Interview Time Today

I had an interview for a position that I really wanted today, and I wore this. I was seated next to a girl who was dressed like Cousin It. My first thought: WOW. My second: doesn't it get hot after a while?

I support every fashion decision with a fervor, but at some point, I choose to not support certain trends. I love layering. When I say layering, I don't mean so many layers that you disappear, but enough layers that are chic yet warm.

Was I completely wrong in my choice?

First Time

First Time by pinkcrab08 featuring long sleeve tops

Ignore text, but inspired by pleated skirt! Classic, but fun :)

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.

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.

Time for a change

As I sit drinking my chai, looking out onto the beautiful campus, I ponder why in the hell are girls becoming two women? Why are they saying things that they know are incorrect, but hey, guys like them dumb, and why on earth are they wearing clothing purely for the purpose of showing that they are the definition of the "lady in the street but the freak in the bed?"

I love wearing clothes out for a party, I really do. I own leather leggings, and those tops that have as much fabric on them as the palm of my hand, but I do not wear them out and about. I do not wear clothes that would make Jenna Jameson cringe. Now I am not suggesting that Emily Post needs to come back and bring back her sense of style. Ems had it going on back in the day, but I am not a fan of turtlenecks. Nor should someone be forced to do that. What I am suggesting though is that the thought of dating is not the be all and end all of one's life. Rather, let us take a moment and think before we act. For instance, maybe one should not dress like this for class:

Taylor Momsen, Madonna "I'd Do Anything" UK

Just because the fabric of your clothing is longer than your train of thought, does not mean that as woman you should degrade yourself down to the point where you are "making a statement." Newsflash all: MADONNA is MADONNA. I mean, she can do anything. I could never wear anything even close. It would be the biggest joke ever.

Maybe I just need to shop for my leather and lace. Damn Ralph Lauren and those clean cut lines. I think I'm going to go ask the campus hookers what they think.

Clothing a sense of status?

Should clothing be the sole reason why we as women judge others, and decide whether or not to include these women in our social circles?

Does clothing dictate how you are treated and therefore what you receive without the pain and suffering in life? I mean, does clothing dictate how much blood, sweat, and tears you must submit to the earth in order to savor the goodness life has to offer?

I'm not saying that we all need to have suggestive clothing on 24/7 but let's be honest: when dealing with a man, does it help to show off your *ahem* assets? Does that necessarily mean though that I need to lower my standards and lower my morals to receive a better grade? Achieve more in life? Gain an inordinate amount of praise for a job that you could have done with your eyes closed?

I love clothing as much as I love my mom, and I love her more than I like air. At the same time, my love of clothing is taking a back seat to my future endeavors and I am running into obstacles because of it. I love to wear clothes that are beautiful, elegant, and my clothing does not wear me. At the same time, several of my professors have been said to prefer girls who show a little more, and therefore, they will receive higher grades in the class. But are they giving in to the misogynistic attitude and frankly my dear, I am giving a damn. What are we as women going to finally stand up and say no? When will our moments of clarity become our daily mind process rather than a strife for life? I ask you, why must milk be given for free?

No, School is not out for summer.

And I'm back in school....a college that sometimes pushes me beyond the core beliefs of humanity, but hey. To each his own. I've gotta cover a couple different topics today folks.

A question to pose to all is: since when does getting thinner entitle you to becoming a complete and total witch?

I know a girl, let's call her Susie. I spent a year with Susie, and in that year, she became a fast friend. After a year at my school, I took a leave if absence to decide if I really wanted to do what I had signed up to do. After a year break, I decided to return only to find that my once good friend had dropped 20 lbs, gained a horrific attitude and had decided to give me the silent treatment. Something that I have learned since my original freshman year- silence doesn't solve problems. In the least. I would have hoped that after a year of no communication and a year of not seeing me, I would have thought that a "friend" would have wanted to learn what I had done, and so on. I had been surprised on so many levels.

Something that many do not know is that I have attained a personal training certification. I have seen the days of eating and I have sweat and pulled and strained and done things that some don't like to do to their bodies, but I must say, looking svelte never felt so good :)

Well, I learned that she had lost a bulk of her weight through a few unhealthy methods. What she doesn't want is a constant reminder of what she didn't want to do. My problem: if her crap attitude is a side effect of weight loss, then I never ever want to lose weight again.

Question for the day:

The question that I pose to all:

Why do we, men and women alike, why do we believe in a person's lack of importance based on the amount and/or content that they say?

When reading a favorite play of mine (Death of a Salesman by A. Miller), I pour my body and soul into my reading. I cannot sit here though and merely just read for the sake of reading but, if you were in my house, there is always a discussion. My fellow sibling merely described Linda (the wife of the main character Willy) as "a typical wife who does nothing for the play whatsoever." Well, thank God I did not pop a bottle cap in my fellow spawn's buttocks.

Women have never been merely housewives. Even though we would all like to argue that in the Levittown sense of the word "housewife," there are only so many ways that a woman can starch a man's shirt. But these women did other things. If they only iron, clean, and bake, when did they make time for discussions. Every movie that depicts the '40s, '50s and early '60s housewives all show them having insignificant discussions with each other about the weather, hair, or another superficial topic. There is not a single way possible that those women did not discuss serious topics, and the fact that I am in a household with someone who believes that women in a play that appear to say something without matter, does not mean in any way shape or form that I am, for some reason, another idiot.