Wednesday, August 27th, 2008
shirt & jean shorts are both from the same thrift store; shoes, from Ross; cardigan, from Target.
I have been preoccupied with packing, & these photographs prove this. Boxes, bags, & other flotsam & jetsam are strewn all over our apartment, making me very uncomfortable. I am getting so tired of staring at this mess, & I’m wishing that we would just move already so we can get this all over with already.
Needless to say, I am completely consumed with moving.
Now… this blouse is one of my favorites, but it took me a few months to appreciate it.
I found it at a thrift store years ago. I originally bought it as a joke. It looked terribly gaudy at first glance, with the sequins & everything, but I purchased it anyway.
The first time I ever wore it was to a wedding shower with jeans. I got many compliments on it, in spite of the obnoxious sequins & the mesh material. I don’t know why, but it just works. It shouldn’t work… but it does. & I adore it.
& these shorts — which were once a pair of worn down jeans — make my bum look big.
Friday, August 22nd, 2008
I do not like Nylon Magazine; I detest it more & more with each pretentious issue. I don’t mean to be vile — or maybe I do — but I feel the need to express my pent up feelings about this, primarily because I keep getting the wretched magazine in my mailbox.
Of course, that is my own fault; my sister offered me a free subscription & I accepted it because, well… it’s FREE, of course! & I really wanted to try to give it a chance; I really wanted to like it. But I’m sorry, Nylon, you bore me to tears. & the library will eventually get your barely read pages; just as soon as I can get a bag big enough to fit all of the stinky issues I’ve set aside.
Nothing about this magazine interests me. I mean, really… how much can one talk about overpriced garments & overrated fashion statements, without it sounding redundant & grandiose?
I am probably a square, because I happen to know a lot of people who favor this magazine. But I, personally, can’t even seem to try to like it. Especially this latest issue, which seems to go on & on incessantly about senseless television shows, & pretentious up & coming actresses. I don’t care; although, I probably should, being that the whole wide world seems to be raving about this new 90210 series that is coming on television… but I really couldn’t care less. I find it all so irrelevant & shallow. I’ve never been one to get fully involved in the hype of fads, whatever they may be.
& while I am glad to be getting this out of my system — & it has been boiling within me for ions, it seems — I’m sure it’s not very healthy to have such strong abhorring feelings about a magazine that really has nothing to do with me.
Unfortunately, the front cover is usually attractive (damn you, you excellently gifted graphic designers!) & I start to become curious as to whether or not this will be the issue that sparks my interest. I am always brutally disappointed to find that no… it’s still terrible, & l have the rest of the year with this bloody magazine.
Cosmopolitan is also on my “loathe” list. Regretfully, I once had a subscription to this cheesy magazine. I thought that by subscribing, I would be considered more “grown up.” But it’s awful; absolutely terrible.
& I would love to have a few choice words with the fool who thought of the term “Va-jay-jay.” Yes, that dreadfully overused word. We all know what is being implied by this term of expression, so why not just say it? Since when is vagina a bad word? Why are women insisting upon downgrading their “lovely lady parts” (as said by Cosmopolitan) by calling it something so completely ridiculous? Certainly, men don’t call their manhood “Pe-ni-ni” so why do we let this stupid nickname stick? It’s just silly. Never will you hear “va-jay-jay” escape my lips.
& if I see one more magazine featuring Lauren Conrad, or any other mediocre “celebrity” as the cover girl, I am going to go postal. Seriously. I am going to storm into a Barnes & Noble, buy all of the issues featuring prim & popular “celebrities” & burn them to help aid our compost pile.
Ash is good for soil, you know.
Tuesday, August 19th, 2008
We found an apartment. I can’t even begin to describe my relief in this & I am borderline emotional, knowing that it’s all over. So much ample time has been spent trying to find our next humble abode; not to mention a lot of time stressing, a lot of time crying (on my part, because when all else fails, I cry), & a lot of time seething over misfortune. But… we have finally found a place & we will be moving in at the end of this month. To say that I am happy would be a complete understatement.
Lover & I have been indulging in goo-gobs of relief & gratitude, as well as some much needed quality time. We walked around Old Town this past weekend, holding hands while window shopping. We got coffee (I opted for ice tea) & discussed future plans for the new apartment. We frolicked about as though we had just started dating; it was disgustingly sweet & romantic.
While wandering through Old Town, we came to a courtyard where 21 small trees stood, each filled with hundreds of white tags hanging off of its limbs. On each tag was a wish or two, written by perfect & longing strangers.
Lover & I lingered around a few trees, reciting some of the anonymous wishes in a low whisper, giggling at the innocence of some, & brooding over the others that were brutally honest. Some of them were written by little ones; their wishes were adorable but sincere. (One wish said that they wished that their dog would live forever. Another said that they wished they could have a monkey.) Most of the tags, though, wished that there would be no more war & that we would all be filled with peace & love.
Lover & I were absolutely mesmerized by the idea of this; we wanted to contribute. On each table in the courtyard there was a wooden box, & in the box were blank white tags & tiny little pencils. Lover & I sat down & contemplated on what wish we should add onto a tree. Lover wrote his almost instantly; he wished that we would all be liberated, everyone & everything. It took me some time to think of a decent wish & eventually, Lover suggested that I write the first thing that comes to mind since I was having such trouble. So I wrote:
I wish my husband would take me into his arms, kiss me on the forehead while whispering, “I love you.”
Lover looked confused; he said he always does this (& he does), but I told him that it was the first thing that I thought of. After we tied our wishes to a tree — we each picked a different tree — we continued to read more wishes.
Suddenly, he stopped me; he took me by the hand, wrapped his arms around me tightly, kissed my forehead & whispered in my ear that he loved me. It was terribly romantic & expectantly unexpected.
I think this is absolutely magical. I never thought that I could find beauty in the sight of trees, seemingly littered with paper.
I also find it interesting that when I was presented to make a wish, any wish that my little heart desired, I couldn’t think of one. Truthfully… I have everything that I could ever hope for: I have a darling husband, who loves me dearly; I have a beautiful dog, a wonderful family & a closet, heaping full of items to keep me clothed & warm. & now, I have a brand new apartment waiting for me to move in. What more could I possibly ask for?
Such a cliche thing to say, yes… & I am completely stifled that something that cliche could actually reign true. But I am humbled by it.
Friday, August 15th, 2008
knit tunic, headband, & undertank, from Target; shorts & sandals, from Ross; jewelry is miscellaneous. & a lovely little booty shot from Sofie Aiko.
In lieu of all the stressful endeavors I’ve endured with apartment searching, I am most certainly finding solace in the clothes I’ve been wearing. Funny how that works. While the rest of the world is in shambles, if I feel comfortable in my clothes, in my skin, I’ve got a smile on my face.
& apparently, Sofie’s bum is working the camera.
Tuesday, August 12th, 2008
shirt, from American Apparel; shorts, from Ross; ankle boots, from Target; necklace is second-handed from my grandmother; bracelet is seconded-handed from my mother.
Whether I’d like to admit it or not, apartment finding isn’t quite as bad as I imagined it. But it is as exhausting & thought consuming. We looked at half a dozen places this past weekend, each with their own unique kind of charm & with one or two negative sides to consider.
For instance, one open house we went to was a bungalow, constructed in the 1920s. It was absolutely charming, with original decoration, hardwood floors & crown molding. It even had deck that led to the front part of the place. &, oh my goodness, the closet was spectacular. I opened the door & it actually had steps (!!!) proceeding further into more space. It was huge. I took one look & cried, “Okay, that’s it. Sold!” Lover & I both laughed, & lingered in the apartment a little longer. But in spite of all of it’s charm & originality, we simply couldn’t love it. Or, rather, I couldn’t love it. Because, yes, it was terribly attractive, with interesting features, but it was also a lot further into town than we wanted. Not to mention, it was almost a little too old, in that it was a bit outdated.
Every apartment we saw had perks, but they also had a few cons; as in, the area wasn’t desirable, or the distance was inconvenient, or the price was a bit out of our budget. Those cons typically outweighed the perks, making us weary & agitated. & because I’m far from patient, all of this is particularly difficult for me. I have high expectations of what I’d like our next space to be, & that makes it harder for us to find a suitable place when I am often too critical. But mostly, I just want resolution; I want to know that we’ll find a lovely place to call home for a while. Unfortunately, we do not have time to be picky & this is something I’m trying to rebel against, because I abhor settling for the sake of time. But it’s a little inevitable, & I’m having to force myself to become comfortable out of my comfort zone. It’s all very maddening.
What’s even more maddening is this whole foreclosure process. I, personally, know nothing about how the laws work or what we’re entitled to, so I don’t really understand everything. I feel like we are stuck in limbo, waiting for an answer about the status of our living situation. Our utilities are still on & we’re not having to pay rent, which is quite the plus. What’s troubling me, though, is that’s it’s awfully quiet around here; like the calm before the storm. So while trying to remain calm & positive, I can’t help but be a little on edge, waiting for the next eruption of bullshit. I am almost anticipating it at this point. Anything else added onto this already out of control mess would really be the icing on the cake. I am certainly not trying to jinx myself, but I am preparing for the worse.
One thing that is for certain is that Lover & I have each other & that wherever we go, I’m sure we’ll find a way to make it home. Now, this is something I already know because Lover has said it to me time & time again throughout this whole chaotic adventure. But I have yet to believe it with all of my heart.
Off the record: a great big thank you! is in order to Always In Style for the lovely award that was handed down to little, old me. I truly appreciate the love. Thank you. :]
Friday, August 8th, 2008
[I hate receiving bad news. If I must receive bad news, I'd rather receive it first, so that the good news is the last thing lingering in my mind, rather than the bad. I have a terrible habit of over analyzing things to oblivion, so this kind of backwards thinking helps tremendously. Thus, I say: The Ugly, The Bad, & the Good. I am also finding that humor is the best way to cope with misfortunes. Or, rather, I am trying to laugh in spite of myself.]
My life has been an unexpected, emotional roller coaster ride over the last several days. So to say that I am a bit of a wreck would be an understatement. Yes, I manage to keep my composure to show that I know everything is under control — dare I recite that stupid saying, “Everything is okay in the end; if it’s not okay, then it’s not the end”? — but inside, a psychological war is brewing & I cannot pick a side.
I am not a patient person. If I need answers, I need them now (dammit!) with not one second to spare. If a decision rests on someone’s approval, they need to hurry [the fuck] up. If I am driving on a highway where the speed limit is 45mph & the car in front of me is going 35mph, they need to speed up or get out of the way. Even if I’m not running late, even if I don’t have somewhere important to go, I prefer to move at my own pace, uninterrupted.
Now, none of this really bothers me usually, because I am typically in charge of my own decisions. But when things happen (ugly things, bad things), I am forced to be the dreaded Patient Person. I loathe that. Patience is a virtue, yes, but I don’t think I possess that kind of goodness. If I did, I wouldn’t be blabbering on about this now.
My predicaments are, as follows:
THE UGLY:
– This whole foreclosure, “you must vacate in 30 days” (via text message) nonsense is Ugly. & right as I was beginning to lose hope, a miraculous opportunity arose for Lover & I: a beautiful apartment, fully equipped, would be ready to move into right around the time we needed to “vacate.” Oh joy, of joys! The nitty-gritty details are a bit irrelevant now, but we were thrilled! All that needed to be done was the signing of an application & the checking of our credit & the apartment would be ours. Right as Lover was about to fax the application back to the property manager, he messaged me saying, “Babe… I’ve got bad news.” I immediately thought, Oh dear…
He went on to say that our future ex landlady went against her word for no good reason, & is now giving the apartment to someone else. Again, there is a lot more to this story, but it doesn’t really matter since the story ends on such a bad note. We tried everything to change the landlady’s mind. I even called her, begging her, bribing her… to no avail. Imagine, getting our hopes all up, telling us that the beautiful apartment is ours & then she sporadically changes her mind. To hell with her! Or rather, since that isn’t a very ladylike thing to say: Off with her head! Bitch.
THE BAD:
– The Bad ties in with The Ugly. I am outraged at the bipolar tendencies of our future ex landlady, but I am even more upset at the prospect of us now having to go back to the drawing board, so to speak, & start this wretched apartment hunt all over again. Now, I know that it can’t possibly be as bad as I’m making it seem, but at that notion, I begin to think all over again that we wouldn’t even be here in the first place, had that abominable woman just stuck to her word! I can’t let it go, & I won’t until we find an apartment that is as ravishing as the one we had our hearts set on. & if/when that happens, I will certainly exclaim, “In your face, you vile, stinking woman. In your face.”
– My foul mood is Bad. It’s more than Bad; it’s rotten. & I have Mother Nature — Father Nature, God in Heaven, Zeus, Neptune or whomever thought is was a good idea to bestow premenstrual stress on a woman — is to blame & shall be held fully responsible. Yes, Bloody Monday is upon us.
– On top of everything, our computer unexpectedly crashed, leaving it completely disabled for all of Monday. Thankfully, nothing was lost. But what a pain it was; not just for me, but for Lover, who wrestled with it all night until it was back to normal. It was then I realized that we rely on technology far too much.
THE GOOD:
Now… I’m asking myself, Could there be any good left after all of the uckiness that was mentioned before? I don’t know, really. Right now, I am not feeling optimistic; just grumpy, emotionally weary & a bit pessimistic. I know the bright side is around here somewhere, but I’m too melancholy to look for it.
The only seemingly “good” thing I could come up with is a measly little outfit I wore the other day. Otherwise, I can’t think of anything else. I am really down in the dumps. & even this outfit was done out of spite. I dressed up, then took it all off & proceeded to go into my funk all over again.
shirt, from the Gap; skirt, from H&M (as seen here); shoes are vintage.
That is the fakest smile I could muster.
Tuesday, August 5th, 2008
Shirt, from American Apparel; high-waisted skirt, from H&M; shoes, from DSW (which my wonderful husband picked out for me as a surprise); belt, was my mother’s; necklaces, very old & miscellaneous.
All I will say about this lovely ensemble is this: I had leftover money from my other high-waisted skirt return, found this skirt in H&M, tried it on & fell in love. In the dressing room, I whispered, Now this is what a high-waisted skirt is supposed to look like! (For me at least.) So I purchased it… leaving only a few measly dollars on my store credit card.
Although… I am having a bit of trouble getting used to the tightness of this skirt. While I adore the concept — I can dress it up, or down if I wish — I don’t know if I adore that every freaking curve is accentuated. Pooches & pudges I didn’t even know existed are now very & embarrassingly prominent. Before this skirt, I had no idea that I even had a booty! I found myself sucking in & tucking under while I walked, just to suffice my own pride. Needless to say, I feel very exposed in it.
I’m going to need a bit of time to get accustomed to slim-fittedness of this piece. But I promised myself that I would not return this one; no, no, I will keep it. Even if my obvious, out-of-shapely figure is taunting me in anything that reflects. I tried to do yoga the other day, too, just to get back in shape, for Heaven’s sake! I only lasted 10 minutes before I sweating & panting like an overweight pig. So back to the couch I went, feeling defeated & tired & lazy.
I don’t think there is anything I can remotely do to inspire me to work out. Quite simply, I loathe exercising. Then again, I loathe my poochy, cellulite, too. But I think I loathe exercising more, so Pride, meet Cellulite; Cellulite, meet Pride. You two have an awful lot in common & I hope that you can grow to like each other, since Exercise has befriended Lover & left you both in the dust.
& here, I let out a very deep & shameful sigh.
