Our cat is so cute, I can’t even stand it. Even though he wakes me up at 7am every day chewing my hair and attacking my face because he’s hungry—I don’t care. He can have everything he wants, his face deserves it.
(picture courtesy of v. oh)
So, after 25 years of thinking I had it all figured out, I’ve realized very recently that I, in fact, do not.
I am a cat person.
Growing up, I remember having a cat. I remember we named her Tinkerbell. What I’m a bit fuzzy on are the rest of the details. I don’t know whether she was an accidental cat or a purposeful one. I don’t know if we fed her every day or just put out food so she could nibble on it when she came and went because she was just a stray that we felt sorry for. I actually don’t even know if Tinkerbell was a girl or a boy. We moved after a couple of years and we definitely didn’t take the cat with us so I’m assuming she was just as big of an accident as I was. I was too young to know how cool cats were while we had Tinkerbell. I mean, I was busy reading Berenstain Bear books and drawing out my plans to one day live in an emptied out tree hollow the minute I turned 10 years old so those years probably weren’t the best for forming my cat vs. dog opinion anyway.
My first inclination that I was a dog person was when I turned 8 and my dad finally agreed to get a dog for the family. I remember putting on 2 pairs of socks on our new puppy and taking a picture of her sleeping on the couch. She only took up one couch cushion and I took that picture to school for show and tell the following month. I was the proudest 8 year old that ever lived.
I grew up with that one dog my whole life. Her name was Heidi—my sister picked out that name, why everyone else thought that name was fitting still boggles my mind. I am not a fan of human names for animals. Animals should be named something fun and whimsical—totally inappropriate for a child but hilarious and awesome for a pet. Although, Gwyneth Paltrow did NOT get that memo. Apple? Come on, dude. Apples aren’t even the coolest, tastiest or most interesting of fruits.
I grew up with Heidi. She was quite seriously the best dog in the world. No, she didn’t save people from drowning (in fact, she was afraid of the water), she never guided any visually impaired folk, she used to pee indiscriminately whenever she was excited or met someone new, and she was always a high maintenance eater but she was just the best dog in the world. She would always know when I was sad and would comfort me, she’d sit next to me while I ate and patiently waited for me to give her some delicious scraps but she NEVER begged for it. She wasn’t the greatest walker but she knew how to use her time wisely. When she did something wrong, she would whimper and crawl up next to you afterward as a preemptive maneuver knowing she’d get into some shit from my mom, her tail between her legs, using her eyes to ask for forgiveness. She slept at the foot of my bed every night and when I’d inevitably kick her off, she’d sleep on the floor right next to me until the morning. She would be the only one home when I decided that school just wasn’t in the books for me that day. Her and I would hang watching TV, eating junk food and just vegging together, enjoying each others’ company with some nice toons.
I don’t think there could have been a better dog on the planet. My childhood would not have been the same without her in it. She was in my life longer than any of the friends I’ve made in my entire life and she was there for me in ways that no one else could. The moment we got her when I was 8 to the day she died right before I turned 23, my only regret is that I couldn’t say good-bye to her before she left us.
Heidi died of severe arthritis. Growing up and until the last year and a half of her life, she was the friendliest dog. She loved attention, loved to be pet and loved running around the yard chasing birds and being free but because of her pain, she stopped enjoying being around anyone. She even resorted to biting people when they would touch her because it hurt so much. My mom loved Heidi more than anything or anyone on Earth so it broke her heart to see her old girl in so much pain. I still can’t think of her last few months without wanting to wail.
After she died, I got a puppy to start cultivating a new life hoping to have the same bond with the new dog as I did with Heidi. While the pup I bought was too adorable, I realized how much work goes into actually caring and training a dog, not to mention getting a puppy to replace an old one is a terrible reason alone. I gave him up to a nice family who had the time on their hands to give him the life he deserved but those three weeks I had him, changed my opinions about my love for dogs.
When I was growing up, my mom did most of the raising with Heidi. Although the stipulation for getting a dog when my sister and I were younger was to make sure Heidi was fed, walked and her bathroom habits were looked after, in reality it ended up being my mom who took care of Heidi. If my mom was out of town, then it was my job to give the dog food and walk her but training her? Making sure she went to the bathroom in the appropriate places? Not to mention trying to find her whenever she ran away? Don’t remember having to deal with those problems.
Time wasn’t the only thing that wasn’t on my side when I got the puppy though. I realized I didn’t have the patience it took to make sure the puppy grew up to be a normal, healthy and well-behaved dog. The amount of attention that’s required of a puppy more closely resembles a baby than a pet. I felt waves of guilt leaving my puppy home alone for hours. I would get annoyed at how much attention he would want when I’d get back. I worked a very physically grueling job that sometimes I wanted to just come home and sleep. Not possible with a puppy.
I’m glad I gave him away and I take away from that experience knowing raising a puppy is better left for people who have the time to dedicate to it or at the very least a two person job.
After begging my boyfriend for a dog, he said he’d compromise and get us a cat instead. At first, I was not on board. Cats are boring. They just sit there, they don’t like to be pet, they aren’t a companion—they’re just there, judging you and asking for food with their eyes. Growing up, he had both dogs and cats but he always said he preferred cats to dogs. He loves all animals especially of the aquatic variety but his preference always leaned toward furry felines.
I finally caved and decided I’d hop on this cat train. After all, I did like cats too I just preferred dogs.
Or so I thought…
Jamie surprised me on Christmas Eve when I came home to a cute little cotton ball of cuteness that is Monsieur Fluff. I call him boo a lot though or scoundrel but officially we decided he needed something both regal and accurate. Lord Fluffbottom III was too long.
After all my ranting about dogs… cats are THE best! They’re all the fun of having a dog but because of their innate independence, they don’t require as much attention. Don’t mistake that as I don’t pay attention to him. Quite the opposite. I bother him more than I should because I want to give him so much attention but he sometimes just wants to meander around the house and observe things aka get away from me. He plays well by himself and litterbox training was simply nonexistent. My cute little butterball Monsieur Fluffy boo has a great personality as well. He likes sleeping next to me and thinks my appendages are his enemy. He likes all the TV shows I like and watches them with me while nuzzling my neck. He jumps around a lot when he wants to play and follows me around the house when I’ve been gone for too long.
He fits well into our lifestyle, too. I work a ton and so does Jamie. I thought leaving him home alone would be difficult but I think Fluff relishes the time spent alone. I don’t feel anxious to go back to him and give him a lot of attention when I am home. He doesn’t get excited when I get back which shows me he could not give any f*cks that I was gone in the first place. I normally just find him sitting on the couch waking up from a nap when I do get back. Most of all, he makes me and Jamie so happy. I’m glad my super awesome boyfriend convinced me cats are where its at. Not to be a total mush but I feel so blessed to have such a great and loving boyfriend who would surprise and introduce me to such a joy into my life.
All these years, I didn’t know what I’d been missing.
My talented and amazing best friend, Katie, started an online boutique selling her hand crafted jewelry collection that she made with vintage and contemporary pieces. This one happens to be one of my favorite pieces of jewelry of all time (sup Kanye). She’s so talented and I always die over everything she makes. I hope great things happen with Visceral Enrapture because her and her friend deserve all the success in the world (not that I’m biased or anything). Congratulations my love!
AFTER CHRISTMAS SALES HAVE BEGUN. I love this time of the year more than Christmas and Thanksgiving combined (which is saying a lot because eating and gift giving are two of my all-time favorite hobbies). Of course the first store I hit during this most important time of the year is Zara. I prefer Zara’s winter sale to their summer—I feel their fall/winter collections are always far superior to their spring and summer collections.
First to be crossed off my wishlist of 2012 are these pair of studded leopard print flats. Nothing in that sentence is too much. Studs? Leopard? FLATS?! They also have this cute little strap that makes me feel dainty and lady-like. They were clearly made in the same vein as the Valentino Rockstuds but way more awesome because they’re 1/12th of the price and just as cute. I’m sure the Rockstuds will be on its way “out” but I’ll covet them forever in the exact same way I am still yearning for the 2010 Margiela relaxed python booties. One day, Margiela. One day.
Sorry I’m not sorry but these are still beyond.
Next: a studded peplum leather skirt. I will admit, with my body frame, this skirt looks hideous on me but I don’t care. I’m putting it in my “skinny” pile and when I become bone thin (which will probably be never considering my dad gave my the gift that will never stop giving: his body type) it will look effortlessly beautiful on me. None of that is true, it will not look good on me but I don’t care. It was on sale and it’s gorgeous. It deserves to be in my closet, even as a sartorial decoration and far-fetched dream.
Lastly, Isabel Marant Suede sneakers in black. I know, these are not going to be around for much longer. In fact, when they first came out a year ago, I thought they were just absolutely hideous. I remember thinking they were such a sin of fashion. High top sneaker? You’ve got to be kidding me. But maybe after seeing them on teeny tiny models and fashionistas pairing them with my all-time favorite outfit: leather leggings, big over-size white tees and bold statement necklaces I thought they were to die for. I’m lucky to live in the greatest country for knock-offs that I’ll be able to find these puppies for a fraction of the retail price and I won’t feel bad about having them once they go out of style in a few weeks.
How CUTE does Teen Vogue’s Beauty Editor Eva Chen look in these? How can you hate shoes that make you look both youthful and fashion forward? You just can’t. I guess it helps when you’re so adorable like her. Next to Olivia Palermo, she is my fashion idol.
Image courtesy of Eva’s Tumblr
My best friend K and I found this awesome fabric booth shopping last week and I saw some really great prints that I know will make amazing dresses and skirts. I would learn how to sew but I have a feeling that pipe dream won’t actually come to fruition. I’m hoping to find a really great tailor so I can get one of a kind dresses and skirts made with all the prints I find. Eeeep! PROJECT!!
Can’t wait for the weekend.
I know myself well enough that making a new year’s resolution will be an absolute failure. I’ve made approximately 5 resolutions that I can remember off the top of my head and not a single one I’ve kept longer than a week.
Not to say new year’s resolutions are impossible to keep in general. I envy those people who are determined to lose all that holiday weight by summer time or read one book a week for the entire year. I admire and applaud all those who decide to keep up with them.
But this year? I’ve decided I will make a resolution I can keep. One single resolution that I hope will easily integrate into my life and stay there forever. (FOR-EV-ER)
I’m going to become more positive in 2013.
More specifically, when things don’t go the way I planned. For the most part, I would say my outlook on essentially everything tips toward positive. I tell myself to expect the worst but always, always hope for the best.
I do, however, want to change how I react to situations. I want to work on my compulsive personality and my need for control. I wouldn’t say I’m a control freak when other people are involved but I am a control freak when it comes to myself and any situation that I am directly involved in. It’s become a bit of an issue in my professional life and at times, is present in my personal life as well. I guess I hold a lot of guilt when I don’t do everything in my power to make sure something goes
right my way. But I shouldn’t. I need to learn to just let things go.
I hope this one keeps.
It’s officially been one year since I began working at Magnet. I’ll admit there are days when Magnet lets me down, makes my life more difficult, fills my calendar with responsibilities, parents call for counseling but really just to straight bitch about teachers or deadlines and all the other miscellaneous crap that on the days I finally let it sink in, I break down, eat entire cheese platters and multiple chocolate bars until I can’t breathe. Or until it dams up my tear ducts… whichever comes first.
But I wouldn’t put up with this if I didn’t secretly love it. There’s a very thin line separating love and hate and sometimes we all are guilty of crossing too far into either territory. I’ve learned a lot over my first year and my boss tells me the first is always the hardest, I find that true with most things in life. So, first year: you’ve been terrible but I appreciate the character building assfucks you’ve dealt to me over the last 12 months. I am now immune. Here’s to the next 10.
Happy first year to me! Ode to my career—over.
Outfit of the Day
As an administrator at a school, I have to tone down my work looks but I still get away with wearing short skirts and fun prints (I am only 25 after all) as long as I’m wearing some sort of flat shoe. It looks much less provocative when you wear flats.
If I decide to wear heels, I have to keep everything else professional (ie slacks and a lady blazer) because my heels are usually some sort of leopard print, patent leather or furry monstrosity (sometimes a combination) and always at least 4 inches high. It’s all about balance. So, every day I ask myself: shoes or outfit? Most days, like today, I choose outfit.
My new grandma’s curtain skirt I made Jamie buy for me at Zara. I didn’t have enough time to accessorize today (I also don’t know where all my good jewelry went) so I threw on my go-to leopard print scarf. I bought the boots at Zara a few years back and at the time, I was contemplating whether or not they’d be worth purchasing considering I had an identical pair only the shaft was about an inch shorter… I’m glad I paid the extra dough because I realize how much shorter of a skirt I can get away with if more of my leg wasn’t exposed. Lesson learned: shaft length is everything. Take that for what you will.
It’s the first time I haven’t worn all black in a very long time. I’ve been feeling the monochrome lately. Don’t get me wrong, since I was young I was always a fan of all black, white, or any color everything but the last 5 months or so, I’ve really felt that a simple black skirt with black shirt and bold jewelry looks way more put together than the most thought out outfits. Today, however, was my first foray into the fall color palette and I’m not disappointed. I look like a muted Christmas tree. I dig.
I won my game this week against my boyfriend in fantasy football. I normally don’t brag but being in a league where you’re the only girl, you’re privy to lots of teasing and straight up shit talk. And the number one perp in this case is none other than my own boyfriend. Joke’s on you this week, sucka.
Life slips by so quietly. You don’t even realize how quickly it goes until you stop to think about it. My life has changed so drastically in the last year that thinking about it gives me heart palpitations. When I see my parents, I notice how gray their hairs are getting, the wrinkles forming around their eyes, their hands seems smaller, are they getting shorter, too? It makes me feel so much anxiety thinking about. Can’t it slow down just a little bit?
And when I think about how terribly I started 2012 (sitting alone in a hospital room? brutal) I’m so happy to be alive. I know, ridiculously trite and cliche but I can’t describe it. I tend not to think about those 6 long weeks spent in the hospital in which the first two weeks I didn’t really know if I was going to live. Moments of fleeting clarity bring me back to that feeling of desperation, just wanting to live.
But life’s been beating me up left, right and center (trademarked phrase). It’s hard to feel lucky when you think the world’s crushing you with failed expectations and frustration mounting on your shoulders. It’s difficult to step outside yourself, take a breath and power through especially when you can’t escape the disappointment.
And then something wonderful happened to me this week.
Someone gave me this note:
And it brought me back up.
All those thoughts about how hard everything in my life has been lately just dissolved. It’s exactly what I needed to bring me back in the moment.
People don’t realize grand gestures, while amazing in their own right, aren’t necessary. Small ways to show that you care or that you notice really make the most difference. This note gave me a serious high…
Until today!!! when that same co-worker told me when they first met me, they couldn’t get over how pretty I am.
Now, I normally don’t like to talk about looks. If you’re good looking, normally you know it and don’t need to be reminded #prettygirlproblems
I’m not blind but I most certainly can not sit here and say I’m a ravishing beauty because I’m not. I schelp around in gym shorts and only wear respectable clothing when there are at least 3 other people present. And most times, my hair just lays flat on my head because I’m too lazy to put the curling iron or flat iron to straighten the mess out (pun intended).
BUT when they told me this, it (obviously) boosted my confidence and ego. The compliment came at the perfect time. I’ve been feeling sort of schlubby lately (schlubby? I had to have been Jewish in another life). I think most girls have those moments when they finally admit to things like this, and show some vulnerability.
So, even though life isn’t as awesome as it normally is, I’ll tally this week as a win.
I don’t particularly relate to a lot of characters I see on TV or in movies. On the rare occasion, I will box myself into a certain archetype for the sake of the (drinking) game I’m playing or conversation. The closest character I ever related to that I saw on TV was a person competing on Survivor but they’re a real person and not a scripted, constructed character. And also, Monica from Friends. She used to be fat, like to be clean and in control.
Recently, however, I started watching a show on HBO called Girls. It’s a group of early to mid-twenty something year old girls living in New York City. Sounds bland and already done but the writing on this show is so, for lack of a better word, NOW. They’re all sharp, quick witted, strong and flawed characters that resonated with me from the moment I watched it. It wasn’t until I watched the latest episode, I realized someone finally gets me.
Marnie is my soul mate. Reason one: when Marnie goes through all her ex-boyfriend’s pictures with his new girlfriend and says ‘ew’ to every single one—that’s my morning routine. And it’s not even reserved for ex-boyfriends either. Sorry FaceBook friends the jig is up: I judge all the pictures you put up of yourself, nauseating couple pictures, your BABIES, your dogs, engagement rings, pinned things on pinterest… everything. (I judge myself too when I put up any picture within said categories. I sometimes hesitate posting certain pictures knowing there are people like me out in the world.)
This scene is so spot on I thought I was looking at myself. Being miserable, eating junk food and sifting through FaceBook pictures post break up? Looks like me circa every single failed relationship of significance. Or just the one. It’s always the first one that shakes you to your core but without that mind numbingly miserable break up, I wouldn’t be so sure of what I want from myself and from other people now.
It’s a rite of passage that I’m glad to have conquered earlier in my adulthood. Especially knowing how much of a Type A I really am.
Which is reason number two why I think Marnie and I are beschert souls. I know relating to a TV character is so banal and cliche but everything about Marnie is me minus the flawless skin (my inner Cali girl will never stop abusing the sun). I may not be as open as my TV counterpart about my uptight and perfectionist personality but I know it’s there. Down to her personal style—she never looks totally comfortable in her clothes. She looks put together but never matchy, modern but not ‘of the moment’, her clothes are never flowy and bohemian, although I’m sure she would like to be, they’re rigid and tailored to her body type with never a hair out of place.
I’ve been going through a personal revelation of sorts in the last few months. I sincerely used to believe I was so laid back almost borderline apathetic but there were things that always bugged me that shouldn’t bother actual relaxed humans. Little things like unmade beds or papers being filed out of order. To my horror I finally pinpointed my flaw: I’M A TYPE A MASQUERADING AS A TYPE B.
So, when the show decided to depict Marnie going through with this break up I was on board. People who seem to have it all together and try their hardest to make sure everything goes according to their plan, fail? I’m all about it. It humanizes her in a way that I can totally understand.
It’s not so much she’ll miss him, clearly she didn’t even like him that much when they were together but when her control seems to be slipping away from her, she starts going crazy. Her need to and for control is what drives her to this temporary post relationship insanity. She doesn’t know what to do with herself. She is so used to being the one making the decisions, pleasing others besides herself, it’s the control she perceives herself to have in every single situation makes her feel at ease.
She is the definition of a control freak and in some ways I feel they almost caricaturize her need to control on the show but I definitely understand how she feels. The hardest thing for me to grapple with when I went through my own breakup was the lack of control I had over the situation. It wasn’t that I’d miss the person I was breaking up with since we broke up for a reason. No one puts their time and energy in any relationship just to break up. It’s not all done in vain. In all honesty, he wasn’t the most amazing person so in reality I wouldn’t have missed our relationship either. It was the fact that my life had changed so drastically in a matter of HOURS after breaking up.
You entire routine changes. Everything you wear, eat, listen to, touch, see—it all has a memory attached. There’s almost like this other world that’s now inaccessible.
“Can’t go to this restaurant, don’t want to break down while ordering my meal. Can’t talk to these people, those are his friends. Can’t go to the bar or club, afraid I’ll run into him.”
You’re trapped in this alternate “I just broke up with somebody” universe when all you want to do is escape it. That’s mainly how I got addicted to spaghetti and hot dogs. I finally started cooking for myself since I had to eat and those were the only two things I could cook back in college.
And it’s always at the end of something, do you remember the beginning. All the reasons you broke up with this person come secondary to how you feel. Then you start to mistake those feelings for actual sadness instead of anxiety or helplessness. Emotions are the worst.
Marnie’s ungraceful breakup reminded me of my own but not in the painful way that a lot of people assume. Watching her go through her misery then seeing her push her unbridled feelings into something so far off made me so appreciative of how normal I came out of my own breakup. Some people stay with you forever, in good ways and bad but they’re in your life and your memories for a reason. A day never goes by without reminding myself of how far I’ve come.
And Marnie’s extreme reaction to her uptight personality? Made me love her even more. She is self-aware and there’s nothing more powerful or liberating than finally knowing who you are (whether that quality you are aware of is good or bad). Of course she’s going to come off as a raging bitch next to her meek and backbone(r)less ex-boyfriend but girls like her need someone who’s aggressive, strong willed and relaxed to balance out her own strong personality and need to be the alpha female.
I’ve never been so glad that a fake TV relationship is over.
I hope this show never goes away.
I read my friend’s blog the other day (READ IT SHE’S AMAZING) and inspired me to start writing in mine again. Work has been getting the best of me lately so it’s nice to take a nice break from it all and remind myself of the one thing that brings pure and uncomplicated joy into my life: fashion.
I am so happy and relieved the weather is getting mild. I’m really getting sick of wearing tights with all my skirts and dresses. My legs need to breathe (Although, I really enjoy the lack of shaving). Also, they constrict my midsection and make me feel like a chunk monster even though only the anorexiest (it’s a word) of humans can feel no pressure when wearing tights. Also, how unsexy do they make you feel knowing they ride up past your belly button? Or is that just me? Man, I’m old.
Anyway, SPRING IS FINALLY COMING! Today’s post is dress-centric. Tomorrow’s post will be less so. In any case, I need all of these things in and around my closet:
Everything about this dress is spring. To the color, shape, down to the white thread details. I want and need. I wish they made it in mint (the color du jour of S/S ‘12)
This dress just brings me back to the days I’d wear shirts as dresses back in college. Except longer and not as whorish. Reminiscent of Alexander McQueen, a mix between S/S 2009 and 2010, seen here:
(I still die over any piece from his 2010 RTW collection. The McQueenadillos and aquatic theme are still etched into my soul. Only true artists can do that to a person. Rest in Peace, Lee.)
I love any dress with an unexpected detail. I’m a huge fan of the shift silhouette. Makes you look pregnant but that means you don’t have to suck in.
And of course, I just added a nice vest because vests are the best thing that has happened to me since I put bolonga and cheese in the microwave by accident to create to most delicious and fattening snack on the face of the universe. Unfortunately (or fortunately, however you look at it), I can no longer stomach the thought of bologna clogging up my arteries but the happiness that comes from thinking about it I’m on board with.
This vest will soon become part of my vestival! Can’t wait to introduce it to the others.
(Images from Zara.com, Style.com)
I find it extremely hard to believe I’ve been in the hospital for 42 days… so unless I counted my days wrong, it’s the 42nd day of beingheld against my own willat this “hospital” (I wonder if i unknowingly committed myself into a mental institution disguised as a regular hospital………… impossible. Because then they’d give me fun drugs to try and lord knows I’ve been having none of that.)
Highlight of the week:
Apparently, I was not lucky enough to born with heroine addict veins and those fuckers are so hard to find on my arms (even after having the tourniquet wrapped around my arm for so long my fingers go numb and turn purple) the nurses always resort to hooking up my IV to the veins in my hand. For those of you who’ve never had the displeasure of being hooked up to an IV, your hand is maybe one of the worst places to have one. You are basically left using one hand and the hand with the IV is sore all day since there is zero fat and muscle to protect you from the needle pumping drugs directly into your blood flow. In short, it fucking sucks.
So, I was hooked up to my (come to find out UNNECESSARY) IV for less than a day and it became swollen. Not just a “oh man, we should change that soon before it swells more”, no.. of course not. That’s not how my life works, it’s go hard or go home with this body. It looked like my hand was pregnant. Or it ate my other hand. It was so swollen, I had no knuckles and it looked like someone blew up a latex glove to the absolute maximum elasticity the glove can handle before it explodes. I HAD A FAT BABY HAND!
I still haven’t recovered. It’s been 5 days and my pinky finger has no knuckle. Poor pinky finger. She’s so lonely.
These bruises are no joke.
Forget seeing a dump on the floor..
I am watching a group of middle aged Koreans in Jessica McClintock gowns that would put any redneck prom to shame singing a remix of “As the Saints Go Marching In.” a REMIX.
Now I know what rock bottom feels like.
Someone dumped in the middle of the hallway last night. All. Time. Low.
(They needed one of these porcelain thrones to assist them in their mission)
At first, I thought I was seeing things (I’ve been wearing the same glasses/contacts for years) but as I slowly approached the pile, the overwhelming scent of sulfur and shame shocked my nasal passageways with such absolute offense that I cringed.. violently. Now, my friends and family know me well enough to attest to the fact that I appreciate a healthy bowel movement. I’m a huge proponent of doodying but is it really necessary to drop one in a public area where there is no actual bowl available to drop the kids off? I saw a man and a woman standing around it so I will just assume it was one of them but I saw no stains on either of them so the case of the mystery dump will go unsolved. For now. I may or may not ask for a copy of the CCTV tape because I want to see who in their right mind just dumps one 100 feet away from a toilet.
So, being in the hospital is super glamorous.