Blogtober #29: The Fall Lippie.

As promised, I debuted my new fall lippie at the office today. And pic’ed it. See below.

Shall we break down why Smoked Purple is a winner for me?

1. It’s matte, but it goes on so smooth for me. Sure, a bit of balm helps before applying but I find it really easy to slide on.

2. The color. That smoky, dark, moody look is parfait for fall/winter.

3. Even with eating and drinking throughout the day, it pretty much stayed intact.

Winner winner, chicken dinner.

Your turn: any new makeup hauls/finds/fall lewks in your world? Let me know, pretty please?

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Blogtober #25: At Home.

I just saw this on Le Pinterest and I think it definitely captures the duality of this time of year.

homebody

Who else is a fall homebody? Because yes, I love taking in the beauty of the electric fall atmosphere, but oh, yes, do I also love hunkering down in my warm apartment, encased in a warm blanket and mindlessly watching episode after episode of my beloved Law and Order. (You were probably expecting a less intense show, huh?)

All Autumn Homebodies: unite…

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Blogtober #22: Ashy Knuckles and & Other Autumnal Indignities.

Look.

That lovely, crisp, autumnal breeze in the atmosphere? It’s wonderful. And also very, very dangerous.

This morning, as I trudged into work and settled myself at my desk, I noticed something as I was typing away on my keyboard. Something that took my breath away.

My knuckles were ashy. Like gray. The abject horror of it all. ashy1

Here’s the thing: I don’t play when it comes to lotion. Your Square Peg is a connoisseur of moisturized skin. I don’t leave my house without the epidermis gleaming from whatever silky lotion or oil I’ve decided to apply. Especially when it comes to these hands, which is the first thing folks see, other than the face. So the discovery of these ashy knuckles–and the skin between my fingers, my goodness–was like, whaaaaattttttttt?

Oh, Autumn.

And that’s the thing: the cool breeze comes bearing dubious gifts. Dry skin, dry limbs, the whole ashy shebang. whenever we’re outside and subject to the elements. (Even that beautiful, heated atmosphere in the home can be a little intense for the skin.) How can we counter it? A few things I plan on doing more of, although apparently at least one of them didn’t work this morning:

  1. Lotion it up. I have lotion on my desk at work, in my handbag, wherever I go. Take the time to apply some on your hands, face, wherever you’re susceptible to starting a brush fire with your skin. Yikes.
  2. Extra facial moisture. So this morning was a struggle, which may explain why some things fell by the wayside. But as I was driving in and applying makeup on my face (be ye not judgmental; I’ve actually gotten better at not doing this, dear reader), I noticed some dry spots on my face. So yeah, I plan on upping my skin care game for real during this time of year.
  3. Brush your lips. I don’t know where I read this, but one way to counter the peeling of skin on the lips (something that happens to me a lot), is to gently brush them with a toothbrush. Exfoliating for the win. I also just read that a bit of Vaseline or lip balm on the lips first and then brushing is even better. Don’t brush hard, y’all. Do this one at your own risk. I’m not a doctor or an esthetician, but I play one on TV. (I just googled and there are plenty of lip scrubs out there. Research!)

And remember: all skin is capable of ashiness. All. Skin. Just a friendly reminder.

Happy Monday, y’all. Upwards and onwards and skinwards.

Blogtober #18: Keep That Same Energy.

five bulb lights
Photo by Rodolfo Clix on Pexels.com

I’ve said it a million times over: when it comes to writing and creating, I seem to burst with ideas and projects in the fall. It’s the electricity in the air. It’s the leaves. It’s the absence of mosquitoes. Ideas have been coming at me nonstop (like legit novels, dear reader; me, who looks at the commitment of a novel with the side-est of eye), and I’ve actually not allowed them to languish in the cushiest, warmest corners of my mind, never to see the light of day. I’ve actually been working on them. It’s kind of amazing.

But it’s short-lived, y’all. This creating high will last as long as autumn lasts, which doesn’t last long at all.

Here’s the thing: I get writers laziness and/or block every month of the year. These have been pervasive problems since this writing thing took chose me all those years ago. Which also meant that the most isolating of passions chose me and brought with it, on the downside, inaction, inertia, and times when my particular muse just doesn’t want to deal with me. It’s a writerly thing. (Writing is like, that’s all you, sweetheart. Don’t be blaming me for everything.) Anyway, that’s OK. No passion is 100 percent perfect. It’s the conflicting, fluctuating nature of it all. I get it. It’s just that I want that electric, thrilling, creative push for more than a month or so.

A random voice in my head: yeah, so what are you going to do about that?

I don’t know. Just keep writing, I suppose, regardless of the season. Oh, were you expecting a grand denouement to all of this blog chatter, a remedy for this constant struggle? See below.

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Onwards.

Blogtober #16: Veruca Salt.

Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory is on the telly. One of my absolute favorites of all time. And you know what? Charlie was great and good and all that, but there’s only one person I identify with. When I was younger, it was definitely a secret admiration. But now? We’re soul sisters.

Miss Veruca Salt. Selfish. Demanding. Bratty.

But she knew what she wanted, didn’t she?

Brattiness aside, I’m learning to just claim what I want in life and what I deserve, Veruca style. Even if it seems completely unfathomable or unlikely to happen. Being a general pessimist/cynic/skeptic/side eyer of all of life, as I’m wont to be, sometimes I turn that side eye toward myself. Which keeps me largely realistic, yes, but also occasionally limits me. Because sometimes keeping things real strips away that other thing I truly value: pure imagination. So I’m learning balance. Feet on the ground, yes, but not diminishing my possibilities, either.

So, yeah, I want *it* now. Whatever I want it to be.

Happy Fall TV Watching.

Blogtober #10: Fall Mornings on a Treadmill.

Pretty clear, from the title, how I greeted the dip in the weather this early autumn morning.

Typically, I make use of the gym at the office in the mid-afternoons, having done an in-depth study of the time of day when I can have the place all to myself and enjoy the

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Hot mess dot org

machines and surrounding equipment. (And maybe a dance party in front of the mirrors.) However, following a strange Exercise Epiphany (strange because I’m of the view that opening my eyes before 6AM means I want to either join a crime gang or engage in other nefarious activities), I decided to wake up after 5:30 this morning and head to the office to try an early morning workout. If you’ve read about my fitness journey here on TSP, you’ll know that I’ve done this before, waking up early to work out. And you’ll see that I’ve grumbled about it every time. Nevertheless, I wanted to break up the monotony of my schedule. Here’s what I learned:

  1. Regular gyms and office gyms don’t differ in the following: I’m not the only one who had the idea to work out super early. The gym was packed. So packed that I had to wait for a treadmill.
  2. This didn’t bode well for my I-need-quiet-time-in-an-empty-gym mandate.
  3. After such a thorough, calorie-burning workout, the ole stomach wanted to eat everything. Everything. Despite having my usual veggie omelet for breakfast and gaining that protein, I realized that I wanted so much more.
  4. Which is weird because for all my morning workouts in the past, that wasn’t really a thing. Are you changing things, 40?

Anywho, in the end, I’m glad I committed to actually waking up and doing this. Maybe it’ll happen again…

Which means I definitely have plans to join a crime gang.

Onwards, dear reader.

Blogtober #5: The Autumn Boyfriend

Y’all know I’m a singleton, right? If you didn’t know: I’m a singleton. I enjoy my singleton life immensely, but yeah, full disclosure:  I also want that demographic to change.smile And I have to tell you, dear reader, that the desire to change my singleton status becomes even more heightened when autumn settles over the atmosphere.

Is it the image of walking down a leaf-strewn path with my hand inside another’s? 

Gazing up at an orange moon and marveling about its wonder to someone else and not just to myself?

The general electricity in the air that seems to call out for change?

Years ago, I mentioned this to my bestie, that I seem to crave the presence of another even more during the fall. “I get it,” she said. “There’s just something in the air that makes a lot of folks feel that way.” autumn2

Is it the prospect of dressing up in my burnt orange and boots for a non-solo dinner or movie outing?

Leaving the mark of my fall-inspired chocolate and/or burgundy lip color on another’s cheek?

Cuddling?

You’d think that a season where nature dies beautifully and bursting with color wouldn’t necessarily call for the welcoming of love. Or perhaps that’s it exactly. It is the fall of the year, after all. Nature’s last hurrah as it prepares for the unremitting winter to come. Maybe I want to fall in love in fall to prepare for the inevitable chill on its way; the darkening, cold, hushed days that, sometimes, can be unbearable when you’re alone.

#realtalk: It’s a year-round desire. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t entertain the idea of a seasonal love and then moving on when summer wakes up. But there’s just something about love and this time time of year.

C’est la vie en automne, I suppose. Happy Friday, onwards, and bon weekend…

10 Things I Learned About You.

architecture building campus college
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

This Square Peg in college: ’twas an interesting time. When I look back, though, I can honestly say that I loved my college days. It was the 90s. The soundtrack of my life was lit, as the kids say, and the life lessons abounded. Here are 10 things I learned in college:

  1. My education really did belong to me. Other than that pesky Math credit, I basically curated my path of learning. If a class and its content didn’t interest me, I found one that did. I explored avenues of thought and learning that were entirely my choice. I was paying for it, after all. (Still am. Le sigh.) In other words, it was an interesting lesson in reaping the results of my academic decisions. When K-12 isn’t really about you, this was all about me.
  2. Never, ever, ever declare your undying love and devotion for your English professor when he’s likely within earshot.
  3. Don’t do #2 for professors you don’t much care for, either. I was in the cafeteria complaining about one of my not-that-nice professors and she was right behind me. Not pretty. Thank goodness I passed.
  4. College boys will be college boys. There were some doozies, y’all. One kid, a fellow English major, asked me if I used mushrooms to find inspiration when writing. I asked him if he meant the gross things in the ground. He said no. I then got it. I then walked away, laughing. *insert eye roll here*
  5. There’s an amazing literary world out there, people. I discovered some of my favorite authors, primarily female, during those four years. Flannery O’Connor. Edith Wharton. Alice Walker. I delved into their works and never looked back.
  6.  Sarah McLachlan has a song for every situation. Case in point: I lived the entire Surfacing album during my sophomore year.
  7. There are educators out there who passionately care for their students. I met a number of them.
  8. Overconfidence + higher education + assumptions = a D on your first paper for an English class. I learned to be humble and ask for help and advice.
  9. One will freak out about classes (four essay-heavy ones, to be exact) and working two jobs and believing you will flunk and one’s Mom will assure you that you’ll be fine and will command you to stop writhing around on the floor. College breakdowns are a dime a dozen. *shrug*
  10. After four long years, a seminal moment will occur when you finally begin the path to discovering just who you are and were meant to be.

Good times, indeed. I learned more than ten things, but we’ll pause for now. More lessons–and declarations of love–will come in another post.

Onwards and upwards…and college loan-wards…

African Black Soap is The Truth.

Happy Monday. So, I talked about my skincare routine here. Recall that I wanted to make some improvements to my quick routine, being that with age came crazy, random blemish bursts and also, I think my skin had become way too used to the products I had been using for years. Several months ago, I was in the store and saw a bar of African Black Soap on the shelf.

I asked myself, Self, why haven’t you gone the African route? Hello? Your blood is 100% Motherland. Of course the Motherland would have the remedy for your skin. I checked out the ingredients (I knew it wasn’t pure, raw African Black soap; that one will tear your skin apart and I needed to take baby steps towards that kind of detoxification) and decided to purchase it. Slowly, dear reader, I saw the improvements to my skin. Trouble spots, particularly on my left cheek (three pimples that were hanging on for dear, dear life) and that insane forehead of mine slowly began to fade and ultimately disappear. I started doing more research on the YouTube about black soap and decided to try Shea Moisture’s products. Even better results.

The above two are my personal favorites. I use the soap twice a day (look at your Square Peg; months from 40 and making good skincare choices) and the mask is a once-a-month thing. Here’s my new and improved skincare routine, broken up by night and day:

clayclay2Night

Day

Same routine, except I skip the toner.

I haven’t yet hit up any eye creams and serums, but the toner has been great in diminishing the dark, waking-up-at-3AM circles under my eyes.

So far, so good. I’d very much like to apply African Black Soap all over my life, but that’s entirely another matter.

Bon Monday…