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My name is not Brittany, thank you very much.
02 August 2015 @ 12:54 am
This seems almost superfluous really, as I don't have to many readers to begin with let alone enough to constitute a logical worry of secrets falling upon unfamilar eyes. But then again, how could I pass up an oppurtunity to make a Bob Dylan banner? That's really my only logical reason for this.

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Bob Dylan's a much better substitute to my senseless ramblings anyway. You've been done a favor, stranger. But if you are quite determined to tear yourself away from this attractive banner, simply comment and I will decide if you are just the right balance of sane and insane to read my journal. Cheers!
 
 
Current Mood: calmcalm
Current Music: Little Wing - Jimi Hendrix
 
 
My name is not Brittany, thank you very much.
20 October 2007 @ 01:13 pm
There are a few things that listening to Tom Petty for long periods of time can do to a girl my age. One of them is create a strong sudden desire to abandon all productivity a find blue skies to day dream under, not matter how far off they may be. She may travel far and wide looking for a few friendly rays to worship, all the while meeting every kind of person imaginable. Maybe she finds that many of them hold her same contentment with those lonely ray of sunshine that she follows. Maybe they join her, maybe she goes home to the coziness of the rain and fireplaces. Either way there's prospect at the end of her road.

Fortunately for me, as I don't have a car, there are a few patches of blue sky mixed in with the puffy after-rain clouds outside my window. Though I do regret the excuse to leave at the drop of a hat to seek new adventure and mystery. I guess I can find enough of that another day when rain lends me the reason.

I hadn't ever fully realized how much I appreciated the sun until early this past summer when I had the misfortune to spend an entire sunny afternoon inside a tacky student hair salon watching my friend get her hair done. I had been slowly warming up to the idea of loving the sun late that spring with a few senior ditch days and a couple after school tanning sessions with a fellow Hendrix fan. But it was the five hours basking in florescent light and indelible chemicals that did me in as a winter lover. From then on, though 105˚to 55˚ weather, I've wanted to get out from under all unnatural light.

The beauties of the florescent world nearly conquered my own tenets of aesthetics that day. The scrutiny of their ubiquitous mirrors that mocked my every native curl or flush, twisting their colors to mush and dulling every eye's sparkle, insulted me and shamed me into thinking only of my un-evolved natural beauty. I began to think that I was arrogant to believe I could thrive in this modern world without abusing all the popular conveniences of it. How could I think that I was superior to applying any more than one layer of mascara? Or the tiniest hint of blush? Did I think that I was separate from womankind, whom requires lipstick as a sign of maturity in all modern society? I felt proved worthless until I occupied myself with adding more layers of mascara eyeshadow and any other accessible cosmetic.

These women that commit their lives to this place constantly preened themselves when they weren't others, layering their skins with colors that matched their own tarted bodiless mannequins, which they fussed over like a young girl would her babydoll. It was crushing because I could tell that these girls were beautiful underneath the layers of foundation, lip liner, and highlights. The only person in there that remained pretty was an clean-faced Asian girl who swept the floors and had her hair back in a ponytail.

It was one of the more distressing places I have ever been to. I have never had a stronger urge to leave a place while still feeling an intense need to stay and enlighten every person I saw with the true meaning of beauty. When I finally walked out the front doors to natural light, after five hours of twitchy florescent bulbs and dizzying chemicals, with my friend's newly (and badly) brunetted hair, I felt rejuvenated and appreciated. Sunlight filled me and fresh air replaced the multi-chemical vapor in my lungs while my friend and I drove away, she bitching about her orange roots and remaining spots of blond.

Ever since that day I've taken any chance I've had to spend hours basking in sunlight and fresh air, hardly believing that just a few short months earlier I had a pale fetish so strong that I frequently carried sunscreen in my back pocket even on the cloudiest of days. That was the arrogance I was guilty of, thinking that wanting to be tan was a sign of immaturity, one which I was above in all manners. But now I realize that it is only the vanity of tanning oneself to leather that I don't appreciate and the love of sun doesn't ruin anything, maturity or otherwise.

With the coming Winter months that fill the brooks and lakes with fresh water for Spring, I feel like I'm losing a summer romance to the changing seasons. I've barely had time to get to know my new love and I am missing it already as I watch sunbeams dart in and out of the overcast outside. But maybe I'll just have to find solace in campfires for the time being, or may be I'll chance a Tom Petty road trip to find some winter sun.

Bridge

(probably my favorite SNL moment ever)

 
 
Current Mood: amusedamused
Current Music: It'll All Work Out - Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers