Carla Gypsygirl's Blurty

Is there a doctor in the house?

This, obviously, is not me.
Sometimes, I wish that life was organised into easy, bite-sized pieces. Like, with bullet points and subheadings. That way, I wouldn't feel so confused all the time. Then again, life wouldn't be as interesting or rich. So even though today's entry is in point form, don't let it confuse you. Life's messy...you can sit on the edge and look on, or you can dive in headfirst and try fingerpainting. As for me, well, at the moment, I think I've fingerpainted the walls and some grown-up has come along and shouted at me.

The Consequences of 'Truth Week'
As you may recall, in my last entry, I swore off lying. I decided to start telling people the truth: the truth about my work situation (um, no, I'm not a famous designer yet) and my feelings. And I did it! I was expecting to have this glowy feeling on the inside, and I thought that maybe my skin would look all dewy. But instead, this was what ensued: insulted friends, tears (mine) and lots of shocked, hurt people (including me). Plus more! So I have been thinking: has it been worth it? I mean, when I was lying about things, at least no-one's feelings got hurt. At least I didn't have embarrassing crying moments in front of people. And surprisingly, telling the truth is not a completely guilt-free experience. There are new concerns. I worry about whether I should have told that person how I felt, and I worry what people think of my actions. But overall, I think that telling the truth has been a good thing. Sure, there have been lots of moments this week when I thought, "WHY did I say that?" Things have been, well, messy. But I am realising that I prefer the mess, and the tears, and the arguments. Not because they are fun, but because they are real. I'm not living in my own, constructed world any more. And I'm sorting stuff out, too. And most of all, I feel good knowing that God knows I'm telling the truth, and that that pleases Him.

Is Pocahontas a superhero?
It feels like ages since I have been to a real party. You know, loud music, a late night...fun. Geoff told me that he had a 21st coming up, and I hesitated. I mean, I had a shift at work the next day. But, due to the lack of fun in my life lately, I decided to say yes. So, the party is this upcoming Saturday, and I only found out a couple days ago that the party has a "Superheroes" theme. I panicked! I mean, it's fine if you're a boy. You can be Superman, Batman, Spiderman, whatever. But if you're a girl? It means, basically, that you have to show lots of flesh and/or slink around like an animal of some sort. Like, the only female superheroes I could think of were Catwoman and Wonder Woman. With Wonder Woman, I definitely don't have hair big enough to pull that look off. And it's too costly. As for Catwoman, well! She's a woman, who's also a cat, who wears tight suits all the time, who ALSO has big boobs, AND she carries a whip? I mean, what sort of a kinky freak comes up with that sort of stuff? One of my friends suggested that I should go as one of the girls from X-Men, but then he recalled, "Oh, but hang on...most of the girls in that movie wear bikinis all the time." I was reminded of that scene in Mean Girls, when Lindsay Lohan's character realises that Halloween is not about dressing up and looking scary; it's about looking SKANKY! I figured that maybe I could do a Catwoman Compromise- I could wear all-black, with cat ears, a tail and a mask, but maybe avoid the whole lycra thing. I mean, I do also think that Catwoman is cool. I mean, she's a cat! And a woman! So, anyway, I trawled my local shopping centre for a cheap outfit. I found an "Ultimate Mouse" set at a novelty store, which had furry ears, a bow tie and a little tail in a plastic bag. I found lots of fairy costumes and Disney character outfits. Finally, I settled on a $1.87 plastic Batman mask. I'm going to cut the flesh-coloured chin off it, then I'll just wear it over my eyes and be Batgirl. And I'm going straight from work to the party, so I'll be wearing all-black anyway. I think I might drape a skirt over my shoulders and pretend that they're bat wings. Oh, and I bought some super-trashy red lipstick from the chemists for $2.95. Superhero girls ALWAYS have siren lips. I mean, come on...it's important to look good while you're rescuing people, or while you're busy being a cat AND a woman at the same time! It's way hard work!

Like Beyonce said: Say my name!
At my work, they encourage us to learn our customer's name. I like that idea- it adds a nice, personal touch. I had a customer recently who really, really liked a lot of our handbags. She said she would come back, so I asked her what her name was. When she came back the next day, I said, "Hi, Suzanne!" She was happy that I remembered her name, and then she started to call me Cindy. After awhile, she looked down at my name tag and said, "Oh! Your name is Carla! Why do I keep calling you Cindy?" So, I tried to look both thoughtful, interested and like I wanted to sell her a bag, all at the same time (it's pretty hard). However, my mouth opened in shock when she came to this conclusion: "I know! I call you Cindy because you remind me of Dr Cindy Pan!"
After Suzanne The Customer said this, I had the following, quick thoughts:
1. She thinks that I look like Dr Cindy just because I'm Asian. I hope this means that I look like Lucy Liu, too.
2. I look NOTHING like Dr Cindy! NOTHING!
3. Not that Dr Cindy is unattractive. She is very pretty and intelligent, AND she's a doctor, AND she's cool. You wouldn't want much else, would you?
4. Hang on, isn't Dr Cindy famous for talking about...you know, the facts of life?
Then, I half shouted, "But isn't Dr Cindy a sexologist? I'M NOT A SEXOLOGIST! I WORK IN A DEPARTMENT STORE!" Another customer turned around and giggled at me. Fortunately, both of these customers thought that I was just adorable and funny, and they weren't offended at all. The other customer who was laughing at me even bought a $99 cosmetic bag after that. Boy, I am so lucky that having your foot in your mouth is a fashion statement lately.

"And then, it all fell out!"
I don't know if it's totally obvious to the naked eye or anything, but I have always been TOTALLY scared of anything that resembles a commitment. I tend to get all psychoanalytical about this...I think I am like this because, before I was five, I'd already lived in 3 different Australian states and lots of different flats and houses. I was used to moving around, and I was used to the lovely fresh start that comes with a new home and new friends. So anyway, anything permanent totally scares me. Like, it wasn't until I was in the third year of my four year degree that I decided that I would stay and finish the thing. And, as cool as I think I am, I could never, ever get a tattoo, because I get really freaked out about having something on my body that I could never, ever get off. So anyway, while this commitment-phobic thing can be quite cute at times, I think it can also prevent me from experiencing life in its full glory. Like, even though Geoff and I have been going out for almost a year and a half now, I'm STILL not used to the idea of having a boyfriend! Even though he is SO adorable, and has never failed to SMS me when he has found out that Britney is pregnant! So I decided that, in order to get over this fear of commitment, I should do something PERMANENT. And what could be more permanent that PEROXIDE? Yesterday, I dyed my hair for the first time EVER! I bought a whole lot of hair dye from Woollies, and said jokingly to the checkout girl, "It's all about the hair today!" And boy, did she have some sage advice. She said: "I've stopped doing stuff to my hair now. I used to dye it all the time. I was dying my roots, over and over again, and I had really long hair. And then, it all fell out! My hair kept breaking, so that there were strands on my head that were only THIS long! [Demonstrates with her fingers a length of about 5 centimetres] And it was this stuff that I used! [Points to the bleach I have purchased] Don't do it! Be careful! You have beautiful, shiny hair! Don't ruin it! [Waves] Have a nice evening!" I panicked all the way home, and when I woke up the next day, I was still panicking. But I still did it anyway- you gotta take risks, right? So after 3 hours in the bathroom, I emerged with red streaks in my hair. Although, most people say that they can't see them. That's because I put the streaks under the top layer of my hair, so that you wouldn't see any regrowth. I didn't think that that would mean you wouldn't be able to see the streaks at all. But like, who cares? I know that I'm wild, right?

***
And so ends another blog entry of your faithful blogger, Carla Gypsygirl! I hope that next week is just so smooth and understandable that I won't need to segment it. I hope that your week is good, too. Do something to challenge yourself!

Love,
Carla Gypsygirl xxx