lesson one
This is what you do.
This is concealer, to hide your grandmother's freckles.
Here is foundation. It doesn't match your skin tone, so blend well.
Cheekbones are fine; make sure your blush is rosy.
Now, apply lipstick just inside your lip line.
Dark eyeliner, but only around the top two-thirds and bottom third, to make your eyes look bigger.
Monochromatic eyeshadow so no one will notice your epicanthic fold.
Nothing we can do about your profile, though. But for now, that'll do.
I accept it, because it is only intended to make me beautiful. Just as the other girls do.
Damn, there are some good drabbles in here.
However Much I Squirm
Pete Townshend nailed it.
It's there in the song lyric. Here I am, here I stand, officially good at what I do.
Dish me out another tailor-made compliment, tell me about some destiny I can't prevent
I write books. I cook. I fear remarkably little. That part's good.
conscience going on at me and on at me
Then there's that empty space in the middle, what I had, tossed, lost.
I just can't face my failure, I'm nothing but a well-fucked sailor
Watch me hide. Watch me melt into the big myth. Pete was right: there aint no way out.
When I’m ten, I decide this is the secret identity, awarded for powers to be named later and a decent 6th man for the Suns’ next draft.(they are both perennial quests, and my “powers” retain a fascination with cocaine.)
When I’m thirteen, I start reading magazines that tell me I’ll be happy if I’m cute all the the time. People seem to think they know why I can’t, but there is something else, more than that. That “You’re kidding me” look is getting me in trouble already.
At sixteen, I first start deciding I’m an artist, if maybe not much of a girl, and hide behind my words, and the idea that maybe “citizen” rules don’t always apply.
When I apply to college, I flip out and embrace normality like a codependent with a 12-step program. There is no apple I won’t polish, no opinion I won’t doubt(if it’s mine) no momentary pleasure I won’t deny for some future I can’t even picture. This is a very achieving period, but I really hate myself.
In my thirties, I’m finding that being myself is the biggest disguise of all.
Oh, congratulations, Jilli!
At age nineteen, you could have put a lump of coal up my butt and gotten a diamond, Deb.
I think I'm maturing in reverse.
Okay, if you want to...wow, I'm replacing Zoe?
That's just...neat.
Dr. House is my tagline this week...cause, you know, I couldn't pass that up.
Being he's a brother and all.
Okay, if you want to...wow, I'm replacing Zoe? That's just...neat. Dr. House is my tagline this week...cause, you know, I couldn't pass that up. Being he's a brother and all.
It was time to replace my tagline, and that line just makes sense for me right now: born old and finally having some fun in my life.
Finished my review draft...anyone want to do exploratory surgery on it? Please?
I need a final 3/1.
