"One day I carried thirty pounds of wood a distance of file miles. Another day while hiding in the forest I covered my eyes with make up to see how they'd come out."
i took a small break tonight from the heat, the heat of exams, these ghostly, ghastly exams banging like mad on the exit door of my superego, trying to take over and suck out all the fun. (speaking of which, my superego is losing lots of ground lately to the hedonistic id, but it still knows more tricks; e.g. the first sentence was very much good superego P.R.).
but well, during this break i did a small unscientific study on the aesthetics of my face. it's this new long hair thing, combined with the questionable possibility of being more feminine derived from years of awkward haircuts and my charming, but boyish walk. there was some recent cinesseurial influence, too. i proceeded as follows: i put my hair in a due i could never re-do (hi!), applied make-up, and turned on photo booth.
mind you, i don't think it's pretty stupid to take pictures of yourself with a computer, then put them all together and publish them online somewhere, hoping people will appreciate or even be amused by the content and not think of how sad and narcissistic and insecure it really is you did it. i know it's stupid. which is why i didn't publish them online. the one below is an evocative, but unintelligible exception.
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so i took them anyway, and as they're lying in a diversion folder called pictures of meadows, flowers and sunsets, i went on with analyzing and writing down my conclusions. of course, the results of this pseudo-study shall not be published either, but the superego P.R. team released the following statement: "the battle between the little-unaware-tomboy and estrogen-regulated-society-inoculated-girly-girl is far from over, but as they say in curling: let the best man win!"
but now, gentlemen, to bed! we rise at dawn!, said the superego to the ego, as the id wasn't listening.