Inspiration is Everywhere, if you get off your computer long enough to buy it for a dollar

In response to my post a few days ago, which I was told was a tad negative, I'm posting a new inspiration which has found its way into my life via yard sale on Logan Boulevard. An extra long piece of purple toile. Taken here with a semi-serious face so as to not completely break with convention.

It was sort of great really because it cost just one dollar, and though I had no cash, I managed to find four quarters in the bottom of my purse. The girl who sold it to me said it was less than it cost, but that she was ready to get rid of her fabric, not to mention a bunch of other stuff, clothes, vhs tapes and a black and white polka dot tie that I would have bought if I had the money. I'm gonna try out the tie look I think...if I can pull it off.

Anyhow, I completely related to this girl and I think she felt that too. I said I was trying to get rid of some things myself, though I probably wouldn't have the patience to have a yard sale (Show me the closest goodwill, thank you.) I think, as a girl, clothing is such a personal, proactive thing. I obsess over the balance of color, texture and proportion that I wrap myself in, on a daily basis. Now, I'm not aspiring to be a designer or anything, but I would like to acknowledge the role that clothing has played in my development and sense of growth. My favorite/my shopped at stores reflect my personal metamorphosis (from first [and involuntary] to most recent [and based on budget]): The Kinder Shop (Calais, ME), JCPenney, Deb (poorly made, and I mean, sleeves falling off in the middle of class, clothing), Pacific Sunwear (cause I'm kind of close to the Pacific...?), American Eagle, The Gap, Thrift stores and Goodwill (first year of college), clothing swaps, Urban Outfitters (Cambridge, MA, circa 2006), roommates closet, American Apparel (the minimalist approach), H&M (my first attempt at professionalism).

What I still crave though is my own style-unlike anyone else's-I can't help feeling like I'm wearing something created for me, and not just me, but many people-a whole generation of girls who are college/post-college age. It's times like these I wish I knew how to sew. Again, really lack the patience. Safety pins have always been my friend when it came to altering anything, But who knows, maybe my current budget, coupled with the change of seasons and a little creativity I can turn that toile into my first homemade skirt/scarf/giant hair tie/curtain/headdress.....

ooh la la...

I just discovered this new designer team, Doshi Levien. They make incredibly beautiful furniture inspired by Indian culture. The bottoms of the couches remind me of elementary school desks. Anyway, the picture above is from the collection "My Beautiful Backside." See more of their work here. (picture from www.stylepark.com)

One week to go...

Well, just one week to go until we move to the 'burbs. These two months have flown by. It's also been a huge learning experience about a world which I'm not so sure I have much faith in. Firstly, it really is true that most people will not speak to you unless spoken to. In general, humans are overly cautious about other humans. They think: "The one time you let your guard down, you'll be sorry!" For as far as we've come technologically, we still cannot relate to each other for reasons other than money, mating, or necessity. Secondly, in realizing the stark nature of segregation in Chicago, I've concluded that the entire world is vastly segregated. After all, America (apart from Europe, which has its own issues) is the single attempt at creating an integrated society. If, in (the northern part of) America, we live separate and in fact, scared of each other, what does this say for the rest of the world? I believe it clearly indicates that there are white countries, black countries and everything in between. If you choose to enter a territory which is not your own you must be 1. looking for material or other type of gain, 2. a peace corp volunteer, 3. checking into a gated resort or Westernized part of town or 4. lost. Oddly enough, I felt the effects of #4 riding through the south side of Chicago this past weekend. Thirdly, the job market sucks. Seriously, there has to be a better way. Somewhere between the old-fashioned way of doing things and Craigslist.org, employment has been completely bastardized. For example, simply wading in the pool of online job searches, one is bombarded with requests to donate an egg, work from home doing nothing and making thousands, or canvassing on the street (which I consider one of the worst jobs in the developed world) asking people if "you've got 30 seconds to help a starving child." You answer, as you briskly walk by, "Sorry." Sorry, I don't have even 15 seconds for a starving child. ugh.

There are people sitting at home (besides me), highly capable of doing virtually any assignment, contributing insight and compassion to the world's problems, unable to do anything because there is no venue for such work. Yet dependent upon the system of work because all of their necessities require them to participate in the monetary system. The saddest part of the whole thing, of moving to yet another city, is that there are no escapes from the system the U.S. has set up. Other countries, seeing our growth and power have followed suit and now, wherever we go, we are either hated because of our President (to simplify matters) or envied because of the false assumption that we possess an inherit wealth due to our nationality. See it's not just Chicago, it's the developed world as a whole and specifically the capitalist system that I have no faith in. I love the city because of it's art, culture, and events, and simultaneously hate it for buying into the same commercialism, greed and elitism that the entire country suffers from. Yet speaking from the rural point of view, of which I was born of, I can say that living outside of the city only creates distrust of the mainstream system, a desire to remain separate, yet be heard, and an ignorance about what it feels like to be a minority. Perhaps the only reason that I can appreciate the city other than its arts scene, is the fact that it sometimes makes me feel like a minority which is something I never would have experienced had I stayed in rural America.

We interrupt this program for an important message

Happy Birthday to my brother! A dedicated existential thinker, global explorer, and self-described Virgo-Libra cusp free spirit! My big brother, my blog-reader-I hope you enjoy your day and year, one year closer to being a grown-up!

New-Age Fireside Chats

I will admit that I went through a period of obsessively listening to NPR. I haven't completely given up on it yet, but I am now a dedicated listener of Democracy Now! I also admit that I am a dedicated liberal, but what I love about Democracy Now! (yes the exclamation point is always, purposely there), is that they are actually unbiased. Listen by clicking here.

Yesterday, we attended the annual Hideout Block Party. I'm still not sure what exactly a block party is, but this one had lots of bands that played between two stages in a huge parking lot next to the actual Hideout, a popular music venue. It was long (9 or 10 hours), so we came in and out of it. It was great to see the (seemingly) hundreds of bikes there, and we got some free tickets for beer. One of my favorite things was seeing "Honeyboy" Edwards, who is now 93 years old-he looked so cool with his all-black Yankees hat (on the same day of their last game in Yankee Stadium, I just realized). I hadn't heard of him before yesterday, but I guess he knew Robert Johnson. Read more about him here. Another favorite was the coconut-curry over brown rice that a nice vendor from Iowa was serving-a nice change-up from hot dogs and barbecue, though we made our way to that stand a few hours later, carefully dodging the eyes of the well-meaning vegetarians. The New Pornographers played with Neko Case, but I was much more interested in Ratatat, who came in from New York. Very theatrical, graphic-y, tech-y band. But, by far, my favorite point in the night was when Jonah and I realized that amidst the hundreds of concert-goers that arrived by nightfall, we happened to be standing by the cutest one, a tiny little chair, that amazingly, was not trampled or even stepped on for the entire show.

Carnies

Passed through the carnival by accident this weekend. I first saw the ferris wheel from a few blocks away and was enamored with romantic feelings and the possibilities of the impossible. Then I got closer and realized it was just the carnival with all of its heavy machinery, polyester filled stuffed animals knock-offs and of course, carnies. My friends and I used to joke about dating one of them each summer as they came and went. Back then, we were so unafraid of strapping ourselves in to whatever contraption they had come up with. Now, it just seems unnatural, and the carnies, well, just guys who choose to work at the carnival, in all its glory, or not.

To make up for lost time and self-obsession, a window into my soul

I haven't written here for a while because I'm having trouble believing that these are my thoughts. I think I am much more dramatic than I think. Having a lot of time to myself has turned me into a bit more of an obsessive than I used to be, if that were even possible. Yet, I find it difficult to do the most simple things. I guess it doesn't matter how busy or bored I am, I still don't want to do the dishes. And I will still aimlessly surf the web looking for instant entertainment. But, somewhere in this past month and a half of living in an entirely new place, I've found a sort of quiet. I've been able to stop and realize my thoughts, and if they are negative, which they tend to be, I can say, "Just stop thinking that." It usually goes away and then comes back, and I have to say it again, but, it's progress... I think that my focus should be to continue saying the same thing. To be consistent, which is something that I have absolutely never been. It just occurred to me that I am writing an awful lot about myself, which is not what I intended as a blogger...oh well. I read somewhere that to be an expert at anything, you have to practice for 10,000 hours. That would be....wait....five and a half years if you practiced 5 hours a day. Practicing whatever you like, that is. I can usually do something for up to an hour a few times a week. I think that this is the dividing line between people who achieve greatness and people who are intelligent and amazing and have a thousand and one interests, but just can't decide. In some bygone era, it used to be enough just to have a family and have enough food to feed that family. Maybe that was before the internet. It was definitely before extreme wealth, and most likely before motion pictures...Had to be, because now, we are in search of instant entertainment, movie stars or celebrities that we compare ourselves to, and a sense of achievement to outdo any achievement already achieved and written about and praised. We even want to be one that praises achievements if we can't achieve our own. The only thing I may ever truly believe is that less is more. The less we have, the more we appreciate. The less we eat, the healthier we become. The less we connect to technology, the more connected to nature, the less we think negative thoughts, the happier we become, and most importantly, the less we consume, the more there is for people who have lived with less than we could ever live with. Sometimes, it seems that everything we know is false and everything we see really is just an illusion.

The real Real World

I think I have officially hit reality, and perhaps the only thing saving me from complete insanity is my somewhat lofty belief that things happen for a reason. Now, I'm trying to put all this in perspective: I just graduated college with a liberal arts degree in Global Studies, not exactly biomedical engineering or graphic design. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE the stuff I have/am studying, but it's not marketable the way other degrees are. I'm trying to remind myself that this is a short period within a long one and some day I will have an actual salary. But hope is in short supply in this world, and I can only stay cooped up in my apartment for so long. I worry about my health now that I don't have health insurance, and about the election now that I realize half of America is f-ing insane and might just vote for McCain. Now I fear I'm starting to sound as neurotic as Woody Allen. I know that I have something to offer, but that doesn't necessarily mean that other people/employers will recognize it. Now I just sound like my college advisor in the days when optimism was oozing out my ears, and she was just trying to keep it from staining her rug. This world, I am realizing, is a rough and tumble place, and I'm not sure that I want to fight and claw my way to some kind of supposed success. I sometimes wish that I could have stayed in Maine, where things were simpler. I could have adopted the downeast accent, taken up clammin', and reconnected with nature. I feel so far from that-and my family-now. What am I searching for?

Another year older (and wiser?)

So, today is my birthday and the first thing I'm happy for is that it isn't as bad as last year. Though it started out that way. My initial reaction to waking up, after tearing myself out of a very involved dream, was, "do I have to go running today?" and then "Oh, it's my birthday. No, I don't have to run." Followed by an intense throbbing from my left forefinger, the one I almost sliced off making sweet potato coins for my first ever grown-up dinner party last night (note: two out of four guests sat on a couch due to lack of table, chairs or matching silverware, which has nothing to do with chairs, but seems like something a grown-up party would have). Anyway, waking up was followed by a mediocre breakfast which I decided to make the best of because a.) it was a new place, worth checking out, and I was with good company and coffee. and b.) because I'm now 24 and done complaining. That pretty much sums my day up so far, um, besides eating a quarter of my delicious vegan (except for the white sugar I used which I heard has something to do with animal bones???) cake with raspberry whipped cream.

Bacon and eggs for breakfast

Today I cracked open an egg with two yolks inside. This has never happened to me, I've never even heard of it happening, but I felt that it was a sign. Last year, I deleted my facebook account on my birthday. I think it was around 1 p.m. and no one had wished me a happy birthday on my wall yet. I took this as a major blow and concluded that I had no friends and no one cared about me. This year, my thoughts couldn't be further from my status on facebook, which I have since rejoined. This year feels different, today feels different. I'm not going to be afraid of an empty wall on facebook, or of people disliking my cooking or the awkward things I say and do. I just want to stop thinking and analyzing all the time about everything. I think it's my perfectionism paired with extreme sensitivity. These two things have contributed to me being an insecure, scared, and unconfident person. I don't want to live like that anymore. Maybe the egg was a sign of an unrealized twin embryo, a person I could have been, and still might be.

I've been doing it wrong all this time!

I had no idea there was a science to rolling sleeves. Makes me wonder what else I don't know. See the article here.

Now I know why tea is really no substitute for coffee. And why jewelry is such a personal thing. Why popsicles are so good and why too much salt is so not. Beer, blogs want to be good. Weddings, usually bad. Neighbors that invoke constant interest, si, muy bueno.

September 01, 2008

It's been a busy few days. Sleep has not been a friend-I've been waking up with the feeling that I just completed an arduous trek into subconscious land, but that I was only beginning to navigate my way.

I'm trying not to write like a blogger, and attempting to find a balance between what simply happens in my life and what I experience that might contribute to a greater understanding of being. Alive.

I'm quite sure that this is a self-imposed turning point for me, also known as a quarter-life crisis. But I think the more I become o.k with that, the easier it will be to come out the other side as a healthier person.

There is so much to do all the time. Like finding a traditional Chicago-style hot dog. In case you don't know, these include: mustard, celery salt, onions, hot peppers, tomato and pickle spear. I'm attempting to upload pictures on a separate page, but haven't figured out how yet. The picture to the left is on Devon St., a lovely little neighborhood composed primarily of people from India and Pakistan. Lunch, though we couldn't tell you what it was, was delicious and I discovered a new found appreciation for chai and candied fennel.

Thinking about my birthday just one week away. Feeling much better than last year at this time. This year I have the ability to discern what I actually like and dislike and I'm going to take the day to celebrate that...

It's 4 p.m. I haven't showered yet, because first, I need to recap my morning

Today, I woke up, ate brownies, thought it was Friday, watched sex and the city, realized it was thursday, cried a lot, got a headache, thought about how much coffee it would take to a. get rid of my headache and b. make me feel like stopping sex and the city and get off of my chair. Answer: two french presses. Then I sat through yet another couple viewing this apt., as they wondered, "Where's the T.V.? Why does all this furniture look like a disjointed sectional?" And thinking to themselves "I didn't think people slept on futons on the floor anymore..." and again, "Where's the T.V.?" I answered their questions by quietly sitting on my chair, typing ferociously (post 2 french presses) and pretending I didn't notice we didn't own a t.v. because my laptop plays DVDs juuuuust fine.