kghoang
I've never been the type of person to take the easy way out. In fact, I think I must be masochistic because I thrive on the feeling of always having something incomplete nagging on my mind.
People assume that since we take time and effort to adorn ourselves in certain clothing that we are shallow. But that's far from it. Getting dressed is an art for us, a craft carefully practiced for years. What you see when I step outside is a result of hard work and self-awareness. Personal style is no small feat. It's our way of loving ourselves, or some days, at least trying to love ourselves by hiding what we hate. No matter how you choose to adorn your body, take pride in it because it is a manifestation of who you are and who you want to be.
Shells obviously make me think of the beach, and happy days spent on vacation. They also makes me think of the nights spent in Jeremiah's house doing various recreational activities and reading books and cracking jokes and sitting on the porch, breathing in the night time New Orleans air and cigarette smoke, singing softly along in bad harmony to indie music. I look around and swell with love and appreciation for these small moments, but no one else is looking back with the same look and I wonder who here is just a pretty shell.
A rolling stone gathers no moss, they say. But a tumbling weed gathers lots of grass. I'm not sure what the significance of that is.
Those girls all took tumbling classes as children, and I have always regretted not joining them, despite the fact that I hate the idea of "those girls."
I want to be professional everywhere I go. I dress that way, talk that way, write that way, act that way so that people will respect me despite my age and small stature. I want to present perfection at all times.