No - it does not get better. We cope better some days, others not so. I’m fed up of people telling me it does, or that I just need to think positive (I try, I really do#, or just reach out to people #like all those people are reaching out to me?# It’s true - we need to adapt, to be able to find a way through the dark haze, to struggle to find a point to living, and to keep on battling each day #sometimes each hour) at a time. When people point out simple statements like ‘think happy’ - I try to make them aware that sometimes just getting out of bed and not wanting to run your motorbike off into a telegraph pole are the kind of battles I face…
Technology used to complicate things, and now it’s simplifying. I’ve gone up, like, nine points in being a businesswoman because I’ve got a little organizer, and I can write songs and arrange things. You just need the machine, and you can put out records. So record companies, you won’t need them, and you won’t need media because of Internet.
All the things that could send you to hell—I realize now that they are the things that make us human. Imagine. Going to hell for being human. So you had to be something better than human, a perfect subspecies. I carry remnants of these feelings today. As if we don’t have enough guilt to deal with in motherhood and trying to do it all. It’s okay to be human, I say to myself a lot. It’s okay to be human. If you need to know this, I’m your girl.
Cute is when your personality shines through your looks. Like, when you see someone’s personality in the way they walk and you just feel like hugging them every time you see them.
I want to go places and see people. I want my mind to grow. I want to live where things happen on a big scale.
And over time I’ve realized that despite the near-constant influx of praise for my curly hair, I never actually liked it. Never felt like myself in it. Even though I never got anything but positive feedback about my hair, I never enjoyed it or felt like it suited me. I felt like it was the most dominant thing about my appearance, that it overtook nearly everything else about me, engulfed me, even eclipsed me. Also my curls were delicate and unpredictable. A stiff breeze or a shirt pulled over my head would completely change how my hair looked for the remainder of the day. It drove me nuts that my hair took such intense and constant babying to look good. My current ‘do is reliable, predictable, blissfully boring.
There is nothing wrong, shameful, dirty, unkempt, or crazy about curls
That’s my thing about curly hair.
I have 3c curls, not white curls, not black curls. Exactly in the middle. I never liked it. The thing that annoys me the most is when straight haired women go “you should wear it curly more often, I wish I had your hair”
No, you do not.
I don’t enjoy playing the hair lottery on a daily basis, not knowing whether it will look half decent or homeless chic. No hair product has made curly hair manageable and good enough for me (mousse helps a bit, though). There aren’t many options in my country* for coarse curls like mine that don’t feel like I’m running placebo cream through my locks.
No matter what I do (and I’ve tried everything), it never looks right.
To top it all, wearing my hair au naturel has got me sick at work twice (hello, A/A + cold)
Fuck that. I straighten my hair every week. It’s annoying, it takes all of my sunday afternoon, but I have no other choice that doesn’t involve going full Celia Cruz style. The Brazilian Blowout is too expensive and dangerous for my taste, so I’ll keep struggling.
It’s my cross. My business.
*Amazon isn’t viable for me, sorry.
I hate corporate drones that use sports analogies over and over. These idiots need to realize that in sports, when the team is struggling, they usually get rid of the coach not players
Regrets and apologies are all very well, but there’s things that happen in a person’s life that are so scorched in the memory and burned into the heart that there’s no forgetting them. They’re like brands.
Mutiny on the Bounty by John Boyne (via lostinthesounds)
well, picking up on that analogy, it means that my brain has more sponsors than a NASCAR racesuit.