Hello
internet! It’s me! I know we haven’t spoken in a while but I’m back to regale
you with stories of my life. Not that it’s particularly interesting right now
or that I have loads of extra time or anything. I just felt it was time to make a
bit of a comeback. I’m three weeks into my last semester of fourth year. Four
more months of my degree before I’m cut loose and expected to be an adult.
There has yet to be any nervous breakdowns (stay tuned), outrageous drama (give
it time), or uncontrollable bouts of emotional eating (…). Welcome to fourth
year! Where C’s get degrees and where blood, sweat, and tears define my entire
final collection. So it’s really no wonder that sometimes, I just want my brain
to shut off, even just for a moment. For my brain to stop twisting around how
to sew a particular seam, how in the world I’m going to draft my
second garment, or how I’ll scrape together enough time to somehow hand bead
five garments. If only my brain would stop obsessing over whatever book I’m
currently reading, or being preoccupied with the current class drama,
or wondering when that friend will ever end up texting me back. To be able to
stop stressing about my looming graduation, my uncertain future as an adult,
and the doom and gloom of finding a job. If only I could just flip a switch and
all that clutter would just disappear, maybe then I could actually focus and
get more work done. Turn into some kind of driven, work-crazed zombie that
blasts through work instead of getting distracted by which Harry Potter
character you would date in real life. Ah yes, life would be a breeze if such
a magical switch existed. All those embarrassing memories that haunt you at
random waking moments could simply dissipate allowing you to have a few moments
of peace. But alas, I’m stuck with a mind full nonsense, useless and useful
information, and muddles of emotions. No wonder I have such an overactive
imagination.
I
have a confession to make. I love weddings. And I mean I LOVE them. I love everything about them, the decorations, the
flowers, the cake, the mementos, the personal touches, and most of all, the
dress. There isn't much in this world that makes my little heart sing quite like
a wedding…Other people’s weddings that is. Fate must have a cruel sense of
humor if a cynic like me should be so infatuated with the marvelous world of
bridal. I actually have zero interest in my own wedding. In fact, the only
reason I’m on Pinterest is for other people’s weddings. I would bet that at
least all of my prospect clients have bridal boards filled to the brim with
every childhood fantasy, every high fashion dream, and every personalized touch
that makes her “different for the rest”. And for me, it’s like a glitter
explosion. The crazed raccoon inside of me that goes mental at the sight of
anything even remotely shiny jumps for joy at sight of so much sparkle on said
bridal boards. And it doesn't just stop at bridal, oh no, how could it when
there is a vast wealth of sparkle elsewhere such as in the land of dancewear, evening
couture, and pageants? Sure, theatre is fun and all, and menswear has such a
clean and sleek look, and technical outerwear is a… thing, but none of them
allow you the same liberty of vomiting glitter on every inch something quite
like the magical world of sparkle. Call me crazy, (most people do) but the
thought of bedazzling anything from head to toe gets my hand-sewing/glue-gunning
hand just a twitching. And maybe it’s a little sad that I don’t dream about my own
fairytale wedding, but let’s be honest, twenty is practically a swaddling babe
and I’m not exactly beating the boys away with a stick. But I like to be a part of
the fairytale. Helping to make a special day memorable for someone actually has
the ability to outsparkle all the glitter I plastered onto said piece that I made.
That’s why I do what I do. That’s why I put up with the crazy hours and the
stressful projects because it’s what I love to do and I get to get to make
people happy every day. And, of course, the allure of glitter sparkling from every
possible angle on every possible surface helps too. And to continue with the glitter theme, here is a song from one of my favorite British artists, Daley, that I was fortunate enough to see live! Hope you enjoy and have a "sparkly" rest of the week!
It’s
been an emotional day. And while every day is emotional for me, this one was a
kicker. And I know I’ve been avoiding this blog out of fear but I can’t ignore
it anymore because I want to be real and truthful and not hide behind sarcastic
humor. Being hurt and vulnerable is what makes you human; it makes you realize
that you’re alive and real. So while many of you may be expecting a humorous story
about my silly life I need to do
this. I need to admit that I’m scared. I need to admit that I’m human because
we all have the same fears of not being good enough or getting hurt. We may
look different or deal with it differently but we experience it just the same. So,
I would like to be crazy and honest and share with you my work and some of my
fears. Here it goes….
Creative
Well – A project that forced you to dig deep and to explore your creativity so
that it will never run out. (Also makes you cry and leaves you an emotional
wreck… But it helps you grow!)
Back (Truth Side)
Front (Concealed Side)
It
all started with the phrase “Follow your feet”. My mind will spin stories and
over analyze everything until I’m lost and hopeless. And I absolutely, 100% cannot
trust my heart because it’s so fickle. I can only trust my feet because they
always lead me in the right direction. They follow by instinct no matter which
way my body is pointed. When I voiced out loud the fact that you can’t trust
your heart, my friend became sad. I said it so carelessly and nonchalantly
because to me it was the truth. My heart has been bruised and battered multiple
times and it was easier to build up the wall and numb the pain. Trusting your
heart is reckless and unpredictable and gives you nothing but trouble and
heartache. I’ve tried to fit in and keep my emotions in check for years but
every time I spoke up and was ridiculed, I ended up closing my heart away just
a little more. For years I told myself that that’s just the way it is; that
every time you open up your heart to someone you loved they were supposed to
hurt you. I realized from a young age that nobody cares about your problems and
no one wants to listen to them. So when I have a problem I recede behind my
wall and push everyone away, quietly dealing with my pain. But this is no way
to live your life. Getting hurt is a part of changing and growing as a person.
It’s unrealistic to think that I can protect myself forever and never put
myself out there. For this reason I was scared of creative well but excited at
the same time. I put my heart and soul into every piece of art I create. It’s
all filled with symbolism that only I seem to understand. The piece I created
is a mirror; the two sides are the exact same. On one side is the symbolism and
the concealed emotions, on the other is the raw and blatant truth. You see the Concealed side first because it
acts like a shield because I’m confident that very few can see the secrets that
I hid within my drawings. The Truth side is sheltered and intimate. It’s just
you and the raw emotion.
This
semester has been filled with ups and downs and has been emotionally difficult
from the beginning. But after everything that’s happened and Creative Well I
feel like I’m back to a good place in my life. I’m still absolutely petrified
that I actually made this thing but I know that I’m going to be okay because I
trust myself and all the wonderful people around me. Thank you for giving me
the courage to put myself out there and to be a better person.
Words that I wanted to say...
That
is correct; fear has been holding me back from speaking my mind. And based on
my outrageous outfits, my flamboyant hair, and my rather obnoxious
cheerfulness, you might assume that I’m quite the confident little
whippersnapper. Well, I hate to break it to you, but you’d be wrong. And if
you’ve already read this far expecting a hilarious story about my ridiculous
life, you should probably stop reading now because you are sadly mistaken. Because
what I’ve built up has started to crack and crumble and I seems like I have to
start from square one. It’s weird that I’m the type of person who worries what
people think about me. In fact, I’m freaking out about this while I type this and
I don’t even know if I’ll post this. I’m scared that no one will find what I write interesting or as funny as I do or think that I’m a pretentious
hypocrite. I’m scared of putting what I really think into words and I’m
petrified of offending someone through my cynical and incredibly morbid sense
of humor. I want to write, but I don’t know what to write anymore. I try to
tell people if I have a problem but I’m awkward so instead I just internalize
everything.
If you stuck this out
to the bitter end, THANK YOU. Thank you for listening and trying to understand.
This isn’t me trying to be angsty, this is me trying to connect with people
again. I want to keep growing and changing as a person and that means letting
go of everything holding me back and opening my heart up to new opportunities. I
can’t wait to continue the journey. And lastly, I leave you with my new favorite band The 1975 and their awesome song "Chocolate". Give it a listen because they're brilliant and don't forget to stay awesome!
On the night the world was supposed to end, back
in the affectionately dubbed hometown of horrors, I had been persuaded to go to
the bar. It apparently didn’t matter that I was so sick that I could barely breathe or
that I had to work at eight the next morning. Nope, I had to go out and be sociable.
Now, because I apparently had no choice in the matter, I decided to make the
best of the situation and dress up, Blair-style to the max. So I ignored all
the suitable and sensible pieces that one would typically wear to a bar in my
closet and chose a pretty rockn’ outfit if I do say so myself. That is, until I
got to the bar. All the other girls in my group were wearing cute fancy tops in
neutral colors with dark jeans and carefully curled hair. Which meant that I stuck
out like a sore thumb, and not just because of my edgy haircut with my do-what-it-wants
curl, oh no, I had thought it would be a brilliant idea to wear my new white
sheer button down top with its tiny black skull motif and my red and green
plaid bow tie. Yes, you read that correctly, a
red and green plaid bow tie. To a bar,
in South East Saskatchewan. And don’t
go jumping to conclusions about my sheer shirt either, I wasn’t about to
scandalize anyone so I was appropriately covered up with a red camisole underneath.
Oh, and did I mention that my lipstick that night was obnoxious red? Of course
it was. Plenty of girls commented on how nice my shirt was but none of them had
a clue what to make of my bow tie. It was like no-man’s land, no one wanted to
venture there. Which is hilarious because all the guys could not get over the
fact that I was wearing said bow tie and I received numerous compliments on it. I
figure it was because they were envious of the fact that I have a bow tie and
they don’t. So with my poisonous coloured lipstick, my rather cheeky shirt and classy bow tie, and my never-fail ridiculous hair, I’m sure you can all imagine just
how many boys hit on me that night. I won’t even dignify that with an answer. But in all honestly, it didn’t matter. It didn’t even matter that some people felt awkward
talking to me or just plain didn’t know what to make of me. What mattered was
that I stayed true to myself regardless of the fact that I looked notoriously
splashy and out of place. In the end, that made all the difference and made for
a successful and fun-filled night.
So today, a lovely Thursday
morning, I went to the pool to sit in the hot tub before my massage. First
thing I notice, man, I’m the only young, white person here. Next thing I
notice, good grief, my bikini shows a lot of skin… So while I sit in the hot
tub, thoroughly ashamed of my lack of coverage, watching the parade of wrinkles
shuffle by and feeling completely out of place, I spot the lifeguard. First
thought, Whoa he’s young… close followed second thought, wait a second, HE’S
GOOD-LOOKING TOO! And then comes the realization that my hair is an absolute
mess and I have zero makeup on my face. Crap. So I try to avoid looking at him
as much as possible all the while being shamed into wanting a one-piece
swimsuit so I don’t give some poor old man a heart attack due to my “lack of
propriety”. But because I’m the only person there under the age of ninety, I
stick out like a neon sign and it was only a matter of minutes before Lifeguard
boy figured out “that one of these is not like the others”. And he couldn’t
allow me to (literally) melt away into a puddle of embarrassment, oh no, he had
to walk by and say “sweet hair.” Thankfully, I was coherent enough to smile
back and reply in a reasonable fashion that most likely hid how dumbfounded I was
that he was talking to me. Then the time sunk into my stupefied and chlorine
addled brain and it was time to get out. I tried to wobble out as gracefully as
possible, trying not to pass out from the chlorine fumes, the sight of sagging
skin, and the heat of the water. After I gathered all my things, I swing around
and HELLO, Lifeguard boy is right there and is talking to me. Clearly I didn’t
escape his notice because he commented on how long I’d been there (which was
like 15mins tops), to which I replied that I needed it for my massage and he
just smiled some more and mentioned that they have a sauna I can use for next
time. Right, next time. I somehow
managed to stay upright and sputter out some response that I hoped sounded enchanting
and then staggered back to the change room in one piece, smiling like a fool
all the way. Now I could chalk up my distraction and my general loopiness afterwards
to the hot tub, or I could quit lying to myself and admit that the good-looking
lifeguard was rather charming and that yes, I would like to talk to him again. Even if the only reason he approached
me was because I was a fresh faced looks-like-a-twenty-something in a sea of
appropriately covered up elderly…
It’s
gotten so bad that I will do other homework to avoid certain homework. *cough* illustrator… And it’s not like I have a shortage
of homework, trust me when I say IT NEVER ENDS. There is always something that
I could be working on, something that could be improved, a new project to
start. So why on earth do I waste my time refreshing my Facebook page when in
fact I really don’t care? Or why do I allow myself to get sucked into surfing
YouTube, following a trail of videos that is infinite? Looking at my calendar
physically pains me. It looks like a battlefield with the due dates glistening
in red and notes scattered bleakly in the perfect little numbered squares
mocking me with my lack of life. I painstakingly plan out my weekends and write
down everything that needs to be completed but the moment I sit down in front of my
computer all my good intentions fly out the window. It doesn’t matter that I
have a huge project due the next day because I just found a video of Bigbang
speaking English. Who cares if I fail, the new episode of the Mentalist just
came out. And before you know it, it’s Sunday night and I’m in a panic trying
to finish everything for the upcoming week. It’s such a pointless and vicious
cycle that causes me nothing but grief and lack of sleep. And the funny thing
is, I can function perfectly well without knowing what everyone is doing in the
world. In fact, I frequently take hiatuses from Facebook and my accursed
cellphone, yet I never seem take them when I should. There’s just something so
alluring about avoiding homework until the last conceivable minute. Maybe it’s
because I fool myself into thinking I work better under pressure. But come
on now, let’s be serious here, when I have a billion projects due in one week
and I’m only functioning on 2 hours of sleep the whole shebang is a tight-lipped
monstrosity. What I mean is that in light of the past homework leaden weeks, I think
I’ve sorta learnt my lesson when it
comes to proper time management. I can only hope it will stick…
