What I Learned: August 28

This week, I spend the weekend in a Chevy Tahoe, change my name to Uber, operate in a COMBINED EIGHT hours of sleep and navigate the strange streets of this city.

Friday (Continued from here):

After driving from Conneticut in the aforementioned Tahoe, meeting Nikki Bella and sneaker gawd Masch, I do my best Uber impression and drop off everyone AND then  pick up new gear.

I start a group text for the ages and plan for the next day. Always have to think of the future at least professionally. Personally, again, walking shitshow.

I then head back home where I circle like a large shark in this beast of a vehicle. I accidentally look like a fed doing laps in this car.

I find a parking super late at night and zombie shuffle home.

I learn that I really enjoy nice fancy cars, good music and wonder if I’d be your favorite Uber driver.

Saturday:

Early morning for back to back shoots.

I’ve named the Tahoe Brenda and she and I drive off to Brooklyn for the finale of a micro opus; the pirate black yeezys.

As it turns out, the super lousy and much maligned Adidas Reserve app blessed a few people with a pair of expensive Roshe run water shoes.

Again. The entire team is wearing Nikes.

We’re awful at branding strategy.

So.

We knock that out and climb back into Brenda for a drive out to Long Island for the Billboard Hot 100 Festival.
The drive out is facinating though. We’re cruising through Queens in all its multi leveled confusing street named business before its transformed into wide suburban wilderness. We wind up in Roosevelt Field Mall for meal and really, it’s like walking into the mall from Clueless.

My fat ass gets a Charley’s steaks sandwich and I savor every second with it because I know it’s going to be the last meal we have for a while.

Now.
Jones Beach is a big lovely piece of sand and water on the edge of the madness that is New York. Breathtaking. All that sun, wide open sky, spotty cell service, no shade, nothing for miles…no actually it’s hell adjacent. We pull to the Nikon Theater (we shoot on Canon cameras and glass by the way.) and park Brenda. I make long range Hail Mary lobs for interviews with big names and know they’ll fall very short of their mark but sometimes you just gotta try it y’know? I’m now in that elite circle of people who’s had Jason Derulo (you sang his name admit it) management team say, “Nah.”

We divide and conquer; shooting everything, slowly wilting under the August sun while every kind of could be, will be, top 40 music blares everywhere.

I get to film Halsey (weeps)

Some Betty Who (weeps again)

Micheal Braun (EDM tears)

Jason Derulo (because my mom is weirdly a fan)

Interview Trinidad James (don’t believe me? There’s a video. just watch)

We get an interview Natalie La Rosa and Justine Skye.

I film Lil Wayne’s performance.

Here’s where it gets to be funny though. During Wayne’s set, I mean, you have to know his music to get this but, just…picture a front row of white girls, chanting, sweaty excited about life suddenly yelling Wanye lyrics.

Including n*gga.

I mean.

I’m with a crew of African American dudes and we’re all standing there looking like Patrick Star completely stunned. We knew it was gonna happen but to actually bear witness to darling Becky, Lisa, Heather and Stephanie (names I pulled out of my butt) screaming

Uh, real nigga fuck these haters
These hoes got pussies like craters
Can’t treat these hoes like ladies, man!
Pussy, money, weed, codeine
She say my dick feel like morphine
I hope my name taste like sardines to these niggas
She wake up, eat this dick
Call that breakfast in bed

Yes.

I mean, “Bitches Love Me (Good Kush and Alcohol)” Is totally a deep piece of music but we stopped in our tracks and stared for a good minute before realizing we had to leave.

LOL WHUT

We do interviews on the beach and are promptly eaten alive by the adorable ants and bugs that live on the beach and crawl out at sunset because why not? It’s summer.

We get our faces melted by Axwell and Ingrosso which, if I may, was almost a religious experience. I forgot how much I truly love house and EDM music. There’s something beautiful in computers and synths making you feel something the same way real strings can. We pile up into a long media line and prep to shoot the last act of the night.

The Weeknd.

Remember that line of screaming girls? Still there. All deaf from Axwell and Ingrosso but they’re holding strong and immediately complaining about the press arriving in the front for photos. Guys, if ever you’re at a show, enjoying your night, drinking, laughing smoking and just being you in the moment, don’t bitch about or at the people working a show; we are in a place you want to be and we can go anywhere. You’ll live if my body blocks your view for ten whole minutes. Besides, watch the stage, not me.

Anyways, he’s great live and performed “Crew Love” while we were up there.

the hook.

I get it, it’s music and people are allowed to do and sing however but it’s SO FUCKING WARPED when twelve year olds are screaming ‘THERE’S A ROOM FULLA N*GGAS WHATCHU BOTHERIN’ ME FOOOORRRR’ with conviction.

In anycase, we stick around for another two and beat the traffic.

I venture deep into Queens on personnel delivery drops on some Uber meets GTA mission level stuff, wall eyed, exhausted and trying to figure out how to process the day.

I park outside Waffle’s building, figuring reckless charm is all one needs to make things work. I text and send a hilarious video of myself bopping around in the car and receive a text that is both mixed and positive. “You should’ve text me earlier, it’s too late now.”

so you’re saying I have to ask earlier in the day?

By the time I arrive home, it’s well after one am I’ve been up for 18 hours and not really fatigued so much as just…

Sunday:

Recovery sort of happens. I still have the boat I spent at least 20 minutes battling for parking (seriously, it’s competitive as all hell) manage to park the boat and work out a few things. I get pizza for everyone because pizza forever and wind up taking some home in a box that’s almost novelty in its size. I climb into the car again, mutter ‘One Last Ride’ on some Vin Diesel shit, place the box in the passenger side and roll out.

It’s an American truck so I guess this is appropriate

I will now add pizza delivery service to my list of things I can do.

So many hats.

The boat goes back to the rental service and as I leave Brenda, grateful for her service, dependability and rear camera system, I’m greeted by one of the clerks who walks around the truck with big wide eyes.

“How’d you like the car?” she asks.

“It’s great. A little much but I had a good time.”

“Is it the one you ordered?”

(I didn’t order it, it just popped up on me) “Yep.”

I watch as she climbs in and turns the car on to check the settings. “Oh it’s like, you didn’t do anything with it.”

*in my head* You’re right I didn’t do anything but shuttle people and gear around for three days. I didn’t sit in it for awhile blasting music and staring out at the traffic ahead of me wondering about my place in the universe, if I should pick up new comics this week and if Coldplay will go on another world tour. “Oh I kept it clean before bringing it back.”

“I appreciate that!”

*in my head*  so do I get a break on this discount or nah?

I shuffle my exhausted ass back to the train, which, given how much driving I’ve been doing feels incredibly weird. I’m one of those assholes with a box of pizza on the train and I can feel everyone judging me; I’m holding the box correctly. Cold pizza or not, you do NOT under any circumstances hold pizza under your arm like a surfboard. I sit down with this stupid box in my lap and just think about how my life as flip turned upside down. I can be as tired as I want but being broke is even more exhausting.

The interesting thing is as I continue to work and get farther away from my last self (the struggling to make ends meet freelancer me) I find that I’m still trying to figure out which me I am now. I believe that we are born and reborn over and over again, given different lives to live in the moment we walk into that timeline and this timeline is almost new, the entire experience unknown and I can’t parallel it with anything I’ve been through so far. I don’t want to be an asshat but it’s so strange and I guess its kinda cool that way. Scary but cool.

Monday:

It’s funny because given how eventful this weekend was, Monday feels like another random ass day where things happen. We had cookies so, that’s always a good time. I actually leave my house at a decent hour and spent some time with my mom before holing up in my lab to write and stare at Monday Night Raw.

Mostly because I hadn’t seen Nikki’s sneakers in action.

Fun fact? We’re the same height (5’7) and shoe size (8) BUT definitely not that good looking.

Also fun fact? She wore the sneakers again.

Tuesday:

A delightful flurry of activity happens and yours truly basically does her very best to keep up with the everything going on. I’m overseeing a project on a group, The Bushwick Collective and as it turns out, there are great supporters and even bigger obstacles they are facing. You can be so good at your job that other people want to take it from you. It’s a big piece and with everything going on…well…I hope it’s straight napalm and melts faces.

I randomly text Waffle and ask if dinner is an option.

Surprise.

It is.

basically what happened

We have a quiet dinner where Waffle rails on everything happen while I politely shovel pasta into my face hole and try my best not to stare lovingly at that face.

It’s kinda embarrassing how big a loser I am.

I wind up picking up some CDs: Florence + The Machine, The Weeknd, Halsey and Tove Lo. I have all them in digital format but The Weeknd and Halsey were ill begotten advances because physical stores haven’t caught up with the digital Friday releases…haha. fight me.

Wednesday:

A day off doesn’t mean you’re actually allowed to unplug and it DEFINITELY doesn’t mean life won’t throw many nasty curveballs. I’m told to continue to persevere but that’s easy to say when you’ve been getting square meals, sleep and feel appreciated.

Thursday:

Waffle needed to get some dental work done and so, me and my white knight ass volunteered to meet her and shuttle her around.

oh is there a problem?

oh is there a problem?

I finish my book, Shadowshaper, and watch as Waffle emerges from the room bleary eyed and puffy. Extractions are the least fun thing ever. We spend the early afternoon shuffling between pharmacies and I endure increasing levels of grump bitch before getting an apology text.

pls?

Friday:

I’m running errands because taking a break isn’t a thing that I know how to do.

I spend the day with Waffle and basically do the worst job of covering up my heart eyes.

It winds up being a good day.

Denzel Washington: Your New Favorite Meme

While many are struggling with forced hangovers, the regret of paying $100 on a less than fantastic fight, the internet in all it’s terrific instant humor glory is basking the in the glow of what can only be described as Summer’s hot new meme:

I swear to god he’s a long lost uncle of mine.

During the pre-fight festivities, the cameras captured celebrities as they poured into the MGM Grand last night waiting for the ‘fight of the century’. After paying a shit-ton of money to watch two dudes dance around a ring for 12 rounds, you’d think you’d get something a little more noteworthy than the man King Kong ain’t got shit on.

The glitz.

The glamour.

The awkward shot of Denzel Washington.

Immediately, Twitter’s elite jumped onto the sight of the veteran actor, looking like the uncle you only see during family gatherings and showing signs of age. The Oscar winner, clad in a classic Adidas track jacket and all black New York Yankees’ fitted, seemed to be in good spirits but the Twitterati, already foaming with rage over the fight’s delayed start time, took to the keyboards and cracked joke after joke, meme after meme making the whole reason we were all watching the fight on Periscope, seem stupid in comparison.

Here are some of the highlights:

I even tried it

Denzel’s appearance wasn’t the most shocking thing to happen at last night’s fight. There was this:

yes that happened. yes, someone paid money for that to happen. In what could only be described as a marketing stroke of genius (or someone having a stroke in the middle of an important budget meeting and everyone miscontruing the entire thing) the Burger King himself walked with Money Mayweather. Not to be outdone, Manny was escorted out by comedian Jimmy Kimmel who’s been enjoying a bromance with the fighter after learning the words to the entrance song Pac wrote and performed.

It was like someone opened up a box labeled TUMBLR, let it out into the world and waited to see the madness that would follow. Every second seemed like a truly bizarre collection of meme ready fodder orchestrated by some of the richest people in the world. It was like the half time show had become the main event. Imagine Left Shark just completely dominating the second half of the Super Bowl and an alternate world where the Pats lost and Katy Perry was just some broad in the middle of the whole thing.

Our culture is so weird when it comes to major moments; we want them to mean something when we bear witness to them but we’re also prepared for the complete and total letdown that is inevitable. Maybe we’re cynical and just know that we shouldn’t come into things expecting the greatest of outcomes but every so often, things like Left Shark and Uncle Denzel happen and we all gravitate towards it because we all agree in the absurdity of the things we build up as events and milestones. We anticipate the best of the best as a community and thanks to social media, we all pick at the things we watch together and see who makes the joke stick.

No one knows where a third of the memes come from; we never know when a joke lands and goes viral but let’s be honest, no one went into this thinking that there was going to be anything remotely resembling an actual fight. We didn’t however count on one of Hollywood’s biggest actors stealing the show.

Thor is A Woman and That’s Fucking Fantastic

There is a major shake up happening in Marvel.

Starting in October, Thor, The Might Asgardian Norse god of Thunder would be…Thor, the Mighty Asgardian Norse goddess of Thunder.

The statement released on Marvel.com:

Marvel is excited to announce an all-new era for the God of Thunder in brand new series, THORwritten by Jason Aaron complimented with art from Russell Dauterman.

This October, Marvel Comics evolves once again in one of the most shocking and exciting changes ever to shake one of the “big three” of Captain American, Iron Man and Thor. No longer is the classic Thunder God able to hold the mighty hammer, Mjölnir, and a brand new female hero will emerge worthy of the name THOR.

More on Marvel.com: http://marvel.com/news/comics/2014/7/15/22875/marvel_proudly_presents_thor#ixzz37Z7NQyO0

Speculation is wild about the origins of the new wielder of Mjölnir, and the only hint that the lucky lady is someone who Thor himself saved. She’s built herself off of his mighty blondness and as of October, we’ll find out just who she is and how Thor lost his mojo.

“The inscription on Thor’s hammer reads ‘Whosoever holds this hammer, if HE be worthy, shall possess the power of Thor.’ Well it’s time to update that inscription,” says Marvel editor Wil Moss. “The new Thor continues Marvel’s proud tradition of strong female characters like Captain Marvel, Storm, Black Widow and more. And this new Thor isn’t a temporary female substitute – she’s now the one and only Thor, and she is worthy!”

Throg

Beta Ray Bill

The hammer chooses the wielder, just like Hogwarts Sorting Hat decides that your weak ass is a Hufflepuff and worthy to wield the hammer. (I’m kidding, I don’t know if Hufflepuff is weak, I’ve always been sorted into Gryffindor) Everyone can be worthy to carry the hammer, which is the great appeal of the entire mythos behind the Cosmic Marvel universe.

In 1978, issue 10 of Thor, The Watcher speculated what would have happened if Jane Foster found the Hammer.

what if i did enough squats to git this outfit?

So it’s not out of the realm of possibility for the ownership to pass from Thor Odinson to someone else. It has happened before. Especially when you consider that Throg was an actual plot point.

Thor is a name, not a title.

Naturally, the nerd hordes had a temper tantrum regarding the sex change because nerd rage.

Essentially, comic book purists can accept Throg, vaguely recall The Watcher’s one shot story about Jane and Mjölnir but for her to actually happening during a current run is a problem. The statement includes (paraphrase) a nod to the neglected female comic book fan, which makes it seem like a bit of a cash grab but it also acknowledges that female fronted titles are in demand and Marvel suits aren’t stupid. Captain Marvel, AKA Carol Danvers has been having an amazing run under Kelly Sue DeConnick which has spawned into a great Ms. Marvel title. X-Men founding member Ororo Munroe, aka Storm, is getting her first lead title despite having been in comics for longer than the recently decreased Wolverine who’s had multiple runs as a lead character. Marvel has been leading the charge in comic book diversity where DC is struggling to keep up. Both companies have the luxury of celebrating 50 years in the business and Marvel seems to be the first out of the old guard to truly embrace that the world is in fact very different today than it was upon some of their classic titles first printing.

 

Yesterday it was announced that John Constantine in the upcoming NBC paranormal horror series Constantine would not be bisexual as is cannon with the comic book. That’s a whole other argument but the nerd rage was interesting. They were dismayed at having this part of the character be downplayed when it was essential to who he is. The show runners also discussed that he will not be smoking as much as he does in his Hellblazer title.

At the heart of the hero is still the heart of who they are.

What does it mean that Thor is being replaced by a woman?

Nothing.

What it means is that readers will be treated to a richer experience in storytelling because you have to make your character someone to care about. As a woman, you’re invested in a character that isn’t another run of the mill damsel in distress and as a male reader, you’re still reading a comic book with a ass kicking lead with a legacy. When Miles Morales, the famously biracial kid from Queens, became the new Spider-man, the world almost imploded. From the nerd purists to the racists, Miles becoming the new Spider-man was the prime example for why comics need to change, why diversity is important and why everyone should feel welcome and represented in the great big world of comics and fantasy. They are escape routes and lessons in being a better person packed into bright pages. People of color and women should be included in this world that essentially doesn’t know the same politics as this one does.

The truth is, Marvel should be working on creating a new female lead, fresh origins, fresh stories, fresh everything. They may still be a long way off considering the success of their legacy titles but the seeds are being planted now. They’ve started that with the introduction of Kamala Khan as the aforementioned Ms. Marvel but there are established rules with that power because of the years of the hero having been male. She still needs to be a hero with an old credo in a modern world that may not welcome her.  By introducing new faces in old roles however, you demonstrate that anyone can and will be worthy of the title of hero.

The rage comes from the boat of comfort being rocked and people who don’t like change being toss out of the boat. We don’t know who the new Thor is and won’t until the title rolls out in October. We don’t know the conditions to which Thor loses his ability just as we don’t know how long she’ll be Thor. For all we know, Sif is the new Mjölnir wielder and the ‘other woman’ is Loki in disguise. That’s what makes the speculation so exciting. Taking someone and putting them into an extraordinary circumstance, like becoming something more is a universal experience. It’s a journey that everyone will go through as they discover who they are. Why should an extraordinary experience like becoming a superhero, a guardian, a crusader be only limited to men, or white men? Why should we continue to tell the other that they will remain that way because comic books say so? We are at an age of discovery, where someone somewhere at every second will discover who they are, who they are meant to be and what greater allegory is there than the superhero comic book title? Image Comics, Top Cow and Dark Horse are fantastic when it comes to the idea of diversity in storytelling but they aren’t the MAJORS like DC and Marvel are, plus, their titles tend to lean more maturely than Marvel and DC do.

I get that people are upset that this is happening to their beloved character but it doesn’t change who that character is at the core of their principles. The wild thing is that when Loki has swapped genders, it’s so totally Loki that it’s accepted. Some of it is ridiculed because people are five and have problems with things that challenge their personal belief systems and that’s cool but their distaste is tainting a very simple thing. Sure, Loki is evil and evil people do lousy things but there was no real uproar once Loki went back to being a boy. Maybe women aren’t allowed to be evil? Even if they’re the god of mischief.

After Ragnarök, Loki returned in a female body working with Doctor Doom so Thor would unwittingly resurrect his Asgardian enemies[40] and manipulated Balder to make him the new successor to the throne of Asgard.[41] In reality, Loki retained his male form after Ragnarok but hid himself inside Thor’s reborn lover Sif. During this period, Hela and Loki used magic to send Loki to the past to cause the events that led to his younger self being adopted by Odin as a means to eliminate Bor, Thor’s grandfather.

You can deal with spectral cosmic forces, space and time travel but a chick in charge, burn down the world.

Bae material either gender

What will be interesting is if the new Thor sticks around, what threat does she pose when it comes to warrior woman iconography? Gender Swapped Starbuck was the space warrior of our dreams but that didn’t come with controversy. We’re years away from Xena who was years removed from Wonder Woman who grand mothered Buffy the Vampire Slayer.. Could the new Thor be the new power character we’ve been looking for in the comic book universe? Can she become the next mainstream hero to stand with Black Widow, Maria Hill, Storm, Kitty Pryde, Black Cat, Melinda May, She-Hulk and Elektra? Of course she can, the real question is, come October, will you be willing to go on that adventure?

Personally, I’m looking forward to covers that aren’t spandex and ass shots. I mean c’mon. I’m badass, but don’t pay attention to my ass, just watch yours while it’s getting kicked.

With San Diego Comic Con just around the corner, one can only speculate that Marvel has succeeded in dominating the show floor and panels with this announcement as well as the media tour for the upcoming Guardians of The Galaxy, which features the daughter of Thanos and master assassin Gamora. Details will probably start surfacing once the con kicks off and we may get an idea of what’s in store for Thor and the new wielder of Mjölnir, so everyone who is butthurt now will be placated later on. Odds are, the answer will be so decent, that whatever controversy that may arise will be quelled by just how stupid they had been in the first place.What we do know is that Marvel is continuing the trend of understanding that readers, good solid committed, readers will always seek, find and buy the titles that interest them because that’s the business they’ve gotten themselves into.

What we want to see is a character that gives new life to an old name, that makes you discover comic books for the first time or rediscover them all over again.

FOUND OUT WHO IT IS:

DC had better step it’s game up.

Why Being Pretty is A Joke

Today I decided to get a quick eyebrow job figuring my part time werewolf impression was getting kinda stale. The place is run by Thai and Vietnamese immigrants so you can only imagine how many times you think they’re talking about you in their respective languages while while repeating “eyebrow, sit”. I love cultural exchanges and I ask a lot questions, chief among them,  the phrases that will allow me safe passage to places and how much liquor is.  That’s not the point though.

You walk into nail salons and it’s like entering another world, especially if these are non English/Spanish establishments which around my way, there are plenty of. Often times they’re all the same, white or cream interior, small cubicles of nail kits for sale, the wall o polish and the ten free nail design board with acrylic artwork that should be in a museum rather than chipping after three days.

It’s like a lottery when you go because some of the women are really good and then there are the ones still trying to master the fine art of the arch and not leave you with a chola arch. I get it. I’m Hispanic. We all want chola brows.

Anyways.

I draw the one that is the fetishized Asian ideal: Thin, big boobs, timid giggle and bottle dye job. Her twin is busy with a belt sander working on the talons of some woman who regretted waiting so long to do her pedi but it’s beach weather so she’s gotta do it. She tells me, “eyebrow, sit” and like a good goon, I do.  They’ve got a flat screen in there that’s linked to the web and have been streaming Asian top 40 mega mix stream (I swear on everything there was a track featuring Pitbull LAWD he’s truly conquered) she’s humming along and preparing to rip portions of my face off with wax and fabric. The salon is owned by someone much younger than I am and she’s pretty much a business tycoon, she’s employed mostly friends and family from the mother land and allows herself Mondays off. She checks in on them regularly and has been known to randomly pop up in the shop just to make sure the place hasn’t burned to the ground. The clientele is predominately black and hispanic, so it’s basically the urban UN in there. Women all complaining about lives either on their phones or to the nail technician. They do have Hispanic technicians but they often rotate days and today, they weren’t in. I’ve spoken to the Hispanic technicians there and they admit that the language thing makes them feel funny. We’ve had this conversation in Spanish.

They all start chattering on and giggling amongst themselves. Now, as a bilingual American, you do tend to ramble in your native language because sometimes, shit sounds funnier in your own language but in the context of a place where the woman working on your eyebrows is ACTUALLY inches away from your face, you immediately think, shit, they’re making fun of me. I’m just trying to get my eyebrows done and I honestly feel so attacked right now.

So now you’re self conscious with half an eyebrow done and they are all talking and giggling. Here I am, feeling all terrible and self conscious about my appearance (so vulnerable) and you’re giggling about something. In any case, I have the eyebrows done and have gone from a category four holy shit you’ve got a unibrow to a category one people will make proper eye contact with you when you’re in a meeting. I feel temporarily better because I don’t look like a Muppet.

As I’m sitting there, waiting for my mom to finish her mani pedi (she isn’t the one getting the power sander treatment) rubbing my eyebrows in dismay because I’m pretty sure I’ve roasted off the top layer of skin with the wax, it dawns on me: The effort that we go to be appealing is appalling. You wonder if, from their standpoint, they think you’re wasting time. Sure it’s great business to get into and finger nail hygiene is totally important, but the rest of it, the plucking, the waxing, the dyes, what purpose does it serve?

From the matching dye job the twins have, to my waxing hair off my eyebrows to the woman getting her lip and chin done and Lady Belt Sander, we as women spend so much time wanting to look acceptable that we spend more time fixing the things that are superficial. Then we judge each other based on how good we’ve convinced other people we’re good looking. We get self conscious about how we look and the personal value dramatically drops so we’ll go and fix it to see how much better you feel afterwards. It’s natural. Sometimes you get sick of looking at the same thing over and over again. I’m all about keeping a decent appearance and waking up all Beyoncé and flawless and what not but when we place the emphasis on what you look like versus who you are we have to pump breaks.

How I want to wake up

how I actually wake up

 

Pretty is a joke.

Aesthetics are based on what? Media? On personal choice? On what has worked in getting jobs and dates? Does that mean that we only work on the exterior when it’s going to be beneficial? Do guys feel that same pressure? Should I give a shit?

So many people talk about how it’s not what’s outside but what’s inside that counts but they WILL admit that they won’t talk to someone who looks like they quit giving a shit midway through getting dressed that morning. I should know, I’ve worn t-shirts to events and have had no one talk to me vs when I’ve had a button down on and people are demanding to know all about you. We don’t encourage people to be the weirdos they can be because sometimes your weird isn’t the kind of weird other people want to celebrate. This is especially painful to watch in women and girls.

At 12 we’ve already made a girl feel bad about being good at sports, being dirty and playing rough. By 21, she’s already got a complex about how she looks in certain outfits to best reduce the odds of being harassed. By 31, she doesn’t give a shit but misses her 12 year old self because that one was so much stronger back then than she is now. We spend millions of precious moments on looking better thinking we’ll feel better but we really should pay attention to what’s being said. You’re about as good as the last outfit and you look a mess today.

Place yourself as you are next to the ideal and watch how terrible you feel. It’s not until a normal person, someone also struggling with the same problems looks at you that you realize that that’s the reason you sort of give a shit. That one person who thinks that dirty t-shirt is amazing an the sloppy hair look is so you. That’s when you don’t care about the overall look and you care about yourself. Pretty people are always empowered or empowering others but what makes them so confident is that they stopped giving a shit and someone noticed. Or they say they don’t give a shit. People are attracted to the things that make them feel better and they hold onto it to give them the strength to improve and most of the time, those things aren’t hair products, skin regimes or fashion.

No one has it figured out really. There is no formula for successful self acceptance and anyone that tells you they’ve found it is a liar. The reason why you even start thinking about these kinds of things in the first place is because you want to know WHAT IT ALL MEANS. Why in many parts of the metropolitan United States there are strip malls dedicated to beauty, wellness, nail and hair salons, damn near identical store fronts with buzzing neon signs or funny looking awnings. You want to know why we care about HOW WE LOOK TO OTHER PEOPLE. You should always impress yourself before you want to impress others, that’s where the joy comes from. The idea that you can just walk through life being as normal or outlandish as possible is what makes you something to look out for.

When you’re pretty, the world seems to be handed to you, when you’re average, you bring the world to it’s knees. Think about it. Helen of Troy; they launched a war based off of how pretty she was. Know who was fighting over her? Two average dudes. Conventionally attractive people are able to get people to do things for them while average people are doing the things and pretty people are just being pretty. If you’re pretty, or attractive, people are more likely to listen to you while if you’re average, they’ll be impressed you are functioning in this society. Nevermind the fact that you wrote whatever pretty person is saying.

Actually you know what?

You can be pretty and be smart. Let’s stop being assholes about this.

You should however be allowed to be a bit messy and still be seen as a decent human being.

As I’m sitting here inhaling nail polish and acrylic, I see that there’s a whole world of people who will happily conform to the idealized head cannon beauty and you know what, that’s cool. What’s fascinating is that the need to be acceptable is a global truth; these women make a living making other women feel better about themselves and maybe talk shit about what they’re doing to get that cheap high. Western standards aren’t global ideals just yet but they are getting there, so long as salons like the one described exist. The women in the nail salon are just doing the dance to make something happen and the women who are doing the dancing will always do it because there’s something that needs to be done for them to feel that same cheap high. They haven’t discovered that you shouldn’t give a shit what other people think. We need them around because you have to remember that who you are is you and even if people giggle about you as you try to smarten up, you’re still you and that’s your truth.

Beauty fades, that’s why there are so many old time filters on instagram.