Yo no pinto lo que veo, pinto lo que pienso

Never take yourself too seriously. You spend too much money when you do.

Haircut at La Pelu: 31 euros
But really, it's because I have long hair. At least that's what I tell myself. I mean, if I had shorter hair it would have been a good 5 euros cheaper (the guy even told me so). And, I sprung for the wash because what fun is going to the hairdresser if they don't even wash your hair for you? Exactly. Get it washed. Would I like the hairdresser to blow dry my hair for 10 euros? No thanks. I'd rather leave the salon looking like a well-trimmed mop with 10 euros in my wallet to spend on jellybeans afterward.

Hairdressers here do what they want. That is, they cut however much off they want, give you bangs, layers, whatever they feel like. Is it odd that I have to pay more to ensure that they cut off less? I was going to go to this peluquería on my street that cuts hair for 8 euros, but when I looked inside all I saw were three old ladies with barely any hair left to cut off in the first place. Something told me that that place was a no-go, or maybe I just felt I was better than that. See what I mean about taking yourself too seriously? But in reality, I have more hair than the average 2o year old, not to mention old Señora Poblet down the street who only can eat jello and uses a magnifying glass to watch Law and Order dubbed in Catalán.

Anywho, long story short is I got a haircut and I survived. The salon was in a shady part of town, but I felt comfortable in it and the lady did a good job. Thirty-one euros later, I left.

Jelly Belly Jellybeans: value undisclosed because an embarassingly high amount of euros were spent on this fixation

I had such a good time standing in the candy store for 5 minutes sorting through all the flavors and picking out the ones I wanted. When I read the amount on the cash register my heart skipped a beat. This register has to be broken. Oh, I guess it did say four euros/ 100 grams. Shit. It's real. I am actually handing her the money. So this is what being addicted to drugs is like.

But they are Jelly Belly! You know they're your favorite. Okay, so just throw the receipt in the trash when you get home so you don't have to remind myself how much you spent on candy that imitates the tastes foods you could eat in real life if you actually wanted them. Nevermind, jellybeans are amazing.

Moleskine: 10 euros

So I have a new friend. His name is Mr. Moleskine. You know, those little journals that come in all different kinds that Ernest Hemingway used? Yeah, I have one. I bought one because I wanted a pocket-sized journal without lines. I feel too restricted by lined paper. It's not like my thoughts are as organized as lined paper, emerging from one direction of my brain in a straight line until they reach the other side. So why should I have to cage them in even more by forcing them in between the lines on paper? Thoughts become diluted enough by the arbitrary words of language, so I'd rather not filter mine anymore than needed. Shoving them into the straight lines on paper (which was most likely printed in communist China where everything is "equal" anyway) would sand down their nuances until they became flat and bland, devaluing their overall validity. So really, I needed Mr. Moleskine.

But are my thoughts really that important? The easy answer is no. Apparently, I value them at 10 euros. If I didn't take myself so seriously I'd just write them on my hand so I could wash them away at night and reuse the surface the next day.

Okay so I found this great book and it inspired me to start drawing again. Nothing too serious. I don't draw that great, but I forgot how much I always enjoyed doing it. Also, remember my seashells that I collected from Ocata? I found a little bowl for them and they sit prettily on my desk in all their glory. On that pencil it reads, "Yo no pinto lo que veo, pinto lo que pienso." (I don't paint what I see, I paint what I think). I thought it was nifty.

Okay, that is all. For now.