Weddings are weird, right? Like, a bunch of people come into a room and celebrate the fact that two people enjoy talking to each other and making out sometimes.
I was actually in my first wedding on Saturday and it was not all the seven-year-old me hoped it would be. Mani-pedi’s are awkward and weirdly painful/tickly. Decorating stuff is tedious and annoying. Squeezing into a bridesmaid dress is stressful and terrifying. The only saving graces were the fabulous hair and the tasty cake. And I guess the fact that my aunt is married now. That’s cool too, I guess.
It’s absolutely wonderful to see someone who I looked up to throughout most of my childhood standing up against inequality. He For She sounds like a wonderful, uniting, campaign. I most definitely didn’t cry whilst watching Emma Watson’s beautiful speech… Okay, I cried.
One of the things that has gotten to me recently is when people say things like, “Wow, she should not be wearing that”. Short skirt? Shouldn’t wear it. Daisy dukes? Shouldn’t wear them. Any form of leggings? Shouldn’t wear them unless you wear something long over them. And all of these things get double the comments when they’re on plus size girls.
Hearing this stuff is especially hard because I’m actually trying to remove thoughts like these from my head. Not only so that I can be more accepting of other people, but also so I can be more accepting of myself.
Until very recently, I have been afraid to wear dresses and/or skirts. Really anything that showed too much of my legs. And also high heels because being 5’10, I have heard my fair share of “You’re tall, you don’t need them”.
I would see people wearing these types of clothes and really like it, but years of listening to that little devil on my shoulder told me I shouldn’t. Progress on to now and they are actually the things I am most comfortable in. When I wear skirts or dresses, it’s this awesome mixture of feeling like a princess and a rockstar. When I wear heels, as I did today, the satisfying clicking when I walk makes me feel classy, grown up, and, well, like a rockstar princess.
I, personally, do not believe in fashion rules or “dressing for your figure”. You know how you dress for your figure? Have a body and put clothes on it. Done. Go out and rock whatever you feel comfortable in and don’t let anyone tell you that you “shouldn’t be wearing that”. You should wear whatever makes you feel like the sexy beast you are.
Whoever said that high school is the best four years of your life is a dirty liar. Because let me tell you, it is not at all like the 80s or 90s coming-of-age movies you hope it will be.
I was expecting those coming-of-age movies to be my life in high school. Little did I know that it would literally be the movies, with me sitting at home alone, eating ice cream. No miraculous dates or me living it up at the cool kid parties. Just me, my bed, and my laptop.
It is possible that I’m just doing high school wrong, but there is no way other people are enjoying this, right? Day-to-day high school life is so mundane, nothing at all like the fire that burns in the movies. And don’t even get me started on the hormones.
I think people put a lot of stress on high school being like the movies- the drama, the passionate relationships, the parties. It’s just setting you up to be let down by the reality of it all. High school is really not that big of a deal. I’m not saying it’s a terrible experience, I’m just saying that it’s not inherently exciting. It’s what you make of it.
I guess that means I need to make of it something more than a waste of my time. Time to make my own excitement so I can actually post some real life experiences on here.
Patience is a difficult thing for me. I’m not a big fan of waiting or hiding my opinions. It constantly surprises me how good I am at it, though (outwardly, at least. On the inside rages an angry fire).
There are day-to-day things that I have to be patient for. Things like dealing with people in classes where I am forced to partner up or listening to a friend complain about a lost phone. I have to be patient when learning chemistry and when others don’t pick it up as quickly as I do. I have to be patient as I sit in boredom in classes that I don’t feel are worth my time. I have to be patient with family members who drive me insane. And I have to be similarly patient with coworkers and customers.
Then there are the more long term and difficult types of patience, like waiting to see if I get a laptop for my birthday so I can write with working A, B, N, Enter, and Shift keys. And also waiting for myself to kick it into gear with a healthy lifestyle plan. I also have this really weird, uncertain type of waiting. I have no idea what I’m waiting for exactly, but I know there’s something. That one’s kind of the worst.
I wouldn’t really consider myself a patient person, but seeing all the things up there that I can be patient for without having my head explode makes me reconsider. Or maybe I’m just building up to an inevitable mental breakdown. That seems likely as well.
I just had to force myself to take a step away from editing to write this post. I almost completely forgot about it, but I’m glad I didn’t. Because now I can get some really good organization of my excited thoughts.
So, yes, editing has been occurring all day, but I haven’t actually laid a finger on the manuscript. I finished my full read-through today and then started in on notes for spicing up the plot and the emotional depth of the novel. Can I just say that I am so excited? And that excitement is over the simple fact that I remembered something for the second time- I am the author and I can do what I want.
It’s actually pretty sad that I ever forget that, as you would assume it would be something I would always remember. But it’s easy to forget that the manuscript, the plot you already have, is not the boss of you. You can literally change it however you want to and no one can tell you otherwise.
If you’re like me right now, you are building the important stuff onto the bare bones of your story. You have the basics, but now it’s time to add the muscles, organs, and all the other squishy tissues on top. Yeah, I like that totally anatomically correct metaphor. Because it’s still the same story underneath- you’re just adding more of the good bits so it will no longer look like a vomit-worthy Halloween decoration. It’ll be a real, flesh-and-blood novel. Can I get an amen for that kick-ass description of editing?
Make me your bitch, will you, skeleton novel? Not today, sir. Not today.
Less friends mean less dealing with their bullshit, but it also means less of the good parts of having friends. Until recently, I was pleased with high school changing and stripping away the friends that didn’t really fit with me anymore. But now I’m kind of feeling like a friendless recluse and let me just say that it is not the fun not-having-to-deal-with-people ordeal that it sounds like.
This realization was made last night on my little trek into the state fair with one of my best friends. Last year, when I went with a different friend (who is barely even a friendly acquaintance anymore, but that’s a different story) we ended up blending into a huge group and doing everything with them. It was probably my best experience at the fair, ever. So I guess I was probably putting too much pressure on this year to be good too. Instead of coming home last night elated and excited about new friendships, I came home thinking, “My god. I need more friends.” Because there was definitely no group-joining or even really any group-mingling happening last night. It was pretty sad actually.
So this is definitely not the fair-raving post I had expected it to be, but my experiences really were not rave-worthy. Ugh, now I’m gonna have to try again to be sociable and likeable. Wish me luck.