Day 75: Merry Christmas

     Striped sweater, jeans, TOMS.
     Look, its me at a Christmas party!
     Merry Christmas ladies and gentlemen.  Its finally here, and so I figured I would post last Fridays outfit on the joliest day of the year.  Sure, all of these presents and stuff is great, but the best part of the holidays is truely and sincerely family.
     Everyone has family drama.  Everyone fights in their families, but in the end, everything turns out okay.
     When you go to bed, say a prayer.  Remember what is important in life.  Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.  And Hanukka.  Kwanza.
     Also, I have to mention the reason for the season: my lord and savior Jesus Christ, but Im not about to go all Tim Tebow on you, so Ill leave it at that.

Day 74: The Worst If All Chores

     Grey sweater, sparkly tank top, jeans that don't fit me, Uggs.
     I'm a generally a flexible person.  I'm not very picky and I don't have a tendency to whine.  There is one thing though that just agitates me.  It gets under my skin and makes me cringe.  If I'm upset enough, Ill cry about it.
     Doing the dishes.  I cant stand it.  In the Galindo household, doing the dishes is a phat deal.  On all of the odd days of the month (ie. March 11, November 3) I have to do the dishes, and my thirteen year old sister does it on the even days (just as a side note, I always have more days during the year because most months end in 31, and start with 1.  Two days in a row of dishes.)
     Apparently, my family, myself included, doesn't know how to eat cleanly because by the time I do the dishes at night its jammed packed with leftover food and greasy grime.  Its an eye sore.  I know that I should be happy that I have food to eat and that my parents feed me and yes I am lucky, but I have a right to be heard.
     Ive been doing dishes since the third grade, so has my sister.  That is eight years of doing the dishes every other day, with a few exceptions.  My brother is well into the fifth grade, he doesn't do dishes.  Why?  Couldn't tell you.  Wish I could.
     Today is December 15th.  The dishes are piled up as I write... Sitting there, mocking me.  I don't want to do them.  I lose a little bit more of my dignity every time I slip on the pink rubber cleaning gloves.
     Susan always tells me that I should get used to it because Ill be doing dishes for the rest of my life.  I intend in finding a way to avoid that fate in any way possible.

Day 73: What Is Going On?!

      Tacky Christmas sweater, leggings, Uggs.
      Today was tacky sweater day.  My personal favorite day of the year.  A day dedicated to looking ridiculous.  If I could look ridiculous everyday, I would.  What am I saying, I do look ridiculous everyday, in my own hipster way...
      Two days until break... Just two more days, hang in there.
      The caffeine with drawls are really starting to hit me.  For example, I was in Target shopping for Christmas presents on this cold day, and I got hungry.  I went over to concessions to get popcorn and a soda.  I remembered once I got to the soda fountain that I don't get the luxury of drinking my usual Diet Coke.  I began to cry.  I'm not sure why, it was more like frustration.  I felt like a four year old throwing a temper tantrum.
      Today, my earrings lit up like flashing Christmas lights, because they were in the shape of Christmas lights.
      I need sleep, I apologize for wasting your time.

Day 72: The Stress Amounts

      Black jacket, green shear blouse, jeans that are terrible and I need to get rid of, TOMS.
      Four more days until Christmas break.  The pressure is on.  Not pressure in school, no, pressure in everything except school.
      Everyone is focused on one thing: Christmas (or Hanuka or Kwanzaa, I don't discriminate).  All of my teachers have given us busy work or no work at all because they don't have the time to focus on us children when there is so much going on.
      I don't blame them, I'm busy myself.  I have to buy presents for all the my teachers, my family, my friends, and my poodle.
      I love my dog.  I really do.  I don't, however, treat my dog like a human being.  This is the case for one simple reason:  Dogs are not human beings.  They shouldn't be treated like them either.
      Holidays cards are a tradition, we Galindo's receive many cards everyday during the month of December.  At least once a day we get a card that says (Example): "Happy Holidays! Love, Greg, Sheryl, Dan, Margie, and Fido".  Okay.  Stop right there.  Apparently dogs are people now?  If I were Dan and Margie, I would be pretty upset that my parents think that my dog is on the same standards as the kids they raised.  Like I said, I love my dog.  I also love the people that send these cards, I just personally think its ridiculous.  We are people, dogs eat their own poop; I see a clear difference, do you?
      Anyways, now that Ive ridiculed half the people who read this blog of mine, Christmas is coming soon, so stay warm and drink lots of hot cocoa.  In my case it would be coffee, but I'm not allowed to drink caffeine because of my tendency to get anxiety attacks.  Happy Holidays!

Me and Roy on TOMS Tuesday

Day 71: My Easy Bake Oven

     "Comfy or flirty
Sweeping you off of your feet
      any sock's best friend"

-Julia Carter

     Creme sweater, red tights, denim shorts, mini boots.
     Yes, yes; I wore jean shorts over my tights today.  I try to set trends, and if it doesnt work then fine.  Red is in this season, however, and this was just the perfect shade of red to start the week.
     I would like to adress two things.  First off, when I say "nude cami" in my outfit descriptions, it means the color is nude, Im not actually naked.  Hopefully that spares future confusion.  Also, it has been pointed out to me that my grammer is terrible.  Im sorry, that wont change, youre going to have to suffer.  Well Im glad I got that taken of.
     This is the last week before Christmas break.  Which mean this is my last week of posting until Christmas break.  Enjoy.
     When I was a little girl, I wrote to Santa wishing for an Easy Bake Oven.  All I wanted to see on Christmas morning was that Easy Bake Oven waiting for me next to my stocking.  I asked ONLY for that oven, so that I would have the highest possible chance of getting it.  For those of you who dont know what an Easy Bake Oven is, it is a plastic miniature oven that bakes small sugary creations.  The treats are awful, but you have so much fun making them the taste doesnt even phase you.
     Seeing that Easy Bake Oven gracefully sitting upon the invisible pedestal I created for it on Christmas morning made me so overjoyed I could barely stand it.
     I played with it twice, maybe three times.
     My entire holiday revolved around that toy.  I cant remember any other aspects of that month besides wanting it so badly.
     I, like so many of us young and old, got caught up in the baccanalia of the holiday avertisment frenzy.  Now that Im older and have developed my maturity, sort of, the thing I enjoy most over the holidays is the tradition.  Yes, for me part of the tradition is wanting something so badly that it becomes my Easy Bake Oven, but I also enjoy the other things the season has to offer.  I have the advent calender I change every morning, stringing lights on the tree with Gary, spending hours with Susan trying to mail our holiday cards, and my brother and sister sleeping in my room Christmas Eve anticipating the following morning.
     It doesnt matter what the tradition is, but hold onto it.  Whether its lighting the manora or even the classic Christmas family fights, they all mean something special.  Remember it, and love it.  Love it like I loved my Easy Bake Oven.
     Special thanks to Jason Vawter, Ashley Snarr, and Andie Furber; I love this picture.

Day 70: Don't Hate, Just Don't Do It.

     True Religion corduroy pants, red sweater, white scarf.
     I cant make people love me.  I cant make people want to be my friend.  I try to maintain the relationships I have, though.  I try to be generous, I try to be kind.
     I have never given anyone an excuse to hate me.  The world is a screwy place, and there are a select few who would say that they hate me.
     Its such a strong word: Hate.  You don't realize the impact it has until it is personal.  Like I said, I cant make people be my friend, so if I'm not your friend, don't be hating.  You're wasting your time.  There are so many things you could be doing with your time instead of hating.  I dunno, maybe LOVING.
     A life of hate is truly a sad existence.  People recognize the hate and you and mark you for that.
     I don't "hate" anyone.  I don't particularly like some people, but I don't hate them.  Why would I?  I'm pretty sure I don't know anyone enough to hate them.  Except for my best friends, but I would never hate them.
     Moral of the story is don't hate.  Did you catch that?

Day 69: Sixteen Going On Seventy

      Blazer, sparkled striped shirt, jeans that don't fit me, TOMS (yet again).
      I watch the news every morning.  I love to sit down with a cup of coffee and watch Matt Lauer and Anne Curry talk about depressing and/or uplifting current events.  Apparently, not a lot of teenagers do that.
      Sometimes I think that I'm actually an adult.  That somehow my DNA got mixed up.
      I love to talk about politics.  I love to discuss the news.  I watch the History channel for fun.  I Tivo "Biography" on PBS.  These are all things that sad old people do.
      Like I said, sometimes I think I'm an old person, but then I realize that I talk like a valley girl and have a vampire obsession; I'm a teenager after all.

Day 68: Hipsters

     Grey Juicy jacket, nude cami, black pencil skirt, see through striped maxi dress/skirt.
     Four, count them... FOUR, hipsters came up to me today complimenting my skirt.  I had no idea who they were, but I saw right through their jealousy as they were really implying "that skirt is so freaky and hipster that I'm mad I didn't think of something that bizarre.
     I'm not directly implying that my skirt wasn't very trendy, because it was if I do say so myself.
     Hipsters, for those of you who don't know, are modern day hippies.  They look very dirty and rugged, wear clothes that are supposed to look so ugly that its trendy.  They worship nature and hate politics, yet encourage recycling.
     In modern day Danville California, hipster is the opposite of their goal of being unique... It is mainstream.
     Kids at Monte Vista spend hundreds of dollars to look so poor.  Hipsters.  I once aspired to be a hipster, this I am ashamed of.  I need so desperately to be different, and being mainstream just wont work out for me.  In a hipsters eyes, being with the trends is too ordinary, therefore they branch out to crazy things.  I suppose this means Ill be going back to being normal in order to be abnormal.  That's a mind twister.
     I respect hipsters, I'm friends with many.  They make me laugh though.  They make me laugh.
    

Day 67: Short Post

     Flannel pajama bottoms, blue sweater, and TOMS.
     TOMS Tuesday and PJ day, what a bonus.
     Being comfortable is important.  But when it comes to fashion:  Beauty is pain. 
     Winter means cold.  Cold means discomfort.  Nobody likes being cold, but I manage to deal.  You see, I think about it in harsh terms.  Basically I would rather freeze to death then burn to death.  Extreme, I know, but I try to be careful what I wish for.
     I don't mind being cold as long as I look good.
    

Day 66: Swim Day 1

      Striped sweater, TOMS, jeans, black shirt.
      My outfit today was super ugly, so lets forget about it... Enjoy these pictures of me dressed up as the Russian Grand Duchess Olga Katrina.
      Today marked the first day of winter swim.  It was dreadful.  Considering that I never work out anymore, it was as if someone was slowly torturing me to death.  I'm lying, it wasn't that bad, but it was a challenge.
      So I did what any other person would do:  I rewarded myself.  I got a large Diet Coke at McDonald's simply because I could.  I drive, I have money.
      I'm going to be so sore for the next couple of days.  That's so sad.  I'm weak.  This kind of talk isn't me putting myself down, no, its me being my own personal "tough love" trainer.  I do a pretty good job...
      My chub will remain chub throughout the swim season.  I never lose weight, but I don't mind.  Its probably all of that McDonald's...

Day 65: Clean.

     White lace dress, camouflage green sweater, brown booties.
     I am NOT a needy person.  I do insist, however, that everything is perfect when it comes to hygiene.
     I like clean things.  Who doesn't?  So I like things a little more clean then the average person... Yes, I may wash my hands between passing periods and Lysol keyboards... Sue me.
     I just don't want to get sick.  Being sick is the worst.  Sharing sickness is even worse.
     Me and my little sister share a room and a closet.  She is not as particular as I am when it comes to cleanliness of clothing.  I have a weird fear that shes going to transfer her middle school germs onto me when I wear her clothes.  Maybe I'm just paranoid?
     Nope, I'm right.
     Its cold and flu season.  Getting sick is practically a given.  I warn you people, WASH YOUR HANDS so you can put off getting sick for just a little while longer.  Drink water, too.  I have no idea why, but doctors always say consume liquids, and they primarily know what they're talking about.  Make good choices, don't share drinks!  Unless its a smoothie, those things are tempting.

Day 64: Makeup

     Grey sweater, green floral scarf, jeans, Vans.
     Today was one of those days where I struggled to get myself out of bed.  When I looked in the mirror, I just stared.
     I didn't wear makeup today.  This a decision I was so happy I made.  I thought that I would be self-conscience at school because not many people have seen me without my makeup mask before.  At school, it didn't matter what they thought because I spent the whole day rubbing my eyes.  You know why?  BECAUSE I COULD!  Makeup is so restricting!  If I rubbed my eyes with makeup on during school, I would end up looking like a raccoon.  Maybe that's a sign I should lay off the eyeliner.