It’s been a while since I’ve updated, but I never forget. I’m leaving town in a few days so I wanted to catch up and post a few photos that were taken quite a while ago now (while there was still a lot of snow in Pittsburgh!), just so they don’t go to waste. I’m sure no one minds.
Wolf tee, Amazon; faux fur coat, ASOS; purple jeans & hoodie, F21; Naughty Monkey D-Ring boots
I’ve been going to the dentist a lot lately, and now have taken care of almost everything, including a root canal and a cap on one of my front teeth (not my fault; apparently the nerve got injured somehow? Maybe someone punched me in the face years ago and I just don’t remember. Jerk). So I essentially have a fake tooth now that looks just like my old one, after wearing a temporary fake for 3.5 weeks that fell out right before the appointment, and almost went down the drain. I wish I was kidding; it’s like my worst nightmares realized. But I rescued it and popped it back on just in time to catch the bus, and now I have a new one, and no one (including me) can tell. I’m a real trooper. All that’s left now is getting all four of my wisdom teeth out in a month or two, which I am dreading. So the lesson is: don’t be a victim of evolution, and don’t get punched in the face. Especially by phantoms.
You’re probably not wondering where I’m going, but I’m going to tell you anyway. On Thursday (today!) Matt and I will be joining my parents, my brother, and his girlfriend on the lovely island of Kauai (jealous?) for a one-week stay. I’m rather excited as I’ve never been to Hawaii (though my parents have been several times), and Kauai was definitely the island I most wanted to visit. Also, due to poor planning on my part, I’m arriving back in Pittsburgh on May 6, then turning around the next day and flying back west again to Idaho for 10 days to visit a good friend of mine who’s moving to Australia. I am not going to be a happy traveler, but both trips should be a blast (hopefully the latter will allow me more relaxation than the former). I’ll try to update if I can while I’m gone, but at the very least I will take some photos!
I also want to thank all of those who have read my blog, left comments, given me @mentions on Twitter, and asked me questions on Formspring, despite what has essentially been a total lack of updates lately. I also want to thank Amanda for featuring me in the 12th edition of Hello, Blogosphere! recently – what a sweetheart.
Over the past few months (primarily, since grad school ended), it has come to my attention that the frequency with which I wear stilettos has significantly dropped. Notice I said stilettos – not high heels in general. While my desire to constantly wear high-heeled shoes in general has waned somewhat, given my current lifestyle (I walk more places – and no access to a vehicle other than the bus – meaning sometimes I just can’t be bothered), I still wear wedge heels frequently and with much fervor and giddiness. Stilettos, on the other hand – those ungodly, pin-thin, pistols for the feet – not so much. And there are a couple of reasons why.
Okay, so in at least 90% of cases, the comfort of a wedge heel is unparalleled. At least in my experience. While sometimes they’re actually more challenging to walk in on uneven terrain, depending on the shape of the particular shoe (think walking on cobblestones – certainly not uncommon here in Pittsburgh – with tall, narrow rectangles strapped to your feet), the wedge is superior to the stiletto in terms of comfort and walkability in almost all cases. They’re also very hot right now (and have been for several seasons), which makes them rather easy to come by. And from what I’ve seen (and purchased) these past few seasons, I would argue that a truly unique, eye-catching wedge makes a greater impact than an eye-catching stiletto almost any day (if for no other reason than, well, there’s just more shoe to behold). Can’t argue with that.
However, my gradual decrease in stiletto-gracing extends far beyond the desire for comfort and uniqueness. Part of it is growing up, oddly enough – realizing that the older I get (for now, anyway), the more desirable I become. Yes, more. Because most grown men don’t dare sass teenagers, but a twenty-something? I’m a walking (or teetering) target. And now that I’m completely done with school/college for the foreseeable future, my interest in fashion as a means of transforming myself into an object of desire (because, let’s face it, stilettos are the ultimate sex symbol) is much, much smaller than it used to be. I’m more comfortable with myself; I’m not trying to impress boys anymore, least of all with my style choices.
Fashion is art for a reason: because not everyone appreciates it. We can see the stiletto as a thing of beauty – naturally sexy, yes, as it has been historically so, yet still wearable art. But there will always be those who see it as little more than a mating call. It can certainly be both. But to reduce it to the latter is an insult to fashion, and an insult to the fashion-conscious female. Aren’t stilettos supposed to be empowering? This paradox causes issues for many of us. We wear stilettos to tap into that power, that confidence, but instead are brought down from that high by some “man” who decides to make fools of us when we’re walking down the street. I could style that stiletto any way I please – wear it over-the-knee (completely covering flesh), pack on the layers, wear a dress that looks like a sack – but that man will still treat me like a hooker. Because it’s a stiletto – a shape he’s been trained to sexualize. Because he’s an ass, and doesn’t know any better.
Enter wedges. While perfectly sexy in their own right (especially to the fashion lover), they don’t attract one third as much unwanted attention as stilettos. They don’t immediately stop those men in their tracks, prompting unwelcome whistles or cat-calls. They are a true testament to the hordes of women who say, “Screw sex. I’d rather have shoes.” Wedges are step one to dressing like a man-repeller: the girl who embraces fashion as art and says defiantly to the men in the audience, “This really isn’t about you.” This type of dressing is common practice for me. I wear black clothes and big, clunky boots and scary-looking wedge heels, because no matter how tantalizing I find them personally, there is nary a man to be found who understands them. And those who do truly understand or desire my man-snubbing clothing are far more likely to be worth my presence (and if they dare, my time).
Making the personal decision to stop wearing man-magnets on my feet (at least for the time being) scares me, though. For one, I’m afraid there might never be enough particularly beautiful wedges in the future to keep me out of stilettos. Which would be a shame, because my feet really thank me for the comfort boost. But what is perhaps more alarming is my fear that the prospect of stilettos (and all that comes with the territory) will make me (emotionally) uncomfortable enough that I’ll never risk wearing them again.
In addition, I can’t dress like a man-repeller all year round. Fall and winter are great for packing on the layers, but in summer? I want to wear as little as possible (being from northern Canada, my tolerance for warm weather is particularly low). So add that to the long list of reasons I love fall/winter fashion the best. Because I have yet to give up my curve-hugging, short summer dresses – and stilettos or not, they pack a punch all their own. And I still need to acquire a shield for that splash-back. Because when that sun hits, I’ll be damned if some man‘s going to ruin bare flesh and my still-ticking hourglass figure for me – regardless of what’s on my feet.
This song reminds me of something. Maybe myself, or some version of myself I’ve been trying to grasp hold of for years (a lot of songs make me feel that way). This version likes to sit on the curb in old Chuck Taylors with a dented bottled water and a cigarette, and listen to the gutter cascades. Just sit and listen to the heavy trickle of rainwater and distant traffic, and hope to make eye contact with a stranger. But it’s usually pretty quiet.
Sometimes I think I am invisible. Maybe this is why I wear such loud clothing. In my physical form, I’m not a talker. It comes out here, where fewer people hear it, where words are more poignant and necessary, and it’s harder to judge someone for anything else. My words are my swords and I yield them as such – I place them here where they are protected from erasure or dismissal, where I am on the offensive, more confident. Offline, I am seen more than heard, and only then when I garner attention in obvious ways.
These boots are wizardry. No pains, no aches, no blisters after hours and miles. And of course, people love the illusion. I wonder if wearing them also makes me, in my entirety, more of an illusion. Perhaps I’m going about this all wrong, and the clothing I wear is too strange, too repellent. I want to look fierce because it makes me less vulnerable to anything threatening, around or within me. But maybe it’s too much to amass more than a few odd glances from those whose attention I desire – the people who appreciate what I put forth without being afraid of what’s underneath.
On the other hand, maybe I’m not being strange enough. Perhaps the only way for people to truly appreciate me in my silent state is to see me as more than eccentric – to see me as pure illusion in boots with the entire wedge mirror-plated on all sides. To see me walking on air. That’d be something. Silence, strength, levitation – check.
I always imagine I’ll meet my best friends in unlikely or desperate situations – lost on a bus in the middle of the night, crying under a bridge, wandering aimlessly through parks and alleys and other familiar places I simply don’t recognize. For now I guess I’ll stick to the curb in my grungy – or bizarre – attire, and wait for a sign.
♥ Oversize drop-shoulder tunic – YesStyle
♥ Leggings, tank top (underneath), & belt – Forever 21
♥ Boat-shaped & star spiral rings – 80s Purple & vintage
♥ Mirrored lightning bolt earrings – Girl Props
♥ Jeffrey Campbell ‘X Ray’ mirror boots (hats off to Akiko Ogawa)
I am unhappy about my absence. It’s more than a physical absence, a state of not being, of not being here. It’s also a mental absence, an emotional one, the problem of wanting to write a blog post and finding my fingers have dried up, or rather they are separate from me, and cannot move – I am, melodramatically, an inkless quill. It’s not that I don’t have plenty of material to write about, or a desire to write, but that the task is overwhelming, maybe more so than it was for much of the past two years, when this blog was largely something that I am not, which is steady, and upbeat.
I sound unhappy when I write.
The point is, I’m here now. Attempts were made to publish at least one post over the holidays but they sneaked up on me – those days with their long, frosty tendrils spiraling me into Oregon. It was a short visit with Matt’s family, one filled with the sweetest coffees, a rogue foot massager, and an on-stage production of Beauty and the Beast. New Year’s Eve in Pittsburgh was uneventful. I don’t believe in New Year’s resolutions, but with my goal of reconnecting with friends via email, I suppose it’s not a bad time to start. (That sentence was a grammatical nightmare, but I’m too lazy to fix it.)
I’m not sure where I’m going with this. I suppose I just wanted to preface whatever comes next in the blog, in my life, in the world. That is perhaps too much to account for, so let’s just say this is an omen for whatever small trials and wonders may arise, whatever blue moons or mundane dooms. I may not be a truly reliable blogger but I can do that, at least. I can exist – and let you know, at least occasionally, that I do.
I’m generally an enthusiastic supporter of social media. So when I decided to deactivate my Facebook account indefinitely, I surprised even myself. I still have a Twitter account, a LinkedIn account, and a blog, for various purposes. My Facebook account was older than all of those things and older than the accounts of most of my friends – over five years of photos, messages, wall posts, groups, pages, and friends’ profiles gathered into one convenient location.
But two weeks ago, I backed up all my photos and account information; I sent out a mass message to the people I truly desired to keep in touch with, asking for their contact information and telling them how to reach me; and I gave everyone else my email address via status update, just in case. And, on Sunday night, after a lot of planning and hard work tracking down people who didn’t respond, I hit the ‘deactivate’ button.
My reasons for leaving were numerous. Those of you who have been around the network as long as I have will remember the good old days, when Facebook was merely a neat and tidy networking tool for United States college students. Back when everyone posted their class schedules (with ease, I might add) to make friends more easily, and prompt discussions of homework; back before non-college students were allowed to sign up (an improvement, maybe, but one that forever changed Facebook’s original function); back before ‘Applications’ of any kind existed on-site, and Walls were filled with posts written by real people and nothing else – posts far more useful than game updates and quiz results (things I successfully omitted from my own profile all these years). Oh yes, I miss those days.
But nostalgia was not the primary reason for my exit. Nor was the fact that I was rarely online. Nor was my personal opinion that “I noticed on Facebook…” is NOT a cool way to start a sentence or conversation (because I firmly believe that, and hate the fact that I’ve ever uttered it). Rather, my reason for leaving stemmed more from the fact that the Facebook dynamic had become tired and crippling – that it was hurting my friendships, rather than helping them. So many of my relationships had become stagnant, static connections reduced to images and text, and in some cases, silence. You could say that’s my fault, and frankly, it is. I should never have let that happen. But it’s so easy – even acceptable, or encouraged – to delegate your communication duties to an online profiling network, and allow your primary method of keeping in touch with friends and family be one that reduces us to a series of actions and events.
Facebook promotes voyeurism so enthusiastically (they are making it easier for us to spy on one another every day) that it seems almost counter-intuitive to do anything but watch one another. Fewer questions need asking; fewer updates need to be given outside the website. People are more likely to feel as though they already know what, and how, all their friends are doing – sometimes assuming they know. Which is where the trouble starts.
Being bombarded with updates seemed to invalidate my desire to truly communicate and ask my friends how they were doing. I felt silly doing it – as though they would invariably repeat the information I just saw splayed out before me on-screen. In many cases, they probably would – but the fact that it made the question seem irrelevant prevented me from asking 90% of the time, which stopped me from truly engaging. As a result, I felt less and less connected with people.
In addition, assuming that I knew what was going on with everyone often caused me copious amounts of stress; the drama was inescapable. In one case, one of my good friendships was slightly deteriorating outside of Facebook, and being bombarded with said friend’s numerous adventures (photos, conversations, etc.) with other people made me feel unnecessarily jealous, hurt, and angry on several occasions. On other (somewhat opposite) occasions, Facebook became a place to prove something; if someone I didn’t like was moving in on my territory (whether that be my friends, family, or romantic relationships), I sometimes felt unnecessarily threatened, and publicly engaging those friends (publishing and tagging more photos of us together, writing cute things on their walls, etc.) became a way for me to subconsciously “assert” my rank to the so-called intruder and feel temporarily placated, rather than simply happy for companionship.
Clearly, I have a lot of self-esteem issues, and I often suck at communicating in general – Facebook wasn’t entirely to blame for my problems, obviously – it just wasn’t helping.
Here’s a quote from the message I sent to friends:
“I believe there are much more sincere and authentic ways for me to connect and stay in touch with people. I miss the days of email (never thought I’d have to say that) – sending and receiving random, rambling messages which, although time-consuming and often directionless, were far more interesting and real than anything I’ve experienced here.”
I firmly believe that we are not what we do, nor what happens to us. We are beautiful people with depth and value, and I can’t support nor utilize anything that makes it more difficult for me to see these things in others, and for others to see them in me. We are far from soulless, and I don’t appreciate being rendered that way.
The alternative is, of course, in-person interactions when possible, and telephone, email, instant message, video chat, or snail mail the rest of the time. Personally, I don’t much like being on camera or talking on the phone; my preferred method of communication outside the face-to-face is usually email. But I realize not everyone prefers it (clearly). Some people claim to be terrible at responding, or slow, or whatever – that’s fine, I can live with a slow responder. But as harsh as it sounds, I figure that anyone who won’t make the effort to communicate with me by email (and failing that, physical address, or phone if need be) simply doesn’t value my friendship enough. In which case, it’s their loss, not mine.
So far, I’ve been having great fun reconnecting with friends old and new through email, and I’ve already received two snail mail offers (one from a long-time friend who, in what I can only assume is a quest to usurp every ounce of my free time, insists I fill an entire journal with my thoughts and send it to him, in exchange for one of his own – love it; the other from a very talented girl whom I haven’t seen nor spoken with in years – and felt privileged to have met and known all too briefly during a creative writing workshop – who wants to exchange letters with me pen-pal style). Both of these offers are met with gratitude and excitement, and I really hope more will roll in.
I don’t write this to convince anyone that Facebook is an inherently terrible place. It’s not. I write to explain why it just didn’t work for me – and to communicate (remember: communicate) how, for some of you, there’s a very real possibility that it’s not doing you any favors.
It’s a cold, cold world without friendship; I’ll be damned if I’m going to give that up without a fight.
It’s happened. I don’t know how it happened, really. Just listen:
Last summer my mom let me raid her closet for stuff she doesn’t wear anymore, and (knowing that maxi dresses were on trend, again, for autumn) I pulled out this gorgeous, dark, sleeveless, midnight blue-black number that (because I’m so short, and slightly more slender than this vintage “medium”) fit me with a column-esque, toe-length drape. Exactly what I’d want in a maxi dress, but honestly? I figured I’d never wear it. I hadn’t worn a maxi skirt since I was fourteen, and never a maxi dress. I’m a short skirt kind of girl – almost always have been. But then I wore it out one day to the Farmer’s Market with a chunky pair of boots and a black hoodie, and since then I’ve been absolutely obsessed.
I can’t even explain this feeling. It’s all I want to wear. I immediately shopped the web for the perfect long, straight, black maxi skirt to cover the rest of my wardrobe (you’ll see this soon), and I’m so fucking thrilled with this discovery that I’m pretty sure I could go without wearing anything else. I won’t torture you like that, but I’m serious. Where has the maxi skirt/dress been all my life??? It’s edgy, it’s feminine, it’s powerful, it’s simple. It dresses up or down like magic. Like witchcraft. In this getup, I am fearless.
And I guess I kind of need that sometimes. It’s a welcome change from worrying whether your skirt’s riding up too far or your gut’s protruding from your tight tank dress. There’s a lot to be said for sartorial confidence – and although I’m mostly confident in all of my bizarre clothes, it’s what’s underneath the fabric that toys with my eggshell-thin ego. Enter maxi dress – problem solved.
Speaking of feeling less than perfect – I’ve felt horrendous the past few days (luckily for both of us, none of this shows in these photos, which are a couple weeks old, truthfully). My usually clear skin has developed an atrocious and stubborn pimple; I seem to have bitten my cheek/gums in my sleep (near my wisdom tooth), and the entire left side of my mouth is painfully swollen (I can barely open it, though this is slowly subsiding); and to top it all off, my acid reflux (a.k.a. the worst kind of heartburn known to man) has returned and is prevailing due to, I’m assuming, stress, regardless of how many Zantac I swallow. So much for having fun this weekend (I didn’t).
I had lots of fun in this outfit, though. You’ll never believe where I wore it. Geocaching. I know, I’m just that awesome. Matt and I ventured just down the street to Baum Grove (you’ll remember this little park from this post) to treasure hunt for a strategically-placed Altoids tin full of tiny secrets. Not the best thing to do in these massive stompers, maybe, but wildly entertaining. Unfortunately, it was getting dark rather quickly and we had to leave before we could find it, but we’ve vowed to return. We should probably do that before the ground is frozen – I have a feeling it might be buried :)
You might not remember these spike earrings, but they first showed up here.
Anyway. I felt so 90s wearing this outfit - so good. The sort of goth-inspired darkness, the velvet maxi dress, the platform boots. I love how ridiculously simple it is without the jacket – which adds that extra edge.
I promised I’d take better photos of this jacket, first and last seen in my Spider Lady Halloween costume (along with the boots). I got it from YesStyle, and I’ll let you in on a little secret – I got it from the men’s section. This is my holy grail for affordable, edgy clothing (more so than the women’s section – which, while still rife with goodness, seems to lack the simple edginess of much of the men’s clothing). Unfortunately, if you wear larger sizes, you might be out of luck – they tend to design their clothes for really skinny guys, which makes the chest sizes more wearable for the small-ish female (just make sure you check the measurements).
The only thing I might not like about the jacket is that it’s not warm. Room enough for layering a sweater or hoodie, though, which I’ve yet to try. That’s another thing I love about the long skirt/dress – add a pair of leggings or tights and I’m warm enough to tackle anything – which is good, because Pittsburgh has officially transitioned into winter. Or what it calls winter. Temperatures as low as the 20s (F) so far, which – thanks to my western Canada upbringing – is nothing I can’t handle. Bring it on.
By the way, just to address my title/silly evocation of pop culture – does anyone else get angry about how witchcraft is portrayed in movies and on television? I’m okay with poking gentle fun (like so many prime time animated series do relatively well – at times I admittedly giggle). And fair enough if you’re portraying a witch akin to the kind of make-believe ‘witch’ kids dress up as for Halloween; the kind who wiggles her nose and makes things appear, or rides a broomstick. Because she’s little more than a character. It’s only the inaccurate portrayal of Wicca that bothers me (and I’m not Wiccan, either). I recently re-watched The Craft, and though it started off interesting and made an attempt at being informative, I thought it was terrible on multiple levels (honestly, I thought it just cheapened the image of witches and perpetuated ignorant stereotypes). C’est la vie. I hope I’m not doing that with this outfit post – ha ha! Well, just in case.
Maybe now’s a good time to share this video I’ve had for a while, which I actually quite like, despite the fact that it (like me) doesn’t really resemble any sort of actual witchcraft:
Speaking of which, I just purchased my first piece of Wildfox clothing yesterday, specifically to wear with my new maxi skirt. On the whole I think Wildfox is quite overpriced for what it is, but thanks to an irresistible sale recently I’ve finally jumped on the bandwagon.
By the way, Matt thinks this looks like a ‘mom dress’. Thoughts? Technically it is, but I don’t care. It’s badass.
♥ Velvet maxi dress – Vintage, my mom’s closet
♥ Deepstyle asymmetric zip jacket – YesStyle
♥ Wooden cross necklace – Anatego
♥ Metal spike earrings – ASOS
♥ Mood ring – Hemp Fest
♥ Long sleeve top – Forever 21
♥ Tights (not shown) – Alloy
♥ Steve Madden A-Yoko boots
Wow, that’s quite a weekend I took. Ha! I now realize it’s hard adjusting to a new schedule when, previously, you didn’t have one at all. Okay, so, here’s what I’m thinking in terms of (regular) future posts:
Outfits
You weren’t worried I’d stop, were you? There, there. I still want to photograph my silly threads for your viewing pleasure. But I’m tired of them sounding like product reviews (and linking to retailers, for that matter – I’ll still list them, but I don’t want to link them and feed my readers’ consumerism any more than I need to). I want the photos to speak for the clothes, and my words to speak for me – let’s talk a little more about life, about thoughts, shall we? Clothing, thoughts, and emotions are directly tied in my world. Clothes alone mean little.
Tarot
I love it, and there are times in my life I use it less than others, but I always come back to it. So it needs to have a place here, otherwise I really wouldn’t be authentic. I want to post readings sometimes, and basics (some readers expressed an interest in learning how to read), and just generally gush when I need to. I really want to play around with tying tarot and fashion together (not to mention tying it more directly to other areas of my life, such as writing). I think some interesting combinations can come out of this, and emphasize that tarot can fun as well as serious. After ten years it really still boggles my mind and makes me laugh in the process.
Opinion
Sometimes I need to get on my high horse and rant. Other times, stuff just needs to be said. And sometimes I simply have wisdom or information I feel is worth sharing. You can disagree with me if you want, but I have to let this stuff out somewhere or it kind of destroys me and mucks up my personal life. These posts can be personal, fashion-related, whatever – anything I feel strongly about, or have a stance on, controversial or not. When I have relevant advice, I’ll give it. I’ll try to be as objective as I can.
Visuals
I can’t be original all the time. I know this is rule #1 in the world of blogging but fuck that. Some of the most utilized fashion blogs out there are nothing but image archives. It depends on your goal. And sometimes I really want to post recycled content. Sometimes I even want to post it long after it’s made its rounds, because maybe it suits my mood much better weeks, months, or years after the fact. That’s okay. I need to fill my blog with pretty, inspiring pictures sometimes – whether it’s fashion editorials, art, or just general photography. I only ever post images I really love, and only when they suit me – and I’m always glad for it later when I go back to look at them again – they serve as a reference point for my style, mental state, life path, whatever. It rocks.
Links
Of course, link love has to happen sometimes. I’m not good about doing it every week like some (hell, I’m not good about doing much of this stuff every week), but I still like to mention things I love (things that don’t necessarily warrant individual posts here) once I’ve amassed enough of a collection that I find some rhyme or reason to it, or it just gets to be too much. Like images, my links aren’t always fresh. But I think they’re good, and I like to keep them here for reference (both for you and for me), regardless of their date of conception. I can’t even count how many times I’ve searched my own website to find something I linked to months ago. It’s rather convenient.
Personal
I like telling stories. I’ve also been following a couple blogs recently that make use of listography – and I think these personal lists can be a really fun way to get to know someone better. I also wouldn’t mind having readers post their own lists in the comments, since I love to get to know you all as well. I’ve just started doing this recently on my own, and I’ve noticed that making personal lists really makes me rethink my memories and see my past in a whole new way (which, as a creative nonfiction writer and someone obsessed with the past, I find very useful and enlightening). Stories I wouldn’t normally tell on their own make their way into lists, and each list forms its own story, which reveals personality. And I like that, a lot. Hopefully you will too.
Writing/Literature
This one’s important to me, but I’m not sure exactly how to go about it yet. I want to post more of my personal creative writing – mostly in-progress works, little scraps and ramblings, that kind of thing. I used to really let my lyricism into my blog posts (way back in the day), and it made things a whole lot more fun (and at times, a whole lot more vague). I’ll probably mostly stick to that for now, since I’m a little nervous about copyright theft, especially in terms of posting actual full works or large excerpts. My creative writing is very precious to me, even more so than blog posts and photos I’ve taken – I feel stifled when I don’t ever write lyrically in public spaces, so I’d like to give it a shot. I’d also like to occasionally feature short works from some of my favorite writers, like I used to. There’s so much extraordinary stuff out there, and I think it’s important to expose people to good writing.
So there you have it.
Sometimes this stuff will overlap. In fact, I HOPE it overlaps regularly. But I’m gonna try not to worry about it too much. And of course, there will be other things thrown in there – the occasional post about music, style direction, personal stuff, et cetera.
Also, keep in mind that when I say ‘regular’, I mean, ‘when I can’ – which really varies. Clearly. I think I’m gonna take it slow for now, since I’m still feeling out my work/life situation, so please bear with me. Regardless, I’m eager to start. It may not earn me cash money, but it’s going to be fun.
Sorry for posting so late in the week, friends – it’s been a really busy one. Spent the past two days cooking for (American) Thanksgiving, and the beginning of the week sorting out student loan stuff and getting acquainted with Blippy, where I’ll be contributing my services as a Community Manager with a fashion focus – fun! I’ve spent today stuffing my gut with leftovers, watching silly anime, and checking out Black Friday sales. I also need to do a tarot reading for a client tonight – hence the brief blog post.
I only got a few (very thoughtful!) comments on my last post, but they were overwhelmingly supportive of my blog moving into a more personal direction, so I’ll take that as a sign that I’d do well to continue pursuing other topics and outlets besides fashion (though I’ll still cover fashion). Thanks for the support, you guys. You made it sound like I’m already more interesting online than I thought I was.
I have a tentative blogging plan, which I’d like to mull over a bit more and reveal next week. Until then.
