Wednesday, January 21, 2015

Brain Overload


Hello internet! It’s me! I know we haven’t spoken in a while but I’m back to regale you with stories of my life. Not that it’s particularly interesting right now or that I have loads of extra time or anything. I just felt it was time to make a bit of a comeback. I’m three weeks into my last semester of fourth year. Four more months of my degree before I’m cut loose and expected to be an adult. There has yet to be any nervous breakdowns (stay tuned), outrageous drama (give it time), or uncontrollable bouts of emotional eating (…). Welcome to fourth year! Where C’s get degrees and where blood, sweat, and tears define my entire final collection. So it’s really no wonder that sometimes, I just want my brain to shut off, even just for a moment. For my brain to stop twisting around how to sew a particular seam, how in the world I’m going to draft my second garment, or how I’ll scrape together enough time to somehow hand bead five garments. If only my brain would stop obsessing over whatever book I’m currently reading, or being preoccupied with the current class drama, or wondering when that friend will ever end up texting me back. To be able to stop stressing about my looming graduation, my uncertain future as an adult, and the doom and gloom of finding a job. If only I could just flip a switch and all that clutter would just disappear, maybe then I could actually focus and get more work done. Turn into some kind of driven, work-crazed zombie that blasts through work instead of getting distracted by which Harry Potter character you would date in real life. Ah yes, life would be a breeze if such a magical switch existed. All those embarrassing memories that haunt you at random waking moments could simply dissipate allowing you to have a few moments of peace. But alas, I’m stuck with a mind full nonsense, useless and useful information, and muddles of emotions. No wonder I have such an overactive imagination. 

Wednesday, March 26, 2014

Greetings from England! (Yes, I'm Still Alive)


In case you've been living under a rock, I've been living in the UK for about 3 months now. It all feels like some sort of surreal dream that I will occasionally submerge from into blinding reality, that yes, I AM living in the UK right now. And for those few moments I’m so contently happy, I’m this daredevil adventurer and the world is my oyster, ready for the taking. All very cliché but all very amazing as well. My time here has flown by in a flurry of food, rain (but mostly sunshine), creativity, and posh accents; a blur of living on my own, sightseeing, and getting lost in thousands of years of history, art, and culture. So forgive me dear readers, I had every intention of keeping you up to date on my adventures but I was busy and lazy and too afraid of not writing something “good enough”. And of course the only time I would want to write something would be the week before a major project was due that required me to attack  a mountain of work. So it’s really no surprise that I’m only getting around to this until now. Expect for the fact that I have another major project to complete in the next week and a half. Oh joy. So despite what you may be thinking, it’s not all fun and games here (it mostly is though). But to show that I am sometimes doing serious things let’s tackle the first topic: education. It is so invigorating to be in such a unique creative environment. The tutors and technicians have been absolutely incredible. It may help that I’m an innocent little exchange student which means they’re extra nice, but who am I to question the system. And it’s not just the faculty; all of the students have been so welcoming, sweet, and friendly. So many of them took me under their wing and helped me out. I went on fabric shopping trips to London and random 2 hour conversations about everything under the sun. The girls that I have met and befriended here have just made this whole experience that much better. And while I won’t go into too much detail about my last project so I don’t bore you, I will say that it was lovely fun to spend so much time on a project and to finally be able to develop it fully. I also worked with real leather for the first time and I loved it so much that it may make an appearance in my fourth year collection. (Spoilers!) The garment I created married my inspiration of beautiful, soft, flowy, and a wee bit creepy roses, with the bad-ass aspect of biker jackets, spikes, and thorns. The dress above is what I ended up with. My current project is basically a self-directed study that will end on April 4th and then I will be officially finished my term here. I can’t believe how quickly it has all gone by and how comfortable and happy I have been here. I don’t think I am the same person now that I was in December before I left. I was terrified of leaving, imaging all the worst case scenarios, and all the horrors of having to talk to new people. But it has been a wonderful adventure and my British lifestyle here will be sorely missed. And hopefully, in writing this, I will give myself incentive to continue this story. Because I doubt many people are happy with such a measly blurb after such a long drought of silence.... So please bear with me!!  

Tuesday, November 19, 2013

Fate has a Cruel Sense of Humor



I have a confession to make. I love weddings. And I mean I LOVE them. I love everything about them, the decorations, the flowers, the cake, the mementos, the personal touches, and most of all, the dress. There isn't much in this world that makes my little heart sing quite like a wedding…Other people’s weddings that is. Fate must have a cruel sense of humor if a cynic like me should be so infatuated with the marvelous world of bridal. I actually have zero interest in my own wedding. In fact, the only reason I’m on Pinterest is for other people’s weddings. I would bet that at least all of my prospect clients have bridal boards filled to the brim with every childhood fantasy, every high fashion dream, and every personalized touch that makes her “different for the rest”. And for me, it’s like a glitter explosion. The crazed raccoon inside of me that goes mental at the sight of anything even remotely shiny jumps for joy at sight of so much sparkle on said bridal boards. And it doesn't just stop at bridal, oh no, how could it when there is a vast wealth of sparkle elsewhere such as in the land of dancewear, evening couture, and pageants? Sure, theatre is fun and all, and menswear has such a clean and sleek look, and technical outerwear is a… thing, but none of them allow you the same liberty of vomiting glitter on every inch something quite like the magical world of sparkle. Call me crazy, (most people do) but the thought of bedazzling anything from head to toe gets my hand-sewing/glue-gunning hand just a twitching. And maybe it’s a little sad that I don’t dream about my own fairytale wedding, but let’s be honest, twenty is practically a swaddling babe and I’m not exactly beating the boys away with a stick. But I like to be a part of the fairytale. Helping to make a special day memorable for someone actually has the ability to outsparkle all the glitter I plastered onto said piece that I made. That’s why I do what I do. That’s why I put up with the crazy hours and the stressful projects because it’s what I love to do and I get to get to make people happy every day. And, of course, the allure of glitter sparkling from every possible angle on every possible surface helps too. 

And to continue with the glitter theme, here is a song from one of my favorite British artists, Daley, that I was fortunate enough to see live! Hope you enjoy and have a "sparkly" rest of the week! 



Monday, April 8, 2013

Emotional Roller Coaster


It’s been an emotional day. And while every day is emotional for me, this one was a kicker. And I know I’ve been avoiding this blog out of fear but I can’t ignore it anymore because I want to be real and truthful and not hide behind sarcastic humor. Being hurt and vulnerable is what makes you human; it makes you realize that you’re alive and real. So while many of you may be expecting a humorous story about my silly life I need to do this. I need to admit that I’m scared. I need to admit that I’m human because we all have the same fears of not being good enough or getting hurt. We may look different or deal with it differently but we experience it just the same. So, I would like to be crazy and honest and share with you my work and some of my fears. Here it goes….


Creative Well – A project that forced you to dig deep and to explore your creativity so that it will never run out. (Also makes you cry and leaves you an emotional wreck… But it helps you grow!)
Back (Truth Side)
 
Front (Concealed Side)
It all started with the phrase “Follow your feet”. My mind will spin stories and over analyze everything until I’m lost and hopeless. And I absolutely, 100% cannot trust my heart because it’s so fickle. I can only trust my feet because they always lead me in the right direction. They follow by instinct no matter which way my body is pointed. When I voiced out loud the fact that you can’t trust your heart, my friend became sad. I said it so carelessly and nonchalantly because to me it was the truth. My heart has been bruised and battered multiple times and it was easier to build up the wall and numb the pain. Trusting your heart is reckless and unpredictable and gives you nothing but trouble and heartache. I’ve tried to fit in and keep my emotions in check for years but every time I spoke up and was ridiculed, I ended up closing my heart away just a little more. For years I told myself that that’s just the way it is; that every time you open up your heart to someone you loved they were supposed to hurt you. I realized from a young age that nobody cares about your problems and no one wants to listen to them. So when I have a problem I recede behind my wall and push everyone away, quietly dealing with my pain. But this is no way to live your life. Getting hurt is a part of changing and growing as a person. It’s unrealistic to think that I can protect myself forever and never put myself out there. For this reason I was scared of creative well but excited at the same time. I put my heart and soul into every piece of art I create. It’s all filled with symbolism that only I seem to understand. The piece I created is a mirror; the two sides are the exact same. On one side is the symbolism and the concealed emotions, on the other is the raw and blatant truth.  You see the Concealed side first because it acts like a shield because I’m confident that very few can see the secrets that I hid within my drawings. The Truth side is sheltered and intimate. It’s just you and the raw emotion.
This semester has been filled with ups and downs and has been emotionally difficult from the beginning. But after everything that’s happened and Creative Well I feel like I’m back to a good place in my life. I’m still absolutely petrified that I actually made this thing but I know that I’m going to be okay because I trust myself and all the wonderful people around me. Thank you for giving me the courage to put myself out there and to be a better person.


Words that I wanted to say... 

That is correct; fear has been holding me back from speaking my mind. And based on my outrageous outfits, my flamboyant hair, and my rather obnoxious cheerfulness, you might assume that I’m quite the confident little whippersnapper. Well, I hate to break it to you, but you’d be wrong. And if you’ve already read this far expecting a hilarious story about my ridiculous life, you should probably stop reading now because you are sadly mistaken. Because what I’ve built up has started to crack and crumble and I seems like I have to start from square one. It’s weird that I’m the type of person who worries what people think about me. In fact, I’m freaking out about this while I type this and I don’t even know if I’ll post this. I’m scared that no one will find what I write interesting or as funny as I do or think that I’m a pretentious hypocrite. I’m scared of putting what I really think into words and I’m petrified of offending someone through my cynical and incredibly morbid sense of humor. I want to write, but I don’t know what to write anymore. I try to tell people if I have a problem but I’m awkward so instead I just internalize everything.


If you stuck this out to the bitter end, THANK YOU. Thank you for listening and trying to understand. This isn’t me trying to be angsty, this is me trying to connect with people again. I want to keep growing and changing as a person and that means letting go of everything holding me back and opening my heart up to new opportunities. I can’t wait to continue the journey. 



And lastly, I leave you with my new favorite band The 1975 and their awesome song  "Chocolate". Give it a listen because they're brilliant and don't forget to stay awesome! 



Wednesday, January 9, 2013

What NOT To Wear To A Saskatchewan Bar


On the night the world was supposed to end, back in the affectionately dubbed hometown of horrors, I had been persuaded to go to the bar. It apparently didn’t matter that I was so sick that I could barely breathe or that I had to work at eight the next morning. Nope, I had to go out and be sociable. Now, because I apparently had no choice in the matter, I decided to make the best of the situation and dress up, Blair-style to the max. So I ignored all the suitable and sensible pieces that one would typically wear to a bar in my closet and chose a pretty rockn’ outfit if I do say so myself. That is, until I got to the bar. All the other girls in my group were wearing cute fancy tops in neutral colors with dark jeans and carefully curled hair. Which meant that I stuck out like a sore thumb, and not just because of my edgy haircut with my do-what-it-wants curl, oh no, I had thought it would be a brilliant idea to wear my new white sheer button down top with its tiny black skull motif and my red and green plaid bow tie. Yes, you read that correctly, a red and green plaid bow tie. To a bar, in South East Saskatchewan. And don’t go jumping to conclusions about my sheer shirt either, I wasn’t about to scandalize anyone so I was appropriately covered up with a red camisole underneath. Oh, and did I mention that my lipstick that night was obnoxious red? Of course it was. Plenty of girls commented on how nice my shirt was but none of them had a clue what to make of my bow tie. It was like no-man’s land, no one wanted to venture there. Which is hilarious because all the guys could not get over the fact that I was wearing said bow tie and I received numerous compliments on it. I figure it was because they were envious of the fact that I have a bow tie and they don’t. So with my poisonous coloured lipstick, my rather cheeky shirt and classy bow tie, and my never-fail ridiculous hair, I’m sure you can all imagine just how many boys hit on me that night. I won’t even dignify that with an answer. But in all honestly, it didn’t matter. It didn’t even matter that some people felt awkward talking to me or just plain didn’t know what to make of me. What mattered was that I stayed true to myself regardless of the fact that I looked notoriously splashy and out of place. In the end, that made all the difference and made for a successful and fun-filled night. 

Thursday, November 22, 2012

My Ridiculous Encounter at the Pool


Last Thursday…

So today, a lovely Thursday morning, I went to the pool to sit in the hot tub before my massage. First thing I notice, man, I’m the only young, white person here. Next thing I notice, good grief, my bikini shows a lot of skin… So while I sit in the hot tub, thoroughly ashamed of my lack of coverage, watching the parade of wrinkles shuffle by and feeling completely out of place, I spot the lifeguard. First thought, Whoa he’s young… close followed second thought, wait a second, HE’S GOOD-LOOKING TOO! And then comes the realization that my hair is an absolute mess and I have zero makeup on my face. Crap. So I try to avoid looking at him as much as possible all the while being shamed into wanting a one-piece swimsuit so I don’t give some poor old man a heart attack due to my “lack of propriety”. But because I’m the only person there under the age of ninety, I stick out like a neon sign and it was only a matter of minutes before Lifeguard boy figured out “that one of these is not like the others”. And he couldn’t allow me to (literally) melt away into a puddle of embarrassment, oh no, he had to walk by and say “sweet hair.” Thankfully, I was coherent enough to smile back and reply in a reasonable fashion that most likely hid how dumbfounded I was that he was talking to me. Then the time sunk into my stupefied and chlorine addled brain and it was time to get out. I tried to wobble out as gracefully as possible, trying not to pass out from the chlorine fumes, the sight of sagging skin, and the heat of the water. After I gathered all my things, I swing around and HELLO, Lifeguard boy is right there and is talking to me. Clearly I didn’t escape his notice because he commented on how long I’d been there (which was like 15mins tops), to which I replied that I needed it for my massage and he just smiled some more and mentioned that they have a sauna I can use for next time. Right, next time. I somehow managed to stay upright and sputter out some response that I hoped sounded enchanting and then staggered back to the change room in one piece, smiling like a fool all the way. Now I could chalk up my distraction and my general loopiness afterwards to the hot tub, or I could quit lying to myself and admit that the good-looking lifeguard was rather charming and that yes, I would like to talk to him again. Even if the only reason he approached me was because I was a fresh faced looks-like-a-twenty-something in a sea of appropriately covered up elderly…

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Serial Procrastination

I’M A SERIAL PROCRASTINATOR.
It’s gotten so bad that I will do other homework to avoid certain homework. *cough* illustrator… And it’s not like I have a shortage of homework, trust me when I say IT NEVER ENDS. There is always something that I could be working on, something that could be improved, a new project to start. So why on earth do I waste my time refreshing my Facebook page when in fact I really don’t care? Or why do I allow myself to get sucked into surfing YouTube, following a trail of videos that is infinite? Looking at my calendar physically pains me. It looks like a battlefield with the due dates glistening in red and notes scattered bleakly in the perfect little numbered squares mocking me with my lack of life. I painstakingly plan out my weekends and write down everything that needs to be completed but the moment I sit down in front of my computer all my good intentions fly out the window. It doesn’t matter that I have a huge project due the next day because I just found a video of Bigbang speaking English. Who cares if I fail, the new episode of the Mentalist just came out. And before you know it, it’s Sunday night and I’m in a panic trying to finish everything for the upcoming week. It’s such a pointless and vicious cycle that causes me nothing but grief and lack of sleep. And the funny thing is, I can function perfectly well without knowing what everyone is doing in the world. In fact, I frequently take hiatuses from Facebook and my accursed cellphone, yet I never seem take them when I should. There’s just something so alluring about avoiding homework until the last conceivable minute. Maybe it’s because I fool myself into thinking I work better under pressure. But come on now, let’s be serious here, when I have a billion projects due in one week and I’m only functioning on 2 hours of sleep the whole shebang is a tight-lipped monstrosity. What I mean is that in light of the past homework leaden weeks, I think I’ve sorta learnt my lesson when it comes to proper time management. I can only hope it will stick…