Less inspiring am I.

Just so I'm not slicking on my 30 days: yesterday I was completely uninteresting in grey burnout tee with silver anchor, grey skinn jeans, and flip flops. Today I am similarly monochromatic in blue-grey star tee, straightleg cuffed jeans, and the selfsame black flip-flops. No time for fashion when you're going to be moving heavy things.

2 days before Big Ass!

Quick post today, then it's off to pick up stuff from Cooperella: black strapless knit top, straightleg cuffed jeans, aqua canvas peeptoe cork bottom wedges, silver hoop earrings, clean hair up in a messy bun with pinned back bangs, and a painted face.

No time! No time!

Quick, quick, quick, then off to dayout. No time to get ready today:grey and navy v-neck wide striped tee, cuffed straightleg jeans, metallic gold flip flops and gold hoop earrings. Giant bug-eye sunglasses, no makeup, and pocahontas braids. I look about 14.

Down to the wire

Busy, busy, busy. Screening and tagging and inventorying and epoxying and cleaning today. Basic blue jeans, royal blue top, hair up in messy bun, no makeup or shoes. Probably stay that way all day.

3 day backup

Slacked off for the last few days, so here's an update: Sunday: lazed around in a babydoll dress and no shoes. Yesterday, loose black top, dark indigo skinny jeans, bronze sandals and bronze hoops. Today: forest green strapless dress, gold metallic flip flops, gold hoop earrings. Hair down and sort of behaving.

Bad day, good clothes. Day 8.

If all else fails, dress cute: long fitted scoopneck tee from Target with birds and flowers on front, cuffed straightleg jeans, silver hoop earrings, and aqua blue canvas peeptoe mules with cork wedges. Hair is clean but untidy, up in a ponytail.

And on the seventh day she was FIERCE.

Day 7, one week in. Olive green and white mod circle printed short sleeved knit dress, nude cami top under, my favourite bronze platform sandals, gold hoop earrings, and 3rd day hair that's holding up nicely due to the low humidity. I like it so much I may stay in it all day.

Black Gold, Texas Tea.

Day 5? 6? 6. Black rayon tie backed tank top, straightleg cuffed jeans (Converse One Star--my favourite!), bronze strappy disco platform sandals and antique gold hoop earrings, messy ponytail getting messier by the day.

Day 4, technically 5: Pneumatic Fanatic

Outfitted with strapless light green knit babydoll dress with shirred top, big bugeyed sunglasses, silver hoops and flipflops. Still can't find the black ones. :( Oh yeah, and one revved up kiddo. We're going to the park before my workday resumes.

Day 3: Black and Teal

Day 3: all-Beqi outfit: black rayon tie-back tank, teal matte jersey double ruffle skirt, silver flip flops (since one of my black ones has gone missing), big silver hoop earrings, messy ponytail, yellow barrel purse, and kid.

I should mention that the skirt I'm wearing is one that will be available on http://www.beqiclothing.com, and I've already got an advance order for one. It's pretty smashing.

Day two-Nautical Miss Piggy

Day two of outfit diary, only 28 to go: navy and grey wide striped v-neck tee, deep indigo overdyed skinny jeans, bronze platform sandals, bronze hoop earrings, and newly dried ponytail. Yellow barrel purse, because I love navy and yellow together. Very nautical.

30 days of fashion.

I'm going again to attempt to catalog outfits for a month. Yesterday: forest green strapless knit dress with bottom ruffle. Yellow patent leather strappy platform whore stilletos. Red silk orchid in hair. Today, jade green brocade lounge pants and black tank top. Possibly an all-day outfit, I can't tell yet.

Week 2 of my Outfit Diary

Monday: day four: deep teal green cotton peasant dress with black cinch belt, gunmetal hoop earrings, bare feet, and dazed expression.

Tuesday: I'm kind of excited about today's outfit, since I made the top this morning in an hour: light aqua burnout knit drapeneck top with ruffle sleeves and banded bottom, black tank underneath, cuffed straightleg jeans, and bronze Miss Piggy approved platform birdcage wedge sandals.

Wednesday: Today, an all-Beqi outfit: black knit dolman sleeved top with a wide banded bottom, teal matte jersey knit 3/4 skirt with double ruffle, bronze birdcage sandals, and freshly minted toes.

Friday: Okay, I didn't get a chance to post yesterday, so here's two outfits for the diary: yesterday--knee length cuffed skinny jean shorts, black dolman sleeved top, black cork wedge sandals. Today--similar jean shorts, royal blue babydoll top, black flip flops.

Saturday: Almost forgot: today, I mostly wore a light green knit strapless babydoll dress and bronze platform sandals, but now that I'm going to the bar I've changed into a Social D tee, skinny dark denim jeans, and wedge sandals.

Sunday: Outside today: black wide strap tencel blousey tank with back ties, skinny blue jeans and black gladiator sandals. Taking jewelry supplies with me to make some earrings.

Wednesday: Missed the last two days, but they warn't much to speak of. Today's is better: black flip-flops, cuffed grey skinny jeans, black tank top under a deep olive green sheer sweater knit dress (It's much lighter than it sounds), silver hoop earrings. Hair is up in a messy bun.

Outfit Diary: 6/5 - 6/30

In an effort to get into the habit of blogging a little more often, I'm going to post a weekly synopsis of my outfits for each day, in an effort to illustrate how inane blogging sometimes is. :)

6/5: I am wearing a blue striped scoopneck tee I made, skinny blue jeans, black gladiator sandals, and big hoop earrings. (I later changed to short denim shorts, because we went to the Botanical Gardens and it was a squillion degrees. Then I caught sight of myself in a mirror and wished I hadn't.)

6/6: Day two of the outfit diary: mint green tissue weight tee with art nouveau print, grey skinny jeans, big black Jackie O. sunglasses, gladiator sandals, black hobo bag I could smuggle a small child in. (This was my stepfamily's reunion day at Pere Marquette, so when I got there I changed into a hand-altered "Dressel Reunion" tee. Later, when we briefly attempted to take our exhausted kiddo sans nap to dinner, I changed into a fluttery dark teal knit dress with a ruffle down the front.)

6/7: boring today: flutter sleeved scoopneck black knit top, cuffed straightleg jeans, and bright blue flip flops. At least my hair is clean.

Some musings on a Sunday afternoon.

I am a hopeless romantic. And yet, I hate romance movies with every fiber of my being. Why? Because they trivialize love; forcing it into awkward, gimmick-laden situations until the stories become indistinguishable from one another. No earth has been trod so well as the path of romantic comedy; the dirt will no longer keep any imprint of substance.

Also, it bothers me that the part of the romance these films focus on is inevitably the least interesting: namely, the beginning. It is impossible to love at first sight, love requires deep knowledge of another person. Love requires understanding their needs, thoughts, wants, ideas, pasts, and ideologies.

You cannot call an emotion love not honed over years, not without being familiar with the bad habits and human weaknesses of your intended. Intimacy without emotion is not intimacy, it's a prolonged one-night stand, and it's as shallow as an brief one. One night stands or short-term couplings are fine for them's that like them; I have no moral qualms with people fulfilling sexual needs, even if I myself am not interested in sex without connection. Just don't call it love, for that debases us all and belittles the scope of the thing.

The beginning of a bond is always its most tenuous. Love takes patience, faith, and the foresight of mind to reevaluate yourself and your needs in the face of cooperative communication. A bond that weakens over time is just falling to the inevitable errors in its inception, playing out its errant course. But make no mistake, the signs were there at the start.

People who are truly in love with one another have seen sides of the other person you don't see in the honeymoon stage, and borne it out. Romantic comedies (and frequently dramas) stay in safer waters, prefering the cute over the substancial. But real love is far more murky; deep, complicated, and dark.

Love grows out of life: out of stress, out of miscommunication, out of grief, tenderness, humanity and toil. True love fights, even to the death. True love is not for the weak, the selfish, the arrogant, the impatient, the greedy, and the childish. It will bear them in the short-term, but in order to keep two people happy they both have to be willing to shrug off bad habits over time; it is unfair to ask someone else to suffer anything in you that you are not willing to suffer in them. The honeymoon stage may be all well and good for the romance industry, but love requires more; it requires you to change for the better, which doesn't sell as many diamonds.

Romance is all well and good, but give me love every time. Just don't confuse the two in the public mind, because meeting cute does not happily ever after make.

Facebook wastes my time beautifully.

1. Have you ever been searched by the cops?
Yep. Several times, actually. Not once did I give them a reason to do so. Cops suck.

2. Do you close your eyes on roller coasters?
Abso-frickin'-lutely. When you can get me on them, that is.

3. When's the last time you've been sledding?
The last big snow. I went, and there is video footage.

4. Would you rather sleep with someone else, or alone?
Sometimes with, sometimes not. That's why we have a big couch.

5. Do you believe in ghosts?
Unfortunately, yes. Because I can sense them and they like to fuck with me as a result.

6. Do you consider yourself creative?
Yep.

7. Do you think O.J. killed his wife?
Does the pope wear a stupid hat?

8. Jennifer Aniston or Angelina Jolie?
Angeline Jolie, after someone feeds her 18 pies.

9. Can you honestly say you know ANYTHING about politics?
I know a lot about politics, which is why I keep out of it.

10. Do you know how to play poker?
Ish.

11. Have you ever been awake for 48 hours straight?
I've been awake for 72 hours straight before. At the end of which I had a slight nervous breakdown, followed by a roughly 17 hour nap. Insomnia sucks.

12. What's your favorite commercial?
good god, I don't know.

13. Who was your first love?
Speed Racer

14. If you're driving in the middle of the night, and no one is around you, do you run a red light?
Nope.

15. Do you have a secret that no one knows but you?
Everyone over the age of 6 does.

16. Boston Red Sox or New York Yankees?
I hate baseball.

17. Have you ever been Ice Skating?
I've repeatedly fallen down on an ice rink before. Does that count?

18. How often do you remember your dreams?
Every night. And I have some doozies.

19. What's the one thing on your mind?
Money.

20. Do you always wear your seat belt?
Ever since dating Eddie, I do.

21. What talent do you wish you had?
organization.

22. Do you like Sushi?
Love it.

23. What do you wear to bed?
Um, I sleep nude.

24. Do you truly hate anyone?
No one who doesn't deserve it.

25. If you could sleep with one famous person, who would it be?
Mike Ness.

26. Do you know anyone in jail?
Yep. Two for murder one.

27. What food do you find disgusting?
Taco Bell, Dominos, McDonald's, diet soda, raisins, french toast, peas, american cheese, bologna, white bread, mayonnaise, Red Bull, Budweiser beer products, barbecue potato chips, fake maple syrup, cheap ice cream, vegetarian meat, soy milk, hash browns, pate', carrots, cheesecake, venison, cheez puffs, pumpkin pie, cool whip icing, fake grape or watermelon flavor, blood sausage, sauerkraut (except on a reuben), scallops, meat on pizza.

28. Have you ever made fun of your friends behind their back?
My friends? No. Enemies? Irritating Acquaintances? Sure. People in bad outfits? Absolutely.

29. Have you ever been punched in the face?
Not in the face. I've been in a few fights (long ago), but I've only lost one. Ironically, it was the only time I fought a girl.

30. Do you believe in angels and demons?
Nope. That's for christians.

31. How old were you when you think you actually became a grown up?
When I realized there was no one in the world above my son, and that I would die or kill to protect him.

32. If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?
I'd love to visit Spain, Paris, the Galapagos Islands, Canada, Ireland, Morocco, Macchu Pichu, Vermont, Hong Kong, and Hawaii.

33. Have you ever been in the hospital?
Yep.

34. Are you happy with your life today?
I am in love with my life today.

35. Have you ever had a stalker?
Yep. Some loser I went to school with, which is why I have an unlisted number now.

Chick Flicks have it all wrong.

Love isn't long romantic weekends full of flowers, diamonds, and hand-kissing. Nor is it steamy, semi-sleazy, fervent coupling in a rainy meadow. (though I wouldn't knock it, it's quite lovely.) These things are nice, but they're transient, impractical, and ultimately unsustainable.

Love is watching your husband fall asleep with a book and a cat on his lap, while you both watch Law & Order reruns on Channel 46 at 10:00 on a Friday night. It's the way you're both exhausted from your respective days, yet still want to be in each other's company. It's the heavy leg he throws over your lap, the soft blanket covering the two of you that you both bought when you purchased the couch, and the way you can recognize the sound of his snoring in a crowded room.

It's learning that you made the right choice, all those years ago, when you decided to take a chance on a guy six years your junior, because he was cute and could use the word 'anaerobic' correctly in a sentence. It's learning that comfort doesn't equal boredom, and that your definition of freedom can widen when you meet the right person. It's letting the cynic inside of you quiet a little, because you don't have to use it to protect yourself anymore.

In the long run, it's a lot more satisfying than anything starring Kate Hudson ever will be. True love will change you, but it will always be for the better.

Douchebag Recipe

Take one average, desperately ordinary guy, add the following:

Button-down shirt, untucked, with long sleeves inexplicably rolled up to the middle of the forearm
Boot-cut mall-bought jeans, with artificially distressed cuffs, light to medium wash
Any of the following: boring brown leather shoes, overstyled loafers, tevas, birkenstocks, adidas slides, or trainers.
Crispy Ryan Seacrest hair

Voila! Instant Douchebag!

Now that you've made one, shoot him. Shoot him before he breeds with the girl he just roofied and passes on his douchebag genes to a new generation.

Yes and No

Kissed any one of your facebook friends? Yes

Been arrested? yes

Kissed someone you didn't like? nope

Slept in until 5 PM? yes

Fallen asleep at work/school? yes

Held a snake? yes

Ran a red light? yes

Been suspended from school? no

Totaled your car/motorbike in an accident? no, but I've had a few that were difficult to drive away from.

Been fired from a job? yes, once.

Sang karaoke? yes

Done something you told yourself you wouldn't? yes

Laughed until something you were drinking came out your nose? no, but it has come out my mouth.

Caught a snowflake on your tongue? yes

Kissed in the rain? yes

Sang in the shower? yes

Sat on a rooftop? yes

Been pushed into a pool with all your clothes? no

Broken a bone? only one--my thumb when I was 5. My mom caught it in the Bronco door.

Shaved your head? yes

Blacked out from drinking? only once. Damn you, Chicken!

Played a prank on someone? I'm not the pranking type.

Felt like killing someone? yes

Made your girlfriend/boyfriend/husband/wife cry? yes

Had Mexican jumping beans for pets? no

Been in a band? yes. Two, actually.

Shot a gun? yes

Donated blood? no.

Eaten alligator meat? yes, it was delish.

Eaten cheesecake? yes, but I don't like it that much.

Still love someone you shouldn't? no

Think about the future? yes

Believe in love? yes

Sleep on a certain side of the bed? yes, but I don't have a hard-on about it.

Talk in your sleep? yes, apparentally

Laughed until you peed your pants? um, no

Spend too much time on facebook? all time on facebook is too much time, and yet...

Play a musical instrument? yes, piano

Lived outside of the country? not lived, but visited.

Been skinny dipping? yes

Gone sky diving? no

Some thoughts on a Saturday morning

I don't know how many people, if any, read this blog. (Robin, hush, I'm not discounting you, sweetie!) As such, I feel the things I say here have some anonymity in that they are a drop in the sea of a very large blogging ocean, and I generally speak my mind while keeping details about my past private. But lately I've been wanting to write down, journal style, some of the things I've been mulling over about my past that are a common theme for me. I don't usually discuss this side of my life, as I'm generally afraid of public perception surrounding this topic, and having been labelled one thing or another the entirety of my young life, I tend to avoid it.

Having a child, however, causes you to look some demons you'd rather keep hidden square in the face. Any leftover trauma you have regarding your parents (and I have legion) gets pulled out and put on the table to be dissected. If you're a basically healthy person, you suck it up and dive in, hoping that you'll come out of the experience with a better understanding of yourself and the people around you. We are all, after all, human. We have weaknesses and faults, missteps and oversights. But the ability to examine these and try to change for the better separates us from our lesser selves. So it is in the spirit of self-examination that I print this for all to see today. Because by declaiming it quasi-publicly, I am hoping to set myself free of the shame it produces in secrecy.

For most of my youth, I was considered a bad kid. My mother and I did not get along to a pathological degree, and in the early 80's she discovered that she could have me locked up in the psych ward of our local hospital. I've found out in recent years that such forced semi-incarceration was en vogue during the Eighties for many parents who had medical insurance money to burn. Horrific as it was, there was somewhat of a trend. Without resorting to the legal (read:juvie) system poorer kids had to go through, you could have your child locked up, medicated, and out of your hair for as long as your insurance company kept footing the bill. I won't go into the details of my incarceration, only that all told, it took up nearly 2 1/2 years of my life, and it was fairly horrible.

I've been suffering with the stigma of (however misdiagnosed) mental illness for years, even though I adamantly believe I do not and have never had any of the illnesses that the doctors who cashed my mothers' checks diagnosed me with. It's telling that once I was out of my mother's home the symptoms of such 'illnesses' vanished, and I was able to live a normal happy life. Certainly at 38, with a child, business, husband, home, and active social life, I bear no hallmarks of being a maladjusted or 'sick' person. (my mother, on the other hand, is the same narcissistic hyperactive nutjob she's always been.)

Still, the stigma lays dormant in the back of my head, and like all mantras repeated to you when you're young, part of you will believe it to be true even when all evidence speaks to the contrary. It is primarily to fight this inner voice that I search the internet for reasoned dissent or calls to reasonably reform the psychiatric community, which I believe needs an overhaul, particularly for minors forced to be the sacrificial lambs of family disharmony.

So this morning I found an article on Norah Vincent's book "Voluntary Madness" and added this comment to the fray, and after some consideration decided to repost it here, because by broaching the subject voluntarily, I can take some of the sting out of its secretive status.

"I was the product of an unhappy broken home, with a mother who I now believe to have Munchausen By Proxy syndrome, a condition where the sufferer gets the attention and sympathy they crave by causing false medical conditions in their children. I was a teenager in the 80's, when forced juvenile psychiatric incarceration was enjoying a malevolent heyday.

I was diagnosed with everything from paranoid schizophrenia to psychosis to borderline personality disorder (which I now find out is pretty much a BS diagnosis to many in the field). Had I come of age in the ADHD fury, I'm sure I would have been slapped with that label as well. I was forcibly medicated for these conditions, none of which I had, or have ever had, with horrible side effects. (vomiting, zombie-like sluggishness, excessive sleep, weight gain, unstable mood swings, thoughts of suicide.) All of these conditions magically vanished when I was finally out of my mother's care. Once I got over the trauma of having spent 2 1/2 years incarcerated against my will and all that had happened to me as a result (including, but not limited to: molestation, assault, witnessing hard drug use and suicide attempts) I was a happy, healthy, highly functioning adult. I now run my own business and am raising a wonderful son.

My point is this: the psychiatric community dropped the ball en masse for me and many of my peers confined to these places. For every person actually struggling with a disease or condition, there were at least 10 others who were simply dropped off so that lazy, cruel, or clueless parents wouldn't have to do their jobs. That these hospitals were doing the job for them at an enormous profit sends a red flag up for me. It's seemingly very easy, in a family therapy situation, to side with the one holding the purse strings. Since every therapist not paid (directly or indirectly) by my mother said there was nothing wrong with me, I find it curious that the ones who did always had my mother's check in their hand. Whether deliberate or subconscious, the conflict of interest renders the diagnosis in such cases highly suspect, to say the least.

I am not a Scientologist, and I don't believe we should do away with the industry, which can do good when kept in check. But there is rampant abuse of the system, and it needs an overhaul. There is no such thing as a 'bad' or 'sick' individual in a healty family unit. The family dynamic should always be considered as a whole, because save for an organic or obvious physical defect, it is the entire family who is responsible for the behaviour of its members. No kid who acts out does so in a happy, healthy, functioning family, and if even a mismedicated teenage kid understands this, it boggles my mind why a slew of supposedly educated psychiatric professionals could have missed it.

Medication should be treated with caution, particularly in young people whose bodies are still maturing and developing. Great harm can be done by mismedicating."

I could spew volumes of text on this, but let me just say that the things I experienced have left in me a healthy dose of disrespect for the psychiatric community, especially where it relates to medication or incarceration of minors. Any teacher recommending Ritalin for my child better do so wearing a HazMat suit, because I'm holding the ball of my son's care, and I don't have the butterfingers my parents had.