was drastic, but I'm not totally different. I still hate dancing, even when I'm alone (it's a long way until I don't feel incredibly awkward about that). I still know how to ignore people who try to bully me. I used to get a rush from successfully (peacefully, yay for being a mediator!) breaking up arguments in elementary school. Being laid-back is one of the things I like about myself now. I let my hair do whatever it wants. In sixth grade, all I wanted for my birthday was straight hair. I was the only one of my cousins with curly hair. It's just wavy now, and I actually miss the springy curls.
I guess I'm just feeling weird about turning 20. Every detail has potential meaning. Time to sleep because I have class in six hours. Good night, internet.
This post is non-FOB related, but I just feel like talking about myself right now. Maybe I should just have a journal on my computer, but I feel like maybe someone out there is reading and maybe can understand why I can be really awkward and feel really lonely sometimes.
So I went to Sephora last night, and since I know nothing about applying makeup and have some experience with a paintbrush, I played with the nail polish. I wanted to try on very different colors, so I painted on a berry, which I thought was kind of ugly so I added gold glitter, on my thumb.
My pointer/index/whatever finger got a pretty metallic blue, I think something with "...Boys..." in the name.
I'm not sure why I picked the next color, but it's a very bright pink, like highlighter pink, with pink glitter. I hated it after, but it's growing on me now. It reminds me of myself before high school, when I could talk to boys without overthinking everything and feeling like I need to try to be more girly, and everyone knew my favorite color was pink. I didn't even listen to rock music then...but that's a really long story, I don't know if I'll ever tell the whole thing to anyone, only my sister really knows how that went.
A dark brown went onto my ring finger, after the garish pink. It looks kind of fancy, but also kind of earthy.
I looked for an orange next, but could not find one. The last one looks like a dullish green you would use to trim a house, but metallic.
That was probably all pointless, but this is the internet, and no one reads my posts anyway (except for whoever posts in Russian on my first post), which is precisely why I came to type this long post instead of tweeting a short sentence or "updating my status" on fb to something so mundane as hesitating to fold my fingers down to see what it would look like if I put my middle finger on display (still attached to my body), which felt very unnatural and against my nature. I know certain people like to do it all the time, but seeing as I don't even use four-letter words, it makes sense. I don't even want to try it with my right hand, the nails of which are clean. Honestly, I remember doing it once when my grandma walked out of the room, after yelling at me for something that was not my fault. I'll probably never do it again.
I find myself imitating them sometimes. I wear Clan stuff, and I really do love my yikes bear shirt. I wear so much black and dress almost sloppily. I remember riding home from school one day and looking at the Chevron at the corner of Hacienda/Glendora and thinking, Why do people insist on putting up graffiti? It's vandalism, dirty and unpleasant. The world would be so much better if everything was painted white and pastel colors and we all dressed in preppy, cleanly cut 50s-ish outfits. This memory almost plays like a movie in my head. It's such a contrast to my present interests. Graffiti is art now (when you go into LA, not so much here) and prep is boring and almost annoying.
It's kind of crazy how it took force for me to listen to rock music that summer I was sixteen. My sister told me it's changed me almost completely. It was drastic, but I'm not totally different. I still hate dancing, even when I'm alone (it's a long way until I don't feel incredibly awkward about that). I still know how to ignore people who try to bully me. I used to get a rush from successfully (peacefully, yay for being a mediator!) breaking up arguments in elementary school. Being laid-back is one of the things I like about myself now. I let my hair do whatever it wants. In sixth grade, all I wanted for my birthday was straight hair. I was the only one of my cousins with curly hair. It's just wavy now, and I actually miss the springy curls.
I guess I'm just feeling weird about turning 20. Every detail has potential meaning. Time to sleep because I have class in six hours. Good night, internet.