When I was a little girl I went to a Barbizon modeling class where they taught us to “look sad.” It was something I’d noticed before even at that young age in beauty magazines, and they even explained it in a totally intellectually coherent way, but I just can’t bring myself to retell it at this moment.
Later on in a less pre-adolescent body/life when posing for photographs or the runway I was told to “look bored.”
The thing is, it makes sense. I don’t know. I feel so guilty for some things, and I avoid this topic because it feels too vein, and I don’t think it’s the biggest self-confrontation I’m missing out on; well there may be some merit to that, but I’m not ready for it.
The thing is I do often have to just look pretty and feel bored. I don’t know. I’m too shy at the moment to speak on being a “pretty girl.” I feel like I’m fucking speaking for all pretty girls out there, all girls everywhere, and humankind.
Maybe it’s not that serious. In fact, I should shut my mouth and stop thinking. Sugar and spice and everything nice. Don’t speak unless spoken to, and master the art of the Virgin Mary/Mary Magdalen complex…. Okay go now…
Okay fine I’ll share a little insight. When I was a little girl they told us that the popular pretty girls were people who everyone was jealous of, and therefore lonely and sad-faced. I can see that, and I guess I’m trying to expose myself in this moment. I guess that rough face has kind of a closed countenance, not letting anyone in, and a blank expression serves to let the photograph speak more for the fashion than the girl. The girl is just a blank canvas. She is empty, and you can imagine yourself in her place… Really its all just the invisible hand pushing things along making men constantly change what they crave, and women feel insecure so they can spend a lot of money on beauty products. I know this because I’ve seen it from all angles. I’ve worked in the beauty industry, and I wear makeup…
I am often bored. I am not going to say that “I know everything.” Maybe it’s like when “proper girlhood” is so instilled in you, you are quiet a lot, and that leaves a lot of space for observation, and in that quietude you kind of end up learning a lot, and then you’re just fucking bored and boys try to engage you and the only thing there really is to say are the imaginative things, or the quips, because you can’t tell them what’s really on your mind, you can’t let them feel dumber than you, and you’re off in fantasy land anyway cause you’re so fucking bored, and this intrigues them: your fantasy land, and this gives you something other than sitting there quietly knowing all the answers in class, and then you become a slave to this boy who finds your fantasy interesting. Is that wrong or right? Or life?
I used to write song lyrics in spirals on my notebooks and not care too much about my grades and get A’s.
I used to write the sweetest fairytale fiction and poetry in English class, usually after having stared out the window for as long as I could take it.
And the lockers!
I would walk down the hall and hear nothing but people opening and closing their lockers.
I was kind of bored and uninterested and unapproachable… still am? scratches head. There are all these new changes now. I’m not so interested in “learning new things” as my head is chop-ful (is that the correct verbiage) of things I never finished analyzing my whole life, so like I kind of want to finish figuring those easy mysteries out, so yes, I remain uninterested because I don’t have the energy, and yeah I am kind of unapproachable though I don’t mean to be, and yeah I’m sort of bored…
So much is making so much sense right now.