( 10:53 PM ) Glitter Girl
::i suck, Charlie Brown::
No, I haven’t forgotten my blogger home. I have not forgotten where I came from. I still have some bullshit writing in me yet.
So I still don’t know what a lot of other people do about body hair. I never knew it was such a problem before. I had no idea that so many women where so tied up in body hair. Being Asian I don’t have a lot to fret over. I guess I’m lucky. What hair I do have I don’t think is a problem… at least I don’t think it’s a problem. Since this laser hair reduction job I see people in a whole new light. And that light can get pretty hairy and I hate myself for being judgmental over hair.
So superficial.
But like… do a lot of guys want their armpit hair gone? Okay, I get the hairy backs and shoulders on some guys. It’s got to be uncomfortably hot in those natural pelts. And those birds nests in male bikini areas… I can see how that could be uncomfortable. And I feel good about helping those poor girls with actual beards and I enjoy seeing them get much needed self esteem. I also have a soft spot for the boys changing into girls because most of them are the kindest souls.
But do chicks really need bald pussies?? I mean, what is the pubic hair etiquette for girls?? My Filipino Catholic mother sure as hell didn’t educate me in that. I just don’t think bald pussies are attractive. It’s like looking at my little girls. I waited ten long years for that pubic hair to sprout. Why do I want to fucking up-do my snatch? For whom am I doing this for? I like my bush. Sure you need to trim once in a while but goddamn! Am I seriously doing this for the guy? Any guy would be lucky to find himself down under. Whether or not my snatch has got the glam on is irrelevant. Am I doing it for me? Oh yeah, I don’t feel like a real woman if my pubes are all in a line… or triangle… or heart shape… or in a stripe…
So tell me again. Why is it so hard to be a woman? Who is the asshole putting all these fucked up standards on me? Who’s my worse enemy?
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Sunday, July 31, 2005 ::
( 5:18 PM ) Glitter Girl
::every road leads...::
...here again...
I wonder if anyone is listening any more.
Yawn.
I've become a terrible bore. It's not for lack of things to write about. I have too many adventures to count living here with the evil faeries.
It looks like the last time I posted anything was in April. I had just seen Tori. Funny. Just last week I bought tickets yet again to a show in Concord this September... only this time I bought three instead of two. We'll be taking Mojo to her first concert. The last time I was at a show there was, of course, Tori... and I was pregnant with Mojo.
Wow...
Life moves way too fast. Why does that phenomenon seem to happen even faster the older you get?
And, while we're at it... why is it that body hair pops up in the oddest places and in the oddest "designs" the older you get?
I've sold out since April. I have kissed the not for profit employers good-bye. I am now in the vanity industry. I wield a laser in the reduction of human body hair.
Can I stay grounded in this environment? I've already had my underarms treated so as to know my job better. (And yes, it hurts like a mother fucker.) I'm an island hippy girl. I don't particularly like the beauty industry and vain people are icky. Can I stay the girl I truly am?
Hair or no hair?? What do you do?
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Tuesday, April 26, 2005 ::
( 7:02 PM ) Glitter Girl
::sunday::
I saw Tori on Sunday. I've lost count but I think I've seen her about 10 times now... I missed the first tour in '92 for "Earthquakes" and vowed never to do it again. So... I've seen a show on every tour since and I think maybe a couple extra... not sure. I'm getting old and I've fried a few brain cells on the way.
It was like going to church. Going to a Tori show is like going to mass for me. She's a goddess. "The Beekeeper" is Tori at her best. When she performed "Beekeeper" I cried. She's that good. She can still bring a girl to fairyland and back again.
A few weeks ago the Painted Ladies came and made a path through my garden and over my pool. I suspect it has something to do with the fairies and gnomes that live in my backyard. And I suspect that the presence of said fairies and gnomes has something to do with the two changelings that call me "Mommy."
I almost quit my job last week. I stood up for myself and rustled my feathers a bit. Then they begged me to stay and gave me what I wanted. Lesson: Don't fuck with a Mommy that has a kinship with wolves.
Hula is teaching me to be more comfortable in my body. I've found the power not just of orange knickers under my purple pa'u, but the power of the swaying hips holding up said knickers.
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Sunday, April 10, 2005 ::
( 8:54 AM ) Glitter Girl
::missing::
When I was a little girl in grade school I played the clarinet. I had originally wanted to play the flute because I had fallen in love with the sweet sound of it but, in the ghetto, there were only so many flutes in the program that I got my second choice. I don’t remember being all that good but I did get chosen to play with only two other kids in my class to play with the band at CSUS. Apparently this was a big thing. I was supposed to stay a whole day with a college student in the band and play in a show that evening.
I remember the day as being cold and wet. I was scared. I had never done anything like this before and I wasn’t just nervous about playing in front of all these strange people but I didn’t want to do it alone. My dad, as usual, was the one to drive me and drop me off.
I remember my mom saying goodbye to us at the door and I remember being very quiet. I remember the smell of wet things in the car as we drove quietly to the college. I also remember crying softly and trying to hide it behind my hood.
By the time we got there I was crying freely. I don’t remember exchanging any words with my dad. I remember meeting the girl who was going to take me under her wing and I remember being showed around and feeling more intimidated by the size of everything. I don’t think the tears stopped when the hysteria began but I remember being led back to my dad who had waited for me “just in case.” Before I knew it he had taken me in his arms and put me back into the car to take me home.
He never teased me or punished me or berated me about the whole ordeal. When we got back home my mother made me feel like a baby and I remember her laughing about how I was scared while trying to console me at the same time. My dad never teased me or bad me feel bad. He didn’t say much of anything… but he never really had to.
When I grew up that incidence has been brought up as a sort of joke by my mother. She doesn’t mean ill, I know, but it still sucks a little. My dad never brought it up and never commented on it. He had a way of understanding things and just not fucking with it. Sometimes you need that.
Two years have gone by so fast. It’s like I’ve grown used to the void he left behind but every once in awhile, I can feel something inside me stretching and hurting… missing him. I don’t have anyone to impress anymore. As a daddy’s girl, it’s something that makes me feel lost once in awhile.
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Monday, March 21, 2005 ::
( 9:47 PM ) Glitter Girl
I think it was the crow.
Usually, this time of year… my pristine white mini van mommy nightmare is covered in various colors of bird shit. I especially appreciate the purple ones.
But this year… nothing. Not a one. Except for all the dirt and dead bugs my van would be clean. And I have the most tempting tree on the block to perch on, the tree that stretches directly above my vehicle. It’s perfect.
I think it was Zoltan. He fell, beak first into my lawn right in front of my eyes. I had to help him. I couldn’t ignore it. I got a towel and despite a murder screaming at me that my nightmare about being stuck in “The Birds” movie was about to come true, I picked him up. After my initial assessment I found bleeding wounds on his leg. I cleaned him while we talked. He was a good listener. Didn’t offer too much information. I thought it a bit rude since I divulged a few good secrets. I gave him a warm bed and a little peace. The next day, he gave me a nod and flew out of my hands.
I like happy endings sometimes. It’s easy to believe a fairy tale ending. It’s safer.
Today I feel hostile. I’m pretty pissed at the world. The only thing that calms me is working in the garden. I’m obsessed with plants and herbs and roses and color and green. There’s a girl remembering Spring inside me still.
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Monday, March 14, 2005 ::
( 11:18 AM ) Glitter Girl
::thinking::
Every self-respecting man needs to make peace with thier inner asshole so as not to make thier outer asshole so powerful.
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Friday, March 11, 2005 ::
( 9:05 AM ) Glitter Girl
::yummy::
Every self-respecting girl loves her muffin.
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