The Last Week Of November

The Last Week Of November

My grandmother never drove. It's not that she was afraid of cars or of the road; rather she was very fond of vehicles in general and over the years, had developed an irritating habit of backseat-driving. But she never learned because she never had reason to. Back when she was a teenager, in the 50's, women never drove all that much. And then she got married to her first husband, John, at the age of 20 and then he drover her around. So she never bothered to learn.

Now John was an interesting fellow. I think I should talk about John first before I explain the real reason why I am sitting on this very cold, dank bench on a Monday night in this last week of November. John had a lot of jobs throughout my grandparents' brief 5 years of marriage. I shouldn't say brief, because to Nonni it felt like anything but brief. But in the relative expanse of a human's lifetime, 5 years is merely a breath. He did have a lot of jobs though, and it took them all over the country. He was a paper salesman for a while, operating out of a kiosk in _______, North Carolina. Then he took up an interest in buying and selling various collector's items, some art, some furniture, but mostly junk, in the underground market. Without a college degree, and only a meager family inheritance, it was hard to make ends meet for a while. But all of that was not the reason Nonni left.

She was pregnant. It was the eve of their fourth anniversary and they had decided to have a little family and friends get-together. John had kept his current job as a newspaper photographer for almost seven months. He finally liked what he was doing and it just so happened that it was located in _________, Indiana, where all of John's family was settled. Everyone was in a fine mood, and things were going well. She decided to tell John the news before dinner so they could make the big announcemement together.

She walked into the dining area where John and a few of his old high school buddies where smoking and reminiscing.

"Honey, could you come over here for a moment? Marge and I just can't decided on the wine for tonight and we want you to be the tie-breaker." Nonni said coming up behind him and applying just enough pressure on his shoulders to make him get up.

He got up and glanced briefly at her before turning back around and politely excusing himself. Once they were in the bedroom and the door was closed, John reached for her and started to kiss her.

"Oh, is this why you asked to talk to me?" He said softly rubbing his lips on hers, his hands squeezing her waist and pulling her closer.

"I-uh..no," she sighed as his hands started wandering further down. He pressed her closer and started to remove the tie of her dress at the back. Nonni knew she had to say something right then, or the next twenty minutes would go very differently.

"John…" she said trying to rearrange her thoughts back to the speech she had prepared. John bent his head and started kissing her neck, "yes, Connie?"

"I actually do have something to tell you. And I was hoping you would be looking at me when I said it." she said, grasping his chin and moving his head up. John looked at her questioningly.

She smiled a little

Ellie crouched down

Ellie crouched down behind the deck and tried to breathe as softly as possible. Her knees gently grazed the ground as the sounds of her parents shouting filled the air for the second time this week.

"Not this again! Oh, you just love to throw that in my face!" her mother screamed while laughing hysterically. "One time, it happened just once but you just can't fucking let it go, can you?"

Ellie couldn't see where they were standing but it seemed to come from the backyard. She wished she hadn't come home. In fact, today she was supposed to be playing with her friend, Michelle, today. She lived down the street, and they often played in her pool on Saturday mornings. But today, Michelle's mom had told her that Michelle wasn't feeling good, so Ellie had come home.

"Annie, can you please lower your goddamn voice? We have neighbors." her father said.

Maybe I can just walk over to the park, it's only a few streets over, Ellie thought, feeling an overwhelming urge to not be home at the moment. She peeked above the brown slabs of the deck to see her parents stand facing each other, her mother with her arms crossed and her father pointing his finger at her. Ellie turned back around and gazed absently at the vegetable patch that her mother spent hours every day tending. She didn't like vegetables and didn't understand why adults constantly took it upon themselves to force it down theirs and everyone else's throat. If it was up to her, everyone would eat Kit-Kat bars and ice cream every day. It always put her in a good mood and maybe would make everyone happy too.

It didn't look like her parents were going to be done any time soon. She crossed the yard  behind the deck on all fours until she reached the front yard. She was going to the park. Her parents could go on for hours before they both retreated back inside, her father to his office, and her mother to their bedroom. The house was always eerily silent afterward. Ellie couldn't even turn on the television. Well, they never told her not to, but she felt so supremely uncomfortable in the midst of their discomfort, that she felt bad.

Ellie crossed the street and began walking to the little park that all the neighborhood kids came after school to play in. She tried to walk in a straight line, making sure to step in every concrete slab in even steps. When she was younger, she had to take two giant steps to make sure the steps were even, which ensured that she was always leaping instead of walking in normal steps. But recently, Ellie had started to notice that she was able to walk quite normally even though she was stepping in even steps.

The sun warmed the back of her head as a chilly gust of wind blew on her bare legs. Ellie was wearing her _______ shorts even though her mother had told her not to wear those in the cold. But she had wanted to show Michelle the holographic design on the shorts

To be continued...

TONY MOLY I'm Real Avocado Sheet Mask Review

This is the first time I've reviewed any product on here. But I had to write a review on the scent and feel of this mask. And it is AWESOME!

First of all, before I get into the good stuff, the packaging alone makes this mask worth it. It retails on Amazon for $10.02 for 11 sheets with different masks. But you can purchase individual masks in a set of 10 for about the same price. I figured buying the collective would be a good way for me to try out the products and see how I like each of them. Hence this review.

Now, onto the fragrance and the consistency of the product. BTW, I'm sitting here with the mask on my face as I type this and it just smells so wonderful! The product is white in color and smells clean and fresh. Because it's an avocado mask, I think it smells like avocados but with a hint of maybe...oats? Very soothing and calming.

I've heard of lavender masks for relaxation but those are always too strong and played out, that I always need like jasmine or tea tree oil for relaxation. This is also kind of like a substitute for lavender if you were like me and not into that scent at all, and needed something different. 

Ooh, another thing! The sheet is soaked with product, so much so that there is an excess in there that can be used at least 2-3 more times with just your fingers. I love that these Korean beauty products are so affordable and you get so much for your dollar!

Anyway, thanks for reading. 😃

Au revoir!

Today

I live in two different realities. Such intense virulent hatred for myself pervades every thought when I’m outside. Insecurities, doubts, and apprehensions cloud my mind as I walk through life. Take today for an example. I was fine in the morning. My hair was bouncy and curly and my image of my body in the mirror in the morning spoke of a busy college student, casually dressed but still stylish, ready for the day. But my image of myself completely transformed as the day went on. On the train, I put my feet up on the seat in front of me. It was relaxing and there was no one on that seat. When the conductor came around to check passes, she told me to put my feet down. A totally normal request for an employee to make about the possible vandalizing of the property of her company. She had always seemed like the loyal type of employee to me. But I had my headphone plugged in and could not hear a word she said until a few seconds later. Again, something that happens to the people of today quite commonly. That was when my self-confidence took a hit.

Why?

Is my sense of self-worth really that fragile? I felt slightly embarrassed at the moment that it happened and then with every passing mile that the train ran over, my embarrassment grew. It grew until I sunk further and further down my seat, watching my periphery for the train conductor. Again, why do I feel like everyone everywhere is constantly watching and judging me.

Then I came to Suburban station and walked up the flights of stairs to go to the trolley section. As I walk, and this is something I think literally every time I do the same walk, I think I must be walking really quickly. Automatically, as I slow down, I start thinking that if I walk too slowly people are going to take one look at my enormous thighs and think “wow, this fatty can barely walk”. So I start walking quickly again and remember, once again, that walking too quickly is better than having other people think those thoughts of me.

Now I’m standing at the trolley stop waiting for the trolley trying not to let my breathing get too loud or pant-y from that fast walk I just did. This part is usually normal. I’m silent and keep my bitch-face one so no one will talk to me. But today, when the trolley came, there were not as many seats as there normally is and I couldn’t find a seat all to myself. So I kind of trudged up and fell into a seat next to this lady who was smartly dressed. I accidentally stepped on her foot (klutz, smh) and immediately apologized. But she looks over at me and tsk-tsk-ed like I had just yelled and slapped her face. I was kind of smiling when I said sorry and I think she felt mollified (I’ve noticed that a smile can calm even the most ruffled of feathers). But that left me feeling kind of like she had slapped me instead, provoked for no reason. So the moment the seat in front of me cleared, I leapt out and sat there.

Then I finally came to campus and went up the stairs to above Starbucks. There was a room available and after I got settled in there, I dimmed my computer screen to use as a makeshift mirror to check on my hair. Remember all that bouncy confidence I felt in my hair that morning? All gone. I absolutely hated how I looked. I felt that distant but emphatic embarrassment that people had to look at my face the way it looked right now. I had contacts in, something I never have on. But with no makeup or even eyeliner/mascara I felt so gross. I don’t even feel human anymore. I feel like a stick that is just dressed appropriately every day. If that stick is not properly shown to the public then it’s kind of like (and this is my mind chastising itself) “what is your point even?” I sat there for 2 and a half hours alone trying to come to terms with my distant but very present embarrassment that I looked so ugly today.

And it doesn’t matter if I actually do make a 40-minute effort to make up my face and come to school face-pretty. Because then I fixate on my swollen lumpy body in all its excessiveness ugliness. That’s not so easily fixed so that hatred stays there. I mean, it’s always there but I get distracted sometimes.

Finally, Komal came and things were okay.

When it was time, I went to the STC for the Case exam on CHF. I got my stuff out, ready, with no phone, etc. and sat down next to Komal. Soon, people started trickling in to the room. I had seen those faces a thousand times maybe, but could not name them nor could they recognize me. At one point, Brandon came in along with that really pretty blond girl. She usually dresses in sweatpants/hoodie and barely seems to give a care about her appearance. But today, she had curled her hair, worn the student appreciation day shirt, and some tight ripped skinny jeans. She looked so effortlessly beautiful that I could not stop staring. I saw other guys and girls looking at her and wished with a little twinge of my heart that I had even a hope of getting that kind of reaction.

The exam was pathetic and I died in a million different ways. But finally, it had also passed. For the next hour, I worked on some school items and pulled my hair up into a ponytail because it was so humid and hot. The minute I did that though, I realized my baby hairs were going to stand up and form little half-moon curlicues around my face. I looked so…..FOB-y. It’s embarrassing to be 21 years old and still not have figured your hair out.

All of these are minor but instead of one insecurity coming after the other, it’s more like they pile on top of each other like Jenga. I keep them balanced for the most part, until something major comes along and it, along with me, topples. Today, it was the train ride home. I could feel a massive headache coming on and pulled my hair down from the tight high pony to a more loose low ponytail. The minute I looked up, I saw my sister sitting in the seat in front of me. Did she see me? Why didn’t she sit next to me? Why didn’t make eye contact? And then I was thinking about how a sister can reject you so easily when I have tried SO. MANY. TIMES. to be as friendly and nice as possible. How can she not talk to me for weeks? What kind of an evil brain is she hiding in there? All those times I walked into her room and comforted her and made her laugh when she was crying about school. All those times, our parents’ combined parenting really grated on her nerves and got her all strung-up. All the times I interceded with them on her behalf. And now she has no problem just ignoring me. Really makes you wonder your self-worth with the people who were supposed to love you no matter what.

This was combined with the fact that there was an incredibly beautiful blond sitting next to me with perfect face and makeup, calmly and with great poise looking through her iPad. Every semi-good looking guy stared at her downturned face as they walked down the train aisle. Like, what? I never illicit that kind of a reaction. That was around the time, I looked out the window feeling my face turn into a sad expression, and decided that if I feel so ugly maybe I should start wearing makeup everyday. At least, I feel face-pretty then. At least, then, I can look at people without wanting to turn my face away.

The Future...

What does the future hold for me? This is something that we all, not just myself, wonder about all the time. Some of us want to know the future because we would like it to go a certain way and so manipulate the present. We do it to become richer, more popular, become famous, becoming engaged to that one guy, become thinner, curvier, darker, fairer.

Me? The same stuff, happier, successful, thin, and pretty. All the things I would work toward if I knew my future. This logic is so flawed that I didn't even see it until I wrote that just now. And here's why...why do I need to know the future to work toward all that stuff? Why not do that stuff now? Why not exercise every day and start playing more with makeup? Why not work toward one goal and build your life around it? Many young people my age right now have no idea what they want to do with their lives. I am the same way. But my personality is so dependant on order and structure that I just can't be a wild free spirit. I have tried it and I just became more miserable because I felt dirty, immature and stupid. I need to feel like a winner all the time. This is a crutch for me because I KNOW that I am not perfect.

I love to travel and be on my own. I also love being around family. So why not become an MSL (Medical Science Liason)? I can work toward doing that Fellowship and then achieve an actual goal. I can exercise and eat right and finally lose weight, another actual goal. Watching all the seasons of Supernatural is not a real goal. It's a path for me to lose my brain slowly but surely.