I was reading an old Calvin and Hobbes strip, and it got me thinking about new years resolutions. And I decided, that if I'm going to make any resolutions, I might as well start sooner then later. That is why I have decided to have an October 26th resolution. I shall read 100 stories, and by October 25th, I shall have finished reading these 100 stories. Writing this down, I'm probably making my blog feel like it's a sort of sad spin-off of the Julie/Julia project. But I don't plan on devoting all my time to writing about Ulysses, and The Tropic of Cancer, and Steinbeck, and so on and so forth. The lists I'm looking at consist of mostly western literature, but I don't really have a problem with that. I'm considering creating a list of my very own, taking top 40 or so from Harvard's Bookstore, TIME magazine, Modern Library, and Gutenberg, and sorting through each until I have a list of books that might not completely lull me to sleep, because, you know, not everyone absolutely loves Great Expectations.
I'm considering telling my english teacher about my little project. I think he'll really like it.
I think Beowulf should be somewhere on everybody's 100 list. It's the first whole recorded piece of english literature. It won't be part of mine because, I've already finished it, but I think the poetic translation (from the original old english) is beautiful, and worth trying to finish at least.
I don't know what the other 99 are exactly yet, I'll have my list finished by tomorrow. but I've started things off with Modern Library Board's first pick, Ulysses by James Joyce.
And, yes Katie, Vonnegut is most certainly on the list!
I am taking my first ballet lesson in November. I'm hoping that my being Russian will give me some sort of advantage. I've wanted to try ever since I was about 3 or 4. Perhaps I will change my mind about Ballet. Perhaps I will fall in love with it. Perhaps my first pair of pointe shoes will be red ones. We shall see.
I might be becoming just a little bit eccentric when it comes to the way I dress. Or maybe this one has something to do with the fact that I practically live in my High School's art room. But....
It was the dress that I wanted for 9 months of my life. But it was $156.
Yes, I am most certainly back. With news that may or may have not yet reached ye readers. Lanvin comes to H&M November 20th. Oh.my.god.
They will show the collection online on November 2nd. Lanvin makes really wonderful ballet flats. I hope they decided to make some for H&M!
If you went to Google and you typed in "lanvin ballet flats" into the image search engine, this photo is the first one you would see. And I want these shoes. I do. A friend of mine almost bought ones very similar to these for me while in France. I saw a picture of them, and decided that if I could not have them in my life, that I would find another shoe that looked like them. So... Hello, Lanvin collection for November, 2010!
Karl Lagerfeld is the man behind a no-calorie beverage campaign. It figures. Hello, would any Frenchies like to hand over their Karl Cokes? No? ...Ok. Hello, Ebay!
This photo is courtesy of Cuillere a Absinthe. Cuillere a Absinthe, it is a very excellent French blog, but it has been a while since French classes and Madame Peters, and my not-so-wide French vocabulary makes it a difficult read sometimes. Special thanks to Google Translator for giving me more good blogs to read!
This post was a bit late on arrival, I know. We took a weekend vacation by the Seaside, another large family function. We have a lot of those in the Summertime.
Amanda, I made this for you. It's a guide to all "complimenting" techniques you will find yourself victim to as Freshman. Pour the Champagne, darling, because this is the beginning of the rest of your brutally hellish life! I hope you feel very, very special.
When walking through the halls of high school here, a female enters a classroom, and somebody will comment on that silver and burgundy circle scarf and then you’ll enter the ladies’s restroom in the C Hall, where ladies will be having that one conversation that you’ll hear different ladies at school have about once a week. Pauline, that girl said your shoes looked nice! I heard her. Oh my God. I hate when people do that. Yeah, because they never mean it. Like, I know, right? And when red head with too many freckles comes into the room to admire herself in the full length mirror, sporting a brand new blue chiffon jumper she bought this-ONE-time at-the-Urban-Outfitters-on-Broadway-and-oh-my-gosh-it-is-so-thin-she-has-to-like-wear- spandex-and-a-full-outfit-of-ludicrously-tight-clothes-underneath (idiot), Pauline does not hesitate to spread her deep and unfeigned love around, just as Barbara Stanwyck or whats-her-face-like-ohmygod-who-cares did previously in the hall.
Amateurishly, I will define the compliments as such:
Compliment: "You look good in those shoes", NOT "I like those shoes"
The Comment/sad/tired compliment: It really is just a comment that resembles a compliment. Some short person you've never seen before might be standing in your history class and say very dryly, "I like your shoes". Typically they show they lack any motivation to make you feel uncomfortable. But, they sound very unexcited about their liking your shoes. Sometimes they sound very sad about liking your shoes. Sometimes they sound like they might fall asleep to the liking of your shoes.
The Fake Compliment: A compliment that somebody obviously does not mean. Not to be confused with a Cake compliment, it's a very sneaky way of saying they do not "like your shoes" at all. They think they are unflattering, unattractive, silly, etc. Or, it's a sideways sort of way of telling you ought to feel that you look terrible, whether or not you really do.
The Cake Compliment: Where a comment compliment is spoken but it sounds "sugary", like a fake compliment. A weak attempt at a Fake compliment is what it is. They could potentially have some teenager not-very-nice or self-esteem-related motives, but their too afraid to go the whole 9 yards with their being pretentious and immature and silly.
There you have it. Your basic definitions. Not only can you identify them, but you know how to react; With immense confusion, with frustration, Or, with immense confusion!
Today... or rather, yesterday, I guess... it was 79 degrees when we left for Alki Beach (de West Seattle). Being a pale and blue-eyed child, I have to be diligent about putting on sunscreen. First really hot day of summer, and no sunburns! I look more like a piece of white bread that has been toasted lightly and evenly on each side, which I consider to be something kind of miraculous.
Today was interesting, to say the least. I attempted to swim in the Puget Sound. Once you get used to the frigid waters, a giant wave might sneak up behind you, knock you over, or hit you with a million stones it picked up from the bottom of the sound. Nice. A friend and I walked into town later in the afternoon, looking to see if their were any good shops around. Hidden behind a shop that sold goggles and Billabong dresses and swimsuits for babies, we came across a "Pepper Boutique".
Now, If you have ever walked into a boutique (.... Juicy Couture) and whipped out your camera to take photos then you know, they'll just tell you "Sorry, hun, that's a no-no"... Proprietary only or watchamacallit. We walked into the place, and I thought it was a vintage store at first. I saw something resembling a flapper dress, an "I love San Fran" tee, and something that might have been a hot pink rain jacket. And it had thatsmell, the vintage store smell. But, it was apparently a real Boutique. At least, that's what the employee invading my personal space bubble was trying to tell me.
Her name, or really silly alias, is Pepper. And according to her website, the corporate world was simply not for her. Bye-bye, Nordstrom's Production team, hello sandy beach and no customers! Wait, what?! By the look of what was on the racks, it didn't seem to me she really had a choice. I'm no fashion designer, but sweet jesus, her clothing looked more like creatures ready to devour your entire body than be cast as pieces for a re-couture ready-to-wear collection. There were blue tunics belted with plastic farm animals, NEXT to the "Chanel Couture, Paris" Decor and the Marilyn Monroe photographs! It was a disgrace. The horror continued, hanger after hanger. You couldn't even see the clothes on the racks because clothes had been hung sideways, on top of the racks. There were a few pairs of really great vintage boots, surprisingly, and also a few flannel creations that my friend Katie found, but Pepper didn't have enough room for her clothes. It looked like the place where all the naughty vintage fabrics go... deconstructo HELL.
What happened there is something I shall always remember. I entered, snapping a photo of the entrance, and she came right up to me and said, "In Boutiques, you're not allowed to take pictures of any clothing, you know. You're not allowed, cameras are not allowed in here, so you need to take out your camera right now and delete the pictures. Take out your camera, show me you deleted that picture. Can you show me you've deleted it? Show me you've deleted all your pictures." I know it is silly, but I seriously thought she was going to steal my camera and never give it back. And all I could think was "Why, so nobody steals your great ideas? Nobody is going to steal your designs... you can't even see the clothing, there is so much crammed together!".
And then...
"You'll notice that a lot of the clothing is ripping. A lot of people come in and touch the clothing and pull it out, and they don't keep in mind that it is all really delicate, and so, you can only touch it by grabbing it from the hanger." But "delicate" didn't mean dresses made from tissue paper-thin slips from the early 1920s. And "ripping" didn't mean people were digging their claws into her deconstructed flannel jackets and chewing on the sleeves. These pieces were falling apart at the seams.
"Everything in the back is $2000 or more [It all looked the same, just so you know]. Are you looking for anything for an event? Because I will schedule an appointment right away and then we can discuss and I can help you and... are you just looking? Well I have to get back to pressing and steaming and whatnot, so if your not going tobuy anything [We had been browsing for only about 5 minutes] then I need to get back to work."
She essentially kicked us out of her store. Even though I know that one is perfectly capable of running a boutique and making clothing too. Look at Anna Banana of The Pretty Parlour! She can work on her clothes and still run her damn store, a store frequented by people like...oh, I don't know, Zooey Deschanel.
The nerve of some people. Ah, well. It was still a wonderful day at the beach. And I was pretty inspired by all the junk and few nice things I had found. Katie and I both agreed, going to that store, it makes you want to make clothing.
(When I got home, I did turn on my sewing machine. But that is all I will say about that, for now.)
.... Love has been covered way too much for me to be able to do so. So, I'll keep this short. Once upon a time there was a 135 lbs., mostly Polish, slightly German, and slightly muscular boy named Conrad. I dated him for four months. I dated him because:
- His hair was blonde.
- His eyes were blue.
- He liked to cook.
- He liked to watch noir films.
- He liked to read.
- He was smart.
- Smart enough to enroll and be accepted into the University of Washington by his Sophomore Year of High School.
- We both liked Death Cab For Cutie.
- He was very nice to me.
Then, I stopped liking him because:
- He didn't call me. Ever.
- He was no longer very nice to me.
- He wasn't emotionally mature enough to sustain a romantic relationship on more than hormonal and chemical activity, and the sheer novelty of "us".
- He was bored, but not nearly as bored as I was.
He called on June 2nd, around 5:30pm, in response to 10 phone calls I had sent his way, desperately, in the course of one day, trying to get an answer to the dinner invitation my family and I had sent him, before they made plans without him. He said he was available for one hour. To talk about "us". He mentioned the following things.
- Was unsure
- Not enough energy for relationship
- Something about a "Spark"
- Something about "clicking"
I proceeded to cry a little, and stuttering like a fool, told him I would call him back. I didn't. This ought to be mentioned:
Today I took to listening to all my French music. I recently pirated some Jacques Brel, because I couldn't stand listening to Zach Condon of Beirut's drunken rendition of "Le Moribond" any longer. I had a song by Brigitte Bardot, but when I looked into what music she made, I was dissapointed to find there was nothing that wasn't complete fluff besides "Moie Je Joue", the track I already have a copy of... which is, by the way, pretty much fluff. I also attempted to find some good Serge Gainsbourg songs, however I was mostly just entertained by the Bardot/Gainsbourg "Bonnie and Clyde" track, so this was really the only one I downloaded.
I also rediscovered Edith Piaf, and downloaded her music as well. Well, one song. I didn't really look that hard at all. I'm not doing a very good job, am I? If you are by chance an Edith Piaf fan, or at least know what she is famous for, you probably guessed that the song was "La Vie En Rose." Piaf wrote the lyrics, and Lous Gugliemi (or "Louiguy") helped with the melody. I believe this song became popular in the late 1940s. [As a side note, I must confess to you now, I am actually not a particular fan of fashion from the 1940s unlike many, but the music and films of the 1940s, I completely adore.]
I have seen bits of "La Vie En Rose" the film. If I may be so bold.... such a film isn't worth watching unless you want to know the details of a person's life. The problem with that second bit of what I said is that the movie is not completely accurate, because the fact if the matter is, is that Edith Piaf's life is shrouded in mystery. There were plenty of rumors and stories left floating around long after she had gone. That first bit of what I said, I said because I personally do not find movies made to depress entertaining, however beautiful everything in it just might be, although this really is all purely opinion.
It really was a brilliant song. I have listened the Madeliene Peyroux cover a countless number of times now. I have been playing it all day. Now I'm just wondering how long my addiction is going to last with all this French music. If you don't know who any of these artists are, you really ought to look them up! Listening to the music of these chanteurs and chanteuses is taking a good bite out of French culture. That, and most of old French songs sound very pretty.
Could I have been born in a better place for feeding my greatest obsessions? Thank you, mes parents, for birthing me in Seattle! Because this year, we have more than just a few really great shows and festivals this summer (and exhibitions! Warhol/Cobain at the SAM!). I really do expect this years Capitol HIll Block Party to be the best one yet! Yes, oh yes. I am on of them. The Concert-goer, child of concert-goers, and of musicians. Of the music obsessed, who were once grunge rockers, earliest fans of Ozzy, bona-fide metalheads, midwestern punk kids, with their weird affinities for the soul, for shoegaze, for jazz music. And for really great singers, too, crooners, for Billie Holiday, for Bing Crosby, for Sarah Vann, for Ella Fitzgerald, and for, most of all and above all vocalists, Frank Sinatra.
The great thing about music is that I never know where it will take me next. Doesn't that just sound stupid as hell? But, really, when heavy metal meets grunge meets old pop standards, meets indie, meets The Smiths, meets the honky tonk hour on you local independent radio station --- hard to say that tomorrow you won't start listening to early David Bowie and, I don't know, world music. I started listening to Beirut... Balkan Brass Gypsy Music and Grunge rock are two very separate things.
For those of you who (somehow) do not know, the summer here is good for seeing loads of amazing musicians. Our Bumbershoot Festival really IS incredible, most years, and we in general see tons of great artists and musicians at Seattle Venues throughout the summer months. I am particularly excited for July. We get to have MGMT play for the 2010 Capitol Hill Block Party. That's east of downtown Seattle. Yes... on a hill. I would describe Capitol Hill as a very, very mellow version of something slightly resembling the scene in, maybe, San Francisco, but sized down, with way less of the fun stuff; with lots of weird little restaurants, some really great cafes, and a couple very smelly and sometimes very overpriced consignment opportunities. The block party I have been to, but do not exactly remember (I was taken when I was about 3 years old by my father).
July might be one very busy month for me if I'm going to Capitol HIll Block Party, San Francisco, getting a summer job to save for a graduation trip (France) and finishing a large portion of my AP Studio Art summer homework. There is much work to be done needless to say. And I am still undecided about my Senior Project. Art show?
Speaking of art... we received all our artwork back from the school art expo, at last! I sent in my French Horn Sketch to a community art show. It was really the only piece that was, by my standards, "finished". I took all my unfinished and "unfinished" pieces home on Friday.
You know what really gets me? Those green "honorable mention" ribbons stamped on some of the pieces in the Art Expo. My tree was one of these pieces. Let's see, Kendra receives first place ribbon. Brendan receives second place ribbon. And... *mystery place* ribbon for Amelia! I don't know who was on the panel of judges this year, but boy, do they know how to make an intensely hard-working art student feel second-rate.
Special thanks to Ms. King for being one person completely in love with this thing. I honestly wish I could appreciate this tree as much as you do (especially after all the work and weekdays that I had to put into it).
You can probably tell, this piece is very large. But this is about as big as I am, as is my self portrait.
Here is a painting I did at the beginning of a year. It is my favorite painting, but oddly enough, the subject, once a friend of mine, completely stopped talking to me this year.
(Acrylic paint)
And this painting, unfinished, was the start of a song interpretation piece. "There is a Light, And It Never Goes Out" by The Smiths. That odd little white carrot-shaped man at the bottom will at some point be Patrick Morrissey. When I showed this to my Dad, he said "Of all the romantic imagery you could come up with, you got...what, a light bulb and the guy who sings the song? Jesus." That made me feel really great. That's probably the reason I left this alone for such a long time. It is getting there....
And my last unfinished piece of the Amelia Unfinished Collection. The Bicycle still life!
This year nearly killed me. Thank goodness summer is almost here. And only one, single, torturous week left! Hallelujah!
I bought flowers for my mother. She threw them in the back of the car, and then threw her giant black pleather bag on top of them. Thanks, mom.
My mother and I have sort of a strained relationship. When I was a kid, she told me every detail of every relationship with every man she had ever known. But she never told me about her sexual orientation. ...It still does bother me that she never told me she was bisexual.
My mother rearranges the furniture in the house every time I come over for a visit. My mother buys all her furniture and most of her appliances at the local Goodwill. She, however, will spend $55.75 plus tax on Dior Concealer, and $30 or so on a new rouge lipstick from the ladies at MAC. My mother is a die-hard KISS fan, but the only music you hear in the car on the way to Tacoma is either the jazz station, or Billie Holiday. She has closet filled with purses (about 50 of them! it's incredible!) but never has been known to fuss about the clothes she put on before she walked out the door.
Whether I would like to or not, I'm becoming more and more like her. I do not need to spend a day with her to be reminded of this.
I recently discovered Mac lipstick sitting at the bottom of our old toy chest, and started wearing it to school and places where it is completely unnecessary. I also have what I consider to be a HORRIBLE habit... I find myself reorganizing my room.... for fun.
Lipstick. Check. Weird cleaning routines. Check. This is getting out of hand.
Anyways. This what Mother's Day looked like:
(Why, hello there...Russian brethren)
It was, first off, a beautiful day in Seattle! 67 degrees!
( We went to Jai Thai in Fremont )
Maman and... Brian.
This is a light fixture inside Jai Thai. It's a pretty big deal.
Lantern, I want you in my life.
Buddha has finished his meal. Now, he is at peace. All is well in the world.
What I like about photos that are out of focus, unlike very clear and focused ones, is that they respect the fact that what your looking is something of the past. Looking at a blurry photo, it's like looking at a memory.
And more later, because my computer is being dysfunctional now. Hooray!
Overly distressed jorts, a black tank top so ancient that the side tag has completely fallen off, and one very old beaded necklace that one of my Dad's friends made for me in the 90s. And believe me, 4 or 5 straight days of sleep deprivation can really make you look like your damaged. If you saw my face right now I think you would understand, but I don't think we are going to go there, because, yeah dude, posting pictures of yourself in this sort of state takes courage, courage that I lack, and I don't really think you want to see my face like this, so I'm really just doing you a favor.
Down to business... this weekend I did a grand total of nothing a la nothing, except for make delicious crepes, braid several people's hair, prank call a single's hotline with a few friends, and start a minature potrait of Kate Bosworth in my Sketchbook. And, also, gain more French Vocabulary. I have successfully taught myself a series of phrases in case I want to pick up a few male prostitutes when in Paris or Marseilles (How's my breath?... Do you do this often?... I have MANY diseases....) Well I suppose saying doing nothing isn't entirely true. My dear friend Amandine and I went to the Goodwill very briefly. We also bought a huge pitcher of lemonade, and had a water fight outside. I also did something new... I climbed onto my roof for the very first time. It was actually really nice up there. Dangerous, however very nice, because the weather in Seattle today was FANTASTIC.
My spring break is this week, and I'm glad of that. This means that we get to enjoy a sunnier-than-usual vacation. It's rare that the weather is so nice so early, and I feel kind of bad, my boyfriend just left on a plane this morning to go to some small town in Florida to visit family, and although he is going to a fairly nice place, he is missing out on all of the what I consider to be very precious sunny days in Seattle. When I left to spend the summer in Arizona after the 6th grade, I came back and my Dad told me that the entire Summer her had been perfect, and that there was almost no rain at all, and even though I had just spent the whole summer enjoying dry heat, spending time with several friends, swimming in their swimming pools, I was still somehow extremely envious. Warm weather here is nice just because everything looks especially green and thanks to all of the vegetation it smells really wonderful when you walk outside.
I think tomorrow me and family #2 (that's my friend and her folks, the ones that want me to move in with them and make them dessert every day) are making Strawberry shortcake and possibly going to Scarecrow (that's the movie store with an impressive collection of ancient movies) and hopefully I can persuade them to rent Christmas in Connecticut, and then perhaps another Henry Fonda movie? We watched the Lady Eve last time I was over. And I have this huge obsession with Henry Fonda that I cannot seem to get past... I do worry for my sanity.
For those of you who have not seen this movie, The Lady Eve is about a con artist and her father who board a ship in pursuit of Charles Pike, heir to a fortune of his rich father, who owns a popular brewery. While trying to woo dear Charles, who falls for her immediately she ends up falling in love with him as well. When he finds out who she is later on, well, things don't look so good for either of them, and when Charles tells her they are through, admitting to have been on her trail for a brief time, she plans her revenge, and she gets even with good old Pike. And there is a happy ending too. Even after she gets back at good Pike, but I am going to cease from giving away the entire film, this is where I stop talking about it, and show something amusing from the movie...
I might just try and see if we can rent The Mad Miss Manton, Fonda and Stanwyck are really incredible together on screen.
Go rent an old movie, sit on the couch with your lovely girlfriend or boyfriend who did NOT leave for a week, who you won't have to wait to see until Saturday, eat some Strawberry and Nutella crepes, and if it is warm where you are, well, enjoy it, because it is not warm enough where I live, and I envy you.
Today, my father gave me my very own computer, and unlike my school-loaned laptop, which my parental units decided should be strictly for academic-related activities (homework, homework, homework... Oooh and emailing TEACHERS!) this particular computer, well, I can use it whenever I damn well please. I can use this to blog over the summer!
aw shit! she's treating me like crap again. getting sort of caught up in herself. greeat. Friends aren't supposed to make you miserable. This I know for a fact. Know what else? Nothing has changed. old ways have actually just become ways. dude i just need to go outside. jump in the lake with friends, or go to the mall with the people who promised to spend time with me this summer, people who know how to be nice rather than devoting myself to somebody who shows such a willingness and desire to hurt me. ahhh what a loovely mess she pulled me into. i knew she didn't mean that apology. i knew it all along. she is still just as mean .and you know what? i think that it could be just as easy to pull myself out of this relationship as easily as i put myself back in it. that is something she wouldn't like very much, but what, i've tired every other option already. she would have a hard time facing these things without trying very hard to dispell the effects of guilt. i'm never going to let people get the chance to walk over me. it hurts. I am always thankful for my experiences, and what other people teach me. so thanks for nothing.
I wanted to forget this all even existed. That god awful feeling. The writing. All of it.
I sit at my desk and I wonder why something is so amiss and then I begin to notice that folds and ruffles are protruding from places they really, honestly, should not on people... And then I scroll through 10 pages of lookbook, and it all makes sense.
Here is what should be understood...
Clothing is supposed to fit.
I believe that the clothing of a decade reflects that decade perfectly. You will look closely, and then you'll find that I am correct.
And it all really isn't the world to me, but when it comes to the stuff we wore when we were all young, I personally want to remember something better.
And spent the evening shopping on Broadway and Capitol Hill. I bought a cardigan from Urban Outfitters, but what else is new, I guess...but oh my god, we had so much fun that day!
The Pretty Parlor, a very fine vintage store which is very near and dear to my heart, one that Zooey Deschanel apparently stops at regularly. There is also a shop kitty named Petunia, and Anna, the woman who owns the store, is really nice. It is a marvelous place, it really is.
The mountains, through a series of structures and clouds and telephone lines.
Oh, we took a few pictures at Volunteer Park and the water tower, but you know, by the time we had got there it was already getting pretty dark.
One very sleepy camel ride.
The birds... the sun.... the sky... and... The Dry Cleaners
Seattle is the most beautiful city.... Did I mention that?
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