I'm not the carpet you walk on I'm not one small atomic bomb I'm not anything at all
I'm not the feather at your feet I'm not your yellow brick street I'm not anyone you'll see I'm not anything
Fake Spring has arrived! Hello : short hair, dewy skin and cut-up band tshirts/ acid wash jeans with tiny painted toenail polish poking out, my Fake Spring/Summer wardrobe.
So far I'm lovin' - ice coffee with extra shots of espresso - new girlfriends to talk to 24'7 - new guy friends who are basically the same as girlfriends, only more testosterone - sonic limeade - getting sweaty at basement shows - crocheting at band practice - Accident Prone! - The Body Shop, everything. Best products. - Nexxus Noursishing Botanical Shampoo - night walks in the woods with my dogs
Blogger is slowly dying, I'm sorry my friends but this shit is getting boringggggggg
I'm not sure if fuchsia lipstick can match your scarf, but I wore this look out Sunday evening anyway. Lipstick is still a little funny to me. It always reminds me of sitting in the passenger seat of my mother's caravan as a little girl. Her reapplying at a red light, reaching over to apply just a tiny bit of color onto my pouting lips. In a way lipstick will always be my go to pick-me up, alongside my sexy underthings and favorite perfume. The very essence of being a woman, because apparently that's what I'm turning into all the sudden. I guess I'm okay with it.
I just sneezed all over my keyboard and there are tears from my itchy eyes running down my cheeks. Please someone put me our of my misery. I've been feeling so dreadfully boring lately and I fear that it might be evidence that I'm actually growing up? Which is terrifying because 20 feels so old and I already act like an old lady sometimes, so basically I'm doomed.
Spring always reminds me of days spent with the windows open at the farm house. Hard wood floors and the smell of my mom making coffee in the morning. The sound of little paws tapping on the kitchen's linoleum floor. The fields were a shade of green that could never be recreated and snuck into a crayon box. I would climb the Bristlecone Pine and read out loud. Once a bug bit my thigh while I was perched on a branch and I had an itchy welt for a month. I had a tree swing that I would swing on for hours, the seat too big for my bottom. I wrapped my tiny hands so tightly around the ropes, tiny calluses sprouting up on my palms rubbed raw and pink by the time I came inside for dinner. I had picnics with my brothers in the middle of the fields and when two kittens died we buried them next to the wagon wheel. I marked their graves with two conch shells that I painted with nail polish.
My old bedroom was big with three huge windows that produced the most beautiful natural sunlight imaginable. I would wake up feeling like a princess dripping in sun. I was once kissed in my driveway by a boy who told me "you are beautiful at all times," as he wrapped his scarf around my nose. Such a large part of my life was spent surrounded by those four walls and now all that's left is a cement foundation, and two conch shells.
There are dirty bus station floors, crowded train platforms and a homeless person (or two,) waiting to ask me for spare change. There are bus tickets to be bought, seats to be assigned and motion sickness pills to be swallowed. Play lists have been made, rides have been arranged and I'm bringing you a chocolate bunny.
Bittersweet and semi-heartbreaking http://gingeranyhow.com/textmessages.html
Dinner with my Nana in a few, my hair is getting long and I was told by an old woman at work today that I am "lit from within." Head feels a little wonky, Spring allergies and wearing perfume = bad combination.
they're playing love songs on the radio tonight I can't relate to that right now note so self : no one cares. your voice is average in worried piles I typed for miles and noone noticed
I once had a boy tell me that he admired my "old lady eccentricities." Another friend recently informed me that I am what they call "an old soul," which despite the fact that I have a weird obsession with nerdy backpacking rap, is basically true.
All I've ever wanted in life is a kitchen with a big sink to do the dishes in. I want to learn how to cook and be the kind of girl who shaves her legs every single day, just for the hell of it.
I bought $6 worth of new bedding from the family thrift. A beautiful hand crocheted blanket, and matching pillows. The woman at the register said she would cut me a deal since the bed set had been sitting on the shelf, untouched for months. I thanked her, set the wash to "delicate" and now my dogs snoring softly.
It's raining and I might take a shower, just for the hell of it.