Monday, April 29, 2013

Maybe I'm just Crazy

Dress is handed down from my cousin, shoes are Joe.

Dress is by Numph, but it's from Winners, shoes are Street Society. This is the outfit I wore to a dance about two weeks ago. It was better than I expected.

I like the back.

Necklace is GRG, shirt is handed down from my cousin, skirt is Forever 21 and shoes are thrifted.

And I wore this DIY crown with the outfit.

Top was a gift from my mom, the skirt came from this store in Canmore and it was on sale, I dunno what brand it is, shoes are docs.

Sorry for the lack of posts lately. I've been feeling rather uninspired and tired lately, but I have been journaling, so that helps a little bit. I met this amazing artist this weekend, she was so nice and cool and looked at some of my art. She inspired me quite a bit and made me feel 100% better about school and friends and stuff like that. She has her art in galleries, and she just told me that I should keep doing what my passion is, which is art, and says my art could be in galleries one day. She was so kind and really made me want to keep doing my art. I think I'm going to take fine arts once I get to University, and I might take a writing course or something. Anyways, only two years and a month and a half to go until I can take courses I actually want to. yaaaay!
ALSO: Something very strange is happening. I am gaining followers but no comments! Strange, I would think the more people the more comments. Sorry, I'm complaining. But seriously.
Best Coast-Crazy For You

The Stories People Tell: Part 2

I was recently in a shopping mall, on the second level looking down on the first. I saw a disgruntled woman come out of a teenage clothing outlet, three small children hanging onto her pants and pulling the bottom of her jacket. She looked tired, and worn out.  I think she’s in her mid-twenties, but it’s hard to tell. The boys looked about seven and six, the girl about four. The mother has long black hair, and was wearing light flared jeans with skate shoes. Her three young children jumped around her, probably begging for an ice cream or fries. As she began walking down the mall towards the exit, she pulled out her phone and started to text someone, ignoring her hyperactive children.  She swiftly and expertly moved her thumbs up and down on her phone and I noticed she has no wedding ring.  Now, this could mean many things.  She could have a partner, and they have decided not to get married, or she’s a single mother.  I chose single mother.  

I imagine this woman, let’s call her Tracy, ushering her children onto the escalator. They exit the mall, Tracy with her trusty cell in hand. She calmly stashes away her phone in her faux leather purse as they cross the bustling parking lot.  Her children run ahead and she calls frantically for them to wait.  Tracy’s car is a beige sedan, with rust around the hubcaps and a cookie-cutter tree shaped air freshener hanging from the mirror. As she buckles each of her children in, they squirm and complain about being hungry and start whining for pizza. She sighs, and walks around to the front of the car and slumps into her seat, exhausted.

As the car pulls into the busting traffic, a shrill screech comes from the backseat. Tracy looks in the back seat to see her oldest boy pinching her youngest. As she rounds a sharp corner onto a suburban looking street, the car purposely screeches to a halt.  She looks fiercely into the rear-view mirror, lips puckered, giving all three of her children an icy glare.

“I have had it with you three!” she defiantly yells as she yanks her car into park.

Her children stare back at her with large, unremorseful eyes. To his mother’s dismay, her oldest lets out a small chuckle. Tracy glares at her son, squeaks out half a response and begins to weep.  She takes large, shaky breaths and shudders, trying to control herself.  To them, this is normal, it happens all the time.

Married at twenty, Tracy had to drop out of University after five months when she became pregnant with her first child, the second to come a year later.  At age twenty four, she already had three children to care for. Her husband Toby had left left Tracy four months earlier with an expensive rent, debt and three young children.

She feels awful having to ask her mother for money every few weeks, even though she is on welfare, which is barely enough for her to deal with the costs of everyday life. Tracy has to pay for her rent, try to buy nutritious food and cloth her children. She has been diagnosed with severe depression, but can’t afford to buy medication. She can’t remember the last time she had fun or bought anything nice for herself.

Tracy sits silent in the front seat the rest of the way home, with an occasional unintentional and involuntary sob. Once home, her children run up the stairs to their small, arid apartment and stand waiting impatiently at the dismal grey door.

“Hurry up, mommy, I have to pee!”  Her middle daughter anxiously complains, putting an emphasis on up and pee. Tracy sighs.

“Yes, yes I know, I’m doing the best I can.”

Once into the meagre apartment, Tracy begins to undress her children and hang up their thin, ragged winter coats.  They all race into the living room, giggling happily and begin to play. She picks up her mail, which she had ignored that morning as she rushed out the door.  All she sees are bills, and a reminder from her landlord that her rent is three and a half weeks late. She has been putting off paying so that she can save up to get her car repaired, but apparently that will have to wait for another few weeks or so.

After throwing the mail unenthusiastically on the counter, she notices a white, official-looking envelope. The worn out mother dreads what will be inside. It is most likely another bill. Her heart begins to race as she notices the return address and she shakily rips the top open, carefully easing out the heavy paper. It is from Brown’s Business College and her eyes scan down the page searching for the answer. 

She smiles and a single tear slides down her cheek.  She has cried enough today. She sighs and dials her mother’s phone number. Someone will have to take care of her children at night, after all.

Thursday, April 18, 2013

The Stories People Tell: Part 1

For awhile now, I’ve started to enjoy watching people and wondering about their lives. I’ve always been a fairly nosy person, so it comes naturally. The first thing I notice is their face, their expression, and their emotions.  I enjoy scrutinizing their clothing, wondering where they bought their gemstone earrings or their shoes. I look at their hand to see whether or not they’re married. I find myself wondering about their families soon after, whether or not they have children, where they grew up, what their job is. In order to answer my questions, I make up stories about the people I notice.  Sometimes these people have very sad lives, and other times they’re quite successful. It all depends on how I perceive the person.

Some people say that it’s disturbing that I enjoy people watching, and study passer-bys so intensely. But I feel like it occupies me, and fills my mind with creative thoughts.  I love to speculate, my mind wandering. Soon enough, I find myself engulfed in my own stories. But it’s something I enjoy doing and sometimes the most ordinary people can inspire me.

So yeah that's the intro, do you guys want to read more? Tell meee! I know it's not that great, but still.

ALSO: I got my hair dyed! It's like red and copper and I luuurrrrve it so much!

ok that's all I'll maybe do a proper outfit post this weekend. 

Sunday, April 7, 2013

Why do I smile at people who I'd much rather kick in the eye

So I've been doing a bit in my moleskine recently, most of them are collages, but still. You guys like collages, right? 

And I also tried embroidery in art class (keep in mind it is my first attempt):

And I bought some new books and records (I'm super sorry they're all flipped):

Alice Munro books from a used bookstore-they were $2 each eeee!

The Smiths, David Bowie, Best Coast, Patti Smith yay they were all really cheap :)
I just finished writing a short story for my ELA class, would you guys be interested in reading it? It's 7 or so pages long, so I'll post it in segments. Please tell me whether or not you would be interested, I'm planning on maybe pursuing a writing career, so give me your feedback. THANKS!