girlsdontcry's Diaryland Diary


I love getting ready to go out.

Almost as much as going out -- or maybe sometimes more -- I love getting ready to go out.

I love it.

Maybe it's that whole thing about it being better to travel hopefully than to arrive*, but I love the feeling of before going out, just the feeling there is so much potential ahead.

I also love the feeling of being perfectly clean and pristine, naked, no make up, wet hair, no nothing -- and then going to work on your favourite canvas. I mean, I'm not the girliest girl I know, although I guess maybe if you never wear makeup at all, you'd think I was a girlie girl. But I love to put on going-out makeup. I love painting my lips, curling my eyelashes. Wishing my skin was perfect, looking at myself in the mirror the way I do so that, well, so I've organised my face in the way that it looks acceptable to me, not in the way that it looks when you catch a glimpse of yourself in a shopfront, when your face is at rest.

I love to pick out underwear. Even though I never actually pull, or go out with the intention of doing so (I swear it's true!), I still have a scale of underwear worthiness for an event. Whether or not it is worth wearing matching, or whether or not I should save my few matching items for some other occasion where I'll need lucky lingerie.

Then normally I'll avoid putting on the rest of my clothes until just before I leave. Because I can.

And I like trying to put on the perfect music to capture the mood of optimism that I have before a night out. Some music where you're already on the upswing that will kind of carry you a bit further.

So it can be anything cheesy or disco or anything that just makes me want to dance, or anything with lots of energy.

On Saturday it was the Pixies, the "Doolittle" album, which is so great, and reminds me of being a teenager. I had a really fun time getting reading on Saturday, but the great thing is, it wasn't just the travelling that was fun, I had a great time when I was there.

I kind of love after too... not being hungover, but feeling wrecked, like you've worked hard at having your fun, and you know it because you feel it. Crusty mascara'd eyes, smoky hair, all of that. That whole Sunday feeling that goes really really well with a greasy breakfast and an overcast day.

*I want to remind myself... I was reading one of a million Donna Tartt interviews that was in every weekend newspaper, and she was saying how much she loves Robert Louis Stevenson, who I've never even thought to read. He said that about travelling hopefully though, I know that.


For the second time that I've worked here, someone has asked how to spell the word "Kumbaya" (it's a trick question to ferret out the hippies, so I don't answer), but my boss just wanted to spell it "cumbaya", and someone told him that was the pornstar way of spelling it.

Ah, but he's not the only one with a stupid hat on today...

Me: "You know, I never knew that the New York Knicks was short for Knickerbockers."

Boss says something about me not knowing about anything.

Me: "Well, why should I know about baseball, I've never lived in a country where they play baseball?"

Boss points out they're not actually a baseball team. Blah.

10:57 a.m. - 2002-10-21


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