Which is exactly the problem with my volunteer job. Pretty much all the really experienced people left, and we have instead a bunch of 12-13 year olds who are, while well-meaning, utterly useless.
Today, one of the girls walked a pony down having not secured his saddle properly. By the time they'd gotten to the arena, the saddle was literally hanging sideways off the pony. For those of you who don't know much about horses, let me tell you why this is a BAD DEAL. Even without a kid in the saddle. Horses are preyed on by animals that attack by jumping on a) their backs/necks and b) their bellies. A horse that is not ridiculously brave and well-trained will FLIP A SHIT if their saddle rolls, and let me tell you that even a little 900 pound pony can and will break fences and heads if it gets scared enough.
Luckily, this pony is not only brave but has also been around long enough that he has faced everything from bears to Blue Angels. He was perfectly calm, but it exemplifies just how clueless these volunteers are. Basic rule of riding: check your saddle before you go anywhere.
And honestly, I did feel a little bad at her (the farm's director was there, and she's about six feet tall and can be REALLY SCARY when she gets mad), but for all the stupid things I did as a green volunteer, I never did anything quite that stupid or that dangerous. But, more importantly, she would never have touched a horse without someone supervising if we hadn't been so short on trained help.
Which is what we really need. I, entirely on my own, am more efficient at setting up for pony camp than six new volunteers. I pretty much set up the past two days because I'd gotten there early--today, I was running a little later than usual, and the whole thing was chaos. And they'd gotten less done, to boot. None of them know what needs to be done, so they mill around getting in the way, and none of them will ASK what needs to be done. Which, you know, is the whole point of volunteering--VOLUNTEER TO DO SOMETHING EVERY ONCE IN A WHILE. IT WON'T KILL YOU.
What else would be nice would be if they could ask for help when they need it, rather than trying to do things on their own to show off and then screwing things up. I know they all want to look good so that they can start handling horses, but the reason they aren't working with the horses is because THEY'RE NOT CAPABLE YET. Honestly, I don't even mind babying them a bit, rather than having to save them when they've already messed up. One of the two boy volunteers actually asked me for help today, because he didn't feel comfortable catching a really big horse who's not used for camp. And so yeah, I caught his horse and the one I was supposed to get myself, but it wasn't like I was complaining about him not doing his own work. I was there to support him in the first place, and it'd be nice if some of the other volunteers got that through their heads. We're not trying to upstage them. We're trying to HELP.
Obviously this is a subject about which I could go on and on. But I'll stop. After all, they're probably all going through puberty (ick). I should cut them some slack.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Sunday, July 19, 2009
On gamer nerdery
Recently, I've been playing on the PS2 a lot more than usual. And it turns out that like many other excessively nerdy people, I am an obsessive gamer. It's not that I really, really like to win, or that I like to strategize so that I will always win (both of which I do).
It's more that when I have a goal in mind, I will BORE MYSELF TO TEARS SO I CAN ACCOMPLISH IT.
For example, I wanted to get my black mage to her next spell, which required a fair amount of leveling up. I wanted the spell prior to the next boss battle, so I had to stay in one monster-heavy area. And I wanted to be able to heal without having to waste potions or MP so I could just level up in one session of gaming.
I should have realized this was a bad idea.
I wound up running my party in circles around a save point, waiting to get attacked and then hacking through the same type of monsters OVER AND OVER AND OVER AGAIN.
It took me hours.
The worst part is, I'm now going really fast through this game because of my newfound obsession. And this is a problem because the game, in a way that makes me want to beat my head against a wall, inevitably ends with the player's character DYING.
So basically the whole point is you work your ass off for hours and hours (22 and counting), keeping your character alive through copious applications of Cure and Life, and WHEN YOU FINALLY BEAT THE GAME OOPS TOO LATE HE'S DEAD.
It's sad, to be sure, but more than that it's ridiculously frustrating. Isn't the purpose of every RPG ever created to defeat the bad guys, save the world, and not die while you're doing it? I wouldn't even mind if it was another one of the party's playable characters, but no. It's the main character, and not only does he die, it turns out he never really existed.
How's that for a tragic ending?
It's more that when I have a goal in mind, I will BORE MYSELF TO TEARS SO I CAN ACCOMPLISH IT.
For example, I wanted to get my black mage to her next spell, which required a fair amount of leveling up. I wanted the spell prior to the next boss battle, so I had to stay in one monster-heavy area. And I wanted to be able to heal without having to waste potions or MP so I could just level up in one session of gaming.
I should have realized this was a bad idea.
I wound up running my party in circles around a save point, waiting to get attacked and then hacking through the same type of monsters OVER AND OVER AND OVER AGAIN.
It took me hours.
The worst part is, I'm now going really fast through this game because of my newfound obsession. And this is a problem because the game, in a way that makes me want to beat my head against a wall, inevitably ends with the player's character DYING.
So basically the whole point is you work your ass off for hours and hours (22 and counting), keeping your character alive through copious applications of Cure and Life, and WHEN YOU FINALLY BEAT THE GAME OOPS TOO LATE HE'S DEAD.
It's sad, to be sure, but more than that it's ridiculously frustrating. Isn't the purpose of every RPG ever created to defeat the bad guys, save the world, and not die while you're doing it? I wouldn't even mind if it was another one of the party's playable characters, but no. It's the main character, and not only does he die, it turns out he never really existed.
How's that for a tragic ending?
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
On posting and posting
Ha, I made a horse-related funny. Shoot me now.
First, I've noticed I've been posting like a fiend lately. I'm guessing it's been because up until today, I wasn't really feeling satisfied like I usually am, working camps. I always bitch about it, but this summer I really meant it. Thankfully, a little girl helped me get my head on straight (she's really quiet, and today she finally opened up to me and started talking of her own accord and I felt good about working).
Second--well, three little things, really. It should not be that hard to stand up and sit down in the saddle when someone is telling you WHEN TO STAND UP AND SIT DOWN. How people manage to still screw up their timing is beyond me. Also, you can play other games on horseback (and off it) than Red Light, Green Light.
No, really. I don't care that apparently it's a sacred rule of horse camps that this game must be played at least once, THERE ARE OTHER GAMES. I seriously had more fun playing Red Rover with the kids last year, and we didn't even break any bones.
And finally, one very chatty little rider decided she was going to ask me why several other horses stabled at the barn weren't being used for camp.
What I told her: All the horses are very nice, really good horses, but some of them require more advanced riders because they're not as patient, and they're more easily scared.
What that's code for: THOSE HORSES ARE GOING TO KILL YOU BECAUSE YOU CAN'T RIDE WITHOUT A BABYSITTER.
And when I say they're "good horses", I mean that they'd as soon kick you as let you get on their back and ride them around.
Tact. It comes in handy when working with small children.
Also, I lucked out--I got to spend a whole hour standing in the sun with Pony A. Pony A is the pony I've been assigned this week, and he's a smart, headstrong little thing. We get along pretty well, and he's been more than tolerant of me dragging him around at the slowest possible trot (he likes to go, and go fast). At the same time, he's not the sort to say no to a morning nap in the sun. His first rider didn't show until after her riding slot, so we were literally waiting in the middle of the arena, figuratively twiddling our thumbs. A super sweet rider who I'd worked with last year came and hung out with me. She broke her arm before camp, so she's been doing crafts and walking alongside the rider who didn't show--they're good friends from when they were both kids I was in charge of last year. Anyways, it was a nice way to spend the first bit of camp. Pony A is very cute when he's having dream-twitches, though of course not as cute as Cuddles, who is absolutely adorable and also a dear to work with at camps because he is as patient as Jesus with little kids. Seriously, he just stands there and lets them poke and prod him and he doesn't even make like he's going to take a nibble. Which, if I was in his position, I would have done.
And wow, the Saga of Pony Camp. Sorry about that.
As a post script, I ought to offer this little tidbit: registered Quarter Horses (like Cuddles and Pony A) have to be named something original--no repeats allowed. I think there are some other rules as well. Anyways, what this leads to is their registered names being REALLY TREMENDOUSLY STUPID. Cody's name is TF Royal Zip Code (no, I don't know either). But Pony A?
Pony A is registered as, and I kid you not, Hokey's Pokey.
....Just contemplate that for a minute. NOW WATCH AS YOUR BRAIN LEAKS OUT OF YOUR EYES.
First, I've noticed I've been posting like a fiend lately. I'm guessing it's been because up until today, I wasn't really feeling satisfied like I usually am, working camps. I always bitch about it, but this summer I really meant it. Thankfully, a little girl helped me get my head on straight (she's really quiet, and today she finally opened up to me and started talking of her own accord and I felt good about working).
Second--well, three little things, really. It should not be that hard to stand up and sit down in the saddle when someone is telling you WHEN TO STAND UP AND SIT DOWN. How people manage to still screw up their timing is beyond me. Also, you can play other games on horseback (and off it) than Red Light, Green Light.
No, really. I don't care that apparently it's a sacred rule of horse camps that this game must be played at least once, THERE ARE OTHER GAMES. I seriously had more fun playing Red Rover with the kids last year, and we didn't even break any bones.
And finally, one very chatty little rider decided she was going to ask me why several other horses stabled at the barn weren't being used for camp.
What I told her: All the horses are very nice, really good horses, but some of them require more advanced riders because they're not as patient, and they're more easily scared.
What that's code for: THOSE HORSES ARE GOING TO KILL YOU BECAUSE YOU CAN'T RIDE WITHOUT A BABYSITTER.
And when I say they're "good horses", I mean that they'd as soon kick you as let you get on their back and ride them around.
Tact. It comes in handy when working with small children.
Also, I lucked out--I got to spend a whole hour standing in the sun with Pony A. Pony A is the pony I've been assigned this week, and he's a smart, headstrong little thing. We get along pretty well, and he's been more than tolerant of me dragging him around at the slowest possible trot (he likes to go, and go fast). At the same time, he's not the sort to say no to a morning nap in the sun. His first rider didn't show until after her riding slot, so we were literally waiting in the middle of the arena, figuratively twiddling our thumbs. A super sweet rider who I'd worked with last year came and hung out with me. She broke her arm before camp, so she's been doing crafts and walking alongside the rider who didn't show--they're good friends from when they were both kids I was in charge of last year. Anyways, it was a nice way to spend the first bit of camp. Pony A is very cute when he's having dream-twitches, though of course not as cute as Cuddles, who is absolutely adorable and also a dear to work with at camps because he is as patient as Jesus with little kids. Seriously, he just stands there and lets them poke and prod him and he doesn't even make like he's going to take a nibble. Which, if I was in his position, I would have done.
And wow, the Saga of Pony Camp. Sorry about that.
As a post script, I ought to offer this little tidbit: registered Quarter Horses (like Cuddles and Pony A) have to be named something original--no repeats allowed. I think there are some other rules as well. Anyways, what this leads to is their registered names being REALLY TREMENDOUSLY STUPID. Cody's name is TF Royal Zip Code (no, I don't know either). But Pony A?
Pony A is registered as, and I kid you not, Hokey's Pokey.
....Just contemplate that for a minute. NOW WATCH AS YOUR BRAIN LEAKS OUT OF YOUR EYES.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Pixelated words make no sense
LIKE NEENJA I POST AGAIN AND AGAIN.
...
Yeah, sorry, have no idea what that was about.
Also, butterfly sunglasses and people adding a "d" to the beginning of my name and snuggly teddybear horse being snuggly. AND THE BEST MOVIE EVER. WITH THE BEST DIALOGUE EVER.
And about 3 gallons of tea, a bathrobe, and my third load of laundry this week. Screw it.
Chinese food, two acupuncture booths at a street fair, small dogs wearing jackets, big dogs wearing enough fur to make jackets for the small dogs.
Cruella deVille. Who ought to be mentioned any time someone talks about making jackets out of dog fur.
Ariel, and little girls who are possibly ADHD or just young who like penguins and the Little Mermaid. Coworkers getting pregnant. Coworkers not getting any. Coworkers being prepubescent, and therefore hopefully neither pregnant nor getting any.
Tiny Asians. Bad ripoffs of animated TV shows, part II. Zombie movies galore.
A runny nose, a thunderstorm, and all the SilliPutti I'll ever need.
...
Yeah, sorry, have no idea what that was about.
Also, butterfly sunglasses and people adding a "d" to the beginning of my name and snuggly teddybear horse being snuggly. AND THE BEST MOVIE EVER. WITH THE BEST DIALOGUE EVER.
And about 3 gallons of tea, a bathrobe, and my third load of laundry this week. Screw it.
Chinese food, two acupuncture booths at a street fair, small dogs wearing jackets, big dogs wearing enough fur to make jackets for the small dogs.
Cruella deVille. Who ought to be mentioned any time someone talks about making jackets out of dog fur.
Ariel, and little girls who are possibly ADHD or just young who like penguins and the Little Mermaid. Coworkers getting pregnant. Coworkers not getting any. Coworkers being prepubescent, and therefore hopefully neither pregnant nor getting any.
Tiny Asians. Bad ripoffs of animated TV shows, part II. Zombie movies galore.
A runny nose, a thunderstorm, and all the SilliPutti I'll ever need.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Things I like and why
I like to make my pupils change size. It's really interesting to watch.
I like Advil. Advil makes my world go round, and it's a handy thing to carry.
I like stupid music videos. It's really hard to take most music videos seriously, and the ones that are intentionally a little crazy are more fun and less pathetic.
I like knowing that there are other people out there who are intelligent, talented, and genuinely nice who still haven't had a boyfriend yet. It makes me care less about the whole relationship deal.
I like having semi-serious conversations with people I barely know. We don't have to talk about the national debt or anything, but I learn a lot about people that way, and I actually have to think before I speak.
I like glasses that aren't cylinders. We have a set that are either 8- or 6-sided (I'm not sure which, and I'm too lazy to go check), and even if they don't look as nice, I'm fond of them.
I like people who don't scream their heads off when they're called by a talk or radio show and they learn they've won something. The people who won't stop screaming sort of need to chill, and it's rude when they just scream over the person who's GIVING them their prize.
I like driving. It's not exactly fun, but it's convenient, and having time alone away from my room is nice.
I like you, my imaginary (and real) readers. It's amazingly cathartic to post knowing that even though it's out there and off my chest, I don't have to worry about people reading and being offended. Last count, two people read my blog with any semblance of regularity (hello, you two!).
I like writing non-fiction. Writing stories doesn't count as a "like", but writing like this is a great way to get thoughts sorted out and often out of mind when I don't want to deal with them. It's not a passion, but it's good for me.
I like feeling justified in not liking someone. Or, if you'd prefer, I like not feeling guilty about not liking someone. Either way, I should think it's fairly straightforward as to why.
I like failed relationships that stay failed. I think that in real life, nobody who gets dumped in a humiliating or painful manner ought to take back their ex. You better have a damn good reason to forgive.
I like mediocre tiramisu. Bad tiramisu is sacrilege, good tiramisu is heaven. "Like" just about describes mediocre (because of course, it's still tiramisu and therefore still really good).
I like my blog. I would cry no tears if for some reason I had to stop posting, but I like it anyways. It shows how I've gone from a whiny, melodramatic teenager who was rather desperate for approval to an only-occasionally melodramatic teenager who is pretty damn happy being alone with her thoughts (and her laptop). Or so I'd like to think. I've made progress. Maybe I'm not as funny, but I'm hoping I'm more honest and openly nerdy bean.
I like beanage. All hail the great god Beanhomie!
I like Advil. Advil makes my world go round, and it's a handy thing to carry.
I like stupid music videos. It's really hard to take most music videos seriously, and the ones that are intentionally a little crazy are more fun and less pathetic.
I like knowing that there are other people out there who are intelligent, talented, and genuinely nice who still haven't had a boyfriend yet. It makes me care less about the whole relationship deal.
I like having semi-serious conversations with people I barely know. We don't have to talk about the national debt or anything, but I learn a lot about people that way, and I actually have to think before I speak.
I like glasses that aren't cylinders. We have a set that are either 8- or 6-sided (I'm not sure which, and I'm too lazy to go check), and even if they don't look as nice, I'm fond of them.
I like people who don't scream their heads off when they're called by a talk or radio show and they learn they've won something. The people who won't stop screaming sort of need to chill, and it's rude when they just scream over the person who's GIVING them their prize.
I like driving. It's not exactly fun, but it's convenient, and having time alone away from my room is nice.
I like you, my imaginary (and real) readers. It's amazingly cathartic to post knowing that even though it's out there and off my chest, I don't have to worry about people reading and being offended. Last count, two people read my blog with any semblance of regularity (hello, you two!).
I like writing non-fiction. Writing stories doesn't count as a "like", but writing like this is a great way to get thoughts sorted out and often out of mind when I don't want to deal with them. It's not a passion, but it's good for me.
I like feeling justified in not liking someone. Or, if you'd prefer, I like not feeling guilty about not liking someone. Either way, I should think it's fairly straightforward as to why.
I like failed relationships that stay failed. I think that in real life, nobody who gets dumped in a humiliating or painful manner ought to take back their ex. You better have a damn good reason to forgive.
I like mediocre tiramisu. Bad tiramisu is sacrilege, good tiramisu is heaven. "Like" just about describes mediocre (because of course, it's still tiramisu and therefore still really good).
I like my blog. I would cry no tears if for some reason I had to stop posting, but I like it anyways. It shows how I've gone from a whiny, melodramatic teenager who was rather desperate for approval to an only-occasionally melodramatic teenager who is pretty damn happy being alone with her thoughts (and her laptop). Or so I'd like to think. I've made progress. Maybe I'm not as funny, but I'm hoping I'm more honest and openly nerdy bean.
I like beanage. All hail the great god Beanhomie!
Sunday, July 5, 2009
On trenchcoats and symbolism
Two posts in one day! But this one is way more light-hearted and more like my usual nerdery.
So in the land of Japanese TV, trenchcoats are basically like big flaming signs written by the hand of God. The color of the trench indicates the alignment of the character wearing it--black means they're a good guy, white a bad guy, and any other color means that they're not the main protagonist/antagonist and so don't need to be bothered with.
For example, the most twisted animated character in the history of ever wears a white trench. This is the guy (I'm sure I've mentioned him before) who is, first off, a serial rapist and murderer. BUT THAT'S NOT ALL. He's also a doctor, has a weird robotic eye, and is engaged to a perfectly normal woman. He can travel between dimensions, and is apparently immortal. Oh yes, it gets better. He wants to take the undying body of the man he tries to molest on a regular basis, chop off the guy's head, and replace it with the head of his dead half-brother so that the half-brother will live again. Why? Because he hated his brother and wanted to kill him, but someone else got to him first, and now he's going to revive him so he can kill the guy HIMSELF. Basically, he's going to kill the man he loves so he can kill a guy who's ALREADY DEAD. And did I mention that he's a serial rapist? Who enjoys putting curses on people so they die over a period of three years after he's gotten to them?
I just. I do not understand how anybody could come up with this character. But, more importantly, he is never seen without his stylish white trench. And the guy he loves, our protagonist? Black coat. Probably symbolizing his inner demonic side and his conflicted struggle with the darkness within and shit. Or maybe they just thought he looked good in black.
Here's another example. There's this show. With one of the weirder premises that still attempts to be serious (as opposed to the one show about a man who fights crime and an evil hair-stealing maniac with nose hair kung fu). It's about these four male assassins who take care of people too powerful for the government police to get to. Their day job? Florists. Yup, you read that right. Four young men, no older than their twenties, staffing a flower shop by day and killing people by night. What do they wear? Black trenchcoats. Now, I understand this is probably for camo, but you'd think that as assassins they wouldn't want any extra material flapping around, so they'd opt for shorter coats. Oh no. This way, when they have their dramatic, moon-lit entrances, the black coats flare out behind them as they hang, all but levitating, before the bright full moon. It is always, always a full moon in Japanese TV land.
So now I have to go to bed, because I have to get up at a ridiculous time, but I hope this was informative. YAY.
So in the land of Japanese TV, trenchcoats are basically like big flaming signs written by the hand of God. The color of the trench indicates the alignment of the character wearing it--black means they're a good guy, white a bad guy, and any other color means that they're not the main protagonist/antagonist and so don't need to be bothered with.
For example, the most twisted animated character in the history of ever wears a white trench. This is the guy (I'm sure I've mentioned him before) who is, first off, a serial rapist and murderer. BUT THAT'S NOT ALL. He's also a doctor, has a weird robotic eye, and is engaged to a perfectly normal woman. He can travel between dimensions, and is apparently immortal. Oh yes, it gets better. He wants to take the undying body of the man he tries to molest on a regular basis, chop off the guy's head, and replace it with the head of his dead half-brother so that the half-brother will live again. Why? Because he hated his brother and wanted to kill him, but someone else got to him first, and now he's going to revive him so he can kill the guy HIMSELF. Basically, he's going to kill the man he loves so he can kill a guy who's ALREADY DEAD. And did I mention that he's a serial rapist? Who enjoys putting curses on people so they die over a period of three years after he's gotten to them?
I just. I do not understand how anybody could come up with this character. But, more importantly, he is never seen without his stylish white trench. And the guy he loves, our protagonist? Black coat. Probably symbolizing his inner demonic side and his conflicted struggle with the darkness within and shit. Or maybe they just thought he looked good in black.
Here's another example. There's this show. With one of the weirder premises that still attempts to be serious (as opposed to the one show about a man who fights crime and an evil hair-stealing maniac with nose hair kung fu). It's about these four male assassins who take care of people too powerful for the government police to get to. Their day job? Florists. Yup, you read that right. Four young men, no older than their twenties, staffing a flower shop by day and killing people by night. What do they wear? Black trenchcoats. Now, I understand this is probably for camo, but you'd think that as assassins they wouldn't want any extra material flapping around, so they'd opt for shorter coats. Oh no. This way, when they have their dramatic, moon-lit entrances, the black coats flare out behind them as they hang, all but levitating, before the bright full moon. It is always, always a full moon in Japanese TV land.
So now I have to go to bed, because I have to get up at a ridiculous time, but I hope this was informative. YAY.
Fake leprosy and a rant
Hexagonal patterns (like, just a bunch of hexagons all fitted together) make me think of disease and of people literally crumbling away into pieces. I think this is from a movie, but I'm not sure which one. It's a little scary. I was doing a jigsaw puzzle with hexagon-shaped pieces, and the program had a minor spaz out and the outlines of the pieces I'd already connected went darker all of a sudden and it scared the shit out of me. I guess it's a pretty strong mental association, because the creeped-out reaction of "ZOMGPEOPLEFALLINGAPART" was instantaneous.
Also, I'd like to just say right now that if you're going to volunteer to do something, don't whine about not getting credit for your hard work. THAT'S THE POINT OF VOLUNTEERING. You do something for other people who won't necessarily be able to give you anything--money, credit, cupcakes, whatever--in return. Just...either find yourself a real job, or shut up. . Anyways, that's the little brain-babble for today.
And if you're going to work with kids, dress appropriately. Especially if you know you're going to have to play outside with them, flip flops are not such a bright idea. Neither are short skirts, high heels, or caked-on makeup. Dressing to impress is not the point. Dressing for a fun day at the beach is not the point. Dressing so you can do your fucking job is the point.
....Yeah, I'm not always fond of all my co-counselors.
And while I'm on the subject of makeup, here's something I've been thinking about. So a lot of girls wear makeup on a daily basis, right? And this is fine--I mean, if they want to look their best, and they feel that this is how they can do that, I couldn't really care less. But what I don't really understand is this weird hangup some girls have about not being able to leave the house without their makeup on. Let's take, as a theoretical situation, a girl who has never seen her boyfriend when she's not wearing makeup. In this situation, say the girl is older than we are, and the relationship is to the point where they're going to start living together. When does she stop feeling like she has to put on makeup before she sees her boyfriend?
Or if I, for example, wanted to make myself look more attractive to guys, so I started wearing makeup on a regular basis. The people I'm trying to show off for will never actually see what I look like. My eyelashes are only so long and so thick, I don't actually have well-accented cheekbones--whatever it is, isn't it sort of a pain to cover it up before people can see you?
Who knows, maybe I'm just an epic fail. This probably came off as a rant against the wearing of cosmetics in general, and it's not meant to be that. More like....examine why you're wearing makeup, because if it's for other people you're probably not doing yourself any favors?
Augh. I'm old-fashioned, I know.
Also, I'd like to just say right now that if you're going to volunteer to do something, don't whine about not getting credit for your hard work. THAT'S THE POINT OF VOLUNTEERING. You do something for other people who won't necessarily be able to give you anything--money, credit, cupcakes, whatever--in return. Just...either find yourself a real job, or shut up. . Anyways, that's the little brain-babble for today.
And if you're going to work with kids, dress appropriately. Especially if you know you're going to have to play outside with them, flip flops are not such a bright idea. Neither are short skirts, high heels, or caked-on makeup. Dressing to impress is not the point. Dressing for a fun day at the beach is not the point. Dressing so you can do your fucking job is the point.
....Yeah, I'm not always fond of all my co-counselors.
And while I'm on the subject of makeup, here's something I've been thinking about. So a lot of girls wear makeup on a daily basis, right? And this is fine--I mean, if they want to look their best, and they feel that this is how they can do that, I couldn't really care less. But what I don't really understand is this weird hangup some girls have about not being able to leave the house without their makeup on. Let's take, as a theoretical situation, a girl who has never seen her boyfriend when she's not wearing makeup. In this situation, say the girl is older than we are, and the relationship is to the point where they're going to start living together. When does she stop feeling like she has to put on makeup before she sees her boyfriend?
Or if I, for example, wanted to make myself look more attractive to guys, so I started wearing makeup on a regular basis. The people I'm trying to show off for will never actually see what I look like. My eyelashes are only so long and so thick, I don't actually have well-accented cheekbones--whatever it is, isn't it sort of a pain to cover it up before people can see you?
Who knows, maybe I'm just an epic fail. This probably came off as a rant against the wearing of cosmetics in general, and it's not meant to be that. More like....examine why you're wearing makeup, because if it's for other people you're probably not doing yourself any favors?
Augh. I'm old-fashioned, I know.
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