"Oh my, isn't that young girl freezing? Do you know what's going on? Is this going to be in a movie?"
Not exactly. She's just taking pictures.
"Really? Of what?"
"Oh... I see. Is it for a class?"
No. Just for her.
"That's very interesting. I think you should tell her to put on a sweater."
I'll be sure to do that.
And now you know where I get my enviable social skills. While I'm flattered that the women thought that I was some kind of local movie star... I have to bare in mind that they were at least seventy years old and with my luck they probably thought that I was shooting a scene from "The Blair Witch Project." There were presumably a lot of awkward pauses and uncomfortable glances shared between both parties so it was probably fortunate that I wasn't there. Oh the life of an artist. So tortured. So misunderstood.
Over the course of the year, I've accumulated a lot of runs in my tights. Virtually ever single pair of stockings I own contain at least one hole. I've been dubbed the Asian Taylor Momsen of Pennsylvania and we're not talking Cindy Lou Who.
The past two days I've been lying in my bed doing absolutely nothing. I try to get up and leave, but my bed's all like ""No one's ever gonna love you more than I do. STAY WITH ME, I'LL PROVIDE YOU WITH WARMTH AND COMFORT" and so I'm compelled to climb back in. It's a vicious cycle. Though this time I had an excuse. After school on Monday the doctor diagnosed me with having a kidney stone. Instead of doing anything productive, i.e start my English essay... I made my Christmas list.
Starry Night Knee-Socks
2. Heavy Rain
4. Dreamy Focus Lens
5. Peter Pan Collar Necklace
6. Bambi Sweater
7. Studded Heart Bag
8. Bunny Ring
9. Double Bird Ring
11. Missed Connections