Surprises

While I was in Mexico, I was often super confused.

I spent a semester in Mexico, and during that time a dated a guy who lived there. I liked him a LOT, which probably helped me overlook the numerous ways he was kind of a total asshole. Not that I'm bitter.

Anyway, asshole or no, he took pretty good care of me while I was there, made sure I didn't get into any trouble and that I got to see a little bit of the country other than the city, where I was staying. I hung out with him and his friends most of my free time. That's where the confusion comes into play. I got pretty good at keeping up with their Spanish, but every once in awhile I'd understand something slightly wrong.

For example: Pulque is a super Mexican alcoholic beverage. It's basically tequila and sweetened condensed milk, with some flavoring mixed in. It's incredibly weird, and I tried it within my first few weeks in Mexico. 

Pulquerias sell pulque.

Peluquerias cut your hair. 

Pelo is hair, peluchin is hairy/fuzzy, so the word does make sense.

What doesn't make sense, is trying to figure out why your friends are discussing getting their hair cut by people who sell sweetened condensed milk-tequila. It seems incredibly counterproductive and risky to get your hairs cut in a place of drunken debacles. 

Anyway, I felt like I was usually playing catch up. It was a lesson in humility, or would have been if playing catch-up wasn't partially due to the fact that they were definitely just making life up as they went along.

Life in confusion was fine, but what really bothered me was never knowing how to dress. If we were going to be going out to the clubs I should wear one thing, if we were going to a house party I should wear something else. If we weren't doing anything at all, I'd wear something else entirely. This was partially due to vanity, I won't pretend otherwise. It's nice to be dressed appropriately. But there's also the case that in Mexico (and probably other places? I wouldn't know) you have to be dressed up all schnazzy to get into clubs, let alone feel like you sort of fit in there. House parties require more layers because it gets cold at night, and houses in Mexico City don't have heating. Appearances matter.

I hated ending up dressed for the wrong thing.

It made me feel even more out of place (as a ginger in Mexico) and was often uncomfortable (brrr).

The guy I was dating didn't understand why I always had a zillion questions about our plans for the weekend.
I just didn't like to be unprepared.

On my last day there, he had planned an outing to a famous plaza. He didn't tell me what we were going to do until early afternoon, "Because you don't like surprises"

Like hell I don't!

I'm moving to Georgia in less than a month, and I have no idea where I'll be living or what my life will be like when I get there. I'm doing this willingly. I do like surprises, gaddamnit. I am all the spontaneity.

But never knowing what was going on certainly made me better at layering, and planning out multi-purpose outfits. So in the end, looking like a slob at the clubs did pay off.

Blue: My weird European corduroy shirt that Ola left when she went back to Poland
Track of the day: Restless Heart by Matt Hires. This song makes me feel like I could be singing it, and have it sung about me. Just all of the winning.

Cactus

Cacti are all prickly on the outside and soft and edible and whatever on the inside. They're often used as analogies for people, surly people who are just guarded because they've had unpleasant experiences, but are really genuinely nice people when you get to know them.

I'm probably the opposite of a cactus. I'm not prickly at first. I don't really know how I come across, but I doubt it's as someone who has a lot of pent-up secrets and anger.

The truth is, I'm pissed. I'm so mad at the universe, at God, at Fate, Destiny, whatever random series of events that brought me to this place of fear. I'm so scared, all the time. I overanalyze every single thing that is said to me, because I feel like maybe this time I can guess what's going to happen next, and stop it. Maybe this time I can predict the future, prevent it, and save myself from further harm. Being scared is exhausting. There is no relaxation when you're ever vigilant. My nerves and emotions are shot. I sometimes think I should ask for help, but asking for help makes you so vulnerable. It's admitting that you're too weak to do it all on your own, and weaknesses can be exploited.

I've explicitly asked for help with my current situation twice. Once to an old friend, who made me feel like asking for help was a sign of strength. He gave me hope. He's one of those people who does so much more than he  realizes, just by being  himself and being inexplicably wise for his years. The second time I asked for help I was brushed off. I probably picked an inconvenient time to ask, or maybe phrased it incorrectly; but the response of, " Well... you don't have to deal directly with the problem for much longer" was not what I needed to hear. I just wanted a little bit of support. I only needed her to tell me that if I had to, I could call her, or that she was behind me on this one. It would be so much easier if I wasn't doing this by myself.

I honestly don't know where I'm going with this. I'm not writing this for anyone but myself, in the hopes that putting this out there in the world will make it less like a nightmare that can only be changed by waking up, and more like a problem that I can solve with objective reasoning and logic. If you're reading this, don't misunderstand it as a cry for pity. I don't need that, or even your sympathy. If you're reading this, take the time and ask someone close to you how they are doing, really. Ask them if they need help. Everyone needs help sometimes, but not everyone is good at asking for it.

I'm going to be ok, I know I am. I'm tough and this will make me tougher.

My favorite quotation is this: Your journey has molded you for your greater good. It was exactly what it needed to be. Don't think that you've lost time. It took each and every situation to bring you to the now, and now is right on time.

Make-up

Today I put on makeup. Normally I stick to just mascara and a little bit of eyeliner, but I went ALL OUT. I put on some creamy foundation stuff to hide the bags under my eyes. It sorta made me look like Anne Frank. Sorry if that's offensive, but really... I can't be the only one that's noticed that she looks like she has two black eyes in like every picture of her in existence. Besides that, she sorta looks like my littlest sister. Anyway, I made it look less like I'm a professional drug addict, and then I made myself less pale. They don't make foundation white enough for me, every kind I put on looks like bronzer. It's my fake Irish showing through. Then I went really hard core and put on not one, but two different colors of eye shadow, in the hopes that it would make my eyes look bigger, and consequently make me look more like Zooey Deschanel. I don't look even a little like Zooey Deschanel, even on my best days. Finally, I put on my customary eyeliner and mascara. Except I put on more than usual, and used the little dealio that looks like a torture device, but is really to make your eyelashes stick up more than out.

Today then bluest thing about me was my eyes. But not as blue as Zooey Deschanel's. Damn her.
Track of the day: "Fine By Me" by Andy Grammar

Anyway, makeup is way more trouble than it's worth. That all took me like 15 minutes. That's at least 10 minutes too many. And besides, if I'm not comfortable with how I look without makeup, then I'm not going to ever really have a scrub day again. I'd be paranoid about being ambushed by people I know and stuff.

So, makeover complete. Now I look like this:

Where I am.

It's obviously been awhile, but I have no subscribers and therefore no one to apologize to. It's better that way. I'm currently sitting on the floor of my bathroom, which is one of my favorite sitting spots. It's not THAT weird because I'm the only one who uses it and it's heated. What is a little weird is that I'm wearing my senior prom dress.

I graduate at the beginning of May. Well, technically I graduated in December, but I walk in a few weeks. It's the end of an era, so because I'm a girl and stuff, I'm trying to decide what to wear. In found my senior prom dress, and since it's been altered, it's actually a solid choice if I want to save some money. But now I'm all nostalgic and stuff. This really is the end of an era, just like senior prom marked the end of the last era in my life.

Four years ago I was getting ready for AP tests and show choir finals and the pops concerts for both band and choir. I was 18 and about 20lbs lighter (not that anyone's counting, right?) and I had long-ish frizzy blonde hair. I was not concerned about college, because I hadn't ever seriously failed at anything. My biggest worries were my freedom (or lack thereof, I'm still bitter about how strict my parents were about my social life) and my love life, which was in a much happier place than it's been since then.

I recently met up with some friends from high school over a rare weekend that we all happened to be home at the same time. We talked about how much life has changed for all of us since then. Several of my friends have been with the same person for years now. Others are just as determinedly single as me. Some are moving on to graduate school, finishing a masters program, or part way through a professional program. I want to say that we never would have dreamed that we'd be where we are, but that's totally untrue.

I am sitting on my bathroom floor in a prom dress. I have a job in an office, I have a cubicle with a plant and a nameplate tacked to the outside with my name on it. I live in a nice house, I have a nice car, and I can afford to pay all my expenses and still travel. I can't say that I never dreamed I'd be here. This is exactly what I dreamed I'd have, no more and no less.

My high school friends told me I'd changed the most out of all of us. I say it's because I had significant, mind-binding experiences that I never expected. Some of you out there know what I mean. If I had anticipated everything, or if those things had not happened, I would not have changed so dramatically. Would I still have a job, and a place to stay and a car? I'm sure of it. It's what I was raised to work for. Would I still be sitting on my bathroom floor in a prom dress? Probably, who doesn't like playing dress up every once in awhile?

I guess what I'm trying to say is, it really is the journey that matters, not the destination.

Shade of blue: my prom dress, of course. Tom was my prom date. Tom, if you ever happen to read this... I had a blast. I still think I could not have enjoyed it more. I hope you had fun, too :)

Track of the day: "Triumph" by Pitbull.