10|29|2008
(Now, while this costume is completely adorable on me, I’ve always hoped that it doesn’t qualify as one of those “slutty, sexy costumes” that women seem to get away with on the 31st. Please believe me when I say that I wanted a pretty costume. Nothing sexy, nothing scandalous. I just wanted to be a bunny in a cocktail dress. I hope there is a way to prove that not every woman wants to be the Sexy Nurse, or the Sexy Cop. Some of them just want to be… pretty.)
Halloween has never been a favorite holiday of mine. Growing up, I wanted it to be, but my since my parent’s felt that we had no reason to celebrate the “Devil’s Holiday,” we were forced to sit on the sidelines, watching the other little kids dress up & go trick-or-treating. No matter; we had our own fun at home, hiding candy around the house the day after the 31st (candy is priced 75% off, after all!), & then staying up late watching old scary movies. Those were some of the best nights of my life.
When I was 18 (or rather, when I was terribly distraught/depressed over being dumped by a guy I had given 3 years of my life to) I decided that it was time to stop living under & rock & enjoy myself, for Heaven’s sake! I’ve always had this fascination with Playboy Bunnies, for no other reason than liking their iconic costumes. (I’ve never even looked inside a Playboy magazine, let alone held one.) I’ve always thought that, minus the sex appeal, I could make a pretty cute bunny! & so began my Halloween party-hopping nights as a Bunny.
At one party, while we were all dancing & having a good time, I caught a whiff of something very potent & spicy in the house. I couldn’t breathe, & I felt like gagging, so I immediately ran outside to get fresh air. I was the first one to discover that someone had pepper-sprayed the inside of the house! Charming. Within seconds, the entire party (over 100 people) was on the front lawn, coughing their lungs out & gagging, their eyes watering & such. I later found out that someone’s ex-boyfriend came by & decided to stir up trouble since he wasn’t invited. Of course, that signaled the end of the party.
Needless to say, that was the last party I ever went to. This costume has only been worn twice, not including today’s brief experimentation; I haven’t worn it since & don’t plan on wearing it again. This costume is for my husband only. Although, I’ll use any excuse to wear the bunny ears.
The best costume I’ve seen so far in Blog World is Abby, who completely creeps me out at the sight of her. Silent Hill scared the crap out of me when I saw it, & I literally shuddered when I saw her costume. It’s especially funny because she is such a sweetheart, yet she looks like she’s going to eat your skin. Creepy!
10|27|2008
My entire Sunday was spent visiting my family in Palm Desert; that being my mother, my future step-father & his little baby girl, my sister & her boyfriend. I hardly get to see them as often as I’d like, because of Palm Desert being 2 hours away from LA. But when I do see them I am reminded at how much I really do miss them & how I wish we could see each other a bit more often.
Again… I miss them; so much that it hurts inside. Our family used to be such a strong unit before my dad lost his mind (to put it politely). Now we’re all spread out in different places; completely reachable, but seemingly unreachable. The distance between us scares me. I see my sister, my very best friend, once every few months. (& that is not enough.) So many things have changed… & it’s about to get even more interesting, since my father’s baby is due practically any minute.
My head is still spinning a little from the fastness of yesterday’s visit with them. I wish that it all would have lingered a little bit longer; our visit just wasn’t long enough. Because of this, I am not in the best of spirits today. I am moody because I miss my family & my other dogs; I am moody because my back aches from tossing & turning all night in the midst of nightmares; I am moody because this month is practically over & I haven’t seemed to grasp the concept of that yet.
Everything just happens so quickly; too quickly. I’m especially bothered that Christmas things are already being displayed in stores upon walking in. Plastic trees, ornaments, lights, Santa Clauses with rosy cheeks. This isn’t news, as these decorations have been out since the beginning of October, but still. I am not ready. I am not ready for Christmas, or Thanksgiving. I’m barely ready for Halloween. I often wonder what the big rush is. Why must we rush? I wish that the holiday seasons would take their time coming into view so that my body can catch up. & this weather — completely sunny skies & relentless heat — isn’t helping. (That is one thing that I wish would hurry up; the cold air, the bundling up & layering. Winter weather couldn’t come fast enough.)
One happy thing: I got an adorable pair of boots this weekend, complete courtesy of Solestruck.com. As soon as I saw these boots, I knew they had to be mine. They are completely knitted, except for the soles of course, & they are oh-so-cozy; like a pair of warm, fuzzy houseshoes-boots. Since the weather here is barely appropriate for boots at all, I’m making any excuse to wear them anyway. I wore them yesterday, actually, in the heat of the desert with tights, shorts & a flowy tank top. Yes, I looked a little crazy, but I adore these boots. The weather is no exception.
& that’s about the only thing keeping me smiling today. That, & the future prospect of taking a nice hot bath to soothing my aching back. My mood will pass soon. It would pass a lot quicker, though, if Lover were here to make me smile…
10|23|2008
Just to prove that I am, in fact, a normal girl, I wanted to take of picture of what I usually wear to the grocery store. Just a plain pair of pants & a white t-shirt. Nothing fancy about that! If you were ambush my house, this is what I would most likely be wearing, sans makeup. Either that, or some comfortable pajamas. (I look so much like my dad in this picture; no wonder he calls me his “son.”)
I’ve been hard at work, trying to organize my blog a bit more. Now, if you go to fashion: apricot’s closet, you will see little photographs that preview the outfit in question. It took me forever to do, but it was well worth it, considering how spiffy it looks.
I never realized how many outfit posts I’ve done (over 50)! & my, how my style has evolved! I have to say, the ensembles I was creating in the very beginning were very… immature for my tastes. In a few pictures, I looked like I was 12. I found myself exclaiming, “Oh god! I would NEVER wear that! What was I thinking?” Even Lover agreed, saying that my style is much more eclectic these days. (& thank goodness for that.) Walking down Memory Lane can be such a daunting experience…
I also picked out some of my favorite written entries & reorganized them in about the writer. Be sure to check them out, if you haven’t already. I feel like they completely represent who I am as a writer.
& this isn’t something I usually do, but I felt like these things were worth sharing:
- Miss Vered, from Mom Grind, talks about the conspiracy of commenting on blogs. I feel like every blogger needs to read this. It changed my whole perspective on comments entirely.
- Miss Wendy B talks about how fashion bloggers need to be a little bit more original; just a little bit. I have to say that I never even heard of Kate Lanphear until all of this talk about her.
- A VERY interesting website that asks the simple question: if the world could vote? The results are thought-provoking, to say the least.
- I found this absolutely disgusting. As human beings, we should be ashamed of ourselves! I hope this inspires people to rethink their day to day actions in regards to the environment.
- If you’ve ever thought that elderly people lack fashion fowardness, think again. Here is proof that senior citizens sometimes have more style in their little fingers than we do in our entire bodies.
- Oh… & kill your television. Please. We did & it makes a world of difference!
- (I just had to add one more, because this one really spoke to me.) All I have to say is: Amen, sister. Amen.
EDIT; Apparently, today is 20sb Vlog day & I really, really wanted to participate; please believe me. But, I do not have a video camera, & my regular camera uses up too much space… or something like that. Lover explained it to me, but I forgot. All I know is that a 20 second video takes an hour to upload. Eventually, though, I will do it.
10|21|2008
So it seems like I go through this thing once a month where I don’t know what to do with this diary. While I know that my fashion statements seem to be a hit — I just recently caught the eye of Teen Vogue; & yes, I’m more than flattered! — my heart isn’t entirely in it.
What I’m trying to say is that it gets kind of… boring after a while. Same with all the other fantastic fashion blogs I read. I take quick glances at certain ones & become practically bored to tears. & it has hardly anything to do with what they’re wearing. (Although, most fashion statements I’ve seen lately are not very original these days. We all seem to be copying someone else, one way or another. & I am not saying that I haven’t done it myself.) More to do with the question I find myself asking: What is the point? & then I ask, “Who cares?”
What is the point of taking pictures of myself, clad in the latest fashions? To prove to people that I know how to dress myself in the morning? Who really cares what I wore today? When I sit down & actually ponder it… it doesn’t really matter that much to me, nor does it make very much sense. I mean, compared to the other more important things I could talk about. It can seem so superficial.
& my thoughts are telling me, quite loudly, “Ev’Yan, darling… what is the point of your posting fashion statements on your blog? I mean, really… it seems a bit vainglorious, don’t you think? & vanity is far from your character. Maybe you should do something that makes more of a difference in people’s lives. Maybe you should do something that makes more of a difference in YOUR life. Because really, sweetie, you’re only proving to you & the rest of the world that you’ve got impeccable taste in clothing… nothing more than that. Maybe you should stick to your roots… that being writing. You’ve got a great thing going, after all. You’ve been writing much longer than you’ve been noting bloody fashion trends. & anyway, you’re not quite tall enough to be a model… which is really the only successful thing that could come out of it. Something’s gotta give, Love. You aren’t happy.”
& this is where I let out a deep sigh. No, I’m not happy, because I’m not being true to myself. & I don’t think I want to do this (“this” being pretty little fashion statements) anymore.
Well, not anymore; I think that’s awfully dramatic to say. What I mean is that I no longer want the responsibility or the pressure of being famous for what I wear. Writing appeals to me much more. When I die, I’d rather be known for being an amazing writer, than being a fashionable chick (even though it would be nice!). Writing is so much more about expressing your inner soul; it is full of substance, whereas clothes are just… clothes to me. Writing is the only thing that comes completely natural for me. Fashion is just something I’m good at.
So it seems as though I’ve been making a priority out of the wrong passion lately. I realize this now, plain as the sky is blue. Because something is terribly wrong when one feels envious of writers, even though she is one.
& to my readers: I have not been feeling pressured by you lovely people to keep going with the fashion thing. I have put it on MYSELF to keep at it, so much that it was starting to make me feel resentment towards my diary. I think it’s so important to do what you feel like doing; to follow your own bliss, rather than produce what you think people would prefer seeing. & while I do enjoy putting together outfits, fashion isn’t the most important thing to me.
& I must be honest: half the time I photograph these outfits, I end up taking them off. Most of these outfits would be worn if I actually had places to go & people to see, but I am at home mostly. If you saw me on a day-to-day basis, you would see that I don’t go grocery shopping looking like I belong at New York Fashion Week. There is a time & a place for looking debonair, & while I have the time, I rarely ever have the place. I feel that displaying the items in my closet has been borderline superficial & self-centered of me, & that is not the image I want to portray to anyone.
All of this said, I WILL continue to post my ensembles here; I do like dressing up, after all. I just won’t be doing it quite as often. I want to keep it in moderation, to focus more on my writing. I want to do what I did before, when this blog was a nobody; I want to write like this again. & like this, & like this.
It’s hard to believe that that was even me writing. I miss that very much.
10|18|2008
Hanes t-shirt, from Target; pants & belt are very vintage; shoes, from Ross; jewelry is miscellaneous.
Thanks to Picnik, I am now learning how to add some groovy effects to my pictures, making them a bit more interesting to look it. Now, my technique in doing these effects are lacking a little, but I’m proud nonetheless! Lover tried to teach me Photoshop a few times but that went completely over my head. This is more my speed, as it is so easy a piece of lint could do it.
These pants are very sentimental. Even more so than the sentimental crocheted shirt I once spoke about. Way more.
These pants were once worn by a very stylish woman, whom I have never met. Her name was Sabrina, & she was the oldest sister of my father. Tragically, she was killed in a car accident when she was 19, so I never got to meet her. But I have seen pictures & she was beautiful.
Somehow, my mother was given this outfit — it comes with a blazer, as well — & she passed it down to me. When I first tried to wear the pants, they didn’t fit; they were hilariously too big. I had originally planned on getting them altered, but never made the time. Since then, they have been stowed away in my closet, waiting to be worn.
Just a few weeks ago, I remembered these pants & decided to try them on, knowing that I had just went a few sizes up on my jeans. (It was a dreadful experience, involving me having to give away most of my precious jeans — some that were only worn a few times — because they were too bloody small. I was so distressed that I called my mother to whined to her about it.) Much to my surprise, these pants finally fit like a glove & I am so very happy that they do. Even if they look terrible on me — & they very well might, considering high-waisted pants are either a “do” or a “don’t”; there is no in between — I don’t care. I love them as though they were my Aunt herself.
Although… my Aunt must have been slightly shorter than myself because the pant-legs flood on me on a little, which is why I rolled them up. Not to mention that the size of these pants are a size 9. (I am now a comfortable 5.) No matter; they still look fantastic. & I love them.
Then, I was given this lovely little award by my mother, who had enough patience to raise me without knocking me senseless. (I was a mischievous child, to say the least.) Thanks Mommy!
10|15|2008
dress, tights, & knitted leg warmers, all from Target; boots, from Payless; necklace is stolen from my mother; sunglasses, from Forever21.
I was tagged to do a meme by the lovely Estella, from Notes From a Lost Twenty-Something AND by Over Obsessorized; my first double tag.
Now, I’m not crazy about memes; simply because they require effort to conjure up decent answers, & right now, I have little to no patience because of constant sneezing & sniffing. All thanks to my darling little husband who decided to give me his nasty cold.
I’m also not crazy about not knowing how to pronounce the word “meme,” & that is enough to bother the snot out of me. I mean, is it “mee-mee”? Is it “meeme”? Is it “mem?” I do not know. (Somebody please tell me.) But I have been tagged & will take one for the team(s).
The rules of the “MeeMee” are:
1. Link to the person that tagged you.
2. Post the rules on your blog.
3. Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself.
4. Tag six random people at the end of your post by linking to their blogs.
5. Let each random person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their website.
6. Let your tagger know when your entry is up.
& here are my answers, completely random & from the top of my stuffed-up little head:
- I never eat the first bite of an apple. I don’t know why; I’ve been doing it ever since I was little. Lover calls this wasteful, but I call it a force of habit.
- I played with Barbies until I was about 13 years old. Back then it wasn’t such a big deal, but these days, it’s unheard of! Most 13-year-olds now are rushing to grow up & be mature. That was the farthest thing from my mind then.
- I have a love for anything that involves cinnamon. Cinnamon rolls, Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal, monkey bread… I’ll put cinnamon on anything if tastes allow.
- My vegetarianism anniversary was a few weeks ago. I have been meat-free for one year. & I am more than pleased with that accomplishment.
- I’m a pro at Super NES video games; the old school ones, with the cartridges. (None of this high-tech PS3, XBOX stuff.) Super Mario & Gradius III are my stress relievers. Lover & I often have nights where we’ll play for hours until we get farther than the day before.
- I was almost switched a birth. My father mistook an Asian newborn baby boy for me. Had my mom not have noticed the wrist tag, I surely would have gone to an Asian family some where.
(If you enjoyed my answers, consider yourself tagged! I’m curious to know your quirks.)
&… this random little quote tickled me pink:
“Beware of the man who denounces women writers; his penis is tiny and he cannot spell.”
—- Erica Jong.
Thankfully, I have never been denounced by any man, but I will plead the fifth in regards to a tiny penis & illiteracy. All I will say, without hinting at names, is that I’ve known far & few.
Although… a tiny penis isn’t such a bad thing, or so I’ve heard. As the saying goes, “It’s not the size of the boat that matters, but the motion of the ocean…” or something like that. (I’m not sure I said that right.)
10|12|2008
Jonathan Saunders t-shirt, from Target; cardigan, from Wet Seal long ago; shorts, from Ross; tights, from H&M; shoes, from DSW; jewelry is miscellaneous.
This is what I wore to the Art Festival in Old Town this afternoon. I actually wore tights to my toes without feel constricted & hot. I was cozy & warm; not to mention, I felt very artsy in this getup. But right now… it’s story time.
Okay, so I absolutely adore this shirt; simply love it. Originally, I was going to tell a really sad story about it the other day, upon first spotting it; something about how I fell in love with it at first sight, bought it, brought it home, tried it on, fell in love harder & then decided it was a frivolous purchase, where I made the tough choice to return it. But this isn’t the case, because, much to my delight, it’s on my [spoiled rotten] body.
This is the picture I had taken of the shirt, after deciding that I needed to take it back. I figured that if I wanted it bad enough — not to mention, if I even liked the shirt in a few weeks — I’ll go back & get it. This picture would only serve as a memory & then possibly a sad, depressing, pathetic entry in this diary about how much I longed for it.
After returning it — within a few hours of the original purchase, mind you — I told myself that I would NOT tell Lover; no, he did not need to know that his wife had suffered a terrible bout of buyers remorse & is now dealing with returners remorse. Because I knew that if Lover found out, he would tell me to get the shirt & I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to seem at all weak or without control. Not just that, but do I really need any more clothes? The answer is a straight out NO. & IF I did, by chance, tell him, I was going to in such a way that he wouldn’t have to feel sorry for me, so that he could just brush it off & say, “Oh… alright. Neat.” That was my plan.
It didn’t happen this way, as my husband has some very strong telepathic tendencies. He said, “Where were you?” because I was late picking him up from work just ever so slightly. “Oh… I had to do something real fast,” I said, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. I was hoping he would just let that be enough, but it wasn’t & he asked: “Where did you go?” I sighed heavy & replied, “I went to Target; I had to return something.” That is when I knew I said too much, because he then asked me, “Oh? What did you return?” My head was screaming, Nooooo! You can’t tell him! You’re not strong enough, Ev’Yan! Don’t do it!!! But I didn’t listen; I broke down right there, telling him in the most pathetic, stupid way the whole story. & of course, after I was finished with my explanation, he said in the saddest voice: “Oh… Babe. You should have kept it!”
Upon coming home, I decided to show Lover the picture of the shirt. When he saw it, he exclaimed, “Ooooh, honey… I really like it. You gotta get that shirt back. You just have to buy it, babe.” & so I told myself right there that I would never go against my husband’s wishes; if he said that I needed to buy it, then that is what I was going to do, because that’s what he said to do! I wasn’t about to disobey my husband…
So I bought it a few days later.
I do realize that this whole story was rather dramatic & overexaggerated-sounding. But this is how it was; this is how much of a hold the shirt & it’s concept had over me. I don’t even know what it is about this shirt that makes it so cool; I mean, it’s just a shirt with some abstract shapes on it, meshed together in an intracate design. At first glance to some, it’s not worth all of this bloody trouble in the first place. But for me, once my heart is set on something, it must have it. It could be a plain old pencil, but if my heart longs for it… I need it.
I think I may have a slight problem.
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