I’m not a makeup blogger. I probably never will be, mostly because I do not buy into the same kind of mentality a lot of makeup artists do about the “right” way to do makeup. While I was once a professional makeup artist (no I didn’t go to cosmetology school, I just worked cosmetics in a department store), I don’t believe in the up-sell of making people buy more , which is what western culture promotes with techniques like “baking” and contouring and such. Not that those things don’t accomplish amazing tasks and offer a great deal of creative possibility, but I don’t believe everyone needs it or should feel like they have to use or do something like that to look good. Sometimes less is more, and sometimes more is more.

For one of you who are not my longtime readers, I got into makeup when I was in college as part of the theater troupe. I wasn’t into acting or performing, but I lied the atmosphere, and when the need arose for a makeup artists, I volunteered because I just happened to know a few things about makeup.

Of course, I knew very little really about makeup, but I liked color and often watched YouTube tutorials, even thought I hardly wore makeup myself. I ended up doing makeup for every show all four years I was in college, and when I graduated from college with my design degree…I of course started working retail almost immediately as a beauty advisor. Eventually I got promoted to visual merchandise manager after a couple years, but I never stopped loving makeup and often still found myself covering shifts in the cosmetic department of our store.

Why am I telling you this? Well, I got a TON of new makeup recently…like an overindulgent amount to the point where it is absolutely ludicrous. Since getting all this makeup I’ve been doing all I can to actually wear it and use it, which means…staying home and wearing makeup around the house because I never go out and do things really. Thankfully, things like Instagram and WordPress exists…which gives me a platform to publicly display my face and looks, without leaving the comfort of my bed…as is the natural habitat of the introvert.

Now that I’m a graphic designer for a housewares company, makeup is a hobby and creative outlet that I enjoy playing with. A coworker of mine who is very talented as a makeup artist and I share an office and are often sharing makeup secrets and recommendations. Recently she recommended this pallet to me, which is really cool and has some really great colors for subtle or dramatic looks.

Plus it has such great packaging and it’s like $8 at Khols, $10 if you order it from with a little shipping and such. Anyway, it’s got some really great pigment for such an inexpensive pallet that I just had to share it with you all, not that many of you care, but it got me really excited.

Here are the colors:

As you can see I’ve already well loved most of them, but you gotta see some of the looks I’ve used some of these colors in:

I’m much more used to dramatic looks, but since I’ve gotten older I find myself leaning more towards pastel goth looks and kawaii/Lolita stuff in the past two years because they are more socially acceptable to wear daily than the cyber goth or goth glam looks that I used to be more interested in.

All that being said, I wanted to take this opportunity to share some makeup brands I’ve come to love and trust over the years.


I started wearing Clinique and using their 3 Step Kits when I was thirteen. Fifteen years later I still use their 3 Step Skin Care System along with their Super Balance foundation and their Acne Solutions foundation (during that time of the month).

Kat Von D

Because I went through a goth phase, Kat Von D was my first exposure to highly pigmented and long lasting makeup. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t buy from her line, but I absolutely love her Studded Creme Kiss Lipsticks. Plus all her stuff is cruelty free.

Mahya Mineral Makup

Seriously, it’s just crushed minerals and with glitters this pretty, how can you absolutely not love them? Again, nothing I wouldn’t buy from here, but those Glitters? To. Die. For. I have 3 Glitters and 4 Lusterous Eye Shadows from these guys and I love them all so much. You can put them on as powder or get them wet and they become a cream. So lovely!


Just buy the whole damn site. Really love their Limited Edition Rainbow Highlighter , their Shape Tape Hydrating Foundation, and anything they do that has glitter in it or on it. Plus they have really good sales.

Thanks for putting up with a random makeup post, now back to your regularly scheduled programming.


Cucumber Strawberry Smoothie

A quick little low carb and calorie recipe for a smoothie I made the other night.

1 sliced up cucumber

1 bag of frozen organic strawberries

2 cups strawberry low fat yogurt OR 1 banana and 1 cup Orange juice

Blend in a blender or food processor. Keep refrigerated. Done.

It also tastes really good spiked with coconut rum, tequila, or vodka.

Beach Bummer

My husband didn’t come on this Sunday evening car ride. He had to work. So when my parents stopped in, I felt free to accompany them to the beach to just sit and watch the water move.

“We need you to come up with some different words.”


“Because you always resort to saying, I’m good, just tired.”

Because I’m always fucking tired, mom. I thought as loudly as I could in her general direction. But then I finally blurted out:

“Well would you rather me tell people the truth when they ask me how I’m doing? Would you like me to tell them that the existential crisis is crushing me and my depression is exhausting?”

She said nothing. Her most direct way of mentioning her discomfort was silence. I was used to it by now. So I leaned back in the seat as the breeze met my lips and kissed them and my breath mingled with the summer air. I pretended that my breath alone was the reason the air was becoming more humid. That summer came directly from my mouth. I mouthed the word summer, just to feel a sense of power over nature.

My eyes closed, all I heard were the seagulls on the water honking their loud songs, and my mother shifting in the front passenger seat. Dad was outside the car, talking to an acquaintance of his, who had greeted us only moments before, and to whom I responded when I was asked how I was doing with I’m fine, just tired. Like I did with everyone, including my mother and father.

I had no motivation to get out of the car, neither did my mother. So my father ventured alone into the waves after wishing said acquaintance farewell. As I watched him walk further into the lake, I wondered how long it would take me to drowned if I went out to far and quit trying to swim. I wondered if I would be able to quit swimming if I tried hard enough, or if instinct and discomfort would save me.

On days like this…it felt as if nothing could save me.

Not Ready for Monday

A week long struggle with depression and stress at work ended with a coworker being fired Friday mid shift. Stunned by the sudden unexpected event and at least two weeks behind on just about everything, my coworker and I (the only two in for that day after other coworker was fired) ended up having to just call it a day. Both of us had plans afterward and the former coworker was supposed to be the one to stay late. Not that we planned on getting any work done if we stayed because with the shock we just had no idea what to do with ourselves.

Since leaving work Friday afternoon when my shift was over, I’ve had nothing but anxiety about the whole situation. Another coworker of ours has been gone because his father-in-law passed away. His two weeks of absence has probably been stressful enough , and now coming back to work, he’s going to be met with a workload a mile high and a coworker no longer with us that has been there since the beginning with him. None of this is going to go over well with him. He’s moody enough having not had losses in his life. I have a feeling this week is not going to be his week, and I’m afraid of the backlash me and my other coworker will be met with when he finds out.

So this weekend has been tainted with my anxiety in every moment. At the State Fair with friends, I had little to nothing to say, because my heart kept dropping every time I considered how quickly Monday morning was coming. In church this morning I found comfort in the sermon, about how God is with us in everything like he was with Esther, but still my anxiety was so high I couldn’t help but know the impending doom is coming. Yes, God is with us in all things, but that doesn’t mean it’s all easy, it just means God is there to show you what is next if you trust and obey, and for me…what was next is emotionally preparing for things to go badly, because it’s always better to assume that it will go badly, and to hope that there was some kind of pleasant surprise if it doesn’t.

After church I cleaned the whole house, made dinner (even though my husband is not home for dinner because he works the closing shift), and I called my mother to see how she was and try to get outside my own head, but even after all that….I feel so unprepared for Monday morning. I don’t want it to come, and at the same time I want it to have already been so I can say it was gotten over with and I survived it.

Sage Leaves and Dirt

When was the last time my feet had touched the ground? Like, the real ground? Dirt? It had been two weeks at least. Maybe three. So I wandered out to the garden, barefooted and spirit trapped within its own internal war, but he moment my feet hit the grass I felt all that stress and anxiety release. There was sage for picking in the garden. I would start there.

I did not start at the sage, but rather in a desperate moment of anxiety I laid on the grass and stared at the sky for a while. Why? Because I wanted to be reminded that I was so small in so vast of a world. That problems of mine were just as fleeting as my own life, and would soon drift away as time passed. That feelings were just feelings, no matter how strong they are, and that they too could fail me just as my own body could.

I needed to be reminded that I was finite. That a hundred years from now it is unlikely that I will continue to exists in the physical world, and all my emotions and problems would too.

I found comfort in this. As I laid on the ground staring into the sky, watching the clouds change from gold, to pink and purple hues, I found comfort in knowing the sun would also set on my stress, my sorrows, my anxieties, and my whole life. Maybe not today, but one day. I let that comfort wrap around me as the sky deepened in its blue.

I picked my sage and smelled it as I walked back to the stone steps of my tiny porch. Putting a soft leaf in my mouth to chew, I took my last deep breath of fresh air before entering and closing the door. Who knew I could feel so much better with just sage leaves and dirt?


I never really enjoy going around them, even if it’s for minor checkups. There’s just too many things wrong with them. Waiting room seating is uncomfortable. The furniture and floors everywhere are ugly. The television programs are really boring. The smell. The atmosphere. Everything about them seems to be uncomfortable.

The people are usually pretty friendly, as well as the coffee, which is not terrible as some might tell you…at least at our hospital. Because so many people rely on that coffee for so many things.

This time around it’s not an appointment for myself that I’m sitting in a hospital for. My mom needed someone to drive her. She’s getting an MRI for what she thinks might be another bulging disc in her neck, but of course you never know unless you get heavily sedated and shoved in a tube. She hates that part. I’ve never had an MRI before but I can’t imagine they’re very comfortable. Especially if you’re as claustrophobic as my mother is.

Recently a coworker of mine had their father-in-law pass away in this hospital. Which makes being here a little eerie. While I know hospitals that are associated with life and wellness, there is always that little shadowed part of the hospital for people who will not be getting better, and probably will not leave…and being so close to my late sisters birthday and the anniversary of her death, as well as the death of said coworker loved one…that shadow feels like it whispers a little louder than usual.

My coworkers father-in-law was not an old man. He’s younger than my own mother and about the same age as my father. Which puts life a little more in perspective and gives me somber and realistic realizations of the kind of deterioration I can expect for them in the years to come. Time that is flying so quickly it seems.

Sobering thoughts.


My sister would have been 26 years old today, had she lived to see it.

A lot of people would say I was fortunate to have been young and not understood all of it and that I was fortunate to have lost her earlier rather than after having known her for years. People say a lot of stupid stuff because they simply don’t know what to say. Instead of letting you mourn, they try to make it better. Now that I’m older I understand how awkward death makes people feel. It’s uncomfortable. No one wants to deal with it. Especially the sadness. So they try to quietly brush it away. Try to make whatever happened seem like it was for the best. Or it could have been worse.

They’d be wrong though. Loss is loss. It all hurts.

It was my very first childhood trauma, which is unfortunate because they’re some of my very first memories too. I remember mom crying a lot. I remember daddy and I singing to her together and him saying it made her heart beat right. I remember her in her little glass box. Wondering why we couldn’t just take her home in the box if she had to stay in it. She looked like a present all wrapped up in that little box. I thought I could sing to her all the time if it made her better. If that was what would cure her I would sing for the rest of my life, and I was convinced it could.

One day the singing couldn’t fix it. The next day she was just gone.

I may not have known her for years like some, but I knew her for seven days and it was long enough to know I loved her. I recall in my teens being angry at God for never even having a chance to get to know her. Even now, I wonder who she would have become. Would we look similar? Would we fight a lot or hardly at all? Would she have been disabled from her birth defects? What color hair would she have? What color eyes?

Did she know I loved her when she left?

Thoughts on “Boring” People

“I hate working on the assembly line. It’s so boring!” I shook my head as I overheard the conversation. Despite trying to curb my habit of eavesdropping I’m a sucker for a good story in the workplace, so I end … Continue reading