CONFESSIONS OF A LOOPY 18-AND-ALMOST-A-HALF-YEAR-OLD

My writing's too creative for news journalism.
My writing's not creative enough for creative writing.
My writing is too verbose (read: wordy) for public speaking competitions.
My verbose writing is overlooked during the interlude known as the assessment of academic papers.

Is this what a quarter-life crisis feels like?

>> But I still love words. <3333

{word(s) of the moment}:

1. acquiescence

 /ˌækwiˈɛsəns/ Show Spel[ak-wee-es-uhns] 

–noun 1. the act or condition of acquiescing  or giving tacit assent; agreement or consent by silence or without objection; compliance

2. reprobate

 /ˈrɛprəˌbeɪt/ Show Spelled[rep-ruh-beyt]  noun, adjective, verb, -bat·ed, -bat·ing.

–noun 1. a depraved, unprincipled, or wicked person

3. thespian

 /ˈθɛspiən/ Show Spelled[thes-pee-uhn] 

–adjective 1. ( often lowercase) pertaining to tragedy or to the dramatic art in general.

4. docile

 /ˈdɒsəl; Brit. ˈdoʊsaɪl/ Show Spell[dos-uhl; Brit. doh-sahyl] 

–adjective 1. easily managed or handled; tractable

You know what my long-lost dream has been, blogosphere? To partake in a spelling bee. I have never had the privilege of doing so. I reckon it would be amazing and so my forte. 

p.s. My sparse blogging has probably resulted in me losing followers left and right. Please don't go! Please don't leave me! I can change! I can implement a strict blogging schedule that will be as natural as my circadian rhythm! Baby come back! You can blame it all on meeeeeee!


Dramatic and pathetic monologues aside, I'm serious. Don't go. Why would you? I have a giveaway coming up. *smiles incredulously at the thought of having coerced her readers into continuing reading l'il 'ol UUU*

USE LOW-FLOW SHOWERHEADS.

    It was August. The weather, although not the kind to make you sweat profusely no matter how many applications of Secret antiperspirant you've applied [seriously YOU WOULD THINK after molesting my underarm pits with several layers of the stuff commercialized, corporate America or whatever persuaded us to believe we needed, it would have the common decency TO WORK. Ahem. My bad experience with odour and perspiration control products is a rather large and complicated story, best saved for a rainy day]. Right, so the weather was kinda hot.
    Because my friends were in cool parts of the world and otherwise busy, I'd sort of been rotting away at home. My mother became concerned, justifiably so, what with my lack of social interaction and human contact in over a week, and decided the best solution, apparently, was to allow me to take my siblings for a leisurely stroll through the neighbourhood. Complete with a pit stop at the poor excuse of a "shopping center" that is, oh joy, within reasonable walking distance.
    So we set out, my three snotty-faced siblings and I, braving the 'scorching' Greater Vancouver summer sun. It must have been relatively uneventful, because I don't remember much, till we got to Chapters. But still, even then, we just happened to encounter a family of three--a mother, with, presumably, her daughter and son. Nothing out of the ordinary, right?
    After a day trekking through town with my prepubescent siblings in tow, we began the trek back home. It was a long-ish walk. 1/3 of the way in, we happened to spot the aforementioned family just a few feet in front of us. Okay, no big, they lived in the same area we did. We continued walking, made some twists and turns, and lost sight of the family. Or so we thought. They happened to be in front of us again. Yeah, okay, whatever. There are many houses near ours; they must live in one of them.  We happened to be almost directly behind the family by this point. My little brother happened to notice the peculiarity of the situation. Like the foolish fool he is, he said, "*insert dorky laughter* It's like we're stalking them!"
    Looking back, I believe my brother's statement was the catalyst to set off what happened next. The lady held her children (a pair of tweens) close to herself, and whispered loudly to them, shooting us a look of sheer hatred, as displayed by the giant scowl present on her face.
       "Careful! They're following us! Keep back!" she hissed.
   They stopped walking, clearly wanting us to pass in front of them.  Once a good distance away, my siblings and I sputtered and spat with laughter.  How's that for some social interactment?

OUTFIT TIME!:

 Oh look, an amateur photo shoot. Granted, it was quite enjoyable.

ON ME:

• dress: True Value Vintage, $5 (YES, a part of my amazing vintage shopping experience.)
• purple stirrup tights: from my prepubescent days!
• grandma bag: it actaully was my grandma's! WHOWOULDATHUNKKIT.
• blue heels: thrifted, $2.50

 {word of the moment}: 

phan·tas·ma·go·ri·a

 /fænˌtæzməˈgɔriə, -ˈgoʊr-/ Show Spelled[fan-taz-muh-gawr-ee-uh, -gohr-] –noun

a shifting series of phantasms, illusions, or deceptive appearances, as in a dream or as created by the imagination. 

Cheers!