So today I decided to wear a pair of mom jeans I got from Goodwill. I blame this fully thought out decision on my affinity for West Coast stylists’ Instagram feeds. I was instantly brought back to a time when I didn’t even have an understanding of the world, but these jeans sure as hell did. This time was 1990, and damn did my ass look great in 1990. I soon noticed the faded outline of a cigarette box on my back right pocket, a faded memory of what once was. I headed up to the coffee shop to write my ten page essay, but right before leaving the house, I swiped on some NARS dark matte berry lipstick so everyone knew I was wearing mom jeans, but only sarcastically. I’d left the house hoping that everyone who came in contact with me and my $8 mom jeans assumed that I was that cool kid in high school who would smoke Marlboros underneath the bleachers with a Jordan Catalano look-alike. The whole ordeal would naturally be sound tracked by Nirvana.

I get to the coffee shop ,order my iced Chai with soy, strategically pick my seat against the wall, and start typing away. About an hour into this ordeal, in a completely empty and somewhat chilly hipster coffee shop, a 40-something year old businessman sits down next to me. Right next to me. Businessmen, with their J Crew button ups and Banana Republic slacks aren’t really my type. Also, twenty-year age gaps aren’t okay with me unless your name happens to be Jared Leto or Brad Pitt.  I like to imagine that the mom jeans provoked this generically dressed businessman to take a seat next to me. Perhaps the mom jeans reminded him of his mom when he was a kid in the 70s. Maybe his mom would turn on Maury before retiring to the back patio to pull out some Camels for a smoke break. Perhaps she looked like a hazy Southern summer in Ohio in her high-rise Levis and peach spaghetti strap tank top. She would ponder jumping in the hot tub to sunbathe, accompanied by her Anne Rice novel. Maybe it was this lethal combination of desire and nostalgia that drew his Black Friday Special slacks to sit themselves down next to my hazy southern Levis. Perhaps the sight of my jeans caused him to crave his mother’s racial slurs with a side of Kraft mac n cheese for lunch. I don’t know, but he looks like the kind of middle-class Griswold salesman who is on his coffee break and thinking about his Midwestern childhood. I’m afraid to confirm this thought with him because I know the follow up question will, naturally, be “How was the Tori Amos concert?”

My mom kind of just looked at me quizzically when I told her all of this. I thought it was one of my life’s great hallmarks. 

Now I don’t think I look bad in my mom jeans, but I don’t look like the girls on Tumblr either. I’m beginning to wonder if the girls on Tumblr are even real. Unclear.

What I think I look like in my jeans:

What I actually probably look like:

Attn: Women of the World

Whore:

/hôr/

    noun derogatory  

 A person who will sleep with another person for money.

A prostitute

A whore is not someone in a crop top and shredded denim cutoffs. They do not deserve to be cut down to size because you assign their personality based upon their outfit choice. A slut is not someone with drawn eyebrows, fake lashes and Kardashian-worthy contouring in Lululemon leggings and an Urban Outfitters babydoll tee. You know what is ugly? Calling women whores or sluts or skanks behind their backs, or worse—to their faces. Who are you to say what they can and cannot wear or look like? 

It’s sad that I even need to write this article because of the many instances this has occurred. There was a time in my life when I would do this. I would be the one saying how sleazy a girl was because she would wear Herve Ledger bandage dresses and Louboutin knock-offs. Then I realized, Who am I to say that? If they feel good wearing it, then more power to them. And could it be, some of these girls were great people and super kind towards me? They were...cool. I realized that I couldn’t be bothered by someone else’s choices. Sure some of them are catty, but who cares? Forget about them and move on. No need to spread your negative experiences with those who don't even want to listen to your complaints. These aren’t causing globally destructive and morally corrupt chaos. They aren’t making the world any more terrible than it already is by NOT dressing like a 17^th Century spinster ...even if they were an asshole to you that one time at that one party last year. 

Women should be able to walk around in cut off Levi’s with their ass hanging out and not be judged or objectified for it—just like men can walk around with their shirts off and not be judged or objectified for their decision. We are so fortunate to live in a society where it is okay to dress like sexual beings or not. We could even dress up as a dinosaur-unicorn hybrid everyday and no one would throw us in jail for dressing like a dinosaur-unicorn. Just because someone dresses differently than you it does not make him or her wrong or a bad person (or a dinosaur-unicorn hybrid).  Everyone has their opinion on what it is to dress ‘sexy’. For example, our ~incredibly prolific entertainment journalists~ have noted that this outfit that Taylor Swift wore was ‘sexy’. I’m not even going to explain, just click the link. 

Instead, let’s stop with the derogatory name-calling. Let’s stop with the all-too-quick judgments. Stop taking women down and degrading them. Enough.  Let’s be supportive of other women so they DON’T feel insecure within their bodies and feel the need to dress a certain way. Turtlenecks and all. Be nice to your fellow female comrades and it will come back. Promise. xPromise. x

I set my chin a little higher

We live in a world that gets off on perpetuating hate. Oftentimes, the media instigates this, but it is ultimately the people who keep it in motion. 

People will talk behind other’s backs and slander their friends. They will take mindless gossip and spread it like wildfire, not thinking twice about the ground they burn. 

I’ve recently noticed how this hate and negativity feels. When I’m in a content mood and suddenly think and ugly thought, I can feel the tightening of muscles throughout my body. I can feel my face become tense and I begin to hate how this negativity can take control. One thought. One word. One action. That’s all it takes to keep the cycle going. 

We don’t know what another person has been through, so a lighthearted joke can instantly set the tone for an entire day, week, month, hell throw in the year. Yes, we can all block it out, set our chin a little higher, and continue on, but that does not mean that it doesn’t affect us. We carry it with us and some choose to break off a little piece and hand it to another person, while others will grin and bear it while it dissolves in their hands. The decision is yours and it will define who you are. 

My favorite so-called “lighthearted” comment always regards my college major choice—English Literature. I’ve become wary of telling people willingly what my major is because the follow up comment is “Have fun being a barista,” or “So you want to teach?” I have an interest in neither. Writing is my crutch and I do it well when I am paying attention. Life happens after college and wherever it takes me is where I will be. I have plans, but they aren’t solid. No good plan is. The secret is to admit nothing to other people when it comes to you. And who are you to tell me what my future does and does not behold? Also, these people do not know about the anxiety and depressive disorders that reside in my being and how they are triggered by these “lighthearted” comments. I’m not here to talk about that though. Just that one comment will set a fire in motion, not a creative fire, a destructive one. There’s this quote from Fight Club that says, “Now, self destruction is the answer.” What if this is only the answer when we are the ones destroying ourselves? 

Be kind to everyone you speak to and don’t tear other people down because you don’t know how much of them was left before you began. Many people can put on a good face while their mind is in shambles. So much hate and negativity dwells in this world and I promise you that you will have a positive effect on those you share your kindness with. It’s the only way to get through the bad days and it is the only way to amplify the good ones. x

Tiggers

Writers love to bounce. We enjoy hopping throughout different lifestyles to find which ones are worth keeping around and which ones are worth moving on from. Example, I was into the innate reasoning behind fetishism as according Freud a few weeks ago. That one didn’t stick for very long, but did influence one of my classroom discussion board posts. Sorry to all of those that read my post that week. Also example, Last winter I decided to pursue that tiny voice in my head that was always wanting to try acting. That one stuck. I took some acting classes at my University and noticed something peculiar…I looked forward to school and I was…happy. 

Here’s the thing about writers: We always have this inner narrative monologue running. Kind of like a teleprompter, but it’s all improvised. We are trying to make sense of the world and constantly trying to put it in words. Acting took that away. I didn't realize how loud my own background noise was until I had to force it to shut up. I’ve been writing since I was 9, so this ambiguous and annoying voice has always been there, just like, reflecting on random thoughts. Do I sound like an absolute nutcase yet? Probably. Anyway, acting took this away and forced me to be present. I could no longer sit back and evaluate everything and search for that one misplaced tile’s metaphor about the meaning of life. I had to be there and I had to do something and say someone else’s words. Thank God. And yet, with all this being said, I need writing. I need to read and I need to evaluate everything. When I am not writing an annoying piece like this one, I’ll write some lyrics and set them to some badly executed power chords on my mid-priced Fender guitar. I need to write like I need to breathe. It’s like this relationship that is rocky, but you can’t give it up yet. Some days I abhor the thought of writing something down and some days I will document everything that happens—a phone call, they way someone said my name, how I felt about the way they said my name, if it was raining. The last one is usually a no because I live in the desert, but you get where I’m going. 

What really frustrated me going into college was this idea that you had to pick one thing to love and then the next four years would be all about that one thing. “You can’t do it all” then I’d say, “Wanna bet?” Conclusion: Yes, you can in fact do whatever the hell you want to do. You may not be the Andy Warhol of everything you decide to do, but you can do it and you can try. I’ve always thought that I can only choose one thing and I would always have to decide between acting, writing, photography, and music. I don’t. I can do them all. If some sort of career-thingie comes from doing one then great, I’ll keep at it. If not, then great, now I’ll really keep at it! Don’t put yourself in a box, especially if even a tiny morsel of your being enjoys writing. Writers like to do it all. So, keep doing you cause who’s going to stop you? Just be sure whatever you do is morally just, for the sake of humanity.

A Few of My Favorite Things (Part 1)

Jewelry (Bracelet, My mom's; Necklace, swap meet in Dallas)

Miss Dior Cherie; Creed Spring Flowers; Tocca Florence; J'adore Dior, Klean Spa oils in Beach House (my fav) and Tare Blossom; Coco Mademoiselle Chanel

Rings (top to bottom) Jake the Snake ring by JN Jewels, Gold band with diamonds My moms,  Solid gold band My moms,  twisted gold my moms; Nail Varnishes-Chanel in Vamp, OPI in Mimosas for the Mr and Mrs

Origins Charcoal mask, Sisley Black Rose Cream Mask, PCA Apres Peel moisturizer, Whole Foods rose water, Kiehl's avocado eye cream, Eve Lom Cleansing balm oil

Rainy Weekend Drives

Arizona had a pretty torrential monsoon this weekend. I decided to enjoy this break in 100 degree weather when it was safe enough out to drive. Blurry plants=expert photography skills.

Weekly Collage Creation