February 9, 2015
My plan for Saturday was simple. Work on my writing project from 3:00 pm – 6:00pm. Leave the house for my night out at the Cotton Club Gala at 7:30 pm. That gave me an hour and a half, from 6:00 – 7:30, to get dolled up and ready to go. I had my step-by-step tutorial for the smokey eyes, and the You Tube video for the curly-hair updo queued up on my iPhone. Piece of cake.
So at 6:00 exactly, I closed up my notepads, shelved my books, cranked up my party tunes playlist, and started getting ready.
At 6:36, I had only gotten as far as finishing the concealer and pressed powder on my face. I hadn’t even started on my eyes. And I freaked. The. Fuck. Out.
Started running around the house, checking all the clocks, yelling to an increasingly alarmed cat, “Is it already 6:30? What happened? I lost an hour of time. How did I lose an entire hour of time?”
Because I was suddenly, inexplicably convinced that I had originally planned to start getting ready at 5:00. It was a full two minutes before I remembered that, no, the plan had been 6:00. I had started at 6:00, as planned. It was just that it had taken me thirty freaking minutes to put on the foundation alone. And I had apparently just lost my mind.
This is what happens when I do the writing creative thing while also trying to maintain a schedule for my regular life.
But it all turned out okay in the end.
The in shadow shot.