Hi. I’m Haley Clouser and I wear make-up. What’s the shame in that? You see, there is none.

Every girl is bound to wear some sort of make-up, even if it doesn’t necessarily have the title as make-up. Glitter = make-up.

I’ll admit, I like wearing make-up because of the whole comfort zone it provides. I feel better with it on and I feel more self-conscious without it. It’s like someone who has a favorite ring or necklace that they feel “naked” when they don’t have it on. That’s the same feeling that I have. Plus, the whole deal that eye-liner costs eight bucks per seemingly only 1/2 ounce bottle, I’m using the whole dang thing ’til it dries up.

I like wearing make-up. I’m not suggesting you should wear it (especially if you’re a guy…unless you want to?), I’m just saying it’s what I like. I do try to not wear make-up, but then there’s the “what if” factor. What if I look worse when I don’t have make-up on? That’s why I wear it. Without taking that risky step, I eliminate that “what if” and that potential drop of self-esteem.

And why do guys insist on girls to not wear make-up? I mean, in a sense, that’s kind of hypocritical. Guys want girls to look “hot” and yet most of their definitions of being ”hot” are based on girls that wear make-up (well and skanky clothes). So when they ask us to “try not to wear make-up”, they want us to be the opposite of what they are looking for? I don’t understand. Obviously, girls (most of them) try to be what guys want…including me. So, it’d be less confusing if they’d just say what they want. Make a group consensus ya know?

meh.

Eagle.

P.S. I’m not a man-hater (Trust me, I love me some men ). Just lately, the posts have seemed that way…I don’t know why?

Pumpkin pies, pumpkin frapps at Starbucks, pumpkin cookies…..

If I could, I would smell like pumpkin spice all of the time. I would live in a pumpkin house, with pumpkin doors, and pumpkin-patterned curtains covering the pumpkin-colored window panes. My stove, after every meal that was delicately cooked, would leave the scent of pumpkin to diffuse throughout the house. My washer would run on pumpkin-scented detergent and my dryer would smell like baked pumpkin bread whenever I emptied it. Heck, as much as I love the smell of Old Spice, if my future husband/man/whatever you call significant other smelled like pumpkin, I would be an extremely happy person; so happy, that I might have to cover more of the house with pumpkin-related items until I couldn’t handle it any more.

But, alas, pumpkins only grace the land in Fall, and for some reason, I only feel this passionate about this lovely fruit of the earth when leaves begin to leave the trees.

A girl can dream though. And, with all of the stress and no sleep, a bubble bath sounds really good right now.

Only, the soap has to smell like…..well, you know.

I’ll give you a hint, it starts with a ‘p’ and ends with a ‘kin’.

I’m ridiculous.

Brown Bear

Today, that was discussed to the point where it got confusing…well, for the guy it did. I just think it’s funny how guys and girls have the most polar opposite views but can still make something out of it to date. I guess there just has to be the right people on both sides to make it work?

I also thought it was interesting how, even though a person likes someone, they refer to that person as a pronoun based on gender, obviously he/she or him/her. If that person is so special and almost dear to your heart, why categorize them as a ’him’ or ‘her’. For instance, “I know she’s  there, and I do want to go because she’s there.” It’s like the actual name of that person is dangerous to say. I understand the use of those pronouns for the confidentiality and sly approach (trust me, I’ve had my fair share of he’s and him’s), but why not just say the name? I’ve went out on plenty of limbs to tell a guy that I like him, and, yes, I was scared at the moment but it did pass. After telling them, you find out if they are who you really thought they were. Plus, saying the name will let other people know who you like, especially nosy people like me.

Why is it that all the relationship talks happen at mexican restaurants?

Eagle.

Eagle.

Happy Fall!

Brown Bear

I’ve been thinking about how we are so small. I mean “we” as in human kind. After the earthquake, I felt so tiny and vulnerable that I became overwhelmed by the fact that I can’t necessarily control everything. I finally saw the world as this massive, gentil yet destructive place, and in a moment, it can easily be one or the other. Having, quite literally, your world shaken just opens up new meanings to petty things. They mean nothing. The earthquake also gave me this epiphany of how humans are just little specs on a huge surface. It gave me this perspective of if I wanted to be “a big fish in a small pond” or “a small fish in a big pond”. I don’t want to be controlled by what seems to be uncontrollable. I want the reigns in my hands. I want to be the big fish.

I’ve been thinking about life. Not my life, though. I’ve been thinking about life in nature, human life, and life both in the past and future. What if you had the choice of living in a previous life, but you can choose the future or the past? Without any knowledge of any sort of timeline or historical situations or predictions of the future, which would you choose? But then, both times would be the same, wouldn’t they? Neither the future nor the past has the same aspects anymore without those marked circumstances or hypotheses. They could switch roles by the past being the future and the future being the past. What if you were living a different life right now and you didn’t even know it? A sort of parallel universe if you will. What if it was in the past and you knew at what time, such as the Civil War era or the roaring 1920′s? What if you had a life in the future going on right now? Is it any different from now?

From all of this, I would still choose the past. The future just doesn’t interest me. Seeing my life now, I would relive it again and again. Of course, I don’t know what the future holds, and not knowing is perfectly fine with me. Whenever I see the future, I see life being taken over by pettiness. Even with evolution and incoming information, the future is not as meaningful as compared to the past. Everything you hear, see, or feel is filled to the brim with valuable and emotional information. Knowing that something has happened and to be able to visualize it with just one object or story is more interesting and more relevant to me than the future.

But yah. That’s just what goes on in my brain…

Eagle.

Wait. What kind of person comes up with the idea of photoshopping acne onto Mona Lisa's face? -__-

 Why are you trying to predict my life, Proactiv?? I’m not going to become your costumer. I don’t even think your treatment works. Until I see Michael Cera (or someone I’ll actually believe) performing a testimonial, I will not give you credit.

Regardless, after this first day, I think I’m feeling pretty good so far. My classes are pretty leveled out, and, hopefully, I won’t be stressing out too much. Of course, just wait until the second day of school. We shall see how far my optimism lasts.

Pray for me.

Brown Bear

]]> http://2dweebsinapod.wordpress.com/2011/09/06/advertising-is-trying-to-predict-my-future/feed/ 0 dennyclousy4u inboxsnapshot http://2dweebsinapod.wordpress.com/2011/08/26/felt-spontaneous/ http://2dweebsinapod.wordpress.com/2011/08/26/felt-spontaneous/#comments Fri, 26 Aug 2011 18:15:56 +0000 Twodweebs http://2dweebsinapod.wordpress.com/?p=803 Continue reading →]]> So, I was watching LA Ink and I had this huge urge to either get something pierced or get a tattoo. Well, obviously the latter is a huge impossibility right now, so I asked my sister to come back down from college to go get my cartilage pierced. That was another slight impossibility considering the hurricane coming and the fact that it is better to stay northwest right now.

So what was I to do? Both options were out. Or were they?

I figured I could to the whole Lindsay Lohan/Parent Trap thing, but…

1. I didn’t have a lighter or any source for fire that my parents couldn’t tell I had.
2. I’m too big of a wimp to even have something burning near me.
3. And you’re really gullible if you even thought that I would even think of that.

The other option was tattooing. Well, that is possible. There’s a method that you could do that one of my middle school, “hard-core”, soccer friends told me about. The ice and salt tattoo. You see what happens is that you get some salt and make a shape, then press some ice on it. It’s supposedly really cool afterwards…if you do it right. It happens that I did do it right. Just there’s some unwanted additions.

So all that burning pain for nothing. The star kind of looks cool if you hold your hand around the extra parts. But I still got that rush of “this is going to be so freaking cool and badass”… in a high schooler kind of way. So when I go to the beach and people ask about it, I have two options to say. 1) ”Oh, it was a tattoo that went wrong.” (Probably not the one I would want to say without embarrassing myself.) 2) “It’s a burn scar.” Now that sounds badass.

Kat Von D is just the epitome of awesome.

I know it’ll heal, and I will probably/maybe not do it again (unless I somehow get better at it). Or I might just get a real one when I’m older…? But I still don’t know what I would get.

Haley.

Harry Potter.

Whether you care or not, I’m going to tell you a little story.

Once upon a time, right between the Shenadoah Valley, there lived a little girl who loved to read and play imaginary role-playing games with her Barbies and Power Ranger action figures. She would spend hours and hours playing all alone in the basement of her house, creating made-up stories of marriage and drama with her toys and the toys of her little brother. At some points, she would even insert herself into the story, always being the one who mentored the hero/heroine of her tales with whatever they were troubled with. One day, her older sister, who went to college in the big New York City, came home for the summer.

Every night, the older sister would tuck in the little girl, her younger brother, and read a book until the two drifted off to sleep. This was the little girl’s favorite part of the day, for her sister was an astounding actress, and would make the characters come to life by giving them crazy voices and unique personalities. One night, her sister began a new book that she had just began to read herself; it was about a  lonely boy who was discovers he’s  a wizard, goes to a magical boarding school in Scotland, and meets two best friends he would have for the rest of his life.

Not only was this little girl completely enthralled with the story, but she was positive that this fantastical world of witches, wizards, goblins who ran banks and a sport played on brooms was real, and needed to be found immediately. She read the rest of the books over the following years. She would act like a student at Hogwarts, best friends to the Hermione Granger and a master of charms and flying. She would make her little brother hold two of her favorite dog plushies and act like the three-headed dog Fluffy, who guarded the sorcerer’s stone.

Well, when this little girl turned 11, and she did not receive the letter saying she would be heading to Hogwarts for the rest of her schooling, she was devastated. Of course, now, this girl (young lady, even) still can’t imagine her life without Potter, Granger, and the huge Weasley clan. Heck, even Malfoy. This girl went to every midnight book release, would pre-buy the book, read the book in a day, and would tell her mother every detail she could remember until she passed out asleep.

For this girl, little ‘ole me, the movies were a bonus. Sure I had my own imagination that created images of Voldemort, the Boy Who Lived, and Dobby, but to see them on screen and to be able to recognize everybody: it was an amazing feeling. When the books were all said and done, I knew I had the movies to look forward to, even if the Potter Era was coming to an end. As we got closer to Harry’s final year at Hogwarts, the amount of crying in each movie raised gradually.

Who knew that at the final movie, I would sob like a baby in my movie seat.

Harry Potter was more than just a book. It was the memory of my older sister reading to me, the pure bliss of my imaginations, and the very being of my childhood. I don’t really remember a time when Harry Potter wasn’t around in my life. It’s like a computer, a T.V., and maybe even Apple products?

Mr. Potter became someone that I could relate to during the darkest parts of my life, and even gave me the motivation to always do my best and have faith.  Now that this movement is completely over, it is truly a blessing I hope to share with my own family when I’m older.

Thank you, J.K. Rowling. Not only have your books changed my life, but I’m sure they’ve brought so much happiness to others all over the world. We need more creative people like you in this world.

What a wonderful world it would be, huh?

Brown Bear

After writing about fairy tales and how they reflect societal views of both men and women, I have concluded that men are pigs. Just to put it in the nicest way possible…

Men perceive women as always being the damsel in distress, the object of torture and corruption, and even the reward of life. Make up your mind! If women are so horrible, then how can their beauty be one of destruction and fulfillment?! How can they lead men to do the most rewarding tasks yet send them to their death? Also, why are women the ones that are always punished for having the beauty or just having strength in general?

There isn’t a fairytale where “tall, dark and handsome” is silenced or killed because of his beauty. The little mermaid, Thumbelina, the ballerina in The Steadfast Tin Soldier, Gerda in The Snow Queen all are punished in some way because of either their beauty or rebelliousness against the ‘norm’. Their punishment is cutting off their tongue, being domesticated, marrying into a family not of their liking, or usually killed…ultimately becoming a pile of coal. Why?! Why can’t there be a woman who overcomes the trials and transformations seen in common fairy tales, wins her true love, and then actually lives?! Only little Gerda is the one that lives and gets her ‘happily ever after’, but only AFTER she is punished multiple times by men AND women. (Again women are the torturous ones!)

Prince Charming, it's your fault too!

I should have done my essay on only women and how they are misunderstood and mistreated in the literal world. There is barely anything on men and their mistreatment. Oh whoopy, he came from rags to riches and got the girl. What about the woman left outside in the pigsty?!

Woman is the snake charmer of man. I’m pretty sure it goes both ways Mr. Prince Charming.

Eagle. Dumb fairy tales.