hairballs.

I have an intense phobia of any collection of hair outside of a human or animal’s body.

Living in a sorority with fifty women meant that after 4pm on Thursday-Saturday nights, I had to cover my eyes walking into the bathroom which had been taken over by brushes, combs, straighteners, curlers and HAIRBALLS.

This is a phobia I have ignored for many a moon because I didn’t think it was serious. I thought that hairballs were simply things I could live without rather than things that induced dry-heaving.

Until last week. I was with some girlfriends watching a movie, when my curly red-headed friend pulled a giant knot out of her own head. I began squealing and she hid it from me, laughing. But I knew it was there. The hair ball. Plotting evil. To fall in my shoe or touch my finger. Waiting. Watching.

Sitting at a pub tonight, the same evil red-head and another friend began discussing this phobia. Again, the dry-heaving and the covering of the mouth and the hacking.

There is NOTHING in this world that upsets me more than a giant ball of hair. I don’t know if this is a good thing. I don’t know where it came from. I don’t know when it will leave. All I know is that it is keeping me from my dream as a professional Celebrity Hair Braider.

Do you have phobias?

throw up your hands in the ayerrr

OMG. See what they did there!? wit.

I often joke that I’ve given up on love for one reason or another. Through the heartbreaks of my friends, or the ones that my own, I often mumble that I’ll die alone. This mumbling usually takes place after two bottles of wine and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s while sipping tea and journaling.

However, I am full of shit.

I still believe that I can and will be in love again. I adore being single and can’t imagine anything else happening in my life right now. Besides – I got used to sleeping alone and living alone and drinking myself to sleep every afternoon. [The heat is TOO expensive. Drinking at noon keeps me warm, okay!??!]

One day, however, I want a pretty white dress and a deliciously oversized diamond and a duvet cover and a real vacuum cleaner and … a husband I guess. By default.

So I wonder — when does the turning point come? When will I mumble into my Riesling under my breath and mean it? Why is it that 20-something women spend so much time pretending to be cynical when we really believe that we will find the man or woman of our dreams at some point?

Will I wake up one day at forty-seven and realize that I’ve hit a wall? Will I look down at my wool socks (because they will never go out of style) and my mismatched fuzzy blankets on my bed and say “Well i suppose it’s just me from here on out!”

big ring. on second thought - this face could = why i'm single.

I’m not sure. Maybe one day I’ll just throw up my hands and yell “I GIVE UP. I’M DONE!” at the sky. Of course, nobody will give a shit and I will continue with my day and my routine and die peacefully – knowing I’ve done all the things I ever wanted.

Fuck it. I can buy myself a ring. (I already have a few big’ns.) And a dress. And a goddamn duvet. They have those at IKEA, right?

why i keep doing this

Well, well, well. Here I am.

Things have been crazy [as usual] thanks to my lovely jobs here [I made that website. Prepare to have your mind BLOWN] and here and school and some other projects I’m bullshitting about over drinks developing with my lovely friend Nathalie.

Also, last week I had the oinkporkswinepigflu! The body aches were horrifying and there … there was a mask involved.

Someone please explain to me how I am not married by now. Just look at the beauty and majesty in my eyes.

This was the most sick I’ve ever been in my young 23 years and I had to take almost an entire week off of work though school got taken care of. Apparently, I have straight A’s right now. So I got that goin’ for me.

Maybe I keep this mask on, now? Maybe it’s a winner?

In between school and working for fabulous Portlanders and pretending to be a writer, I’ve been reading a lot of books. This reminds me of my youth, when I read things for pleasure.

Hah. What a joyous experience it has been. But I don’t see it continuing once my thesis begins. Anyone have suggestions for new books? Please send them my way. If you send me a suggestion and I like it – I will send you a photo of me reading it. Maybe nude. I don’t know. NO promises.

Blogs also. I’ve been reading a lot of blogs. Food blogs, humor blogs, sad blogs, creative blogs. All of them. A lot of time and effort and, often, fear goes into being consistently funny on the internet.

I often think of stopping this. Of just focusing on my other projects and leaving Unclean Conscience behind.

I started this blog to keep myself writing and it’s given me more than that. I was contemplating all of this today, and then I got some not-so-great news.

One of my first loves, the first man who i think really loved me back, took his own life yesterday. I’ve spent this evening in a haze. Trying to figure out how normal people grieve. For some reason – I started thinking about what he would have told me to do.

Write.

I’ve decided to shift some things around and focus on some of my more immediate passions – which I’m very excited about.

I also plan to start spending at least one hour a day watching makeup tutorials on YouTube because they make me feel prettier. Also, I went to here and bought makeup for ONE DOLLAR. No lie. Please, go there. Buy things. Now.

For instance, it is 4am and instead of sleeping (thanks, insomnia), I’ve been watching this amazing woman (who I fully intend on stalking) and trimming my eyebrows. BECAUSE THESE ARE MY PRIORITIES, PEOPLE.

Also, Kiala is going to let me paint her face and dress her. She asked for it, actually. So it’s RESEARCH.