I’m gonna be frivolous today.
My fingernails are protruding at least 0.8cm. For some time now, they’ve been clean and unpainted because weeks ago, I cut them really short and now that they’re long and witch-like, I’ve been too lazy to get down to painting them.
I love painted nails. They’re an endless source of eye candy and great for pretending to be occupied when you’re sitting around idly. Though arguably, they make a girl look insipid. I have to allude to my all-time favourite book now: Lazy ways to make a living by Abigail Bosanko. Maybe I should write a review for this book except I can’t really articulate my love for it. I’ve read it at least 28 times. When I’m sad, or happy, or nostalgic or just because. Why? I find myself in the female protagonist. Maybe it’s all narcissism. But when you’re lost and you don’t know who you are anymore, it’s so comforting to find a constant. Rose Budleigh and I are so similar in our foibles that each time I feel alone in the world, I only have to turn to her and it’s like a sharing between sisters.
But I digress. Rose is an accomplished chess player with a passion for painted nails as well. And she declares that seeing her painted nails poised over the chess board gives her a psychological advantage that no male players can achieve. It is amusing but Bosanko says it so earnestly.
Since I’m idling anyway, I’ll evaluate all the ways we are similar. From memory. She reads when she’s upset. Rose has read Jane Eyre many, many times. She calls it comfort reading. And she carries a book wherever she goes. She also fidgets when she’s upset. I don’t know if I do but nobody should ever hand me a piece of paper if it’s important because you won’t wanna have it back when I’m through with it.
Rose struggles a lot inside but it comes out comically to the world. Somehow, people are amused by her problems because of the way she seems and the way she seems to take them. It appears all airy and fluffy to everyone else but she cries behind closed doors and does things like write ‘help!’ with her mascara on a piece of toilet paper and stuff it into an empty bottle of wine she just finished. Whimsical but heartbreaking.
She is really clumsy; she is actually able to trip over empty floors. Rose is a romantic and she’s gullible. But sometimes, she doesn’t let on because…it’s not all that funny to her. She’s a hedonist. She’ll spend her last dollars on a good bottle of wine that she’ll drink by candlelight in the bathtub. Ok, that is…I think I’m a little more practical than that. And more of a worrier.
She doesn’t really know what she wants. She thinks she has all these shiny principles but she’s easily swayed and enticed by dolce far niente. Especially if it involves a clever suave arrogant man suffering from wealth ennui – Jamie Cameron – learned and full of vice, caring and presumptuous, with a weakness for her and quotes dramatic poetry, sprawled in his rose garden after a throwing a wild party, when she leaves him. And when she falls, she falls hard. Then she starts losing all her strategy. Not that she has much of that in the first place.
Look! I’ve succeeded in writing about nothing at all.