Sweet Tea and a Cloudy Sky

I just remembered something. See, sometimes I pick up my three-year-old sister from daycare. One day, I picked her up and when we were going to the car she was telling me about one of her little friends. His name was Andrew. She said, “Andrew doesn’t wear panties because he’s a boy. Boys don’t wear panties. Boys wear underwear.” Now, since I’m not her mother and I’m not raising her, I just let it go. Besides, she’s three. They’re just trying to teach her the basics of life.

Can you imagine if it was my kid, though? You know I would immediately walk back into that daycare center and bitch them out. Something along the lines of “why the hell are you teaching my child that boys don’t wear panties? Boys can wear whatever they want. Why are you differentiating between boys and girls anyways?”

The world is probably glad I’m not a parent.

I guess even when it seems like life is handed to you on a silver platter, you still have to find something to complain about.

I made this dress out of the leftover fabric from my mom’s wedding’s bridesmaid dresses. I had a bridesmaid dress too but I don’t know what I did with it, I think I might have grown out if it. I like this one better anyways, the bridesmaid dress was form-fitting except for a slit and i like flowy/poufy things better anyways.

I know I just graduated. I know I’m only nineteen. I know. But a lot can happen in a year. Looking back, I’m a totally different person now, in a number of ways of course. The one that struck me just now is the way I portray myself.

I used to be a mall-rat, I wore bright clothes, I was bubbly and at the same time vaguely emo. Sometimes I was described as a raver, not because I did drugs (I didn’t) but because of the bright colors and outlandish styles I would sport. I wore cute floofy skirts and way too much plastic jewelry. I remember a specific day where I chose to wear a striped polo shirt and jeans my senior year. I had none of my normal bright makeup on, no plastic stars around my neck. About halfway through the day one of my ‘good friends’ (because everyone was a good friend in high school) asked me what was wrong with me and what I was wearing. It wasn’t in a mean way, and it turns out a lot of people were confused by my choice out attire. Now, I’m reminded of a certain video by Ze Frank that I will link to later when I’m at a computer instead of on my blackberry. I had build up a personal brand, and now I was deviating from this. I had created a theme that people expected me to stick to and I was breaking free of it. The people around me kept me stuck in that niche of who I was, as I returned to my previous style the following day.

When I went off to college, I had a new place to start. I was able to create a more sophisticated portrayal of myself, and seem more presentable to the world. My style no longer screamed “stupid bubbly teenage girl” and instead begged for respect, or at least I would like to think so. About halfway through my second semester, I began to miss my old style. I didn’t expect to go back into it, but I wanted to inforporate pieces of it into the brand I’ve created for myself. Now I’m trying to figure out how to do this without being overwhelming.

A friend who knew me in high school and has actually watched the progression commented on it the other day. He said that I’ve gotten more sophisticated and I can’t pull off huge sparkly pink star earrings anymore. I’m kind of sad, partially because I’m afraid he’s right, and partially because I feel like it’s another example of being kept in a theme by outside forces. Besides, a lesbian who’s name I can’t remember and who I met once – at the mall whilst mallratting no less – gave me those earrings. I at least want to be able to wear them so that I can tell that story.

Sometimes I tell myself about all the things I need to do. I look anywhere other than my computer screen and see all the things piled around me waiting to be done. My room needs work, I need to sew, I need to do this or that. Then I turn back to my computer and read blogs like hipsterrunoff dot com and wonder what I’m doing with my life. I go on twitter and complain about how lonely I feel, and I get frustrated thinking about how I really just wish my boyfriend would call me.