In Which I Acquire Things to Put on My Resume

I have skills. I have hair anxiety. I have obsessions.

Bitches be jocking my style. I should be flattered, but instead I'm just annoyed. I'm not sure what my fixation with standing out is, but I own it. Thses 5" platform heels are proof. These flower barrettes are proof. This iTunes library is proof. So is the fact that I can't seem to drive a car that doesn't have a tape deck. Maybe I should give away my cache of flowers (even though it would break my heart to do so, because its pretty much my signature) and move on to the next thing (even though I have no idea wtf it would be...bracelets, or fishnets perhaps?). Its like the Spice Girls: Sporty (Mel C) can't suddenly start rocking animal prints (a la Scary/Mel B), or dresses no longer than a bandana (basically any other spice who is not Sporty, but Posh/Victoria in particular). Its...wrong somehow. Ugh, maybe I'll just ride it out and hope my friend gets bored with it.

I helped write/edit a grant. We got the money. You better believe I am taking full credit for this...on my resume. I didn't write the whole thing, but I edited the whole thing, rewrote entire portions, and did extra research. Dammit, that's counting for something. I write letters that everyone seems to adore, even though I'm not exactly sure why. I just follow templates and use simple, direct language. However, this is not a skill everyone seems to possess. Go figure.

I still need to work on writing samples.

My hair is becoming a source of insecurity and anxiety for me. It's a weird length, a weird color, and we won't even start on texture issues (oh, look! I'm a real black girl after all!). I want to grow it out, because I'm prettier with long hair, but I feel more fierce with short hair. This midlength business is ridiculous. And not to mention that all my friends have fabulous hair/haircuts, just adds to the anxiety. Maybe I will go ahead and cut it, and then dye it for my birthday. There. Happy comprimise. And so begins the cut fretting. I think I'll cut the top down, leave the back as it is, and cut the sides. Hawk-licious. June. June June June. It'll be on. Yes. I feel better. And It'll be fierce as an all over blonde. Now I just need to find a place that can cut me the way I concieve. My regular hairdresser isn't going to cut it, I think. (no pun or disrespect intended)

See the cat? See the cradle?

Now, who's hungry?