Every 5 minutes a medium breeze blows my newly cut bangs off my forehead. When I was 13, I swore to never get bangs again, because of an adolescent lapse in judgement which resulted in me looking like Francine from Arthur for an eternity, (i.e. 7th grade).
I also hate having my hair in my face, so I appreciate the zephyr doing me this favor. Yet, I still chose to get bangs because I’m restless…and I don’t know, it was time for something new? On a side note, does anyone remember learning the word zephyr? I’m pretty sure this was one of my vocabulary words in middle school.
zephyr (n.) – a soft, gentle breeze
I never, ever use this word in normal conversation, and yet I have never forgotten its meaning. But when I’m writing a cover letter and am trying to think of any synonym for “experienced” my brain comes up blank. But zephyr, yay, glad I’ve got that one in my lexicon. Lexicon..ugh, I digress.
But yeah, against better judgement I got bangs again. This time though…it actually wasn’t a horrible decision! When I wear my hair up in a bun I feel like Audrey Hepburn. It’s pretty cute. And they don’t look horrible not styled, so issa major win because a heaux is low-maintainance AF. I got a new tattoo, a gingko leaf, on the front of my left shoulder. The placement is EVERYTHING. It looks great. I look super cool, cooler than I am. The tattoo makes me look cool in the sense of, “I go see live music at small cafes every couple weeks, and am really good at rolling a j.” But I’m not cool like that. It would be cool if I was cool like that, but I’m not. Actually, cool is not a word I would ever use to describe myself, and I’m ok with that. I’ve accepted that being “the cool girl” is not in my deck of cards. My aesthetic is a balance between, “Pessimistic Quiet Girl Who Sits In Corner Reading 20th Century Literature”, “Farmer’s Market Mom” and, “Girl Next Door” – yeah, that’s me.
I’m sitting outside at a café that charges two dollars too much for their lattés, (i.e. I order an Americano, with room please). And Trader Joe’s is right next door, so I was able to snatch myself up a $5 lunch (the Banh Mi salad and a banana). Shoutout to Trader Joe’s man. I’m reviewing french adjectives and writing descriptive sentences using those learned adjectives. I am happy. I am content. And I am loving my life.
A baby has started screaming, and is interrupting my peace. The baby is not being kidnapped, it is not hurt – it is just angry, for whatever reason. And I need it to stop. Because DAMN. A lot of people have kids, ya know? The more I see people with kids, the less I want them. It’s not an aversion to children. I love kids. They are fantastic little creatures. In fact, the majority of my work experience is in childcare. So it’s not that I dislike them, I just prefer my life without them (i.e. I can go to an overpriced cafe whenever I want and spend my time writing about my great child-less life). If I had children, that would be a lot more difficult to do, and I would not be able to do anything I wanted at the “drop of a hat.”
“The drop of a hat.”
Now where did this phrase come from? In fact, where did ALL idioms come from?? Were people just dropping hats all the time? I don’t know. Add it to the list of Bella’s daily wonderings.
In addition to bangs and the “cool” tattoo, I also have a degree now. Woah. Yes, I have a Bachelors of Arts in Political Science, which translates to, “I have trouble accepting our ways of the world and feel inspired to change it.” What it does not imply, is:
A) I want to run for office.
B) I want to be a lawyer.
No. No. And No. I get asked that all the time, and would appreciate if people stopped assuming that because I studied political science that I actually like politics and want to become an elected official. WRONG. And that, “Oh, you must want to go to law school, since you said you don’t want to run for office, because that’s the only other way for people to change the world.” Nope again. Here’s the big shocker that shouldn’t be a shocker: “I don’t know what I want to do.” I have passions. I know what makes me angry. But I don’t know how to go about impacting the issues I care about. So, I just have to start somewhere, which would be great – if I could get a job. But here’s another shocker that shouldn’t be a shocker: GETTING A JOB IS THE BIGGEST CHALLENGE OF THEM ALL. Oh, I thought going to school full time while managing two jobs was hard? HA! Oh no, chile. What’s hard is writing cover letter, after cover letter, after cover letter, after cover letter, after cover letter, after cover letter, atfre cvore lttre, a t r co v r lr tte, a f t c er le t r. TALK ABOUT MENTALLY DRAINING. Wow. But then, guess what? It doesn’t stop there! Oh no. Because after you’ve written about 20 cover letters detailing literally exactly what your resume says, but just in a fancy way without sounding too pretentious – then you get to wait. Weeks. And don’t think about contacting the organization, because they made sure to send you a nice little automatic reply e-mail that said, “We have received your application. If you don’t hear from us it is because we have chosen to move on with other candidates. Do not contact us.” I know, so sweet. So, you scroll through LinkedIn, and Indeed, and Daybook, and apply and apply and apply, and twiddle your thumbs because no one has gotten back to you. And right when you’ve lost all hope, you get an e-mail, for a phone interview, from one of the fifty positions you applied to. So, you prepare for your phone interview, and the interview goes great (you think), but then you hear back from them (after waiting another week, maybe two) and they tell you that you don’t have enough experience for the position, or there was someone more qualified. Cool. You try not to get discouraged, but at this point you’ve applied to all of the positions that say “Entry Level” that you thought you were a shoe-in for, and you refuse to work an unpaid internship because you have groceries to buy and a whole damn degree! You followed the rules. You went to college, you did well academically, you did internships, and can even speak Spanish (kind of) fluently! So what’s the deal? You keep looking for jobs, but they all say under the “Qualifications” that they want someone with “minimum of 5 years experience.” And that makes you pissed because how the hell are you going to get enough experience if no one gives you a job! And then you’re also thinking about how you have loan payments coming up in December for the degree that isn’t getting you a job, and oh sh*t, you’re going to have to move back in with your parents (which you never saw happening for yourself), and oh my god you should’ve just gone straight into grad school like everyone else who didn’t know what they were doing, and whyyyyy f!ck whyyyy is life like this?? (That was one hell of a fragment, you’re welcome).
So, in addition to getting my degree, I’ve obtained a new lease on life, which is that college is a scheme and a direct result of capitalism, which is horrible. But it’s too late because I’m already abducted and Stockholm-Syndromed into the system.
So, I go to overpriced cafes and sip on Americanos and write about life, because I’m “Pessimistic Girl Who Sits In Corner Reading 20th Century Literature.”
L O L. I kid. Partially. Life isn’t that bleak – anymore. Because guess what – and this one will be a shocker! A bish is going to Paris!!! yaaassss. Truly, if this Visa Application goes as planned, I am going to the –
*we interrupt this blog post to bring you this important message*
A man just hissed at me, like a bobcat. Literally, he sounded just like a bobcat. I will never understand what possesses men to make animal sounds at women that they find attractive. What’s the thinking process there? Really? “Wow..she is fine. Gahdamn she looks good. If I say Hello, politely, like a normal person…no, that won’t work. Why don’t I try..ooh yeah! I know! Let’s do the obnoxious bobcat snarl, she’ll like that.” Like, cmon men..what is going on.
*We apologize for the interruption, and go back to your normal program*
I am traveling to the Land of Lights and Love and some of the ugliest pronunciation ever and absolutely amazing croissants (cwaaaah-sonnnttsss). Am I am exxxciiiitteeddddd. I’m going to be an AuPair, which of course I will let you know how that goes. But yeah. Here’s the ironic thing, the day I accepted to be an AuPair, I heard back from two of the jobs that I really wanted. C’est la vie.
But yeaaahhhh, so, in little over a month I will be going to a new country to live with a new family, for pretty much an entire year. Wild. I know.
I’m coming up on my anniversary of having been single for a year. Which is pretty cool actually. I don’t feel like talking about men right now, but I will say that at first it was tough, I wanted someone a lot because that’s usually what I do. I hop. I get out of one relationship and usually find someone soon after, but not this time. I’ve gotten very okay with being single and I actually like it. I’ve also unleashed a curiosity for women, which if I’m being honest has been present for a while but never acknowledged. I haven’t acted on these curiosities yet, but I do want to. Talking to women scares me to pieces, and I’m also quite sensitive about the possibility of being rejected. I could care less about a man rejecting me, but a woman? I don’t know, for whatever reason I feel like that would hurt more. This is all a new territory for me, and there’s no manual for how to do this, so yeah. I don’t know when, or if, anything is going to go down, but I’ll let ya know when it does.
What else, what else, what elseeeee…
Bangs. Degree. Single. Curious and Questioning. Paris. Newfound comfortability with body hair? Yeahhhh I think that sums it up! Hahahh well this has been great, I wish you all love and health and a robust savings account and peace. Till Next Time Boos!
22 and Counting 