Wednesday, October 20, 2010

dancing with tears in my eyes

You know when your whole life feels like the worst hair day ever? Your hair - source of confidence and swagger - usually looks great (and it has to, because you have nothing else going for you in the looks department let's be real) but for some reason the universe decided to take a giant shit all over the one thing that provides a steady source of comfort and joy in your life (which is now full of misery and woe).  Your hair is flat, it's frizzy, you are essentially a caveman with a better vocabulary. and the worst part is that people try and tell you it looks fine. Fine. We all know what fine means. Fine means average, oftentimes below. Leonardo DiCaprio wouldn't even be able to convince me otherwise. and if he can't do it, no one can.

he is our generation's greatest cryer
It doesn't just stop at a bad hair day, though. You start to notice the little things like the close placement of your eyes on your face (when the fuck did that happen) and that tiny bump on the bridge of your nose that must have popped up overnight. Your hands are meatier than ever and your fucking eyebrows are uneven. Your outlook on your appearance, your accomplishments, on life itself, has shifted.  No longer rose colored glasses, instead you're wearing those light-sensitive prescription shades your grandma wore after she got that eye operation. You are now sensitive to happiness and joy. You are me when I was 16.

Also, Lady Gaga is practically the same age as you but she's about five billion times more successful and weird and interesting than you will ever be. Even Ke$ha found a way to make that party girl lifestyle work in her favor but you could never pull that off anyway because you're not tall, thin and blonde. Also because the smell of tequila brings back memories of that time you got a little too friendly with your bff's new roommate at that party 2 years ago. Then you remember that you totally ignored that guy even though there was nothing essentially wrong with him because you are constantly self sabotaging and never really think you deserve to get what you want (the Rolling Stones told us we can't always get it; but sometimes that's our own fucking fault, Mick Jagger). Then you projectile vomit everywhere. So since your fear of failure gets in the way of just about EVERYTHING, alll you can do is sit on the internet for hours and forget what real sunshine looks like because the only time you ever see it is in pictures on Tumblr taken by someone with a life and a job and true love and happiness. and then you wind up crying into your cat at night because he's the softest, warmest body in close proximity and you will die just like that.

your cat will grow to loathe and resent you
Yeah, I understand. I get it. Because you're me.

You need a change. I need a change. I crave a change. I crave change; I am broke. I am bored. but I can be vibrant!

Stop cynicism! Conan told you so. Believe in yourself!  Conjure up a sudden burst of motivation that's been seriously lacking lately, but was always bubbling right beneath the surface, just like in the movies! Take all your cues from fictional characters and situations! Life is yours to seize! Win it Twist it Pull it Bop It

But it's not like the movies (thanks Katy Perry), it's never that easy. but it's time to do something about it. Because comparing yourself to Lady Gaga or Janis Joplin or Bar Refaeli or that bitch you always hated who's actually doing pretty fucking well for herself (sometimes they don't peak in high school), is never going to accomplish anything.  Pretending to be hot shit has never worked in my favor due to crippling self doubt and lack of grace, so it's time to start full on believing it.


Or maybe just chug some vodka and fake it with some liquid confidence until you have truckloads of glitter and a record deal.

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