dubious life decisions

I am awake at 7:20am on a Saturday, which should not be happening, except that a few of the other med students are going to a pilates class and my housemate K has a friend-visits-free-on-weekends deal at the gym, so I'm off to do some stretches on a towel. We'll see how that goes; any gym session that emphasises stretching over puffing on machinery gets my vote, certainly.

For the past couple of day I've been on a massive nailpolish-lust kick, looking up China Glaze swatches and clicking around the piCture pOlish site and DREAMING of living in a a country where OPI costs less then $20/bottle. I will be the most educated newbie-polish-shopper in the world next year. I will probably be found on the floor of Myer clutching Essie polishes to my chest and cackling.

Friend: Yeah, I noticed you've been looking at a lot of polish betwen lectures. And during lectures.
Me: I find it soothing.
Friend: Have you had any dreams about nailpolish?
Me: Ha ha ha ha! What a thought. I'm not THAT bad.

So of course, last night, I had a dream about nailpolish. It was quite sinister, too.

ANNOUNCEMENT

LJ, LJ, I CAN WRITE AGAIN.

Oh, it's wonderful, it's like letting out a long stale breath and suddenly realising that your chest had been tight all that time.

Turns out all I needed was to make a joke about sinister nailpolish and BAM, original short story! What's nice is it feels like a warmup for one of the novels I want to write, because it has similar central themes: teenage girl friendship groups, and insecure baby lesbians, and getting caught up in magic because of a desire to be special.

And nailpolish.

Lots of that.

(I finally got sick of 3/6 of my visible icons being Inception-related, so I deleted Arthur and LJ decided to let me have...Nicole Kidman and bondage! Excellent.)