I've been wearing a lot of pink lipstick.

I’ve been doing a lot of reading. Like, a lot of it. So much, in fact, that it is almost breaking the tiny folds on the insides of my skull. And does the skull even have folds in it? I’m sure I could find something to read about that.

I’ve been eating a lot of bacon cheeseburgers. Sort of as an experiment to find the best one. And, for no particular reason, it’s Wendy’s that I keep going back to. I don’t know if it’s the hamburger I love the most or if it’s something about the ketchup containers. All I know is that I’ve eaten a bacon cheeseburger every day this week, which can’t be good news for my arteries.

I’ve been drinking a lot of tea. And I mean consuming massive amounts of the stuff. I am a tea girl, through and through. The habit began at The Tate Gallery in London a few years ago. My parents took my sister and me to the gallery café. We sat down and there was that view of St. Paul’s that just makes you fall a little bit harder for the city. The walls around us were glass windows. My dad ordered a peppermint tea because it’s always been his thing and I’d never thought to try it until that moment. Since then, I’ve been a peppermint tea connoisseur in the worst sort of way, although, I’ve recently become completely obsessed with Tazo’s Vanilla Rooibos tea. Just after the tea seeps (isn’t that a great word?) I boil milk, honey, sugar, and vanilla until it foams, and then, I mix the two in a mug that makes me feel beautiful. Maximum satisfaction. I asked Santa Claus for a bag of Essie’s favorite, licoriceand peppermint tea because it’s all she ever talks about. And since I trust her on everything else in the world, I can’t wait. Also, I watch Essie pretty much every night before I fall asleep. And sometimes, I tweet her. Thanks, Paige.

I’ve been almost buying a Christmas tree. About three times in the past seven days. I bought ornaments and tinsel, but we’re sitting over in my apartment sans tree. I don’t know why and I have nothing else to say about that.

I’ve been listening to obscene amounts of James Taylor. Because, well, I don’t know why, but he makes me feel like failing my math class isn’t the worst thing I could be doing.

I am strangely obsessed with Mint Julep. The obsession began over the summer when Alicia (my sophomore English teacher) saw that I was headed to Disneyland and told me to stop by the Mint Julep bar. Mint Julep Bar? I thought, What on happiest place on earth is a Mint Julep Bar? Much to my friend Ryan’s dismay, I dragged him all over the park, looking for the enchanting space that is the Mint Julep Bar. Over the span of three days, I think I drank five Mint Juleps. I can’t even describe to you what that experience was like. Imagine limes. Lemons. Pineapples, cherries, mint leaves and magic. Maybe you should just make yourself one. Here’s the recipe. Anyway, all of this to say that I have also been really obsessed with clay masks (because Essie, so naturally...) and the other day, when I made my weekly trek into Ulta, I FOUND A MINT JULEP MASK. First, I said a thankful prayer to the Mint Julep Gods for letting me find it, then, I bought it. And let me tell you, I’ve never felt such euphoria on my skin before. Do yourself a favor, okay? Mint Julep will change your life. Also, The Plaid Shirt. He always smells like a Mint Julep. Says it’s some kind of menthol aftershave he uses. Either way, I just. I can’t event talk about it. The smell of that man. It’s too sacred and holy. 

All I wanted from today was the city library, and by the time I got around to it, it was closed, and isn’t that the way it goes? But I’ve got my mint tea and I’m sitting pretty in a Starbucks just minutes from my home because I simply cannot get any writing done anywhere but somewhere else, you know what I mean? There’s that episode of Sex and the City where Carrie has to go to Starbucks to write because she’s in a fight with Aiden about never having enough alone time and she says that she used to judge the people at Starbucks who sat there with their computers, writing, but that now, she understands they go there because they never have enough time to themselves. I agree with that.

...

None of this is important; it is mundane. But it’s life, and that’s sort of a precious thing to document, I think. And I haven’t mentioned in a while how grateful I am to not be waiting tables and serving Rednecks beer. That was a weird life I led for a little while. Let’s not ever go back there, okay? Also, there’s a humongous dog in Starbucks right now and my roommate left for Australia this afternoon. She’ll be back in three weeks and I think I might cry myself to sleep ever night until she comes home.

K.