Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Inspector Gadget

I went out to lunch the other day with some girlfriends and naturally wanted to get gussied up. I pulled on my brown lace-up boots, think Pippi Longstocking, folded my skinny jeans up into a cuff, think James Dean, donned my long army green coat, think Kate Moss, topped it off with my grandpa hat, think James Macavoy, and large oval sunglasses, duh think Jacki O.
I thought I looked like I was ready for New York, or maybe exiting a grunge concert, but either way, freaking hip--like my incredibly style-savvy sis who I have been mirroring as my fashion icon as of late.
Anyhow, whilst walking out of the restaurant an employee came out from the back, looked at my outfit and commented that I had a lot of hodge-podge going on. I was instantly annoyed. I shrugged, thinking okay... thanks. "You look like Inspector Gadget," he said.
Being the polite and non-confrontational sort, I didn't want to tell him to fuck off in public and that he obviously wouldn't know good style if it bitch-slapped him, so I instead replied, "I try."
He couldn't leave it at the two insults apparently because he had to take it one further and tell me I shouldn't have to try that I should just be myself and then went into a drawn out story about his youth with some point about being unique and not trying. I stormed out of the restaurant in a rage and then slept the rest of the day as I felt sufficiently shitty about myself.
But it got me to thinking, am I trying too hard?
I mulled it over and mulled it over some more, even drawing on my high school years, shudder, and college days.
The truth is that lately I have been straddling the line on who I've always been and who I am becoming. The lines have in fact gotten so blurred that I am not sure where I stand, because who I once was is no longer exactly recognizable... a caterpillar squirming her way into butterfly.
In high school, someone once commented that my style was sporty because I often wore sweat suits. I took that as an insult. I only wore those stupid things because of the elastic and because I wasn't secure enough to really embrace my flair for the weird.
I started college thinking I had a fresh slate, I could really be who I wanted to be... but it was still a slow go discovering who that was exactly. But I started blooming nonetheless.
And now?
Well here's the thing, I am still discovering who I am! Not just style-wise but in a lot of ways. I have realized that as we grow older our tastes just keep changing. And they probably always will.
For instance: I now like sauerkraut(would literally run from the room as a child plugging my nose in horror over the smell) And Newsweek(thought it was boring and pretentious) And black coffee(only old men drink that) And Flogging Molly(too much rock) And not matching my clothes all the time(hippies).
So the consensus is, I am not trying too hard, I am simply refining my tastes.

Bottom line: If Inspector Gadget I am, then I happily accept.

Monday, March 28, 2011

Proud Momma

There's a new love in my life. It's a very new and exciting relationship, but one that's been budding for some time, I would even say all my life.
I went and held my new beloved a couple weeks before taking her home with me and I just knew. The weight of her in my hands, the way my breath caught in my throat and my heart started pitter-pattering at the mere sight of her. It's like we were made for each other. Now that I've brought her home with me, I find myself staring lovingly at her, ever so gently setting her down when my little dove has had a long day.
When we are out on a drive together, ready to embrace the day and I unthinkingly take a curve too fast--not used to having such precious cargo on board--I quickly reach out my arm to do the soccer-mom-save and hold her against the seat murmuring that I won't let anything happen to my precious peanut, adjusting her scarf to make sure she's warm.

I find myself missing her when I'm at work, delighting in all the new things she shows me every day when I get home. I don't know why I waited so long to make her mine, but now that she is in my life, I don't ever want to leave her.

Ah to be a proud momma to a new Nikon D7000 SLR.

I didn't know I could love like this.

Monday, March 21, 2011

broken horses

Admittedly I have been having a difficult go of life lately. I guess life is too broad a word, by life I mean my work life. Currently I am a teller, moonlighting as a waitress, squeezing in some house-cleaning. Ah, but there is nothing like hauling trash, scuffing knees swiping a dishrag across a dirty floor, waiting tables and being called an ignorant bitch by a disgruntled customer not getting her way to really make a person evaluate if it's all worth it.
Besides paying back my college education tab which is getting so engorged with interest you might think I attended Yale, instead of one of the smaller schools in Michigan, I also have a need to get to the Big Apple and turns out even three jobs barely accomplishes that.
My spirit is starting to shrivel like a sunburned grape in Napa Valley. Hence why when aforementioned disgruntled shrew started screaming at me at work today in a fit of unholy rage over a policy that I myself could not change, I lost it.
I walked to the bathroom and cried. Tried to pull myself together but instead cried some more. Then sat in my car for an hour while my mom told me to shake it off and still the tears would not be abated.
I came home with a pounding headache, peeled off my work clothes and crawled into bed pulling the covers over my head to get lost in sleep.
Later on a walk at dusk accompanied by my roommate, I told her about this horse I had seen on a recent trip to Chicago. My friend and I had been walking by the Water Tower on the Magnificent Mile when I saw the horse carriages lined up.
Being an avid horse lover, I felt the pull to be near the stunning creatures. With my camera around my neck I instantly began to get close to snap pictures. It wasn't until I walked away and really studied the pictures that I saw how terribly sad the horses eyes were. It actually made me want to run back, unhook her and say run. Just run.
And then, though the story didn't start out with this correlation in mind, I got it. I am the horse with almost no spirit or delight left behind my eyes to tell me to keep doing what I know I have to do. I don't see the sun peaking on the horizon. All I see is black.
I don't know how to remedy this situation... yet, but I do know my spirit has taken an ugly turn for the worse and I can't push myself much further when I already feel so broken.
Like those beautiful horses, I ache for something more, something beautiful and something free. And I am not sure how much longer I can pretend it's okay being shackled to the pavement when I need to feel the grass beneath my feet.