The Notebook is the worst movie on the face of this Earth. Yup. I said it. Don't get me wrong, it's beautiful and touching and lovely and magical and absolutely hopelessly, mind-bogglingly romantic....and it sucks balls. No matter how many tears stream down my face whenever Aly and Noah jump into each other's arms, choosing to be together over all logic and common sense, I know that situations like that just don't happen in real life. Why, Notebook, why must you be so cruel? Ryan Gosling single-handedly puts into the minds of every women out there that an amazing, star-crossed lover awaits, eager to prove every notion about jerk guys wrong. Nuh-uh. Does not exist. There's even a Twitter account under the movie's name that spews love quotes, which make even this romantic want to gag. I've un-followed people who re-tweet too many of those quotes. (I.e. sad single girls.)
I should preface this entry with the fact that my friend Liz and I made the poor choice of watching this movie while in the midst of tumultuous fights with our respective boyfriends/ex-boyfriends. After the credits rolled, we promptly wiped away our tears and ran back to the boys we had dismissed as idiotic just hours earlier at dinner. Seriously girls, when you're upset or in a fight with men, don't watch this movie. It makes you think they're something they're not. Bitter? Maybe. But with good reason. Noahs' do not exist in this day and age. The Southern United States in the 1940's? Perhaps. But not today.
The scenes when both characters are elderly are sweet in their devotion, but I found watching this for the second time (Yes, the second time. I'm not one of those girls who curls up in bed and watches The Notebook over and over again on a rainy day. Pointless.) that the interactions Ryan and Rachael have when they're young are very much...well, scenes that justify the crazy. Oh, you know what I mean boys and girls -- the crazy. The little voice in your head that tells you whatever extreme, emotional feeling you're trying to justify when in love is totally justified. It's the same voice that makes you online creep an ex's profile, throw objects that are within arm's reach when enraged at your partner and say "we'll make it work!" when it hasn't the past six billion times.
And that speech. Oh that speech. That speech that he gives after they've reunited seven years later to make her choose him over her handsome yet dull and predictable fiance. (James Marsten, sexy as ever. Although no matter what role I see him in, I expect him to shoot lasers out of his eyes, Cyclops style.) That speech ruins it for us all. It makes any girl, or guy, stuck in a fiery, perpetually unstable relationship think that that is love. I don't remember his words exactly but something along the lines of "Fight! That's what we do! It's going to be hard, and we'll have to work on it every day, but I want you. Everyday. Forever." I mean, really. Those are fighting words justifying the crazy if I ever heard them. Not cool, Ryan Gosling, not cool.
Yes, fighting is a natural part of relationships and when we fight, we move forward when we come up solutions. But, when we fight constantly and get nowhere? I just can't wrap my head around that being love. When the same issues arise over and over, it's usually because neither party is willing to compromise for one another. And what's a good relationship without compromise? There is no good relationship without compromise. Sacrifices for love should be a joy simply to see how happy it makes your significant other. But that's just me.
Women in their twenties have enough cray cray going on without needing justification of it all from romantic drivel in movies. Although men could stand to cure some of their cluelessness with romance by watching. Dear men: if you feel compelled to show your woman how much your care for them, just do it. There's no rarer breed than a genuine romantic man nowadays and it'll put you miles ahead of most selfish guys out there. All in all, touching movie, but about as realistic as X-Men. Ryan Goslings of the world, where art thou?
x
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Sunday, August 28, 2011
OMFG - Everything for a reason...even you Irene!
Nothing quite shows who truly cares about you like a natural disaster. An over-hyped natural disaster at that, but a scary event to go through by yourself in New York City nonetheless. Especially in an apartment with no television and no internet. Like a typical girl, Hurricane Irene was late to arrive and made us all wait (the little bitch), but thankfully her impact wasn't too bad. Mostly flooding of the lower-lying areas of Manhattan and power outages, plus a few trees and garbage cans as causalities. I'm grateful and my thoughts go out to those the South who received the harsher end of her wrath.
Despite it being a slightly over-glorified rainstorm, the city rightfully took precautions in what could of been a devastating event. I spent an hour waiting in line at the grocery store stocking up on food and water (turns out I'm balls at shopping for food for myself...M&M's, lox and figs didn't exactly go well together..), bought a flash light and made sure I was not in an evacuation zone. Actually, all information about the storm was parlayed to me via my darling sister, dad and friends. Thank goodness for their thoughtfulness or I would of been totally out of the loop, save for runs to a nearby Starbucks to use the Internet there.
I definitely believe everything happens for a reason and the support I got from the friends close to me made me realize who was important in my life. It also made me realize who definitely wasn't. People who brushed Irene off as "nothing much" and "oh you'll be fine" were right in facts but sorely lacking in empathy and care. I mean, sure, it's going to be all right we think, but to me, if they really cared, they'd be worried about a loved one there anyways. Or at least provide a little comfort.
This post isn't much more than to point out just that: everything, and I mean everything, happens for a reason. I trust in destiny always and I was definitely supposed to be here during this to fine-tune several things in my life. It's back to lovely Toronto on Tuesday and I can't wait for a fresh start, fresh perspective and most of all change! Bring it on.
x
Despite it being a slightly over-glorified rainstorm, the city rightfully took precautions in what could of been a devastating event. I spent an hour waiting in line at the grocery store stocking up on food and water (turns out I'm balls at shopping for food for myself...M&M's, lox and figs didn't exactly go well together..), bought a flash light and made sure I was not in an evacuation zone. Actually, all information about the storm was parlayed to me via my darling sister, dad and friends. Thank goodness for their thoughtfulness or I would of been totally out of the loop, save for runs to a nearby Starbucks to use the Internet there.
I definitely believe everything happens for a reason and the support I got from the friends close to me made me realize who was important in my life. It also made me realize who definitely wasn't. People who brushed Irene off as "nothing much" and "oh you'll be fine" were right in facts but sorely lacking in empathy and care. I mean, sure, it's going to be all right we think, but to me, if they really cared, they'd be worried about a loved one there anyways. Or at least provide a little comfort.
This post isn't much more than to point out just that: everything, and I mean everything, happens for a reason. I trust in destiny always and I was definitely supposed to be here during this to fine-tune several things in my life. It's back to lovely Toronto on Tuesday and I can't wait for a fresh start, fresh perspective and most of all change! Bring it on.
x
Thursday, August 25, 2011
OMFG -- Model dinners.
I'm watching the Czech model across the table from me pick at her tuna tartar. There are three tiny pieces of crostini at the side of her plate, which she removed immediately from the dish the second it arrived at the table. She also spent a good ten minutes precisely cutting up and slowly eating the decorative cucumber slices that framed the tartar. It doesn't take a expert to see that this chick has serious eating issues. Perhaps even anorexia from the looks of her bobble-head and stick-thin gaunt yellow arms.
I was at a model dinner at a beautiful tucked-away Italian restaurant in the Upper East Side. I've been at my share of model dinners and seen my share of stick figures pick at an assortment of five-star cuisine, but it never fails to make me feel sad. These poor girls...I mean this is some of the most beautiful food there is and what do they do? Pick at tartar. As a foodie, it pains my fat little heart. Pass me the pasta.
I know what you must think: I'm one of those skinny girls who thinks she eats a lot, but really, doesn't eat that much...it's just a lot compared to models. Well, let me assure you kids, it's a lot compared to models, normal people, that fat dude scarfing down his Big Mac over there and more. Ask my best friend Sarah, my sister, even my model friends and I'm 100% positive they can all vouch for my monstrous appetite. (Mind you this is all done as daintily as possible. I'm a classy bitch.) Yes, I have a warp-speed metabolism, but I'm not impervious to weight gain...everything in moderation is the key. Eat what you love, just don't stuff your face. Except if you're at a really amazing five star Italian restaurant on the Upper East Side. Come on, Czech. Like, really?
Blah, blah, blah, I know how tough the industry is and how much pressure we models are under to look like sticks. I've had days where I've felt like a ginormous cow, or times when I go into castings and feel like the biggest girl there. But I'm not sixteen and doing this (thank god). I'm twenty-four, know my body pretty well and am happy with it. I also have the common sense to know that unless I remove some ribs and my hipbones, and retard my growth to pre-puberty, there's no way I can compete with the eating disorder/fifteen year old/boyishly-built sticks out there. It's just not possible. Knowing that, I can enjoy my food and know that whatever work I get isn't going to vary much based on whether I eat this bagel and lox or not. So the answer, is always yes.
Living life without enjoying food just doesn't seem much like living at all. I've tried my share of diets and means to stay skinny and none of them have been remotely fun. Being starving all the time makes for one bitchy Sheilakins, and that's putting it lightly. Throwing up, laxatives, and all other extremes just sound, well disgusting. And for all the times I've tried to starve it off, not much happens. I basically lose 5 pounds give or take and my quality of life is severely worse....so food, friends, and good times it is! Happy and 5 pounds heavier is so much more lovely than miserable and 5 pounds thinner.
I've discussed model pressures and food in blogs before, but it has surfaced in my mind again since being here because it's so much more extreme in New York. All my model girls in Toronto have hearty appetites for the most part, bless their foodie souls! After a handful of model dinners here, it's apparent that sitting around tables sipping wine and staring longingly at food while barely talking is the norm. That's cool. Just means more food for me.
Eat happily, drink heartily & just be content lovelies!
x
I was at a model dinner at a beautiful tucked-away Italian restaurant in the Upper East Side. I've been at my share of model dinners and seen my share of stick figures pick at an assortment of five-star cuisine, but it never fails to make me feel sad. These poor girls...I mean this is some of the most beautiful food there is and what do they do? Pick at tartar. As a foodie, it pains my fat little heart. Pass me the pasta.
I know what you must think: I'm one of those skinny girls who thinks she eats a lot, but really, doesn't eat that much...it's just a lot compared to models. Well, let me assure you kids, it's a lot compared to models, normal people, that fat dude scarfing down his Big Mac over there and more. Ask my best friend Sarah, my sister, even my model friends and I'm 100% positive they can all vouch for my monstrous appetite. (Mind you this is all done as daintily as possible. I'm a classy bitch.) Yes, I have a warp-speed metabolism, but I'm not impervious to weight gain...everything in moderation is the key. Eat what you love, just don't stuff your face. Except if you're at a really amazing five star Italian restaurant on the Upper East Side. Come on, Czech. Like, really?
Blah, blah, blah, I know how tough the industry is and how much pressure we models are under to look like sticks. I've had days where I've felt like a ginormous cow, or times when I go into castings and feel like the biggest girl there. But I'm not sixteen and doing this (thank god). I'm twenty-four, know my body pretty well and am happy with it. I also have the common sense to know that unless I remove some ribs and my hipbones, and retard my growth to pre-puberty, there's no way I can compete with the eating disorder/fifteen year old/boyishly-built sticks out there. It's just not possible. Knowing that, I can enjoy my food and know that whatever work I get isn't going to vary much based on whether I eat this bagel and lox or not. So the answer, is always yes.
Living life without enjoying food just doesn't seem much like living at all. I've tried my share of diets and means to stay skinny and none of them have been remotely fun. Being starving all the time makes for one bitchy Sheilakins, and that's putting it lightly. Throwing up, laxatives, and all other extremes just sound, well disgusting. And for all the times I've tried to starve it off, not much happens. I basically lose 5 pounds give or take and my quality of life is severely worse....so food, friends, and good times it is! Happy and 5 pounds heavier is so much more lovely than miserable and 5 pounds thinner.
I've discussed model pressures and food in blogs before, but it has surfaced in my mind again since being here because it's so much more extreme in New York. All my model girls in Toronto have hearty appetites for the most part, bless their foodie souls! After a handful of model dinners here, it's apparent that sitting around tables sipping wine and staring longingly at food while barely talking is the norm. That's cool. Just means more food for me.
Eat happily, drink heartily & just be content lovelies!
x
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Falling for Fake Love...OMFG
I've mentioned my parents in multiple blog posts: the loving, hard-working, endlessly devoted team who raised me is also responsible for ruining any chance I have at a realistic expectation of love thanks to their traditional and seemingly extinct yet perfect union. But alas, I can't place all the blame on my lovely parents. Sure, they set the standard, but it has been reinforced over and over again by popular culture. Thanks to television shows, music and the biggest culprit: romantic comedies, I've fallen for "fake love", a level of love that doesn't seem to exist anywhere but in the media, and inconveniently in my head. Kill me now.
My boyfriend asked me one day what romance was. "We spend time together...isn't that enough?" He questioned, sounding genuinely perplexed. I cried. What do you mean the man I love didn't want to create a world of star-gazing and flowers and huge romantic gestures every second of the day? It seemed cold, cruel and utterly impossible to be in a relationship that didn't include passions on top of passions.
I spent yesterday evening writing all the while having How I Met Your Mother on in the background. Every time I poked my head out from my laptop screen, Ted was in the middle of some insanely romantic plan to win a girl over. From surprising a girl he wanted to date with a string quartet in her apartment to taking a girl on an elaborate two minute date since that was all the time she had available for a date, this is the kind of impossible romantic drivel being pounded into my head every time I tune into mass media. It's getting to a point that unless I marry Romeo Montague, no man will ever satisfy me in the romance department. That's the problem with wanting fake love; it's only possible in the movies.
I love Coldplay. Yes, I realize they've douched out since becoming one of the biggest bands in the world, but when my best friend and I were first discovering them when we were in middle school, they were a charming, new and earnest band who sang simple songs about love. I was hooked. From the time I was in my early teens until my early twenties, I listened to Coldplay nonstop. That's a good decade of my life spent being brainwashed by such heartbreaking tender lyrics such as "Look at the stars, look how they shine for you, and everything you do,' and "Lights will guide you home, and ignite your soul, and I will try and fix you." not to mention "You are a rock, upon which I stand," I mean really. I never stood a chance.
It's not that I'm looking for fireworks and flowers every time I go on a date (well not anymore at least..) but the romantic in me, the one who remembers every love line, lyric and gesture from every book, show and movie she's seen, always gets her hopes just the teeniest bit raised whenever there's a possibility for one to happen. And so far I've been met with nothing but disappointment. This is not to read as some commentary on the caliber of my boyfriend (Although romantic, he is not. We have a joke. On a scale of romance it goes: old boot > my boyfriend > smelly old boot. His defense? "Well at least I'm better than a smelly old boot!" Cute.) but rather a commentary on how much pop culture has infiltrated our lives. Realistic love, or more specifically the ways in which love and admiration are expressed in the everyday world, just don't seem to be as meaningful unless matched with larger than life actions.
It's been something of a realization for me that everyone loves in their own way. Not everyone cares for huge lovey-dovey gestures, but that shouldn't read as them being any less...well, loving. I know I'll aways be some one whose heart swells when the male protagonist in the movie wins the girl back with some crazy elaborate scheme (JT and the flash dance mob in Friends with Benefits, Heath dancing along the stairs and singing in Ten Things I Hate About You, Freddy Prince Jr. in every movie he's ever been in, etc.) but it's because I wear my heart on my sleeve, and always will. (Literally...those heart tattoos aren't going anywhere.) But what it takes for a non-romantic to be with me, or anyone else, is simply love. Expressed in the way they want, so long as it's expressed. Traditional hopeless romantics may shake their heads, but we live in modern times, and this modern girl is adapting her ways.
Fake love be damned. I'll settle for real love any day. That old boot may be on to something....x
My boyfriend asked me one day what romance was. "We spend time together...isn't that enough?" He questioned, sounding genuinely perplexed. I cried. What do you mean the man I love didn't want to create a world of star-gazing and flowers and huge romantic gestures every second of the day? It seemed cold, cruel and utterly impossible to be in a relationship that didn't include passions on top of passions.
I spent yesterday evening writing all the while having How I Met Your Mother on in the background. Every time I poked my head out from my laptop screen, Ted was in the middle of some insanely romantic plan to win a girl over. From surprising a girl he wanted to date with a string quartet in her apartment to taking a girl on an elaborate two minute date since that was all the time she had available for a date, this is the kind of impossible romantic drivel being pounded into my head every time I tune into mass media. It's getting to a point that unless I marry Romeo Montague, no man will ever satisfy me in the romance department. That's the problem with wanting fake love; it's only possible in the movies.
I love Coldplay. Yes, I realize they've douched out since becoming one of the biggest bands in the world, but when my best friend and I were first discovering them when we were in middle school, they were a charming, new and earnest band who sang simple songs about love. I was hooked. From the time I was in my early teens until my early twenties, I listened to Coldplay nonstop. That's a good decade of my life spent being brainwashed by such heartbreaking tender lyrics such as "Look at the stars, look how they shine for you, and everything you do,' and "Lights will guide you home, and ignite your soul, and I will try and fix you." not to mention "You are a rock, upon which I stand," I mean really. I never stood a chance.
It's not that I'm looking for fireworks and flowers every time I go on a date (well not anymore at least..) but the romantic in me, the one who remembers every love line, lyric and gesture from every book, show and movie she's seen, always gets her hopes just the teeniest bit raised whenever there's a possibility for one to happen. And so far I've been met with nothing but disappointment. This is not to read as some commentary on the caliber of my boyfriend (Although romantic, he is not. We have a joke. On a scale of romance it goes: old boot > my boyfriend > smelly old boot. His defense? "Well at least I'm better than a smelly old boot!" Cute.) but rather a commentary on how much pop culture has infiltrated our lives. Realistic love, or more specifically the ways in which love and admiration are expressed in the everyday world, just don't seem to be as meaningful unless matched with larger than life actions.
It's been something of a realization for me that everyone loves in their own way. Not everyone cares for huge lovey-dovey gestures, but that shouldn't read as them being any less...well, loving. I know I'll aways be some one whose heart swells when the male protagonist in the movie wins the girl back with some crazy elaborate scheme (JT and the flash dance mob in Friends with Benefits, Heath dancing along the stairs and singing in Ten Things I Hate About You, Freddy Prince Jr. in every movie he's ever been in, etc.) but it's because I wear my heart on my sleeve, and always will. (Literally...those heart tattoos aren't going anywhere.) But what it takes for a non-romantic to be with me, or anyone else, is simply love. Expressed in the way they want, so long as it's expressed. Traditional hopeless romantics may shake their heads, but we live in modern times, and this modern girl is adapting her ways.
Fake love be damned. I'll settle for real love any day. That old boot may be on to something....x
OMFG - Cuppycake Heaven.
There's something to be said about the perfect cupcake. A little piece of heaven made of perfectly dense yet fluffy batter, airy frosting and melty goodness that spreads a sugary warmth when eaten. If it wasn't detrimental to my health and more importantly to my figure, I'm positive my diet would consist entirely of cupcakes.
Something of a phenomenon over the past decade, cupcakes have taken the gastro world by storm and remain the toast of the baking world. From wacky foodie flavors (bacon cupcakes!) to haute couture designs (Louis Vuitton cupcakes!) and everything in between, it seems the appeal of a little loaf of cake is never ending. Later this week my dear friend Elizabeth and I are doing what two fat kids trapped inside models bodies should do: taking a cupcake tour of New York City. So far our stops are set to include the legendary (well to Sex and the City fans anyways) Magnolia Bakery, Crumbs, Sugar Sweet Sunshine, and the darling sounding Babycakes. My poor thighs won't know what hit them.
What is it that attracts the masses to these bundles of baked goodness? There are even cupcake trucks dotted around the city (Toronto, take note!) and any decent deli has a few frosted selections. Surely there's a reason the masses have jumped on board the cupcake wagon. Aside from being scrumptious, cupcakes (or as my sister and I call them cuppycakes...a name we used when we were little that stuck) are small enough that eating one doesn't cause mounds of fat guilt...although speaking from experience, eating 5 does. (Side note: earlier this year I took the bus back from New York to Toronto with a parting gift from a friend: a dozen cupcakes from Sugar Sweet Sunshine. Needless to say only 6 survived the ten hour journey. And by 6, I mean 4...it was a long time guys! Don't judge.) For girls, and certain guys I'm sure, cupcakes are an ideal little package. Chic, and easy to dress up in gorgeous little outfits, cupcakes are definitely the most fashionable of anything you'll find in a bakery...delectable and designer? Irresistible.
As a girl, I can say from experience that nothing elicits squeals of excitement quite like a box of pretty cupcakes frosted and decorated to lip-smacking loveliness. There's something comforting about stylish sweets, uncomplicated and complete in their deliciousness and appearance. You know they look good, you know they're sweet on the inside and you know they're going to satisfy you -- which is more than I can say about most men! The choice between sex and chocolate is a question that always seems to pop up when my friends and I are having post-club drunken conversations and the verdict is usually split in half. It seems that there's no easy answer to what's more satisfying for a woman: desserts or sex. (For the record, I choose the former...there are some things chocolate will never do for a girl.) Perhaps if the question had been cupcakes, and not chocolate, over sex, the verdict would be unanimous. I've seen girls who don't eat carbs, girls who have sworn off gluten and girls who pick and prod at single pieces of sashimi dive into cupcakes with the enthusiasm of a fat kid....sex in a box, is basically what cupcakes are to women.
My homage to cupcakes is nothing more than the foodie in me expressing a love for these darling treats. I have not been able to pass a cupcake truck yet here in Manhattan without sampling at least one of the flavors on display! (They have mini sizes, and one bite sizes...genius.) Versatile, trendy, chic and most of all mouth-watering delicious, cupcakes are a single girl's best food friend and a non-single girl's comfort in frustration. Or, if you're just a foodie like yours truly, they're simply the icing on the cake...literally! Bon appetit! x
Saturday, August 20, 2011
OMFG - Progress, Progress, Progress
I remember being in middle school and the make-up regime I went through daily in order to get ready. It was a lot. There was concealer, and tons and tons and tons of eyeliner (every Asian girl goes through a super-heavy eyeliner phase, trust me. Actually every girl in general, really.) and eye shadow and blush and tons and tons and tons of mascara on top of all that eyeliner. I probably resembled something of an Asian mafia princess, all that heavy make-up combined with super-thin eyebrows that seemed so in back then, but at the time it was my way of feeling pretty. Fast forward to the present and yes, I obviously still wear make-up, but it's much less than then, and I look and feel much more myself. The years have only brought confidence to me and thank goodness, because I probably wouldn't of gotten into modeling had I prolonged my Asian mafia look.
One of the perks that comes with every twenty-something birthday I pass is that I grow more and more sure of myself. As any young woman in touch with herself (intellectually and emotionally...get your minds out of the gutter, pervs.) can tell you, confidence in your twenties can be a wavering thing. Fragile yet tenacious, I find at least, that it varies as much as my mood does. There are days when I feel like I can run this city, and days when I feel like a miserable cow who's only understanding outlet is cupcakes. (Seriously, baked goods are the love of my life. Thank goodness for my faster-than-fast metabolism.) I don't feel vulnerable admitting to my insecurities, only because I know every human being out there has them.
As varied as my confidence can be, I feel more myself as I get older. Silly statement it seems to make, as obviously I've always been myself, but what I'm talking about is a sureness in my thoughts, feelings, and what I want to be doing with my life. There's an assertiveness that wasn't present much during my teens, and a comforting knowledge that mini-life crisis's aren't the end of the world, but stepping stones to the next level. That forward-moving ball of highly emotional yet fiery energy I described myself as in one of my recent blog posts fine-tuned itself over the last year and I can only imagine what will it will transform into in the near future. My landlord in Singapore (a charmingly dazed British man who did more drugs in his lifetime than anyone should and reminded me of a Rolling Stone...you're sort of amazed he's still alive.) would always talk to me in his pot-induced hazes and call me "Top Exec" as a nickname. You're just on the verge of taking off, Top Exec, I can feel it, and everyone who meets you can feel it. It's this fire. Although I took his words with a grain of salt (or weed, is more like it) I felt very much the same. A twenty-something on the verge...aren't we all on some level.
The person I am today is not who I was a week ago, a month ago, a year ago an so forth. Progress is the key to life for me (aside from love, that is) and I know as long as I'm making it, I'm good to go. Disorganized, perhaps. Unstable, maybe. But making progress? Always. Some may mistake me as not always being super upbeat all the time, but like I've said before I'm not one of those shiny happy people. And I like it that way. Whatever I'm working through in my head and in reality is usually an issue I feel I have to, and will conquer in due time. Progress indeed.
Mind you, all of this occurs just beneath the surface and is subtle unless you know me extremely well...of which I'd say only a few people do. This is the case for many women I know, and I think some of the most lovely and exquisite girls I've met are highly subtle and elegant. Confidence and progress are key to all evolving twenty-something women...and men for that matter. We all change from year to year and whether it's a forward momentum is up entirely to us. For every lovely and exquisite women on the verge out there, there's an over-made mafia princess waiting to bloom..x
One of the perks that comes with every twenty-something birthday I pass is that I grow more and more sure of myself. As any young woman in touch with herself (intellectually and emotionally...get your minds out of the gutter, pervs.) can tell you, confidence in your twenties can be a wavering thing. Fragile yet tenacious, I find at least, that it varies as much as my mood does. There are days when I feel like I can run this city, and days when I feel like a miserable cow who's only understanding outlet is cupcakes. (Seriously, baked goods are the love of my life. Thank goodness for my faster-than-fast metabolism.) I don't feel vulnerable admitting to my insecurities, only because I know every human being out there has them.
As varied as my confidence can be, I feel more myself as I get older. Silly statement it seems to make, as obviously I've always been myself, but what I'm talking about is a sureness in my thoughts, feelings, and what I want to be doing with my life. There's an assertiveness that wasn't present much during my teens, and a comforting knowledge that mini-life crisis's aren't the end of the world, but stepping stones to the next level. That forward-moving ball of highly emotional yet fiery energy I described myself as in one of my recent blog posts fine-tuned itself over the last year and I can only imagine what will it will transform into in the near future. My landlord in Singapore (a charmingly dazed British man who did more drugs in his lifetime than anyone should and reminded me of a Rolling Stone...you're sort of amazed he's still alive.) would always talk to me in his pot-induced hazes and call me "Top Exec" as a nickname. You're just on the verge of taking off, Top Exec, I can feel it, and everyone who meets you can feel it. It's this fire. Although I took his words with a grain of salt (or weed, is more like it) I felt very much the same. A twenty-something on the verge...aren't we all on some level.
The person I am today is not who I was a week ago, a month ago, a year ago an so forth. Progress is the key to life for me (aside from love, that is) and I know as long as I'm making it, I'm good to go. Disorganized, perhaps. Unstable, maybe. But making progress? Always. Some may mistake me as not always being super upbeat all the time, but like I've said before I'm not one of those shiny happy people. And I like it that way. Whatever I'm working through in my head and in reality is usually an issue I feel I have to, and will conquer in due time. Progress indeed.
Mind you, all of this occurs just beneath the surface and is subtle unless you know me extremely well...of which I'd say only a few people do. This is the case for many women I know, and I think some of the most lovely and exquisite girls I've met are highly subtle and elegant. Confidence and progress are key to all evolving twenty-something women...and men for that matter. We all change from year to year and whether it's a forward momentum is up entirely to us. For every lovely and exquisite women on the verge out there, there's an over-made mafia princess waiting to bloom..x
Sunday, August 14, 2011
OMFG -- A little Perspective
When I was 18, I got my first tattoo of a small pair of wings. It was not some deluded tribute to thinking of myself as an angel, or anything to do with fairies, but a simple reminder to always have perspective in life. The wings were my freedom, the ability to fly away and gain perspective when it came to any situation, and see it with fresh eyes. Throughout the years I've amassed a couple other tattoos which are more like love scrawls that create a delicate narrative along my body, and realized that I needed perspective more than ever...instead of being consumed by situations since I am so driven by emotions, especially when I think love is involved.
I've been in New York the past couple days, and I can't think of a better place to regain my perspective. Being alone in the most influential metropolis in the world puts you in your place in every way, and also allows one to find an identity in its vast anonymity. It's not that I was a wanderer up until now (love, and always will love Toronto.) but anyone who has been to NYC knows the impact it can have. Spending solo time with nothing but the city and your thoughts is bound to lead to some realizations, even to the most spacey of space cadets, let alone an over-analytic, hyper-thinker like myself.
Add rainy weather, gray skies and slightly more desolate than normal streets and you've got yourself the perfect scene for the emo kind of day I've been having. Pathetic fallacy, my late English teacher from high school taught us it was called when inanimate objects (like the weather) reflected a character's mood. Although I can't blame my thoughts on the dowdy Manhattan weather -- it was beautiful and sunny yesterday and still my brain was thinking faster than it normally does...close to combustion I think it borderlines on at times. Just what is all my perspective being gained in, you ask? Why the answer is obvious for anyone who remotely knows me. Love. Love, love, love. I don't think anyone who's not a Romantic era poet thinks about love as much as I do.
It's a lovely sentiment to live by, but also a huge weakness and my ideas on how it should be in my life (cough, perfectly, cough) usually end in disaster. How does one cope with the little girl who lives in a fairy tale? I have no idea, and neither does any man I've dated. Realistic and rational and unshakably chill I can be, but for some one who is thoughtful and caring and places so much of her happiness on living life that way, it's hard to find that expectation reciprocated in one's romantic life.
And so, with all my trials and tribulations when it comes to being a lovey dovey romantic, I've slipped on my pair of wings here in the Upper East side where I'm staying and attempted to see everything I've been through with fresh eyes. As long as I move forward with some sort of progress, I'll be satisfied. After all we are nothing if not for progress.
x
I've been in New York the past couple days, and I can't think of a better place to regain my perspective. Being alone in the most influential metropolis in the world puts you in your place in every way, and also allows one to find an identity in its vast anonymity. It's not that I was a wanderer up until now (love, and always will love Toronto.) but anyone who has been to NYC knows the impact it can have. Spending solo time with nothing but the city and your thoughts is bound to lead to some realizations, even to the most spacey of space cadets, let alone an over-analytic, hyper-thinker like myself.
Add rainy weather, gray skies and slightly more desolate than normal streets and you've got yourself the perfect scene for the emo kind of day I've been having. Pathetic fallacy, my late English teacher from high school taught us it was called when inanimate objects (like the weather) reflected a character's mood. Although I can't blame my thoughts on the dowdy Manhattan weather -- it was beautiful and sunny yesterday and still my brain was thinking faster than it normally does...close to combustion I think it borderlines on at times. Just what is all my perspective being gained in, you ask? Why the answer is obvious for anyone who remotely knows me. Love. Love, love, love. I don't think anyone who's not a Romantic era poet thinks about love as much as I do.
It's a lovely sentiment to live by, but also a huge weakness and my ideas on how it should be in my life (cough, perfectly, cough) usually end in disaster. How does one cope with the little girl who lives in a fairy tale? I have no idea, and neither does any man I've dated. Realistic and rational and unshakably chill I can be, but for some one who is thoughtful and caring and places so much of her happiness on living life that way, it's hard to find that expectation reciprocated in one's romantic life.
And so, with all my trials and tribulations when it comes to being a lovey dovey romantic, I've slipped on my pair of wings here in the Upper East side where I'm staying and attempted to see everything I've been through with fresh eyes. As long as I move forward with some sort of progress, I'll be satisfied. After all we are nothing if not for progress.
x
Sunday, August 7, 2011
OMFG - Guest Blog for South Molton Street Style!
Hi loves,
My dear friend Anna in London has created South Molton Street Style Blog (recently named one of Vogue's top 20 Fashion Blogs) and I've written a guest blog on fashion essentials for it! Check it out on OMFG and at SMS Style here! Don't forget to comment and vote for me!)
As a born and raised Toronto girl who has visited London on several occasions, I must say we style mavens on both sides of the pond can relate very much to each other! We can relate to the wretched winters we both must endure (while still trying to look cute), we can relate to a fascination with all things royal and thus an enduring preppiness in our collections, and finally we can relate to having not just winter to deal with, but a whole array of seasons! (Yes, Miami fashions only work for about a month or two for us Toronto/London girls...the rest of the time it's layers, layers, and more layers!) But don't the pesky weather fool you...we savy and smart girls have cultivated a practical yet utterly fashionable look all our own! Here are five fashion essentials for every Canadian girl, British girl, or just plain stylish girl at heart!
1. The LBD
The little black dress has been a staple since the days of Hepburn, and is still just a relevant, and sexy, today. Except gone are the staunchly structured and prim and proper silhouettes of yesteryear which have been replaced with endless renditions of the modern classic. I myself must have close to ten LBD's, all of which make regular appearances in my social life!
This delicate crocheted LBD from Urban Outfitters is daring, demure and different all at once. Wear it sexy with nude sky-high sandals, or wear it hip with chunky platforms. Scope it out here!
2. The Sexy Heel
Canadian girls are made to withstand the cold. Even in the dead of winter, you can see us venturing out on a Friday night in our finest heels, minis, and not much else....save for a fabulous fur coat to throw on top of it all! Sure, we'll put on tights as to not look totally insane, but whoever said heels and 6 inches of snow do not mix was lying. When you're a fashionista, everything goes with heels. While chunky pieces may be the trend at the moment, I've always been a fan of footwear that is feminine and sexy, sexy, sexy. The latest trend of "flatforms" merely doesn't cut it for yours truly. Why drag down your feet in heavy unsightly shoes when you can doll them up in delicate creations? Exactly. I have more footwear than one girl needs in a life time, and my next addition will be these darling pieces of heaven from Topshop. Sky high, multi-textured, classic on color scheme and still entirely feminine? I'm in love.
Check them out here!
3. The Slouchy Cardigan
While summer dresses are perfect worn solo in the hot months of July and August, when fall and winter roll around, we transform them into layering pieces to be worn with tights, belts, heavy leather purses and that perfect slouchy cardigan. Oh, the slouchy cardigan! Such a sweater is not only cozy for chillier nights, but also the right amount of tasteful and pretty to make yourself look like a gorgeously bundled package. This one from Free People is organic, unique and versatile and would just divine belted over a little knit dress, tights, and lace-up booties.
See it here!
4. The Warm Winter Coat
I've tried being cute with coats. I've tried being trendy with coats. But when it comes down to it, you need to be warm with coats...because when it's minus twenty outside and the blustering wind gusts towards you, no amount of impractical-yet-pretty detailing on your of-the-moment coat is going to save you from being in bed with the flu the next day! It's all about practicality while still looking stunning for fall and winter coats, and no one has done better in this area than the tried-and-true Burberry. These coats are works of art in their craftsmanship and mouthwatering in design, making for the perfect warming essential. No gusts of wind will get through this wool trench, and the fox fur collar makes for a luxe, yet practical addition. Picturing this coat with flat knee-high leather boots, an extravagant fur hat and knitted gray tights almost makes me wish winter were coming sooner! Almost.
Check it out here!
5. But enough of winter talk for now! After all, it's still summer and absolutely gorgeous outside. Little summer dresses are a staple for all girls, and I like them, surprise surprise, to be feminine and flirty! While sleeveless minis might be overtly sexy, longer sleeves, or longer hemlines with daring details make for a less-obvious yet still sensual outfit. This belted, bell-sleeved mini from Rare is a lovely dress that showcases your long, luscious and tan summer gams without giving it all away at once! Throw in a warm breeze, a glass of sangria, leather sandals and posh black sunnies and you've got yourself an ideal afternoon of lounging. I'll drink to that!
Scope it out here!
And there you have it girls, a practical yet sexy fashionistas must-have essentials for all seasons. Whether it's going to music festivals, out for a swanky dinner with your love or a wild night of clubbing with your girl friends, it's the clothes that make the girl, so make yourself a stylish being.
x
My dear friend Anna in London has created South Molton Street Style Blog (recently named one of Vogue's top 20 Fashion Blogs) and I've written a guest blog on fashion essentials for it! Check it out on OMFG and at SMS Style here! Don't forget to comment and vote for me!)
As a born and raised Toronto girl who has visited London on several occasions, I must say we style mavens on both sides of the pond can relate very much to each other! We can relate to the wretched winters we both must endure (while still trying to look cute), we can relate to a fascination with all things royal and thus an enduring preppiness in our collections, and finally we can relate to having not just winter to deal with, but a whole array of seasons! (Yes, Miami fashions only work for about a month or two for us Toronto/London girls...the rest of the time it's layers, layers, and more layers!) But don't the pesky weather fool you...we savy and smart girls have cultivated a practical yet utterly fashionable look all our own! Here are five fashion essentials for every Canadian girl, British girl, or just plain stylish girl at heart!
1. The LBD
The little black dress has been a staple since the days of Hepburn, and is still just a relevant, and sexy, today. Except gone are the staunchly structured and prim and proper silhouettes of yesteryear which have been replaced with endless renditions of the modern classic. I myself must have close to ten LBD's, all of which make regular appearances in my social life!
This delicate crocheted LBD from Urban Outfitters is daring, demure and different all at once. Wear it sexy with nude sky-high sandals, or wear it hip with chunky platforms. Scope it out here!
2. The Sexy Heel
Canadian girls are made to withstand the cold. Even in the dead of winter, you can see us venturing out on a Friday night in our finest heels, minis, and not much else....save for a fabulous fur coat to throw on top of it all! Sure, we'll put on tights as to not look totally insane, but whoever said heels and 6 inches of snow do not mix was lying. When you're a fashionista, everything goes with heels. While chunky pieces may be the trend at the moment, I've always been a fan of footwear that is feminine and sexy, sexy, sexy. The latest trend of "flatforms" merely doesn't cut it for yours truly. Why drag down your feet in heavy unsightly shoes when you can doll them up in delicate creations? Exactly. I have more footwear than one girl needs in a life time, and my next addition will be these darling pieces of heaven from Topshop. Sky high, multi-textured, classic on color scheme and still entirely feminine? I'm in love.
Check them out here!
3. The Slouchy Cardigan
While summer dresses are perfect worn solo in the hot months of July and August, when fall and winter roll around, we transform them into layering pieces to be worn with tights, belts, heavy leather purses and that perfect slouchy cardigan. Oh, the slouchy cardigan! Such a sweater is not only cozy for chillier nights, but also the right amount of tasteful and pretty to make yourself look like a gorgeously bundled package. This one from Free People is organic, unique and versatile and would just divine belted over a little knit dress, tights, and lace-up booties.
See it here!
4. The Warm Winter Coat
I've tried being cute with coats. I've tried being trendy with coats. But when it comes down to it, you need to be warm with coats...because when it's minus twenty outside and the blustering wind gusts towards you, no amount of impractical-yet-pretty detailing on your of-the-moment coat is going to save you from being in bed with the flu the next day! It's all about practicality while still looking stunning for fall and winter coats, and no one has done better in this area than the tried-and-true Burberry. These coats are works of art in their craftsmanship and mouthwatering in design, making for the perfect warming essential. No gusts of wind will get through this wool trench, and the fox fur collar makes for a luxe, yet practical addition. Picturing this coat with flat knee-high leather boots, an extravagant fur hat and knitted gray tights almost makes me wish winter were coming sooner! Almost.
Check it out here!
5. But enough of winter talk for now! After all, it's still summer and absolutely gorgeous outside. Little summer dresses are a staple for all girls, and I like them, surprise surprise, to be feminine and flirty! While sleeveless minis might be overtly sexy, longer sleeves, or longer hemlines with daring details make for a less-obvious yet still sensual outfit. This belted, bell-sleeved mini from Rare is a lovely dress that showcases your long, luscious and tan summer gams without giving it all away at once! Throw in a warm breeze, a glass of sangria, leather sandals and posh black sunnies and you've got yourself an ideal afternoon of lounging. I'll drink to that!
Scope it out here!
And there you have it girls, a practical yet sexy fashionistas must-have essentials for all seasons. Whether it's going to music festivals, out for a swanky dinner with your love or a wild night of clubbing with your girl friends, it's the clothes that make the girl, so make yourself a stylish being.
x
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Shiny, Happy, People -- OMFG
I always meet these girls when I'm out and about who are very pretty. They're perfectly toned and fit, cheery and happy, have shiny hair and teeth, and talk about vitamins and yoga. Their ensembles are always color-coordinated (little pink dress with pink shoes and pink nails, etc.) and they're always very nice. For some reason, I can just never relate to these girls, nice and pretty as they are. Perhaps they're a tad vanilla and I just get a little bored...or perhaps I just wish I was as put together as they were.
Truth be told, that while I have things together for the most part, some times I'm a spastic, emotionally snowballing, indecisive yet forward-throttling momentum who functions on a wavelength only I can hear. Ummm, yup, that pretty much sums it up. Ask any of my close friends and they can vouch for my overall ridiculousness. Perhaps that's why I feel so at home in the nightlife and modeling scene....it's a pace I'm comfortable in -- ample downtime dotted with unpredictable amounts of intensely busy periods. Go fast, burn out, recuperate, then do it all again. Sure, we can attribute this to a hedonistic youth, but let's recap here: I am in my hedonistic youth! Through promoting and modeling, at least I'm profiting from some of it.
Call me cray cray, but this up and down and at times super messiness totally works for me. I call it a constant state of transformation....realizing, maturing, that whole bit. As long as there's progress, which there is, than it's all good in my books! Okay okay, so maybe it's a little bit of me making excuses for my ridiculous situations some times, but really, how are we twenty-somethings supposed to know not to drink all night and perhaps do some drugs (Perhaps. We're being hypothetical here.) and then try and go to work on no sleep unless you do it once? Or twice, or ten times? Live and learn ladies and gents, and goodness knows I wouldn't know half the things I do if it weren't for my total disregard for responsibility which surfaces from time to time (usually between the hours of midnight and six in the morning...) Of course partying is the most obvious of situations here, but my last-minuteness in all areas of my life also seems to be serving me well, especially in recent years. Jumping, catching and chasing opportunities all over this city, and other cities, is something of a thrill for me and I wouldn't have it any other way...being unpredictable is a lovely quality in a person. Never one to be attracted to people who give it all away at once, I prefer not only to be a puzzle but to befriend them. Give me layers of complication and I'll stay interested forever.
I suppose my tolerance for the unstable also stems from my tolerance for emotions. Never one to shy away from them (as any long-time readers of this blog should know by now), I'm a big believer in feeling things out no matter how painful the process. A dying breed we feelers are I'm finding as many, especially go-getters in this cut-throat world, would rather push them aside and focus on work or whatnot. Anything to not have to suffer internally. I think all these people are destined for some sort of catastrophic meltdown, or living life as shells of who they truly are. How are we supposed to know who we are if we don't let ourselves feel what we should be? Of course, all the perpetually happy people might tell me otherwise, but you know what darlings, some times you just need to cry/yell it out. Catharsis...not just for tortured artists. Shit happens. Freak out. Then keep calm and carry on.
Living fast, teetering on emotional messes, slowing down just enough to get it all together and not learning lessons until you've lived through them is probably not the healthiest of lifestyles, but it's the only one I know how to live. Vitamins and yoga? I think I'll pass for now. Those pretty girls are all very nice and shiny, but I choose mysterious, reckless, scandalous (all the while still being exquisite...that's how we roll kids) over vanilla any day. Maybe when I'm forty and looking and feeling worse for the wear I'll regret it, but until then it's full speed ahead on my fiery little wavelength.
x
Truth be told, that while I have things together for the most part, some times I'm a spastic, emotionally snowballing, indecisive yet forward-throttling momentum who functions on a wavelength only I can hear. Ummm, yup, that pretty much sums it up. Ask any of my close friends and they can vouch for my overall ridiculousness. Perhaps that's why I feel so at home in the nightlife and modeling scene....it's a pace I'm comfortable in -- ample downtime dotted with unpredictable amounts of intensely busy periods. Go fast, burn out, recuperate, then do it all again. Sure, we can attribute this to a hedonistic youth, but let's recap here: I am in my hedonistic youth! Through promoting and modeling, at least I'm profiting from some of it.
Call me cray cray, but this up and down and at times super messiness totally works for me. I call it a constant state of transformation....realizing, maturing, that whole bit. As long as there's progress, which there is, than it's all good in my books! Okay okay, so maybe it's a little bit of me making excuses for my ridiculous situations some times, but really, how are we twenty-somethings supposed to know not to drink all night and perhaps do some drugs (Perhaps. We're being hypothetical here.) and then try and go to work on no sleep unless you do it once? Or twice, or ten times? Live and learn ladies and gents, and goodness knows I wouldn't know half the things I do if it weren't for my total disregard for responsibility which surfaces from time to time (usually between the hours of midnight and six in the morning...) Of course partying is the most obvious of situations here, but my last-minuteness in all areas of my life also seems to be serving me well, especially in recent years. Jumping, catching and chasing opportunities all over this city, and other cities, is something of a thrill for me and I wouldn't have it any other way...being unpredictable is a lovely quality in a person. Never one to be attracted to people who give it all away at once, I prefer not only to be a puzzle but to befriend them. Give me layers of complication and I'll stay interested forever.
I suppose my tolerance for the unstable also stems from my tolerance for emotions. Never one to shy away from them (as any long-time readers of this blog should know by now), I'm a big believer in feeling things out no matter how painful the process. A dying breed we feelers are I'm finding as many, especially go-getters in this cut-throat world, would rather push them aside and focus on work or whatnot. Anything to not have to suffer internally. I think all these people are destined for some sort of catastrophic meltdown, or living life as shells of who they truly are. How are we supposed to know who we are if we don't let ourselves feel what we should be? Of course, all the perpetually happy people might tell me otherwise, but you know what darlings, some times you just need to cry/yell it out. Catharsis...not just for tortured artists. Shit happens. Freak out. Then keep calm and carry on.
Living fast, teetering on emotional messes, slowing down just enough to get it all together and not learning lessons until you've lived through them is probably not the healthiest of lifestyles, but it's the only one I know how to live. Vitamins and yoga? I think I'll pass for now. Those pretty girls are all very nice and shiny, but I choose mysterious, reckless, scandalous (all the while still being exquisite...that's how we roll kids) over vanilla any day. Maybe when I'm forty and looking and feeling worse for the wear I'll regret it, but until then it's full speed ahead on my fiery little wavelength.
x
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Passions upon Passions...OMFG
Passion. It's the one thing that we search for our whole lives, whether it be romantic passion, a passion for work, or otherwise. In our twenties, the search for it is intense and on-going and once we find it, it's a race to turn it into something we can wake up to everyday and call either "work" or "honey" for the future....or until another passion comes along. I've come close to finding both passion in love and work in recent years, but translating both in ways that are feasible (work) and steady (love) have proved to be something of a daily struggle. Not the type to ever settle down with a 9 to 5 office job and be remotely happy about it (and trust me, my life would be so much easier if I was) my path to something stable professionally has been something of a whirlwind lately.
I always convince myself that I should just suck it up and get an office job (which I've had before, all through university for the university actually. It was an exception though...the people I worked with were wonderful and are good friends now. And how they put up with me waltzing in and out for castings and what not and wearing the most unprofessional work-wear, I'll never know.) but I just can't seem to do it. I appear to be on the pursuit of something better suited to what I want. Exactly what that is, I haven't figured it out yet. Believe it or not, these darling little blog posts I write make me exceptionally happy, and writing is something I've figured out I want to pursue during the last year.Of course, my visions of grandeur were just a wee bit spoiled by the fact that no one seems to want to pay people to write. (Oh, creative jobs. We all have the passion but the image of the starving artist living off canned food in his sparse loft is not something I could ever do....ugh canned food..) And when they do, it's not much. Currently I'm writing for an online magazine and also doing this blog, but it just doesn't seem to be enough to satisfy my writing appetite...and is definitely not something feasible for a future that I'm positive will include much more than a sparse loft. In the mean time, I'm modeling and doing promoting (surprisingly going very well and let's face it -- super fun.) two opportunities I won't shut the door on just yet. Perhaps it's blind confidence (or not coming to your senses yet, as my lovely mom phrased it delicately the other day) but I'm sure that whatever path I'm on is the right one, and that actively pursuing everything that catches my interest is sure to lead to something stable. Stable, but not boring, seems to be the elusive holy grail I'm seeking.
Passion in love, on the other hand, I seem to have covered. Perhaps a bit too much. The things I do when I'm in love....there's no need to go there really, and I'd like to keep it that way. Tumultuous, yes, but anyone who is remotely fiery on the inside like I am can sympathize with all the crazy you justify when you feel certain things for some one. To everyone else, I'm sure we just look coo coo for Cocopuffs! I'm sure every emotionally passionate individual has used their "passion" as a way to excuse some truly psycho behavior (No? Just me?) but at the end of the day, there really is no logic for me when it comes to love. If I feel it, I feel it, and something has to happen. C'est la vie, non? Well, c'est la passionate vie, anyways. Luckily my crimes of passion have proved to be successful for the most part thus far...only time will tell whether longevity plays a role with my current man. Until then, I'm happy to feel, instead of think it out. Love is the triumph of imagination over intelligence anyways isn't it?
To say follow your passion is utterly cliched, but one I'll take over all the other rights now. (Oh, and "find yourself." Always a good one and exceedingly relevant no matter how corny.) I suppose it'd be nice to be finding my passion while making an abundance of dollars at the same time, but I'll sacrifice a corporate paycheck for chasing after what feels right in the mean time. That gut feeling that leads me to make almost all my big decisions in life has never led me stray thus far, and I'm confident that where ever I'm heading, is towards something great. Passions upon passions? Carrie may not have wanted it with the Russian, but I'll take it over dull and standard any day.
x
I always convince myself that I should just suck it up and get an office job (which I've had before, all through university for the university actually. It was an exception though...the people I worked with were wonderful and are good friends now. And how they put up with me waltzing in and out for castings and what not and wearing the most unprofessional work-wear, I'll never know.) but I just can't seem to do it. I appear to be on the pursuit of something better suited to what I want. Exactly what that is, I haven't figured it out yet. Believe it or not, these darling little blog posts I write make me exceptionally happy, and writing is something I've figured out I want to pursue during the last year.Of course, my visions of grandeur were just a wee bit spoiled by the fact that no one seems to want to pay people to write. (Oh, creative jobs. We all have the passion but the image of the starving artist living off canned food in his sparse loft is not something I could ever do....ugh canned food..) And when they do, it's not much. Currently I'm writing for an online magazine and also doing this blog, but it just doesn't seem to be enough to satisfy my writing appetite...and is definitely not something feasible for a future that I'm positive will include much more than a sparse loft. In the mean time, I'm modeling and doing promoting (surprisingly going very well and let's face it -- super fun.) two opportunities I won't shut the door on just yet. Perhaps it's blind confidence (or not coming to your senses yet, as my lovely mom phrased it delicately the other day) but I'm sure that whatever path I'm on is the right one, and that actively pursuing everything that catches my interest is sure to lead to something stable. Stable, but not boring, seems to be the elusive holy grail I'm seeking.
Passion in love, on the other hand, I seem to have covered. Perhaps a bit too much. The things I do when I'm in love....there's no need to go there really, and I'd like to keep it that way. Tumultuous, yes, but anyone who is remotely fiery on the inside like I am can sympathize with all the crazy you justify when you feel certain things for some one. To everyone else, I'm sure we just look coo coo for Cocopuffs! I'm sure every emotionally passionate individual has used their "passion" as a way to excuse some truly psycho behavior (No? Just me?) but at the end of the day, there really is no logic for me when it comes to love. If I feel it, I feel it, and something has to happen. C'est la vie, non? Well, c'est la passionate vie, anyways. Luckily my crimes of passion have proved to be successful for the most part thus far...only time will tell whether longevity plays a role with my current man. Until then, I'm happy to feel, instead of think it out. Love is the triumph of imagination over intelligence anyways isn't it?
To say follow your passion is utterly cliched, but one I'll take over all the other rights now. (Oh, and "find yourself." Always a good one and exceedingly relevant no matter how corny.) I suppose it'd be nice to be finding my passion while making an abundance of dollars at the same time, but I'll sacrifice a corporate paycheck for chasing after what feels right in the mean time. That gut feeling that leads me to make almost all my big decisions in life has never led me stray thus far, and I'm confident that where ever I'm heading, is towards something great. Passions upon passions? Carrie may not have wanted it with the Russian, but I'll take it over dull and standard any day.
x
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