First Time by pinkcrab08 featuring long sleeve tops
Ignore text, but inspired by pleated skirt! Classic, but fun :)
11.30.2010
11.18.2010
Wrong scarf, wrong pants, wrong everything?
I woke up this morning, thinking that I was putting on the wrong pants, wrong top. I kept changing clothes, until I realized that it was just me believing my own sick stupidity. I was so insecure that I thought that my clothes would conceal it. Sadly, clothes do.
We all have those pieces: the tee shirt that is just a little too big but it's from the college team we love, those sweatpants that have paint stains on them but we cannot part, or that top that never did look good but it has some amazing memories.
I was a dancer years ago, and my dance warmups were clothes of love. They were threaded with memories, and I came across those clothes recently or rather, my mom did. My pointe shoes were rapped in an old AC/DC shirt that had more paint on it than a room. My clothing in there was a hodgepodge of crap but I cannot bear the thought of parting with them. Why? I'm not really sure.
Is is that I'm scared to move on with my life, or is it that I cannot continue working and moving forward without looking back? It's just a general question.
I'm not a packrat by any stretch of the imagination but I do like to keep ahold of those things that remind me of the good times, but those good time charlie items tend to also keep some sadness with them. Not just the sadness that those times are over. Wow, that sounded like an Eric Clapton song, or worse a country song. Damn I need some more coffee.
I love all of the clothes I own, and I still to this day cannot get rid of my leotard, even though I haven't danced in over 3 years. But why can't I? Is it just immaturity? Is it hope that I'll dance again? Is is that I see the potential in fashion? Is this why I still wake up some days and go through so many choices for clothing? Because I cannot make up my mind? Because I'm hoping that the clothes I pick will bring happiness? That that joy will start seeping joy into my skin? It's a sad vicious circle...or is the answer as simple as me just being a total chick? Here I am, about to have one of the girliest events ever, but for some reason, those choices are easier to make than my daily clothing choices. I can decide what kind of shoes, gloves, dress everything and yet this event is going to be photographed and I am going to have these pictures for the rest of my life. For some reason, that doesn't worry me.
Let me change the topic: how do you change people's perception of you? Well, you know what? I don't have an answer for you on that. Why? I need to do it. Or rather, I need to accept that everyone has their own opinion. But how did Madonna do it? Britney Spears? The famous pop artists...if they did it, why can't I...
Do I change my clothes, my hair, my makeup? What do I need to do?
Everytime that I ask this of myself, I realize that I don't want to change a damn thing about myself because if I did, then I wouldn't be me. Wow, I am just one giant soft rock music genre today. I really need to get better.
We all have those pieces: the tee shirt that is just a little too big but it's from the college team we love, those sweatpants that have paint stains on them but we cannot part, or that top that never did look good but it has some amazing memories.
I was a dancer years ago, and my dance warmups were clothes of love. They were threaded with memories, and I came across those clothes recently or rather, my mom did. My pointe shoes were rapped in an old AC/DC shirt that had more paint on it than a room. My clothing in there was a hodgepodge of crap but I cannot bear the thought of parting with them. Why? I'm not really sure.
Is is that I'm scared to move on with my life, or is it that I cannot continue working and moving forward without looking back? It's just a general question.
I'm not a packrat by any stretch of the imagination but I do like to keep ahold of those things that remind me of the good times, but those good time charlie items tend to also keep some sadness with them. Not just the sadness that those times are over. Wow, that sounded like an Eric Clapton song, or worse a country song. Damn I need some more coffee.
I love all of the clothes I own, and I still to this day cannot get rid of my leotard, even though I haven't danced in over 3 years. But why can't I? Is it just immaturity? Is it hope that I'll dance again? Is is that I see the potential in fashion? Is this why I still wake up some days and go through so many choices for clothing? Because I cannot make up my mind? Because I'm hoping that the clothes I pick will bring happiness? That that joy will start seeping joy into my skin? It's a sad vicious circle...or is the answer as simple as me just being a total chick? Here I am, about to have one of the girliest events ever, but for some reason, those choices are easier to make than my daily clothing choices. I can decide what kind of shoes, gloves, dress everything and yet this event is going to be photographed and I am going to have these pictures for the rest of my life. For some reason, that doesn't worry me.
Let me change the topic: how do you change people's perception of you? Well, you know what? I don't have an answer for you on that. Why? I need to do it. Or rather, I need to accept that everyone has their own opinion. But how did Madonna do it? Britney Spears? The famous pop artists...if they did it, why can't I...
Do I change my clothes, my hair, my makeup? What do I need to do?
Everytime that I ask this of myself, I realize that I don't want to change a damn thing about myself because if I did, then I wouldn't be me. Wow, I am just one giant soft rock music genre today. I really need to get better.
11.14.2010
Those days...
Everyone has them. Those days that just seem like they are never going to end. Those days that drag more than a coke whore and her pipe. Those reflective days: the rain is pouring outside of your bay window. You just stand there watching the water drip off the green leaves of the tree that you have hated since you purchased your pad. You take a sip of your hot drink, all the while wondering why on earth you need to leave your comfortable clothes, to go take on the elements.
You instead to take a seat on your couch, all the while, transfixed by the calming sound of rain outside.
I'd like to have one of those days right now. Instead, I sit in a busy indie style cafe, lovingly admiring the cup of coffee next to me, wondering why $2.00 tastes so good. For the moment, I want to just express how difficult sometimes life can be.
Regardless of whatever age you are at this second, do you ever have those periods of anxiousness? And those moments span years? I'm in that stuck place. I want to run the fuck away. I want to just solve my problems with a snap of my fingers, and avoid all of the muck. I want to pack up all of my clothes, heels and nail polish (as well as my mascara) and just travel. I want to run away and experience everything. The problem? I am too realistic. This is why I am still living in the dorms, and not an apartment. All I think about are what if the sink starts leaking? The plumber, the electrician. What about the pets (if there are any)? What about the roommate? Did they remember to call the exterminator? Security in general. I mean, am I worried too much? I would hate to be that girl.
But am I the opposite? I can only hope with every fiber of my heeled body that I am not. I wish that I could just sit back and breathe but I know better. I know what it is like on job interviews and I know how to avoid the difficult questions. But why do we today make job interviews, let alone any type of interview sound like chinese water torture? I ask because I care.
I am luckily one of the few people in the world who like interviews and they make me a tad nervous, but not enough that I am considering jumping in front of speeding traffic. Just school does that to me. I would just love to sit in a classroom and not have some idiot sitting close enough to me that I can smell that manure seeping out of her ears.
Please believe me when I say that I am not as mean in reality as I sound, but if you cannot tell the truth about yourself, then you can't tell the truth about anyone else right? Shout out Virginia Woolf, a true woman who knew me. I do not comprehend many things, I have asked many a dumb question in class but I never make people sit through my stupidity or sit through a class when I have not done my homework. That is what frustrates me more than life itself.
Didn't women burn their bras to be treated equally? Then why in the hell are we showing why we shouldn't have equal rights? When I am sitting somewhere and the fellow women haven't done what they needed to do, they make most women in the world look like idiots. Frankly my dear, I am not one of those women. I refuse to believe that most women in the world are like that, but to be honest, why would men think that all women are different? No offense to men, but hey, I kinda think that one dimensional defines some men. Some men are a little different: they require more thinking, attention and general work. But those are the men that are usually worth the work, much like women.
Why on earth though are the one dimensional women getting the men then? Wait, why do I ask this question when I know the answer? I think that I might as well just write an application form for all prospects and hope to god that I get answers.
Men want women that do not require intrigue, work, or extra anything. Women want men that do not require any of that but give them everything and at the same time never keep them wishing for more (in intelligence and physical *ahem*). Men don't want to over-think. They do not want to work. They want fun, light, and hot. They want someone who gives them everything they want, and never asks questions.
Well, at that point, I'm going to go find the nearest cloister, and sign my ass up.
You instead to take a seat on your couch, all the while, transfixed by the calming sound of rain outside.
I'd like to have one of those days right now. Instead, I sit in a busy indie style cafe, lovingly admiring the cup of coffee next to me, wondering why $2.00 tastes so good. For the moment, I want to just express how difficult sometimes life can be.
Regardless of whatever age you are at this second, do you ever have those periods of anxiousness? And those moments span years? I'm in that stuck place. I want to run the fuck away. I want to just solve my problems with a snap of my fingers, and avoid all of the muck. I want to pack up all of my clothes, heels and nail polish (as well as my mascara) and just travel. I want to run away and experience everything. The problem? I am too realistic. This is why I am still living in the dorms, and not an apartment. All I think about are what if the sink starts leaking? The plumber, the electrician. What about the pets (if there are any)? What about the roommate? Did they remember to call the exterminator? Security in general. I mean, am I worried too much? I would hate to be that girl.
But am I the opposite? I can only hope with every fiber of my heeled body that I am not. I wish that I could just sit back and breathe but I know better. I know what it is like on job interviews and I know how to avoid the difficult questions. But why do we today make job interviews, let alone any type of interview sound like chinese water torture? I ask because I care.
I am luckily one of the few people in the world who like interviews and they make me a tad nervous, but not enough that I am considering jumping in front of speeding traffic. Just school does that to me. I would just love to sit in a classroom and not have some idiot sitting close enough to me that I can smell that manure seeping out of her ears.
Please believe me when I say that I am not as mean in reality as I sound, but if you cannot tell the truth about yourself, then you can't tell the truth about anyone else right? Shout out Virginia Woolf, a true woman who knew me. I do not comprehend many things, I have asked many a dumb question in class but I never make people sit through my stupidity or sit through a class when I have not done my homework. That is what frustrates me more than life itself.
Didn't women burn their bras to be treated equally? Then why in the hell are we showing why we shouldn't have equal rights? When I am sitting somewhere and the fellow women haven't done what they needed to do, they make most women in the world look like idiots. Frankly my dear, I am not one of those women. I refuse to believe that most women in the world are like that, but to be honest, why would men think that all women are different? No offense to men, but hey, I kinda think that one dimensional defines some men. Some men are a little different: they require more thinking, attention and general work. But those are the men that are usually worth the work, much like women.
Why on earth though are the one dimensional women getting the men then? Wait, why do I ask this question when I know the answer? I think that I might as well just write an application form for all prospects and hope to god that I get answers.
Men want women that do not require intrigue, work, or extra anything. Women want men that do not require any of that but give them everything and at the same time never keep them wishing for more (in intelligence and physical *ahem*). Men don't want to over-think. They do not want to work. They want fun, light, and hot. They want someone who gives them everything they want, and never asks questions.
Well, at that point, I'm going to go find the nearest cloister, and sign my ass up.
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