Wednesday, September 25, 2013


Lana and me.
I think there is always a benefit to constantly making small, positive changes in your life. In fact, smaller changes always tend to make the greater, more magnificent difference in the long run. And I definitely realize how cliché that sounds because Self magazine has probably published like 143 articles about it, but it is entirely too true. Think about it: usually when I try to give up sugar for a week, just as a cleansing technique, I announce my plan only to immediately thereafter head to Starbucks and get a Pumpkin Spice Latte (but its got skim milk in it!) and its adjoining pastry treat (which was made factory-style, then packaged tightly and driven halfway across the country… just for me!). So the moral of that story is, grand statements to make intense changes are bad ideas.

Nevertheless, smaller attempts to make myself better are always a fantastic idea. Here are some things I think I need to work on:

Less Us Weekly, more NPR. It sounds so sad and infinitely embarrassing to say, but I really need to stop making this trashy celebrity-news site a daily Internet stop for me. My computer has down as one of my most visited sites, which is simply dreadful. I haven’t a clue why I want to read about Laura Dern’s divorce or if Helen Mirren or Dame Judi Dench wore an outfit better than the other--the information is not imperative to my life. But in spite of that, I read. Us Weekly magazine is like the Frappuccino of reading: Its just sugary, stupid junk that I’m normally too embarrassed to buy in public, but would enjoy in the privacy of some place secluded such as the back of the library or in the isolation of my room. A good way to cut down on my Us Weekly is by remembering every time I’m about to type in “Us Weekly” to my search bar (who am I kidding, my computer always fills it in for me) that I should instead type in NPR and try to culture myself in an intellectual way. I can even look at the arts, music, and culture on NPR's site; because nothing will fill the void of me wanting to see “Miley Cyrus’ wildest moments yet!” like listening to an interview with some uber generic indie/folk band called The Crunchy Leaves.

Stop fretting over dieting and body issues.  Okay, okay I realize that this is a little more than a “small change”, but the entire idea behind this is that, yes, there’s always ways that one can eat better. For me it’s not about over-all changing my diet, because the other day I read something about “Why white rice is so bad for us” and was appalled. So that’s definitely not going to happen. I just need to probably not have more than 1 cappuccino a day. But in all seriousness, why do I even agonize over my body? Seriously?? I’m not overweight, I exercise daily, and I’m healthy. So really I should just stop fussing about the fact that yes, I wear like a size 8 or 10 pant at American Eagle. (YES I STILL BUY JEANS AT AMERICAN EAGLE AND I DON’T CARE). But that’s just because somehow my extreme white-girl-ness was gifted the intra African/Latin-American booty of J. Lo and Beyoncé.  What can I say? I’m blessed.

I need to get excited about homework. I know that the latter sentence could be a heavy contender for being one of the worst sentences of all time, but I’ll explain: I’m just now starting to get hot and heavy with the classes in my major. Yeah, it’s a wild life. But anyway, from years and years of hating homework with a majestically intense passion, I obviously have found it rather difficult to force myself to sit down and actually just do homework. These days, however, my homework includes reading about theatre history, or planning my PR for my Arts Administration lab. So, actually, I’m enjoying what I’m learning. It’s really just the process of getting myself to physically sit down, stop watching Bo Burnham’s vines, and just get my shit done. Plus I live with three people studying sciences (pre-med, bio, chem, neuroscience) so I should really just be thankful that I don’t have to do organic chemistry. Oh lawd, am I thankful.

I need to have a nicer-looking resting face. This is going to take some practice. You know how there are some people who really have terrifying resting faces? Like, their face just says, “I have a black heart.” Yeah, I feel like that’s what mine says, at least in passing. Also I’ve been told by people, both new acquaintances as well as dearly close friends, that my facial expressions and first impressions can come off a little intense. I mean, I’m intense, but not like in an overly bitchy way. More so like… an overwhelmingly weird way. My best friend in the world was terrified of me at first but has come to realize that actually I was the humble oddball that needed a friend, and she’s the frighteningly beautiful human that accepted the challenge of befriending me (shout out to Alanah).  So basically, I’m just going to try to be more approachable. Does this task include pretending I care about school sports and wearing less intense eye makeup? I hope not.

And lastly...

I need to come up with better blog topics.



Tuesday, September 17, 2013

I'm a fashion-diva, always have been.

I was aimlessly scrolling on the dreaded time-waster, Pinterest, the other day when I came upon this quote:
“Playing dress-up starts at age five and never truly ends.” 
–Kate Spade

First of all, quotes like that are way overused and as bad as other gems like “live, laugh, love” and anything “said” by Marilyn Monroe.

But after I read it, I began to think of my eventful evolution of style. Frankly, I’ve been a rather strange dresser for most of my life. In fact, compared to ensembles I threw together in my grade school years, I’d say now I tend to look far more put together and sane than I did at any other point in my life. No matter how many times my supportive friends say, “Wow. Only you could pull off something like that,” Or “That’s totally something you would wear, Like, I couldn’t (wouldn’t) but you totally can.”

I guess I’ve kind of always looked at clothes as the way to make life simply more enjoyable. For starters there were many times, in my childhood, that I would come down before a family outing dressed in a green and white tutu dress and berry colored stockings. Other times, I didn’t understand why my mother wouldn’t let me play outside in her old gunnysack prom dresses. They were so rustic and prairie-esque… it seemed to me like the ideal clothing for hardcore playtime!

If you look in my closet these days, you will find eclectic, but charming pieces, as well as some lovely LBD’s that would make any staff member at Lucky magazine gleam with delight. That is so long as they didn’t look at the labels.

HEY! H&M is cool! Even if it is for poor people! So is forever 21, but don’t buy the jewelry because half of the piece will be missing by the time you arrive home. Target is okay, but I’m like a size 20 there, which is a hyperbole, but an exceptionally necessary one. And I’ve done the vintage/ thrift-shopping thing before but my luck is never quite as great as Macklemore promised it would be.

And that being said, some of the vintage style items in my closet are truly preposterous, but also certain to be worn by me in the near future: an old Chinese-style blouse (this is not the proper name for this item of clothing, I am 94% sure); a vintage, sparkly go-go dress that my uncle, yes my uncle, used to wear whenever he damn well pleased; and last but not least: Jeanie pants. Yes, good ol’ Jasmine-style Jeanie pants. No, not the faux pass ones that you can get at H&M that somehow still make your hips look slim. Real, baggy, Jeanie pants from a genuine hippie-clothing store—complete with its obligatory moody, feminist storeowner.

I do really prefer not to label my style, though. I know, I know, typical hipster cop-out. But seriously, I can’t. I’ve always pulled inspiration from all sorts of sources ranging from the likes of Lizzy McGuire, Cruella Deville, and Phoebe Buffay from Friends all the way to Jemima Kirke, the little girl in Moonrise Kingdom, and Carrie Bradshaw (like whenever she went somewhere and wore a fur coat, but it wasn’t necessarily fit for the event— i.e. baseball games and on the subway at 2 am).

So anyway, I will conclude in saying that yes maybe dress-up never really “ended” for me. Instead I may have evolved into someone who dresses just the way I want to, which has been called eccentric, “not my taste”, and costume-y—all positives in my opinion! But I guess all that really matters is that I do abide by my personal dressing and styling preferences and don’t care at all how silly other people may think it looks…

… Because they’re the ones wearing boat shoes.


Monday, September 9, 2013

Not psychotic or dramatic, I like boys and that is that

Thanks to Lady Gaga for that title inspiration. 

Hey guys,

Sometimes I have an interaction with a man (boy) and it turns out to be so annoying and disappointing that the next thing that flashes through my head is Kathryn Grayson intensely singing “I Hate Men”, while her nineties-era super model eyes so viciously melt the Technicolor camera they’re glaring into.
Here is a reference tool. Photo from here.
But here’s thing…I really don’t hate men. I love men. I’m incredibly attracted to them and have been known to stare blatantly at one that I found particularly attractive.

But here's a cliché for you: I find men (boys) so incredibly confusing. To this day, I still have absolutely no clue what guys find cute, pretty, socially acceptable leg hair length, or if they really, REALLY want us to not wear make-up.

First of all lets just make one thing clear: I really—in the big, beautiful, worldly, abstract painted picture of it all—don’t give two fucks about what they really like. Or at least their opinion doesn’t affect how I dress/ look in my day-to-day life (today I’m wearing gigantic daisy earrings and to much eye make-up). Sometimes it affects the way I act because, lets be real, I have a very hard time being totally awesome around guys. I can’t just turn on instant Jessa Johansson cool and woo any guy I want even though I’m wearing a kimono and somewhat frightening oxblood lipstick.

   Sometimes I wish I could just be at the point with all men (boys) where I continually say weird things/ reference questionable aspects of pop culture, and they just say something cute/mean but never truly judge me for it because I’m just a humble freak who desires to share my oddness with everyone.

I have now deviated from nearly two promising subjects for this blog, and for good reasons of course. But I think we need to focus on paragraph three: what does a weird, but not quite psychotic, girl need to do to find a man who can keep up and also lend a humbling hand.

Here’s my problem: I’m very open about my weirdness. I like that I’m into things that maybe other people don’t like or seek to understand. And when I say that I’m not trying to be a stuck up snob cool person bitch.  I’m just being honest. But the kinds of guys I’m normally trying to impress are “interesting”, lanky, hip guys that need to probably date girls whose legs aren't twice the size of theirs. That’s where my other problem comes in. What cool, hip guy with tree branch legs (I’m into that) wants to get with a bootylicious, pseudo hipster who’s ass belongs in a rap video but soul belongs in the oh-so-interesting days of understated Psychedelic Furs shows, Morrissey haircuts, and girls dressing like Patti Smith. See what I mean?? It’s very confusing for their already-misunderstood souls.

Meanwhile I’ve recently had a plethora of experiences in which I’m harassed by various types of men who are either grossly too old to be hitting on me, or their just straight-up jackasses. They may call it flirting or being playful. However, my version of flirting is not being whistled at in the hallways of my own residence hall. It is also not getting followed out of a Dunkin’ Donuts only to be told by some man that he thinks my body is “incredible” (need I mention that he is being accompanied by his young daughters in this instance). And lastly, it REALLY is not when a car full of nasty guys pull up next to me, while I’m out running, and begin yelling various, incredibly inappropriate things until I have to literally jump into some bushes to run away from them. Because they’re being gross.

I mean really, it’s not that big of a problem, my confusion with guys. Not only do I know tons and tons of girls who also struggle with similar questions and problems, but I know guys also find girls confusing and hard to “figure out”.

So I guess even with all this ranting, I should just accept that maybe one day I’ll meet the person that enjoys my magnitude of weirdness. Until then I have plenty of friends who I pleasantly drive crazy with my crazy.
I mean lets be real: at this point, nothing in my future sounds better than being like Donna, from Parks &Rec, and having a few guys “on rotation”, but still being able to just go home, chill on my boudoir-style couch, and drink a glass of wine.

But I still like the company of men. Like really.


Monday, September 2, 2013

Back For Good.

Please forgive my absence  

    So at first glance you might find some changes have been made to my LLLL page. First of all, there’s a new, more sophisticated look that is slightly less bubbly and bright and more subdued and grey—just like my personality! The second big change is that there is actually a new post here! WOW!

   The truth is, this past year I’ve had some really great things happen in my life: I finished my freshman year of college; I had my first paying job that wasn’t mowing lawns or taking care of peoples cats, dogs, or dragons; I went to New York City with two very good friends for a spontaneous adventure; and I finally read the Mindy Kaling book. All wonderful things; all perfectly functional as good writing material.  However, the one thing I couldn’t get myself to do was write. Just write.

   All I know is that I would have amazing ideas for a split second, but like sands of the hourglass, these ideas would slip out of my brain one speck at a time until there was nothing left.

   But today I was enlightened while sitting in my theater history class and reading an article by Austin Kleon, who was justifying “stealing like an artist”. Essentially, Kleon was talking about how important it is to realize that it’s ok to pull your inspiration from everywhere in the world and to constantly allow yourself to get inspired by people, books, music, magazines, or even something just observed in passing. After reading, we discussed. I brought up a point in the article that emphasized how important it is to have side projects or just hobbies that allow you to be creative and expressive, even if there is no true meaning to it—as long as it feeds the need to create! 

   I realized at that point that I’d started thinking too hard about my blog writing. I had started over-analyzing my topics that I chose, or how my audience would respond. I had forgotten that the whole reason I ever started this blog was that two years ago, when I was trying to anonymously write about my boy troubles, I ended up enjoying having a voice on the fun-filled internet. I then immediately deleted the boy post (#embarassing) and just started writing about things that made me happy and inspired me to share my opinions with the world. But the point is not to create something for the public, because if we spent time doing that we would never create something that made us—the artist—truly happy.

   That all being said, I have decided that once a week, I will write for myself. What I write for myself I will then transfer to this blog so that people can see my writing. Some readers may hate it. Some readers (my grandma) may love it. Some readers are lonely Serbian men who have gone so deep into the Internet, out of boredom, that they found my little speck of a blog and decided to see who the blonde girl was. But I don’t care, because all I want to do is make and share. The opinions of anyone, other than myself, have no true affect on me.

   My goal is to have a new post out by either Monday or Tuesday of each week, so if you dare to continue following, come back to LLLL on those days.

   And with that I’m going to do something kind of tacky, but nonetheless warranted. 

   Here is one of my favorite quotes, by a man who’s lack of caring what people thought, and openness to being inspired by ANYTHING, led to him being one hell of an artist and one who is equally a legend, a celebrated art figure, and a controversial public figure:

“ You have to be willing to get happy about nothing.”
Andy Warhol

   See you next week.