Meh.

Today is already a bust in the do-not-pick-your-skin realm.

I picked at my chest a bit. It wasn't a long picking session. It was mild-medium. No injury really. Doesn't mean I don't hate myself for it though. I was just bored after work today. I'm also still feeling sick, congested, and my dogs wouldn't stop barking at me to feed them. Mangy mutts.

So because I'm not feeling well, I feel optimistic yet down on my luck. I received some photos yesterday from my aunt in Lubbock, Texas, of when she visited us at our house in Phoenix, Arizona. I'm like, 3 or 4 in the photos and I'm posing with my parents on our old house's front step. My brother wasn't born yet. In any case, seeing another (although "new") photo of when I was young and how unfreckled/unpicked my skin was makes me sad. Also, seeing a photo of when I was young makes me wish I had focused on becoming a good musician at a younger age. I had the chance, but didn't take it. This totally makes me even sadder. But that's a different story. I can't take the knowledge I know now and apply it to a younger me even if I had some kind of time machine. I'm stuck in my ways and that's that. All I can do is try to be productive using the leftover set of neurotransmitters that permeate whatever interests and habits I continue to have.

Except for that one neurotransmitter that makes picking at my skin seem like a hot commodity. I would LOVE to be rid of that one. Ugh.

But yeah, some days I really despise my age And my freckled/tanned skin. Well, my arms at least. That's really the only tan thing on my body. Everywhere else? Pretty much white. I'm on a mission to find a coat I can wear all year long -- through sweltering summers especially. I want my arms to get as light as the rest of my skin, dammit! Or maybe I should quit walking 2 miles to work in the sun. Blasted sunblock doesn't do shit to prevent tanning. Ok, it kind of works. But it definitely doesn't reverse tanning as good as a jacket or pair of pants do.

Well, there you have it... MY DREAM.

I probably seem like I'm too worried about looking good or being healthy? You can blame my actor's mentality I guess. I gotta tell you though, I was WAY, WAY more obsessed with looking good in high school. I don't wear makeup or worry about my hair anymore. I even dress like a hobo most days I work. Woo! I've slowly freed myself from the realm of outer appearances!

Eh... I take that back.

I haven't totally freed myself entirely. If I completely freed myself from worrying about appearances, I'd have the ugliest teeth on the planet. I like white, cavity-free teeth thank you. And flossing. :)

Have a good evening you's. You's who read this whom I don't know.

I'm gonna go call about a damn car. Wish me luck. Ciao.