It's kind of overwhelming, being gone after a week and a half. I have stories, dear bloglets. Stories of my vacation to Denver where I saw the glorious Florence and her Machine and it was breathtaking and surreal and magnificent. Stories of great food and long-lost friends. Stories of how I then had to promptly go directly from Denver back to Las Vegas for a trade show for work. Stories of the things I've learned about myself being alone in Las Vegas and how I can totally make my own way in that city, even without the safety net of my BiSCuits. (I was, admittedly, a bit anxious about being there by myself.) Stories of being stuck in the Minneapolis airport and finally being reunited with my BF that I missed so horribly much while being gone and that while Skype is wonderful, it almost makes things worse on the missing front. Stories of how my mother came to my apartment and cleaned it for me while I was gone because she is awesome and knew I was stressed out and didn't have time to clean it before I left because Unexpected Work Trip was Unexpected. Stories of how I just suddenly got so irate and so frustrated and so disheartened by this country and the politicians in it and how terrible everything is going to be if we don't make some drastic changes (specifically: if we don't separate government from corporate money and influence) and so many brewing rants and pleas and probably bruises from the repeated banging of my head upon my desk. Perhaps even stories of how I watched some of the Olympics and was a little bit inspired by them - something I hadn't felt since way back in '96.
But, alas. We're not going to start with any of those things. We're going to start with the story of extreme sadness, superficiality, and insignificance.
I have a love-hate relationship with change. Frequently, I will subscribe to the "if it ain't broke, don't fix it" mentality. Is it because I get comfortable or because I'm lazy? It doesn't matter. It's just there, it's the status quo. That's why it exists. To BE safe. When the rest of the world has gone crazy, you have the old familiar to fall back on. Sometimes, I'll shake things up just to keep things interesting. Usually I'll shake things up because I've spotted something better on the horizon, and oh yes, it will be mine.
Mostly, if I'm content, I like to stay content. I'm a very high-strung individual (SHOCKING, I KNOW) and I tend to worry and fret about anything that can possibly be worried or fretted about. Which is why, when something works, I like to maintain that steadiness as long as possible.
Which is why, on Sunday afternoon, when I had my eyeshadow case balanced on the edge of my sink, I didn't realize the implications of what was happening when it teetered and crashed to the ground. The top shade cracked and became a little shimmery pile of pale pink dust on my bathroom floor. I might have sworn at it, I might have just sighed. I was about due to buy another one anyway. I could see too much of the metal at the bottom of each compartment anyway.
Besides, I needed to go to Target anyway. Aside from the fact that I hadn't been to Target in probably two weeks (WITHDRAWAL!), I had some other various things to pick up. Plus my eyeliner was running low and I needed to replace my crappy straightener.
So, off I went, merrily, not knowing the turn the afternoon was going to take. I fumbled in the cosmetics department. It wasn't there. I was slightly bewildered. I couldn't remember the brand with 100% certainty, because I never paid that close of attention. I always just gravitated to it. Was it Revlon? Maybe it was L'Oreal. Maybe it was Maybelline. (HEH.) Definitely not Cover Girl, I don't like their eyeshadows. I'm pretty sure it was Revlon. I wandered the entire cosmetics department at Target about three times before I concluded that it wasn't there. Same story at Wal-Mart. I looked at Walgreens, because we were in the area. Hell, I even looked at the grocery store, in their feeble little cosmetics section. At this point, I didn't care if it was overpriced. A panic was welling inside of me. Had the time finally come? I knew it would have to, eventually, but I was unprepared for it.
The thing you must understand, friends, is that I have been using this eyeshadow for well over ten years. TEN YEARS. It was sometime when I was in high school. At the very earliest, it was between my junior and senior year, as I know I used it in my senior portraits. My aunt complimented my makeup and asked me if I'd had it professionally done for the photos, to which I simply smiled and informed her that, no, I'd done it myself. I've been using it ever since. I'm actually pretty impressed with my teenage self for managing to pick out such an excellent palette - my eyeshadow routine has not changed in the last ten years, either. A lot of eyeshadows nowadays specifically tell you which to use on the lid, the crease, the browbone - I somehow figured it out all on my own, and well enough to keep doing it into my late twenties.
As time went on, I started to worry that it would, in fact, be discontinued - there were fewer and fewer of the color palettes on the shelves, but my trusty Sandstorm was always there.
When I was picking up the new eyeliner, my boyfriend joked that I had better be sure I was getting the right one, because my eyes are what make an impression on people. Even his coworkers, upon seeing my picture, commented on my eyes. His mother even complimented them immediately upon meeting me. Ever since I was a baby, it has been my eyes that have made me stand out, my eyes that have been my saving grace through years of acne and braces and - nowadays - a little extra padding in the chin region. *cough* I laughed and told him he was right and that I knew exactly what I needed, so not to worry.
So, you can imagine the irony of the situation, when, not ten minutes later, I was standing there empty-handed, with my one tried-and-true ally in the world of eye makeup. Eyeliners come and go, my friend, but eyeshadow is forever. I found something that worked, and I had stuck with it, because it was perfect. Not only did it work with my complexion and eye color, but it blended well, it smudged well, it gave me a smoky-eye look that was suitable for daytime or nighttime (the only variable for nighttime was the amount of eyeliner I used), and, most importantly, it had just the right amount of shimmer. Enough to catch the light, but not so much that I looked like, well, I belonged in Vegas.
I fished the broken container out of the garbage (all right - I lifted it. It was still on top. So, not as gross and/or dramatic) to double check it. It was definitely Revlon. I did another final check at Target the next night (what, you don't go to Target every day?) since I knew without question which section to look in, but no. It was gone.
I almost cried.
To be fair, I was really stressed out with all the traveling and the first day back is always overwhelming because of all the emails and tasks that piled up while you're gone, not to mention that the girl who was backing me up while I was gone, quit on Friday, so that threw me for a curveball as well. And I was tired, mentally and physically.
Oh, who am I kidding? It doesn't take much to make me cry anymore. I HAVE GOTTEN SOFT IN MY OLD AGE.
I sat down and went directly to the source of everything. If Amazon didn't have it for sale, it was likely not available anywhere.
The heavens erupted and angels sang and lo! There it was.
Admittedly, I shopped around a little bit and ended up ordering it from another site upon which I had qualified for free shipping, but it gave me a little glimmer of hope. It's still out there, at least for now. We had a good run, this eyeshadow and I, and I'm going to prolong it as much as possible. I'm stocking up and will be much more careful about setting it on the edge of my bathroom sink.
And now: I write to Revlon. THEY MUST KNOW HOW SAD I AM.