When Will My Life Begin? (open)
Jan 17, 2011 11:15:50 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Jan 17, 2011 11:15:50 GMT -5
![](http://i246.photobucket.com/albums/gg100/southswimchica/rapunzel__rapunzel____by_thereallittlemermaid-d38015o.jpg)
I'm really late. Like, the latest I've ever been to anything. Probably. Who knows? But, I mean, Lana will understand... right? Is it my fault that my alarm didn't go off and I accidentally slept in? Is it my fault that my hair decided to come out of bed looking like a huge golden bird's nest that required a shower to make it look anything less than hideous? Is it my fault that I ran out of eyeliner, and then couldn't find my favorite gladiator sandals that were just flawless with this outfit so I could run to the convenience store down the street to get some more? Really, how is any of that my fault?[/size][/blockquote]
Another thing that isn't my fault. My stupid apartment is forever away from Style Street. So it took me like fifteen minutes to get here, which is a pretty impressive feat while balancing this huge stack of designs and portfolios. I didn't even have time to put on a decent amount of jewelry. All I have on is my trademark anchor necklace and a pair of oversized hoop earrings. Oh. And the set of bangles I got for my birthday last year. And my mood ring. But still, you can always have more jewelry.
Anyway, Lana will understand. She's a pretty cool boss. Besides, these designs look so amazing that she'll completely ignore the fact that I'm two hours late when she sees them. These outfits will sell like hotcakes the second the hit the racks. I have to admit, I'm getting to be a much better stylist, which was the point of the whole apprenticeship in the first place, other than making some money. I pulled in a decent living selling my pottery, but the stimulation from the apprenticeship adds so much to that, that soon I'll be able to move out of my horrid apartment in what can only be described as the ghetto of the Capitol and into one of the nicer flats here on Style Street. That means I'll never be late to work again! Plus Mom says I shouldn't be living in the Backstreets because I never pay attention to my surroundings and I'll get kidnapped, but what does she know? I'm totally observant... except for that one time I got pickpocketed. And when I accidentally walked into gang territory and almost got killed. And the time... never mind, I'm moving to Style Street soon anyway, and I won't have to be observant here. Life just keeps getting better. Maybe eventually I can even afford the surge to get my stupid crooked nose fixed.
Finally, I can see the shop. Good thing, too, these portfolios are uber-heavy. Not to mention that it's really inconvenient that I can't see over this stack of crap, because I'm a freaking smurf. Really, what kid of height is five feet (with my hair fluffed up)? I got royally screwed by the gene pool. Just fifty more yards. Thirty. Twenty-five. WHAM.
Suddenly, I'm flat on my back, looking up at the grey sky, vaguely aware that my portfolios are scattered all over the place and a few loose designs have been caught by the wind, already being carried away by the wind. Damn it all. Did I trip over my hair again? This is not my day. Wait... It couldn't have been my hair, I felt something hit me. Or someone. Awesome. I pull myself up, doing my best to salvage the portfolios from the street and the feet of passerby, sighing heavily.
"Worst. Day. Ever."