I cut, like, a foot of hair off of my head and I am a little sad about it! The long, knotted wig I wore was just too in the way recently and had to go. The ends were split, the middles were dead, and now the roots are my natural dookie-hued shade :/ Since having it fixed up and flattened out at the salon, I don't feel very sad, though, so that "little" is an improvement. I think maybe I'll just leave my hair alone for a while now; no cuts, no colors. Eventually I'll be the girl from Frozen again. (Frozen was a perfect movie, by the way, maybe the best movie ever made???????)
I've got the GREs happening this Wednesday and a fifteen-page paper happening sometime between now and when I write it before its December 15th deadline. And then maybe I have more college things like that come January. Or maybe I'll change my mind again, or worry and fret some more over what I want and what is next. I wish I could get through to my brain and make some decisions! And free myself of resentfulness and sad feelings and thinking too much, and also I need to relearn algebra by December 4th.
I've been reading the Anne Shirley series, but I think I'll stop after I finish Anne's House of Dreams. I just don't think I can bear reading about an older-than-me Anne with children. I feel like I've grown up all over again with her stories these past few months, and I'm not ready for her life to surpass mine. I'll leave her at twenty-seven years of age and think of her that way to stay. Plus, maybe it'll be nice to move onto other literary kindred spirits. I've got lots of books under my bed that I've yet to read, plus a library card to access all sorts of stories I've either never read or only skimmed through during high school. I don't like to regret things, because what's the point in doing that if you haven't any access to a time traveling machine?, but I do wish I'd cared more about books throughout my academia. I love that I spent my high school years making Saturday Night Live videos and my college years watching so much television, but I should've thrown loads more reading into there. But maybe January will find me starting a Master's degree in English and soon drowning in written words, if all works out.
Being happy is weird. It warps time, but doesn't make the worry go away. Well, it goes away, but then it comes back when your computer dies and you've finished Anne of Windy Poplars and you've only your brain to keep you company until your roommate arrives home from work and loans his MacBook charger to you. SATURDAY NIGHTS, Y'ALL.
I woke up with the idea to play a movie game with myself, but with the playlist at fourteen hours or whatever long, I had to chop it down to just four films. The whole idea was that I wanted to watch The Hairy Bird and Damsels in Distress, and a few other things I wasn't sure of just yet, but so then I thought it'd be fun to make my way from the one to the other with each film's actors. Like, so The Hairy Bird stars Gaby Hoffman and Kirsten Dunst. So I was going to watch Now and Then first (Gaby Hoffman is in that) and then Dick after (Kirsten Dunst is in that). Then I'd watch The Baxter (Michelle Williams is in both), then I'd watch Penelope (Peter Dinklage is in both), then I'd watch Beetlejuice (Catherine O'Hara is in both), then I'd watch The Ten (Winona Ryder is in both), which also stars my boyfriend Adam Brody, who is also in Damsels in Distress. But maybe I need a hobby, though?
Yesterday an old woman got out of her car to yell at me because she didn't like the way I parked in front of her; and when she yelled at me again out of her window as she drove by after getting back into her car, I yelled back at her to get a grip. I think I should also take this advice because I think and worry too, too much about everything I do and everything that could happen. I need to get a grip! (But that old lady needs to get a grip more, to be sure.)
I am always at the very least a little bit sad. Most of the time I find it buried underneath cats and burritos and Adam Brody, but sometimes it slowly morphs itself into a cloak I wear and only the tip of my nose and fingers are touched by the happiness around me. It's those days, or sometimes weeks, that I stay in bed as much as I can, rewatching series of television shows over and over, or staring at my wall trying to decide what it is I even want to watch until I give up and go to sleep instead. I've been worse than that, very very worse than that, only twice in recent memory. I found myself staring at my wall until giving up and going to sleep on Wednesday night, but this time with the wherewithal to want to stop it before it became very very worse than that. So last night, with this wherewithal, I curled up into the only real chair we have in our new living room (the rest are lawnchairs until we decide on a couch and buy that couch) and I stayed there until everyone wanted to watch football. I questioned some Jeopardy! answers, I ate some Cheetos Mix-Ups, I conversed with the other humans who live here, as well as the ones who showed up for football, and then I went upstairs to type all of this as if it is already Friday. But I'm not staring at my wall! And I don't have the urge to cry for no real reason other than the weight of my thoughts and feelings crushing the air out of my lungs!
This weekend, I hope to find a big comfy chair for the empty corner of my new bedroom. And I think dad and I are going to paint my new walls and new ceiling. And I think I want a rug. The new house is all hardwood floors, but my floor is for some reason painted gray and it makes me frown.