> tapioca world tour

The smell of my mother’s perfume has almost been neutralized by my open-all-day bedroom window. Now, no evidence of her brief visit remains, other than my neatly-folded bed and full stomach. I can’t determine whether the emptiness makes me sad or if I feel nothing at all…which makes me imagine the day I will lose my mother, and how shocked I (and everyone) will be to watch myself completely fall apart and not be able to pull it together for years and years and…anyway,

so, you wanna hear something awkward? My landlords have just separated, but instead of the wife moving OUT, she’s moved into the vacant apartment on the first floor. “You can pay the rent to me from now on,” she told DD, and what could he say? We’ll be moving shortly anyway. Seems like there’s no better time for it.

I cut my hair tonight, promptly after watching Mean Girls, which would have been funnier had it starred Christopher Walken instead of Lindsay Lohan. Just saying. But back to the hair — I’ll post before & after photos tomorrow. Can’t say which looks better, honestly, but there’s something emotionally gratifying about feeling lighter — less weight on one’s head, I mean — and I always opt for radical change over physical beauty, because risk-taking inspires respect, but conforming to the standards of femininity stunts one’s best development and, quite frankly, is awfully boring. So there you have it.

One other thing: the word “fresh”, as in “Don’t act so fresh, Johnny, or I’m pulling this car over!”
Let’s bring it back, people.

ONWARD.