Kohl

Tuesday night is Joe Demicoli night, and I know the guy is brilliant, but sometimes things just aren't right. The worst part is that I cannot put my finger on it. I just don't know. But I have a choice. I can cry myself to sleep and that won't happen. And I can put a spanking brand new smile on my face, and that way it easier because I will not have to explain to the eyes who scrutinise my every move. I have questioned myself, what am I missing? And I don't even know that. I've tried my best, and if someone thinks my best is not good enough, then so be it. I was not born a prodigy and I did not grow up to be a genius either. I am normal, I guess I can allow myself that word. I do not want to be made sick on words such as leverage, harassment, money, currencies even. It's all a bunch of crap. I choose to make myself sick on piercings and in your face kind of behaviour. If someone chooses to power trip just because I care, then they can have the longest trip in history. The odd thing is that they cared and I am eternally grateful for that. Sure it hurts, but it's like piercings. They hurt, they make me sick, and so what? I'll just get the antidote for that. It all boils down to kohl really. Some more kohl this evening solves it. Some extra more kohl tomorrow morning will solve it. And yes I've got waterproof, of course I do. I'm a waterproof kind of gal. I was flooded once, never again. And the next time I hear the word prodigy, I'm going the other way. I just don't understand them I guess. Pass the kohl again will you?

Falsies

Sometimes I kid myself that I am on some journey in search of the truth. I wish that journey didn't have to stop as much as it does. Sometimes it's for refuelling, sometimes it's a chartered flight, sometimes it's one hell of a big stop over. It always hits the pause button somehow, and as much as I would love it to be over, I keep getting jet-lagged. And also as much as I try to think of it as my journey to the truth, I wonder why I am in love with so many false things. I love my gel nails which of course are not natural. They go from red to black and blue in one day. I wasn't born with painted nails. I also wasn't born with a plastic looking face, I just got wise and know what I should use. And no, of course I'm not telling. I love my false eyelashes, also an altered truth. I love purple hair dye, and of course that's not true, I wasn't born with purple hair. I wasn't even born with the blue eyes I wear on weekdays or the green ones on weekends. Then sometimes I get the urge to delete the truth. I give my eyebrows a solid all over wax, and that's not natural either because I was born with a pretty set which I keep over-waxing to nothingness. And people might think it's not very pretty, but through my own perspective it is beautiful although I keep thinking that I might as well belong to the snake family. But then, do not even try and kid me with a fake Chanel, I will spot it from a mile away. I want the flawless diamond, because one flaw and it is unacceptable. I will wear no flawed diamond. Nothing but the best will do. Tal Lira shops are hot, that is if someone is burning them all down. They are unacceptable to the human race, well at least to my kind of race which I have yet to produce. And yet I keep looking for the truth. Yeah right!