Hope is Important.

I did something kind of ridiculous yesterday. I began to give into the West Coast. And it happened through shoes.

Before I moved to start camp, I had bought a pair of canvas Converse ballet flats and some thick padded insoles to signal my transition to a place where the sun always shines and precipitation is nothing but a distant memory. They weren't the prettiest shoes ever, nor were they the most comfortable, as somehow even a pair of Converses still managed to wear off the skin on the tops of my heels with intensity. But, you know, they eventually broke in, and were cosy and nondescript and went with everything. And it worked, until I realized last week that they had started looking really terrible, and that on the right shoe my pinky toe had actually worn through the canvas and was starting to make a break for freedom.

At first I thought, well hey, I'll just throw these shoes in the washer and sew up the hole and keep on going and everything will be fine. This is the kind of imaginary world I live in, one where someone with no actual sewing experience and a $4 sewing kit from CVS is magically able to mend any clothing she owns. Remind me to tell you later about the time I tried to hand-sew a hem on a pair of shorts 45 minutes before I had to be in class (well, I guess that's the whole story right there).

But instead of saving my earth-friendly sensible shoes, yesterday I stopped into a shoe store a few blocks from my apartment that was having a "Going out of Business Sale". And I ended up buying two pairs of shoes. Two pairs of shoes that will, much more clearly than everything I brought out here with me from Michigan, will never see ground that knows snow.

My favorite pair are red. Red! And pointy. And leather. And open to the elements. You can see toes and heel and top-of-feet and side-of-feet. And I bought them knowing I could wear them every day if I wanted to, just wear silly ridiculous impractical shoes around, shoes that will cause blisters and pinch toes, but make me happy to look at. Stupid, ridiculous, happy suntime fun shoes.

This is very much like my last haircut, at another place near campus and my cabinapartment. I went in asking for a trim, but began waxing poetic to my (awesomely Russian) hair stylist about my pixie cut of yore. She immediately made a disgusted face. "Oh no no, you are in LA now. In LA, they like style."

Of course, I thought it was funny when it happened. But guess who still has a big pile of heteronormative hair, and now wears girly shoes?

LA, you win this round.