(this is annie)


pass the lollipops

Jaime took pictures from the party this weekend, and my god, I look like Telly Savalas in drag. It's true. If you put a wig and lipstick on ol' Telly, you would get an accurate rendition of yours truly.

To most people I probably look fine, and in general I agree. The problem is that throughout my life, I have wanted to be the best at whatever I'm doing. And more or less, I succeed. First chair violinist, starting left wing soccer player, editor of liberal campus rag, et cetera. I am very good at many things, but I'm not satisfied unless I am the best at something (or at the very least, in the top five percent).

As you might imagine, this near-impossible standard is directed toward myself most of all. For example, today I am feeling very schleppy, even though common sense dictates otherwise. I am wearing cropped wheat-colored cotton pants with a tiny brown ribbon stripe down each leg; a tomato-red Marc Jacobs cotton shirt; brown maryjanes with velcro strap. None of this looks bad; if someone else were wearing this ensemble, I would probably think, "Oh, that girl looks totally cute. Why can't I ever look that stylish?" But instead, here I am with comparisons to Kojak.

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