Why wouldn’t you buy that?


Like a moth, I am primarily drawn to things that look like this.

Yesterday, at the urging (Kind of a strong term—it took about two seconds of conversation.) of my fabulous friend and her roommate, I purchased a full-length dress in the exact material featured above. I would attempt to post a picture of the whole thing, but I am admittedly terrible with cameras and no one is around to help me. But I think you get the aesthetic.

There were only a few years when I fell into the depressing ritual of purchasing and wearing jeans and boring shirts or things from The Gap. It hurts to even attempt to remember those days.

Since then, I have slowly developed a “fuck all” approach to shopping and dressing myself. By the end of high school, I had finely whittled my philosophy down to the inspirational, rhetorical, incredulous question, “Why wouldn’t you buy that?” Continue reading

Not liking Beyoncé


Why Don't You Love Me (Beyoncé Knowles song)

Why Don’t You Love Me (Beyoncé Knowles song) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Before you start screaming and slandering my name, let me just say: I, personally, love BeyoncéThe “Countdown” video is cinematic genius, and I frequently walk (read: stomp) around playing “Diva” on a loop in my head. I take no issue with the lady at all.

Ok. Now that’s over. So who is this satanic fiend who doesn’t like The Queen Bey? My mother.

I always assumed she’d be a shoo-in to the Beyoncé fandom, population: everyone. My mother’s opinions on everything pretty much correspond to those of an avid Beyoncé fan or Beyoncé herself. She’s a huge feminist, likes to dress fierce, voted for Barack Obama, knows how to have a good time and drink a couple, and didn’t change her maiden name (Ok, Beyoncé did that a little—but so did Jay-Z so it’s even). I’m sure the list goes on, but trust me—my mother and Beyoncé are two liberal, awesome, autonomous people.

So what’s not to like, according to my mother (Whose opinion I almost universally accept, excepting when she thinks she’s a doctor and can diagnose me. She has an MBA. It’s not helpful. Sometimes I need to see an MD.)? I honestly don’t think she had developed much of an opinion about Beyoncé until she graced the cover of Vogue a few months ago. Naturally, my household receives two copies of Vogue every month because my sister and I need individual copies. It’s also very convenient to have one in the bathroom and one in the living room or wherever. Just a tip.

When I picked up my copy, my sister quickly came up to me and whispered: “Oh don’t show that to mom. She already saw the other one and she really doesn’t like Beyoncé.” Let’s all react together: WHAAAAAAAAT? My thoughts exactly. Continue reading

Cutting your own hair


When I was in kindergarten, my teacher reprimanded me very seriously when I tried to cut off a piece of my hair. I realize now that she had several reasons for being so concerned:

  1. The other kids might follow suit.
  2. There would be a ton of hair to clean up.
  3. Parents would freak out if their children chopped off all their hair. They had paid good money for those mushroom cuts!

I know for a fact that my parents wouldn’t have cared, but I won’t hold it against my teacher/sufferer of daily torture by children. Still, it has stuck in my mind as one of the lamest reprimands ever.

Why can’t I cut my own hair? There is absolutely no reason I should have to let someone else do it. And even when I do go to a salon, where the stylists have actually been trained to cut hair, I can never really convey what I want. They always try to convince me that I want something else, or that I’m going to cry if they do what I say. Why would I cry after getting bangs, when I came in specifically with a picture of bangs? It doesn’t make sense.

What does make sense is having total control of what happens to my hair and being able to hack off dead ends whenever I see fit. It also makes sense not to spend money. That always makes sense. Continue reading

Getting rid of crap


With all those hoarding shows on TV and stories from one of my friends about her hoarder grandmother, I’ve begun to worry that people aren’t reaping the necessary benefits of just throwing things away. I don’t necessarily mean in the garbage. I mean just parting with things. Period.

Recently, I’ve slowly started to post clothes that clearly don’t fit on eBay and I’ve sold a few things here and there. My cousin informed me that Amazon is a good place to sell cords and other random electronic parts. I even found a website to buy back a dinosaur of an iBook (Yes that existed once.)!

I could say that I’m in a raging period (Commence the degenerate male laughter…) of throwing everything and anything away because of this “Six Feet Under” scene

But I’m not as cool as that. I will say that it did reassure me that my recent (albeit half-assed) efforts are solid in intention.There’s something really good about getting rid of crap. So last night, I went a little wild trying to bring to fruition those intentions.

I went insane on my room. It’s not the clutter that makes me want to curl up and take up less space, but the weight of all of it. The weight of silk cocktail dresses. The weight of outdated textbooks. The weight of lone power adapters. The weight of my high school diploma (I have to keep that one.). I could never be a hoarder. If I have one too many things, I start to suffocate. If I get rid of this shit, I’ll be lighter. Or incendiary.  Continue reading