I know it sounds gross but it is really quite pretty.

For anyone still counting, I haven't given up my dream of purple and blue eyeshadows. I realize most hues oxidize on my lids and make me look kind of tired and corpse-like but there are thousands of different shades and I'm certain I will be able to wear one of them. I've been told that perhaps I should stick with violets instead of eggplant so I went and got that (Mac Creme de Violet) and I also found a dark purple/reddish color if you can imagine. Stila Pigalle. Sephora online describes it as a "deep shimmering wine." Here is a picture of it but you should really see it in person to get the effect. It looks much lighter here:
So, I put both on my lids and I have to say I love it. The effect is kind of bruise-like but a really pretty bruise. Ummm let's see, more like a fresh bruise as if someone just clocked you super hard. Deep purple red.

Who would have thought?
The really important lesson here is sometimes you just have to keep experimenting because you never know what you will end up loving.

In a land far far away but really very close and not far at all

I just had one of those moments where you catch a glimpse of yourself in an alternate universe or played the "what could have been" game.

I just watched that show, Hoarders, and I'm pretty sure somewhere in another dimension, behind the seventh veil or in dejavuville, I am on that show. People are watching me in horror and my family is giving sad and frustrated testimonials. Actually, probably only my mom would do it. Everyone else would decline to be on camera.

I must admit I feel a little itchy after watching the show. I'm pretty sure I can't watch it again because my COMPLETE understanding of the hoarders attachment to their things and their anthropomorphizing of their stuff made Newshead nervous. I could relate to the rationalization for keeping each item: "Oh that's a gift. That's a journal. That goes over here with the other 250 blank journals. Those are crosswords that I'm going to do."

Seriously, all the plans and good intentions for each item was eerily familiar. I was not the least bit surprised by their ability to recognize every little thing that was held before them, that in all that stuff (piles and piles of it) they never once said "I don't know what that is or where it came from." There is a story and a thought about everything, so of course it is hard to get rid of anything. I totally get it.

I usually am an advocate of the "who cares what people think" school of thought. This is one time where I think it helps. But I guess in fairness you have to not be crazy to know that it is kind of crazy.

I'm constantly looking around my apartment and picturing the person who has to go through my stuff if Newshead & I suddenly die. Why I would care, I don't know, but I do.
My goal is to keep the WTF moments to a minimum.

Right now I've organized all the unorganizable stuff into a "craft" section. I know they are a million little jars of madness but to the unknowing eye, I'm a crafter. That's nicer for my sister and/or brother to have to clean up. You are welcome.

Here's the thing. Hoarders wouldn't have to give up their stuff if it were better displayed. Stores have tons of shit and people love going there. Dare I say that once again it comes down to style?

And mental illness.
But also style.

I was wondering

Does anyone else think neosporin is freak juice that makes you heal as fast as a vampire?
Cuz I do.

I'm not even kidding.

I love this stuff.

If it made you lose 10lbs, It would be the answer to all my dreams.

Please neosporin, please.

What are you going as?

So I went to an event the other night where I knew I wasn't going to know anyone except the person who brought me. I always get nervous about making the small talk with a bunch of strangers. I decided this time when people asked me "what do you do?" I was going to say:

"I'm a rock star."

My plan was to play it like I could be speaking in the figurative or the literal sense. That would be the most fun. I figured they would either laugh at me or assume they just didn't recognize me and let it go and then we would talk about the fires in California for a little while.

I was really satisfied with myself. If anyone was really curious I would just ramble on until I said "I'm not an actual rock star" and then we would have wasted lots of small talk time getting to that point. I was actually looking forward to going so I could play this out.

Do actual rock stars say they are rock stars? Or do they say "I'm a musician" or "I'm in a band."
I cared not. I was going to be a rock star.

Well wouldn't you know it. Not ONE person asked me what I did.

WTF?

The more things change, the more they just really don't change

I'm revisiting the idea that we create the patterns in our lives. I feel like I have gone through immense changes and yet, as I read excerpts from my seventh grade journal I am realizing that I am EXACTLY the same person. I have not evolved one bit. Nary an iota. I'm obsessing over my hair and my clothes, my weight and the fact that I heart some guy named Frank. I'm pretending that I hate everything (when I know, in fact, that I didn't). I mean it is ridiculous. Change the guys name to Newshead and I'm practically living my seventh grade life right now.

Earlier today I grabbed one of my many notebooks so I could write out some of my annoyance with myself at not being able to keep a jar of honey in the house for more than a week and my firm decision to go clean and lean starting tomorrow. In this notebook I found four days of "journaling" from 2002.

"Crabby, unmotivated, puffy, bloated, fat, fatigued, fucked up sleep, PMS. I feel I'm so close to breaking the barrier and then I go into a slump. I have to dig deep to find the magic feeling called confidence and strength. I really miss Ned. Glad I'm going home next week.
Things I can't have in the house:
Peanut Butter
Honey
Whole Wheat Crackers
Oreos
Ate almost a whole jar of honey today. What made me think I could have it? Duh.
Ok, I'm going to bed and I'm going to get up and try not to eat and hate myself some more. It will pass. This too shall pass..."

Seriously? And what's with the dramatics?

Well that is it. The jury is in. I am the common denominator. Time to take some responsibility. I am using this stuff as my identity. It is like a comfy blanket that I wrap myself in. When am I going to grow up and get over this stuff? Right now. That's when.

Actually, on second thought, why would I do that? If I actually achieved some level of self acceptance, what in the world would I talk about?

Shades of Grey, worlds of difference

Does anyone else agonize between two colors of eyeshadow that really, if you took them into separate rooms, you would think were the same color? And if you really thought about it, if you bought either one, you'd take it home and realize you have 10 other VERY similar shades?

Just me?

Ok fine, fer sure fer sure, gag me and all that

I will admit I am a little concerned about this "return to the 80's" trend that has been happening and will continue through the fall.

Who ever saw that coming? I thought there was a universal agreement that it should never happen again.

While I remember the fashion was fun back then I am also alarmingly aware that it wasn't very flattering. There is a chance that my trepidation could be linked to the undeniable psychological link between fashion and emotion. 80's fashion trends may cause me to relive a whole bunch of teenage angst and insecurity that I would much rather leave behind. Perhaps I will rent Valley Girl to put me in the right emotional space for this trend. Freakin' love that movie.

And as I have always advocated trends are for picking and choosing so I will most likely pick the items that serve me well (colorful eye shadow, leggings and skirts, socks with mary janes and pumps) and leave behind the shoulder pads, stirrup pants and high-waisted jeans (my legs should never have been associated with them).

I was inspired by an eyeshadow palate the other day that I am going to go and try right now. Orange sparkly eyeshadow and purple liner.

I'm feeling better already.