Let's just start by saying Dr. Winston, WHY NO 2-HOUR DELAY TODAY? I couldn't see 2 feet in front of my car this morning.
I heard this song driving into work today. With the right set of headphones, this song pings in all the right places. The new wave 80's synth, hand-clapping and digital sampling of frogs croaking (The Cure used bottles clinking in what sounded like an alleyway in "Love Cats") takes me back to those teen years when music was my savior.
I share a room at work with someone who likes to keep the lights really dim. I know the kids like it, but it's a windowless cell and the longer I stay in here the more oppressive it gets. It makes everything cloudy--and I like things crisp and bright.
Which got me thinking about people-- there are some people who look blurry to me. How to describe it-- it's like smeared lipstick. Hair is discheveled, clothes thrown together, a giant wrinkle, a wave of colors and patterns that are mis-matched. Maybe it's just working in a public high school and these kids are figuring out their creative individuality? I suppose it is better than all the trendy kids who look exactly the same. They mirror each other--instantly forgotten and lumped into the same person. The sweatpants and birks or brown lug sole UGGS. The boys all go to the same hair stylist.
It does bleed out into the adult wrealm. The blurs are out there, showing their mood on the outside.
I think I look rather androgynous--fluid. I wouldn't call myself feminine. But my lines are clean and my features defined. My colors are compatable.
I just know that I don't blur.
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