How lovely to be a girl.

Today at work My Hebrew Friend tried to give me a hard time about being a girl and while my mother would have bitch slapped hi to an inch of his life, I chose to ignore him and think of all the fantastic things about being a girl that I love.

I love when I can dress up in my pretty clothes. Right now it is winter in Philadelphia and I can't wear my pretty dresses with the flowers all over them or the pastel cardigans and leather sandals that fill my closet. I the summer I wear dresses more than anything else because they are so light and airy. I love the ruffles on my sweaters and the way my skirts twirl out when I spin. I love white pearls and my pearl stud earrings that I get once a year from Cathy and Adam. I love the long strands of pearl necklaces that I got from my grandmother and the strand that my mother wore on her wedding. I love that they are so plain and pretty, but still very feminine without being showy like diamonds.

Makeup is another thing that is special about being a girl. As daunting as it can be to put it on sometimes, it's still fun to put on pink blushes or bright red lipstick. I love blush. It's the one cosmetic that goes with everything. Just a shimmery pat of powder that brushes on in a hurry. It's fun to sit in front of the mirror and brush different colors over my skin to see how they change my face. I love my perfume that I rarely wear because it smells so wonderful that I try to save it for special occasions. It comes in a beautiful delicate bottle with a houndstooth etching on the bottom and a silver bow on the cap. Even the label is designed in the most feminine script.

My shower is filled with girly soaps and shampoos and under my sink is a collection of pink bath products that make being a girl feel luxurious. It's fun to take a bath with scented soaps and candles all over the place. I love the different scented moisturizers that I can use and products I can put in my hair. I love being able to decide on whether I want straight or curly hair any day of the week. I love being able to wear my hair down or clip it back or put in a headband or barrette.

Clothing is not only the best part about being a girl. I love the pink and white rose bedspread I have on my bed currently and the soft delicate glow that my paper lanterns create over the top of my mirror at night. The color on my walls is like a gentle sea foam and the white netting is like being on safari in Philadelphia. I love the princess feel that it creates.

Who cares if this post set the women's movement back a billion years, I love being a girl.

Hey Yonni!

Hey Yonni! Guess what! I'm not going to write anything tonight!

Thundersnow

With Thundersnow raging on outside, and my lack of ice cream inside, I have become rather glum about having to stay inside and do nothing but schoolwork and watch PBS serials on Hulu. I am rather pleased that I found a show called Empires and I am now watching the Ancient Japan mini-series. It's kind of cool and now I want to take a tour of the Japanese countryside. I also would do anything to not have to read the last fifty pages of Daisy Miller, even though it is incredibly easy. I'm being incredibly stubborn and anti-school tonight. Merph. If I were at the house right now Marg and I would be wrapped in blankets smoking cloves on the front steps with Tor and Lee. Or we would have put on every sort of warm piece of clothing that we could find until we looked like homeless snowmen and wandered around campus. We may have even gone over to the Maguire playgrounds and jumped off of the swings into the snow. Either way we would have been having a better time than I am now. Grr stupid snow, and I love love love snow. I have been waiting for ages for Philadelphia to get hit like this. It's just no fun when Marg is trapped five miles away and My Hebrew Friend is another five miles past Marg. Everyone is trapped with six inches and counting of snow and ice on their cars and you can't see more than ten feet in front of your face because of the blowing snow and wind. This morning when I woke up at 7am I was convinced that it was 7am because is was so dark and cloudy and snowy outside. Tomorrow morning I don't have to get up at &am because hockey has already been cancelled and I can stay in bed until 8:30am or 9am.

The best part about tomorrow is that My Hebrew Friend has said that he will get me ice cream at work. Now I am all excited and want it to be tomorrow. I also want to go play in the snow. Does Hebrew Friend like the snow? Also we need need need to watch The Princess Bride sometime soon!

Oh yes!

Love, but not a love story.

"Any resemblance to people living or dead is purely coincidental ... Especially you, Jenny Beckman ... Bitch."


Thank you Jenny Beckman for being a bitch and inspiring (500) Days of Summer and the one movie that my romantic entanglements most closely resemble. WIthout you I never would have found a kindred spirit in Summer or started lusting over Joseph Gordon-Levitt. Instead I would probably still be insecure about my insecurities and would have had to wait to see Joseph Gordon-Levitt in Inception for him to become my favorite person ever. But really I think it's the clothing of the Tom character and the music that did it for me. Any guy who likes The Smiths and wears skinny ties under v-neck cardigans is cool with me. Unfortunately for some I do tend to take the Summer route in life because of my indecisiveness and my deep desire to live and breath everywhere and not in your parent's basement apartment while you work for your dad. I have no desire to settle tomorrow or in the next ten years, and so to the Tom's of the world: I am sorry I don't want to be in a relationship with you, don't ask me to try. But hey! We can be friends and see where it goes every once and a while. 


A long time ago (long compared to my short existence, short compared to TIME) I was with the Accountant who wanted to move back to Vermont as soon as he was done with school. He wanted to marry me and move in with his parents in the middle of nowhere. He wanted to marry me as soon as school was over and stay on his plot of land until the day he died. He did not want to go anywhere or see anything and he looked down on me for not being like him. The Accountant treated me like a child who misbehaves when I got excited about things he thought were silly. My mother loved him and I was comfortable because I thought that there was no one else. 


Then I grew a pair. Asshole when I say I don't want to date you, I mean it. Do not say it's because I want to enjoy my senior year of high school or that it is the distance. It's just you. You're creepy and mean and I want more from life than what you were willing to offer. Get over it already, stop texting me and fb stalking me. I'm not interested and I don't know why you still are. You made me quite and over-cautious around guys, just ask My Hebrew Friend who is desperately trying to get me to tell him perfectly normal things. Now I don't tell my mother about the boys I see and I don't let them meet my friends. I keep that part of my life holed up and to myself and completely separate from my everyday life. Thanks for Accountant. 


I used to be a Tom and now I'm a Summer. I have my whole life ahead of me to get married and have a child and in turn fuck that child's life up more than I've fucked up my own. And it's going to happen with someone who wants be on that ride. Until then I'm carefree as a birdie and intend on keeping it that way, or at least until I have someone who I am sure about the way Summer was. 

Sweet Disposition

Beat you to it.

Sometimes I wish I had a single parent like Hank Moody and was an only child living like Becca, but without the death rock black lipstick from season one. It would be like Californication, but with less writing and more cooking, and less longing for New York and more pining for the Jersey shore. But then I remember that I already have a half-assed Hank Moody and if he really were like Hank Moody we'd be living in a boat off the Florida keys and I would just be a tanner more self-absorbed and version of myself who would be hoping the fence to Hemingway's house than climbing the wall of the Barnes Foundation, and smoking more marijuana and drinking less gin.

I think it's the fact that I peaked too early in my world of responsibility. About mid-high school I wanted to do things, see stuff. I had a fucking ten year plan. Really it was just some bullshit that I made up ten minutes before a scholarship interview that would make me look good in front of the committee. They ate it up. Everyone always eats it up, the only person who sees through the crap is Lance, and that's only because I learned my deviousness from him, I'm just not sure where the less-genuine part came from. It certainly did not come from my mother, more likely the bitter struggle of the play ground and having fat thighs or some shit like that. Right now I just want to finish this stuff up and move to Tucson and start up that male prostitution ring that I've been knocking around with a friend. Wouldn't that be a kick? Or maybe Portland, Oregano. I recently watched the pilot of Portlandia starring Fred Armisen. The dream of the nineties is alive in Portland, where the tattoo ink never runs dry. The late nineties sucked balls on the playground, but I remember the early nineties being a pretty cool time. Portland aside, Philadelphia it's been cool and we'd better make the best of precious little time we have left together.