|
loco_yoko
|
read my profile
sign my guestbook
Name: sharla
Birthday: 3/18/1988
Gender: Female
Interests: music, video games, socks, art, movies, writing, reading, photography, pyjamas, driving with the music up and windows down, psychology, languages, history, that cute guy down the street....
Occupation: Student
Message: message meEmail: email me
MSN: flying_ninja_treefrog@yahoo.ca
Member Since:
12/23/2004
|
|
SubscriptionsSites I Read
|
|
|
|
| my faucet is leakingand I've been trying to talk over the dripping for years. I'm not sure what the problem is, but I'm going to find it this time.
| | |
| blue dots on your wednesdayIt becomes official
when you put the
blue dot
on your calendar
Officially, the thick night sky
was dusty rose
with more dust than anything else
Officially, the thick skin on your fingertips
becomes thicker
but really might just be numb
Officially, the thick laughter
that spilled out of your mouth all day
was authentically thick.
The authentic sounds
of authentic bold, black lines
tracing the authentic smile
that wasn't forced.
But still, your Wednesday is dotted blue
keeping track of how you remember that
Mr. Eliot's--and your--history repeats itself.
You are back where you started
and know the place for the
first second third fourth fifth hundredth
time.
Officially, some parts were forced.
But not the smile.
Never the smile.
| | |
| there are sacrifices for the increase in sizeI have always had what some people might call a distorted perception of beauty. I have never met an ugly person. There are a lot of girls whom I consider to be ridiculously pretty. In high school, I thought every girl I saw was pretty. I really did.
(I focus on women here because we are stereotypically more obsessed with our looks)
Then, all of a sudden, as I'm getting older, I'm realizing that the rest of the world would not see these girls as beautiful as I did and do. Like with most things that make us different from others, I'm starting to assess myself. I don't like how it feels to be analyzing beauty, it's tainting.
I don't watch America's Next Top Model very often, but I did over American Thanksgiving last year with Katie. I thought Anchal Joseph was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen, but everyone else would say, "ugh, how did SHE get on here?!" whenever they walked into the room and saw her on the screen. This is because she did not have COOKIE CUTTER beauty. Most girls that other people find pretty begin to blur for me; they look the same after a while. Anchal was striking. I couldn't stop studying her face. It made me sad that no one else seemed to see it.
But that's when I started to reevaluate myself.
I shouldn't have to.
I'm trying not to.
I'm getting better at taking the societal lens off, and putting my old ones back on. It's a struggle that is a consequence of all the growing up I'm busy doing.
Beauty should be felt and not thought about.
I feel the world around me. I let it in and allow it to change me. I absorb it.
That is why I always seem to find beauty that no one else understands. This goes beyond bodies and faces.
Most of the time I don't bother sharing the amazing things I see, because I feel that they are mine to feel and experience. When I do share, I get blank looks or faked understanding. But I'm ok with that, because at that point I'm sharing myself, not my experience.
But I digress, as usual. Back to my point.
You are beautiful.
I know you struggle with what you see in the mirror, and so do I.
But you are beautiful.
| | |
| You take care of the things you value, and you value the things of which you take care.
| | |
| Need me a triple shot of that juiceGeorge Thorogood's "One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Beer" makes me grin every time I hear it. Anyone who can make a hit song by rambling for the first half about how he can't pay his rent deserves my respect. And I mean rambling; he just speaks and tells the story while he goofs around on the guitar. Genius. Srsly.
I think that song is what made me start saying "whatchoo wan?" and "Ah know!"
~~~~~~~~~~
I was training the new guy in-store at Greco today, and had the following conversation:
Sharla: To make it easier for you, grey is half of yellow.
Mitch: Ohhh, thanks.
(Later)
Mitch: Umm, Sharla? What's half of grey?
Sharla: Red.
This is the kind of conversation my imagination likes to pull out of context and play around with. Which is why I haven't provided you with any :)
~~~~~~~~~~
A new gas tank, oil & air filters, sparkplugs, a can each of car paint & primer, and I am ready for this weekend.
:D
| | |
|
