What Color You Like??

I rarely get my nails done. I like having manicured nails and toes, but I practically never pay for them to be done and this is why:

1. I seriously think I have the most easily chippable nails in the world. I swear I can sit down with my wrists shackled down to the chair and I would still manage to nick a nail, causing a obvious space of missing polish. So I figure if I am capable of cutting and filing my own nails, not to mention have a pretty steady hand when it comes to painting them, why not just do them myself. It saves me money, and I don't feel like it's as much of a waste if I chip them instaneously.

2. I am ridiculously ticklish. Everywhere. And this includes having someone rub lotion up and down my arms and especially my feet and legs. For the safety of everyone involved, it's just better if I avoid these sort of situations. I assume the manicurist would not enjoy taking a foot to her face, as I twitch uncontrollably in laughter.

3. Lastly, I think I just lack that girl gene that makes getting "pampered" something I love to do. I mean I love to do my hair and make up and my own nails, but I get really uncomfortable when other people do them for me. It's probably my awkwardness getting nervous about having to make conversation about life, etc. I am very independent, and I hate relying on other people to get things done. Every now and then it is nice to have your eyebrows done, or cuticles cut back, but I am pretty decent at maintaing them in between the occasional visits. I mean I have yet to have any real complaints on my overall appearance. (With the exception of my horribly tacky taste sometimes...an inevitable characteristic of a creative mind.)

But despite all of these very logical reasons, I was seduced by the idea of catching up with friends I hadn't seen in a while, and found myself at a local nail salon with two of my good friends.

As all three of us arrive and congregate for our quick hellos, they whisk my two friends off to get their treatments started right away. I figured this would be good, because I was only intending to have my toes done. (I have to do a lot of work tomorrow involving opening boxes and moving things around, and I just know my nails will be destroyed in the process.) So I sit in the waiting area alone, where I proceed to be talked into playing "pet shop" by the little daughter of one of the manicurists. She was just so cute and I'm a sucker for little kids. After about fifteen minutes on being scolded by the adorable three year old, I just wasn't playing the game correctly, it's finally my turn to get started.

They tell me to sit in the massage spa chair in the corner, isolated from my friends, which immediately put an end to us catching up with each other. One women proceeds to to set up a manicure station as my feet are soaking. I try to stop her by saying "Oh I just want my toes done." Her grand rebuttal was "but we do it all at the same time." I was still hesitant, but it only took her about a minute more of pestering before I caved. So there I sit in this giant chair, with one woman working on my nails and the other on my toes. Both are criticizing the obvious lack of care I have for having my "digits" done professionally on a regular basis. (And people wonder why this isn't an enjoyable experience for me.) Then they insist on turning the massage chair on, which just made me break out into hysterics over the whole situation. I'm sitting there in this big black chair being jumbled around, gyrating, and pushed back and forth, while the two women mumble to each other. Grumpily, it takes them a couple minutes longer because I want the same color on my nails and toes, and of course there is only one bottle. After twenty minutes of being criticized and thrown around in the chair, I am finally done, and they don't waste any time in getting me up and out and on my way.

Low and behold, as we're getting pushed out the door, I scramble for my sunglasses and smudge a nail. Awesome. Money well spent. I think for now, I'll stick to my own mani/pedi's. I rarely talk trash on the state of my own nails, or question my lack of a boyfriend.

I think Anjelah Johnson says it best in her stand up routine. It's funny because it's true. Oh so true.

For G.G, With Love

It miraculously seems like I pulled it off. Somehow I managed to think up seven designs, sew them together, and get every single one of them down a runway. I'm still not sure how any of this happened, but I know that there were A LOT of people who made it possible. This whole past month has only proved to me that I quite possibly have the best family and friends in the world, and I'm sorry to get a little mushy, but I think it's necessary to thank them...right now...on this blog.

Most importantly, this line was for my grandmother G.G, without whom I wouldn't have ever learned to sew or swear at that god damn machine quite so eloquently. I wish she could have been here to see it, I think despite the many flaws and mistakes, she still would have been proud. I'll always be thinking of her when I'm attempting to sew something together, made with love....and then blood, sweat and tears. Of course.

This past month has been an insane blur, I'm still confused on how it all came together. But I know I owe the people who put up with me on a daily basis BIIIIG time. My parents are obviously amazing, always believing in me, for who knows what reason. My Dad taking me to the garment district, and just calmly watching as I had a "light orange pink, but not too pink, but not too orange" fabric meltdown. Then walking with me to store after store searching for the perfect blue khaki, only to finally decide the fabric I had passed up a thousand times, was actually exactly what I was looking for. Oh those crazy designers! My Mom for ripping the seams in all the mistakes I made, and cutting my patterns out of fabric. She even let my "sewing studio" explode all over her dinning room table for a week...and not once did she ever complain about the mess.


My sister Ally, and Nath for spending an entire 28 hours straight with me, the day before it was all due, cutting threads, ripping seams, and keeping me company. All though they were wary about it, they even let me have my coffee equipped with caffeine shots twice in one day. (Decaf is for babies!) But more than likely that was for their own benefit, I saw all the smiling and laughing as I mumbled things incoherently in my cracked out state. Those 28 hours were sleepless and rough, and I'm grateful that they stuck by my side as there definitely was a moment where I ended up crouched in a ball, in tears. I was going to throw it all away and give up, and they told me I had to power through. In that dark moment, somewhere amongst all my panic, Ally was able to MacGyver me an invisible zipper foot, basically saving the day (or reaaaally early morning). I was ready to just call all the outfits "backless." Zipperless and unfinished...new up and coming fashion trend! Watch out!

But most of all I think I have to thank Kimi. This would have never happened without her. Between her button sewing, zipper creating, hook and eye attaching, and knack for laying down the rules, I would not have had a single item to bring in that Monday morning. She sat up the entire night with me. From 6pm until 7am the next morning when I put all my garments on hangers and walked out the door. She even co piloted a 3am Walgreen's run, for duct tape and crazy glue. And at 5 am, when all I wanted to do was stalk people on facebook, she made it blatantly clear how irresponsible that was, and ordered me to keep sewing. So I did. Sew. Sew. Sew. Throughout this entire process she has been there to answer my stupid color and cut questions, and to okay every design decision I made. (So if you hated it all, blame KIMI!) Juuust kidding. If you didn't like it, you can suck it. So thanks once again to my buddy. Love, your pal.

Thanks also to Nicole who brought over her machine for me to borrow, even if i did maybe break it (which if it needs to be fixed, you better let me pay for it!) All of my models who looked absolutely beautiful, but especially Chelsea and Melissa, who let me practically molest them in alterations, and helped cut threads when I was adjusting everything. Plus they made me laugh. I needed it for the small amount of sanity I kept. Sammie, obvs, for just being her, and for enthusiastically loving all my clothes, even when they were still in muslin. Oh yeah, and for attempting to dress me. But really just humoring me in wearing the ridiculous outfit I picked out. Thanks to everyone who came out and supported the show, my brothers for being my professional photographers (even if you seemed a little too interested in the nipple pictures you got). And lastly to all of you who wished me good luck! It meant a lot to me that you even remembered it was happening. But then again I have been blogging, facebooking, and tweeting about it for a month now, so maybe there was no way you could forget.

I am so relieved that it's all over. I can't believe all of that work just disappeared in a quick four hours, but it was well worth it. Unfortunately for you all I did not trip down the runway, but apparently this was the face I decided to go with. I just couldn't figure out what I was supposed to do, wave? I'm not a princess or a celebrity. Clap? It seemed a little too "go me!". So obviously halfway sticking my tongue out was the appropriate middle ground. Sometimes I really am such a goon. But a goon with some amazing people in her life, so thanks again to EVERYONE! (especially my loyal readers, you guys are pretty freaking cool. i promise less sewing stress means more fun bloggin!)

Why Everyone Hates Me.

Almost every friendship I have ever had has begun with the other person saying, "I thought you hated me when I first met you." Let me tell you why:

First off sarcasm and a dry sense of humor do not really make for a great first impression. In fact they mix together to create a horrible one, usually resulting in everyone thinking I am a huge bitch. Which, although I can have my moments, I can assure you that most of the time I am pretty genuinely nice. Second, I am very shy, therefore making me seem uncomfortable and awkward when meeting new people. Again, to someone I have never met before, this translates to me being snobby, and uninterested. In reality I am probably extremely intrigued by you and therefore intimidated beyond belief. My mind is most likely racing to try and come up with something impressive to say, usually this is overturned by my nerves and ends in an epic fail.

These two characteristics present the basis of my problem, but what really seals the deal together is the lack of control I have over my facial expressions. That's right, this beautiful face of mine gets me into A LOT of trouble, and never the good kind. I guess nothing about the way my normal expression looks says "Hey! Be my friend!" It is really difficult for me to walk around smiling all the time and not looking creepy. It does not come natural to me at all. I just can't look like this every day:

I mean that is smile deserving of a special occasion, and I can't justify wasting it on something as mundane as walking to and from class. So I have to settle and accept that I'll never be that person that just exudes happiness, in fact on a regular day, I probably look something more like this:


Why no one wants to befriend that, I'll never know.

While those lovely faces prevent me from making friends, the worst of all are the facial expressions that ruin my friendships. Apparently my expressions are an open book, and whatever I am thinking in my head is easily read through that look on my face. So the entire time someone is blabbing about something absolutely absurd and ridiculous, as I am thinking what an idiot they are, my face is shouting that same sentiment right at them. I'm also sure the eye rolling I can never control, doesn't really help either. I suppose acting will never be a possible career choice for me. Oh well, cross that off the list.


My ingenious solution is to spend some time training to perfect this problem. I plan to sit in front of a mirror, while someone shouts possible scenarios at me, and I struggle to keep my face straight and blank. Then obviously I'll spend at least an hour a day doing smiling exercises. Other than that, I can't really think of a way to come off as friendlier. Maybe I'll try telling silent jokes to myself and laughing as much as possible. Would it be better to come off as a mentally crazy person, or an uber bitch? Tough decision...

random ramblings

i'm not mean. at least i never mean to be.
i'm not rude.
nor am i snobby.
i'm just sarcastic.
and dry.
i wish i could be outgoing
and friendly, and have everyone love me.
i wish i could carry on a conversation with anyone
about anything.
i wish everyone liked me,
and weren't so quick to judge my actions.
i hate that i have to be so sensible,
which people misconstrue to mean dull and no fun.
i wish i could be spontaneous,
or even girly and giddy,
i wish everyone didn't always assume i was a bitch
or that i didn't like them.
because odds are, i probably thought you hated me.
i wish i could be as comfortable around everyone
as i am with my closest friends.
i hate that i let people intimidate me.
people who are so undeserving.
i wish i could be the best.
i want to do it all with the best intentions,
and for all the right reasons.
i'm smart, and i want people to see it.
i'm happy, and i want to be able to show it.
i wish everyone could understand the anxiety i sometimes feel
in social situations.
i embrace my awkwardness.
and i wish everyone else could too.