Morrison

I have started the Toni Morrison section of my English 102 class and was met with an enormous amount of anxiety.

Odd.

I know Morrison's work like the back of my hand, but I realized that your can't teach The Bluest Eye without a serious rundown of her historical allusions, and since most students have no clue about US history, this is a daunting task.

So, I broke it down into visual pieces--the trajectory of stereotypes of Black women since the middle passage. We looked at images of the "mammy," of the "crazy black woman," of the hyper-sexual black woman, the turn-of-the-century DuBois "upright Negro," and then at contemporary artists who work with/against these stereotypes: Bettye Saar, Kara Walker, and Jon Onye Lockard, to name a few. We discussed ethnology and gynecology and eugenics. We talked about the 1903 World's Fair and the Moynihan Report. And I think they got it, mouths agape and muttering in disgust--they got it.

Teaching Morrison is like teaching Melville--but harder. It's a harder history, tougher language, richer use of metaphor and allusion--harder. I was honest with my students and told them how much anxiety it produces in me to teach her work. One of my students, in response, asked me if it's because I'm white. That made me wonder if they actually did get it....

DeVotchka

Mel took me to a KEXP (local, commercial free, awesome music) VIP show at The Triple Door in downtown on Saturday. What was the event?

DeVotchka.

Holy fuck, was it sweet.

Frances first introduced me to them a couple years ago, although you may remember them from the Little Miss Sunshine soundtrack.

No??

Okay--check them out. They're definitely one of those bands that you either really like or really don't like. I like to think of them as Spanish guitar meets German cabaret meets Beirut meets circus freak. I love it; I really do.

Here's a YouTube video from the show they played later that night. If you don't want to watch it, fine, but check them out on pandora.com

We didn't get a trapeze artist, but the night show did. Shoooooot.....

Thanks, Mel!

Chaotic Visit

Angela and Paula came to visit a couple of weekends ago, and Angela (aka Madame Chaos) just sent me photos from our excursions. It's nice to actually have some photos of my fair new city, and it made me realize I haven't taken enough!

Me and Angela in the snow.


I told Angela and Paula that this Pink Elephant carwash was my only familiar point of reference when I first moved here. Literally, I was lost until I saw it; then, I would magically feel okay (although it's nowhere near where I live, it somehow gave me comfort).


Angela and Paula stroking some pussy and eatin' some sausage (sorry, I couldn't resist).


K hates pictures (but I'm sure glad he loves me!).


Chaos captured my love of cupcakes. Red velvet cupcakes, to be exact.

K and me on an average day in downtown/Belltown Seattle. Love it.

Top Pot

Day 5, and I wanna fucking donut. I never want a donut, but I want one now. And pizza, and Thai food, and a honey and peanut butter sandwich.

Werrrrd.

Leaks

Leaks keep happening to me. No joke.

On Tuesday, the liquid from my tuna salad leaked all over my bag while I was on the bus, making me smell like the deck of a fish boat for the rest of the day. Yum. Yesterday, I came home to my bathroom overflowed with water. My sink backed up (even though water was not left on) and covered *everything* and ruined more than a few of my bathroom goodies. Today, my coffee travel mug exploded on the bus and got everywhere.

Why is my life full of leaks??

Bloatation

I am a little apprehensive to admit this, but I have started the South Beach Diet. I have never believed in nor subscribed to any form of diet or dieting before (other than the standard: be good, don't eat too much shit; or, drink wine for dinner and eat well the rest of the day), but I agreed to do this to be supportive of my roomie and friend, Mel, and I wanted to be supportive of K's decision to quit smoking by giving up something that is hard/almost impossible for me to live without: carbs. What I like about South Beach is that you eliminate processed carbs and fruit for the first 2 weeks, but you can indulge in lean meats, cheeses, and tons and tons of veggies--emphasis on veggies. Then after, the first two weeks, you reintegrate whole grains and fruit. So far, so good, except that I miss my fruit!! I did not weigh myself before starting, and I don't plan on weighing myself after, since I think that such behavior leads to manic self-attacks--and this is really, truly not about my weight. Rather, I'm just going to do it and see how I *feel*: how does my body feel? mind? spirit? head? I can say that I have already noticed that I am distinctly less bloated. I mean, I never knew I was bloated until I was not longer so, if that gives you an idea. Egg whites, celery, tuna, chicken, turkey, goat cheese, and nuts have now taken over my roomate's and my fridge, and this gives me confidence that the diet is not as whacky as it could be.

Tasty

I cooked for the first time without using a cookbook. I was terrified, I must tell you. But here's how it went down:

I took chicken breasts (with rib meat), salted and peppered then, and rubbed (breast top down) them in olive oil, fresh thyme, fresh parsley, and fresh rosemary. In the little flap formed by the rib meat, I laid in a few thinly sliced pieces of pancetta; then, I laid asparagus heads, halved, and finely chopped white mushrooms on top of the pancetta. I laid the rib meat flap over this and then added more of the herb rub over the top, along with the remaining smatterings of shopped mushrooms. I then laid the breasts in a baking dish and added 5 cloves of garlic (unpeeled and unhusked for a more subtle flavor) and 1 cup of Sauvignon Blanc. I then baked it for 50 minutes, basting it at the 40 and 50 minute marks. While I did this, Kyle took lime juice from a whole lime, added olive oil, crushed red pepper, onions, garlic, brown sugar, and sauvignon blanc and brought this to a simmer, then added sliced white mushrooms and cooked them on a very low heat for 35 minutes or so.

We were inspired by nothing in particular, but damn! It tasted good and it's super-healthy.

Viva Sunday nights!

Playing catch up

Ah, what a delight is my life here!

I'm working--a lot. It's good, though, so don't get me wrong. My students are fantastic and motivated, and I haven't taught a group like them in some time. I feel grateful for these small things.

I met up with an old high school acquaintance last weekend. But first, let me digress.... Last Saturday was PHENOMENAL. It was in the 70s here (some say it got up to 83 degrees) with clear, azure skies, and K and I spent the whole day and night out doors. Had we spent it any other way, I think we would have both been sorely disappointed.

First, I met up with my former high school pal, Shin Yu Pai, at GREEN LAKE where, with my parasol in hand, we caught up and walked around the gorgeous perimeter (along with a few hundred of others). Turns out, she is a prolifically published poet and had gotten my email address from my dear friend, Alaska, when she was in Riverside doing a reading. Anywho, she now lives in Seattle with her hubby, who's an acupuncturist. It also turns out that we have similar views on graduate school, critical theory, and the failures of most academic methodologies. Good times.

Then, I flitted off to GAS WORKS, a park on the banks of Lake Union. K and I joined a barbecue with some fun folks. Soccer balls were tossed, children were toddling about, and we l o u n g e d. Before the sun started to set, we headed back to K's place, changed, and went over to Golden Gardens, where we joined a bonfire-in-progress and watched the sun set over the OLYMPICS. After dark, someone set a christmas tree on fire, much to all of our delight (our = hundreds of people on the beach). After the hurrah from the burned tree, I went and sat down by the Sound's quiet, lapping waves (really, it was to escape the group of early 20-somethings in the space next to our bonfire, who were playing guitar and singing mid-90s pop tunes that should be left in their time--oi). So, down by the water (PJ Harvey just clicked into my head), with the sound of those most rhythmic lapping waves, I started to doze off, despite the fact that there was a man to my left and a man to my right who were pissing in the Sound. Ah, well, nothing else exists when gentle dozing does.

Now, we have returned to drizzle and 37 degrees, but I have been given a preview of what's to come in June and beyond. I can't wait.

**(the photos are, of course, all stock. see? that's why I need that Canon Powershot!)

Ramble On

As I zip about the campus, teaching, going to meetings, collecting books for a book drive I'm fronting, meeting students, and prepping my classes, I have found a little oasis in the mad spin. There's a coffee and self-proclaimed "munchy" spot on campus where Flo (at least, I like to think that's her name) serves the most basic and brilliant cup of coffee. When I go in, her false-teeth flash as she smiles and greets me with a "Hi, darlin!" I rustle up my coffee, and whatever utensils I need to eat my yogurt or tuna salad (I bring my lunch but inevitably and daily I forget my utensils), and head to the counter. She is always, always playing the Righteous Brothers, Roy Orbison, The Beach Boys, Van Morrison, Stevie Wonder...and it is, magically, soothing. There's something steady about this little ritual and its attendant rhythm, and Flo and her tunes form the crux of this peaceful spot in my day. No matter what else is going on, there she is, right as rain; when she says, "have a good day, dear," little does she know that now, it will be!

For Real (?!?) Estate

Seattle's housing prices are dropping, as I'm sure they are everywhere. I was a little startled by a recent perusal on Craigslist. I haven't looked at housing prices since last October and was shocked that finding a living space for under $300,000 in Seattle proper is now possible (if you're cool with living in a condo, which I am). For instance, this little number is in Ballard, one of my favorite parts of Seattle. Hopefully, when I have the money to actually buy property, the prices will still be this "affordable!"

Pillow Fight

One of the many reasons I love Seattle is because of this act of gleeful randomness. Make sure you scroll the photos (18 in all), and enjoy!

Movin' On Up

Kyle got offered a graphic design job yesterday morning! Yay and whew!

Things are looking up.

Wish List

As the light at the end of my broke-ass tunnel begins to glimmer, I've been thinking of ways to spend my hard-earned income on goodies. Between saving for the move, moving, and being unemployed for 3 months, I haven't indulged myself in over a year. Come summer, it will be time, critiques of consumerist indulgences be damned! So, without further ado....

Classics: Levis and Chucks

And since i live in the land of tennies, I want these Pastry shoes for fun:

...and these Adidas Valentine's:


...and one of lovely wallets from etsy.com:



A Canon Powershot, so I can record both this wacky city and my handsome boyfriend:


...this bird, heart, and "oui" from etsy.com to remind me of good things:


...these goodies from Crate and Barrel, to make it better to eat you with, my dear!


And! This Oral B set to keep my pearlies pearly (and no, I'm not kidding)

Erin go bragh!

I might be moving to Live Journal. Are any of you users? Any suggestions/encouragements on making the switch? It seems less user-friendly than blogspot. If I do, I will post the new link....

Erin visited this weekend...yay! K took us to sushi and the zoo, and then I took her to have cupcakes and tea, and she took me to the ballet. In our tour of the city, we went into Elliott Bay Books and checked to see if the book that published K's burlesque candy box was available. And it is!! Color Management for Packaging is now available, and you can find K's box, including the caption description of it as a "magnificent example," on page 94. Once he buys it, I will scan the page and post it here.

Did I mention I'm so fucking proud of him???

From Erin's visit:

Unfamiliar Territory

"Love takes off masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within."

--James A. Baldwin

Common Ground Collective

The civic-minded in America often look to other countries to invest themselves in much-needed relief work, but we often forget that relief is needed here, too.

New Orleans’ poorer neighborhoods are still, 2 and 1/2 years later, reeling from the effects (and affects) of Hurricane Katrina. Brad Pitt recently made headlines for starting Make It Right, an organization that is helping to re-build sustainable living in the lower ninth ward. But I’d like to draw your attention to another amazing organization that has been in action since the year anniversary of Katrina’s landfall and is comprised of people working as a collective to re-build and provide much needed, basic supplies to families along the gulf who are still trying to put their lives back together.

I strongly urge you to check out Common Ground Collective’s web site and especially urge you to note their for supplies (from towels to coffee to mattresses).

Perhaps we could all make an effort to collect some of their wish list items at our work places, or at school, and do our small but vital parts? I know I will.

Har-shuh-shar

Happy St. Patty's!

From a bar in Seattle (I have no idea who the crazy girl in the first photo is! The look of surprise on my face is genuine). K had to work, but a fellow Riverside-ite (my roomate's best friend) and her boyfriend took me out to an "event," which translated to free green beer. Woo hoo!

Lowbrow

If you like weird Victorian ephemera and creepy stuff like I do, then you should check out Madame Talbot's. There're tons of goodies to look at. Highlights include "Vagina Wafers" and assorted embalming and apothecary bottles from the late 19th century. Also of note is the "Black Remover," which makes everything "White."

On other fronts, I just ate up a fun little novel by Poppy Z. Brite, called Liquor , which is aptly named because two chefs (who are also a male life partners, and who have been line cooks and poor their whole lives) in New Orleans open their own restaurant wherein every recipe has some form of liquor in it. It's a quick read (it took me 2 days) and is nothing fancy, but it totally held my attention, so much so that I have already queued up the next book in the series at the library! It got me thinking, of course, about Katrina's aftermath, and I wonder how the series will shift between books 3 and 4 in the series, pre- and post-Katrina. How can her narrative ever be the same after it? So, I also picked up Billy Sothern's Down in New Orleans: Reflections from A Drowned City, which I will grant its own review post in the very near future, once I am finished with it (and while I wait Prime, Brite's second novel in the series). I also am waiting for Spike Lee's When the Levees Broke to come in from Netflix late this week. I truly am a glutton for punishment, so do expect a rambling post about Katrina and the (non)efforts to rebuild N.O.

The Goods

For our anniversary, Kyle made me an amazing dinner. How do I describe the contours of Kyle's cooking...? He doesn't use recipes; he just whips up these amazing concoctions of meat and cheese and sauces and spices--deeeelish!! Saturday night was no exception. He coated chicken breasts in this mix of bread crumbs, crushed red pepper, shredded parmesan, salt, pepper, and Brianna's vinaigrette. Then, he wrapped the breasts around asparagus and crushed orange pulp and garlic, and then wrapped the whole she-bang in prosciutto. He then baked the chicken packages in a bed of vinaigrette, orange slices (with rinds), garlic and crushed red pepper. He complimented this with parmesan rice and broccoli. The flavors came in waves: first sweet, then salty, and then a backdoor kick of pepper. It was a marvel!!

I'm a very lucky, and very grateful, girl!

Beluga

Okay: I am reaching my limit on having no life. I read, I run, I wander, I listen to music, I write, I drink lots of caffeine, and write cards and notes to people, but I have to say, there's only so much entertainment gleaned from said activities when you have no life otherwise. And poor Kyle: I hop around him when we're together like that little cartoon dog that jumps back and forth over the bulldog while he's walking, yelping "what're we gonna do now, George?! What're we gonna do now?!?" Oi.

I need tasks, people!! Heh.

Fidget

I'm starting to really think through the English 102 class I'm teaching in spring. We have to choose a theme for the course, so I chose "Identity" and am teaching Susanna Kaysen's Girl, Interrupted, Mark Doty's Firebird, Toni Morrison's The Bluest Eye, Fae M. Ng's Bone, and Yvonne Melanson's Looking for Lost Bird. Essay 1 will be a visual and written auto-ethnography in order to 1. get them to think of how they both define and represent their selves/identities and 2. to realize that they have a critical voice about themselves and they world they live in, and their voice needs to be foregrounded. We'll read Kaysen and think about how often how we are perceived and the social expectations surrounding our gendered or classed identities often collide with how we see ourselves. As part of the process leading up to Essay 1, I'd like them to come up with their own "Post Secret" (after introducing them to the project and web site), shuffle them in a big bag, and then pass them out randomly and have them write on who they think the person is and how they think their "secret" has been socially framed.

Essay 2 will ask them to identify a thematic thread between 2 of 3 text choices: Morrison, Doty, or Kaysen. Essay 3 will ask them to do a compare and contrast between the protagonist in Bone and one other character from any other text we've read. More specifically, it will ask them to compare and contrast how these two characters deal with family and generational gaps and bridges. Essay 4 will ask them to consider the "big picture" of identity and community, both being accepted and rejected in differing ways in a number of communities. They will be asked to explain what they think forms it, and I will ask them to consider Melanson's narrative (about a Jewish woman finding out she's actually adopted off of a Navajo reservation and is full-blood) as a starting point. I'll ask them to think about self-determination, community, family, race, ethnicity, language--all the big guns we will have discussed during the term. I am excited about the class....

My 101 class is very similar to teaching 1C at UCR or 1A at RCC. A few additions will be Chappelle's Show and Dexter, and an episode of Strangers with Candy, called "Trail of Tears," which situates Jerry as finding out she's Indian and having to go to camp to learn "how to be an Indian" from camp counselor Will Farrell. Total satire.

If any of my teacher friends reading this have any suggestions on other texts or critical essays to supplement my 102 plan, I welcome them!

***

On an unrelated note, here's a view of the Cascades from my place, which is much prettier and clearer if you click on the image (which then blows it up):

Reveling

(happy anniversary!)

Happy Friday!

Scott found this in the Santa Barbara Mission's gift shop and posted it on his blog. It needs no explanation:



I found a Del Taco up here (yes, yes!!!) and am going there to have lunch.

Happy Friday!

Por Vida

For those of you in L.A., Sylvia Ji has a show this month. If you aren't familiar with her work, it's worth a gander.

Viva, creepy-is-hot art!

Extremely, Incredibly

No work for the past 2 months is making me antsy. Although I know the grass always looks greener from the other side (it's also easy to complain when you are in the full swing of work and don't have time for anything), but there's only so many times I can "wander" around the city and look at pretty things. I'm starting to bore myself, and that is unusual.

I have, however, managed to read a few books since I've been up here, and one in particular has made a lasting impression: Jonathan Safran Foer's Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. The story, basically and without giving a thing away, is about a 9 year old boy whose father died in the WTC on 9/11. All he has left is the 5 messages his father left on their home answering machine as he was stuck in the tower. That, and a mysterious envelope with an even more mysterious and random key. The boy spends the novel trying to figure out the origins of the key, in the hopes it will bring some sort of closure to his grief. The story is far more interesting and nuanced than I've described, but take my word for it that it's remarkable.

It's really about the contours of grief and mourning, which don't (I think) ever have closure, and this is what our little protagonist learns at a tender age. Foer uses intergenerational trauma and grief, using his grandfather/mother's involvement in the bombing of Dresden and a first hand account of the bombing of Hiroshima, as a way to explore this. This, however, is less interesting than the little boy's perspective, which teaches us (or, reminds us) that grief is both singular and universal, both significant and completely irrelevant in a broader scope, and how complicated grief can be when it is shared and yet totally individual. It would be easy to say that Foer is stating that the boy's "loss of innocence" (realizing he that you cannot foreclose grief) is the biggest tragedy, but the novel is smarter than that.

Up next is Antonya Nelson's Female Trouble.

PPWW

I've had a sprinkling of interviews lately and all have gone well. I have the job at North Seattle, and I interviewed with Cornish College of the Arts yesterday for an adjunct position in Integrated ( or Interdisciplinary) Studies (Frances: it's the same idea as CHASS Connect) for 2008-09. I LOVE that place and really, really want it, but I won't find out 'til June.

I also interviewed with Planned Parenthood for a volunteer newsletter writer/editor position, and they just called to tell me that they've selected me! Yay! While in the interview, I learned that they hire from within 9 times out of 10 (which makes sense). So, my foot is now firmly in the door as their new editor and primary writer for their Western Washington regional newsletter!

I spent 6 hours today walking around downtown in the glorious sunshine; sunshine here is like a tender, little, extremely delicious morsel.

Never Underestimate the Power of a Cupcake!

Today was the first (of many, I'm sure) perfect day in Seattle.

I woke up at K's and, while he worked, I took myself on an adventure to Ballard. After perusing a vintage shop and finding a fantastic new dress, buying Young Galaxy's self-titled album and a copy of Filter, and having Pho for lunch (super yummy and super cheap!!), I found my new favorite little spot: Verite Cafe and Cupcake Royale. What makes it my favorite? Well, it's cozy, for starters, and it has a vast assortment of tasty cupcakes. There was the "triple threat" (3 types of chocolate), Valetine's-themed cupcakes, and Lavender infused cupcakes, to name a few. I chose my very favorite cupcake, red velvet, and it was far better than my old favorite in L.A. at Cafe Chango. So, I as I waited for my tasty mocha, Beirut came on in the shop, and as I copped a squat for some good drink, good eats, and a fresh copy of Filter, I realized that this was, indeed, my perfect Sunday.

Clutter

One of the occupational hazards of being trained as a grad student in English (or simply having a penchant for analysis) is that you.analyze.everything. We are finely trained semioticians: all things are signs; each thing is a text. We teach our students this, we study this methodology, and practice it in our work. It is easy to teeter over into over-analysis--picking apart things until they lose all their flavor; wrecking perfectly decent objects by peeling open their mysteries. Or worse, realizing that they have no mysteries, and all that is left is a symbolic carcass.

So, now, as I sit around with entirely too much times on my hands, I find that the tools I learned in grad school are making me nuts. I have turned all of that training onto my everyday life and find it maddening. I catch myself analyzing the patterns of...well, everything; each reading of signs (which may or may not be there) are cluttered with "meaning." And it's too much!!

Analysis often turns things acrid that don't need to be so; analysis can perhaps be channeled into goodness--or series of goodnesses. I live in this amazing place, my boyfriend still gives me butterflies when I see him, I'm healthy, and I'm very much alive and crazy about where my life is headed. No...there are things that don't need to be made bitter with too much chewing. Perhaps I am addicted to the analytic process, so if nothing is fueling it, I will gnaw on whatever is around me, whatever is local. The key is, I think, to keep it fueled and focused.

Having sickened of the sound of my own analytical voice rattling about in my head with nothing productive to bounce off of, and tiring of the intense insomnia that now accompanies it, I've decided to turn the sound back on the very thing that created it: I am beginning to process a new article on Susanna Kaysen's The Camera My Mother Gave Me. So, there.

I can't tell if I'm an addict or someone who is just a truly devoted semiotician. And there I go, over-thinking it again....

Hoo-RAH!

I got a job at North Seattle Community College. I have 2 classes and lab hours starting March 31st.

The campus is small and cute; the department is cozy, and there's room for advancement.

Yay!

Primaries

I have never been so excited about a primary election--hell, I've never even been excited about ANY primary before!

I have voted (absentee, since our election is Feb 12th) already, but I will be happy no matter if the primary sweep is Obama or Clinton.

And I think: if people are this excited about the primaries, how much energy will be generated in November!!

What a remarkable historic moment!!

Shirts for the occasion, courtesy of Urban Outfitters:




I'm off to watch more on CNN's coverage....

Il fait frois!

(Frances, pardon the repeat!)

Seattle is pretty fantastic. I've been puttering around nicely on the bus and find that I (as I suspected) prefer it to driving. My car is up here now--Dane and Cindy brought it up last weekend. That was really nice of them, except that Cindy got super-drunk downtown, threw a huge emotional fit, and then proceeded to pee (yes, PEE) in my bed! She didn't even offer to clean it up. Yech. Then, the flu hit and I've been bed-ridden (literally) for 5 days. K has taken excellent care of me--making frequent trips to the market for Gatorade, Nyquil, and whatever goodies I fancied in my fevered fit.

Some thoughts on Seattle: the Seattle Public Library is amazing. The downtown area bustles but is not overwhelming. The surrounding nature is GORGEOUS. On a good, clear day, we can see the Olympic range to the northwest, the Cascades to the east, and Mt. Rainier to the southeast. It's fucking phenomenal when it's clear (which is frequent, surprisingly). It hardly rains, but when it does it's kinda annoying. The coffee is fantastic, the restaurants and Irish pubs are plentiful, and there's always, ALWAYS something going on.

Now that I have my car, we want to plan a trip (once we both secure jobs) up to Canada. I had to submit a name change on my passport, so now I have to wait for it to get back. It's only about 2 hours from the border (kinda like Riverside to TJ) and the drive is spectacular. We can also take a ferry, if we choose. I can't wait...

Things feel good here--feel right, like people have their priorities straight: social awareness, coffee, literacy, art, music. We've already been to two design-related networking events and have checked out snowboards for potential future purchase (jobs pending). Other than my feet freezing more often than not, I am pleased with my new digs!

Equestrienne

As most of you know, I am completely obsessed with Project Runway. In the thick of their fourth season, I have started to wonder what exactly it is that draws me to it. I mean, sure, the challenges are inventive and it is fascinating to see a series of creative processes and responses to their design challenges, but it wasn't until this week's episode that I realized what draw lies even further beneath the surface: a desire to piece together my own "fashion" expression.

I have never been a fashionista. In fact, I was raised to dress like a boy and was categorically a tomboy (a few of you can attest). And when I say "dress like a boy," I mean it. My tyrannical stepfather decided on a few rules for my "dress" at an early age: 1. I was not allowed to cut or in any way style my hair 2. I was not allowed to wear skirts or dresses, unless they reached the floor (hence, I never really wore them) 3. I was only allowed to buy clothes in neutral colors and preferably from "western"-themed stores. I am not ever remotely kidding about these arbitrary rules and they truly formed a convoluted sense of gendered identity as much as they created a deep desire to indulge in color and fabrics and textures--and the desire to revel in girly shit. Sadly, by the time I was out of that house, I was clueless. I fell in and out of various styles, and many teenagers do, but I never found a firm sense of personal style--not to mention I have zero confidence in my abilities! That aside, I have found that I LOVE LOVE LOVE looking at clothes. I am able to admire someone for their sense of style, but I have never been able to wrap my head around a vision of a stylized self...and then, I watched last week's episode of Project Runway and saw my first glimpse of how I would categorize the ideal, dressed-to-the-nines, dangerously fierce "me."

The past two seasons of Project Runway have been a hunt and peck through various fashion lenses that have piqued my interest. Last season, while I admired some of the designers' abilities, Uli's was too "Miami" and free-spirited for me; Michael's was too Hamptons-meets-Brooklyn; Allison's was too L.A. hipster. Jeffrey (who ultimately won the challenge last year) gave mea small glimpse of a fraction of my "style" identity: tailored punk-rock sassy. But it was tooooo punk-rock for me. I've been drawn to punk stuff, goth stuff, military styled jackets, and leggings (which I know are now a firm no-no on the streets of L.A. and NYC), but I had never seen them represented in one place, and each on its own is so limiting and definitely NOT "me." During last week's episode, I became ecstatic when Jillian sent an immaculately tailored black coat down the runway:


During judging, she referred to it as "punk-rock equestrian," and I thought, that's it!! That's exactly how I would define my ideal style! Awesome. I love this coat because it incorporates the punk, the goth, the military, and the equestrian in such a way that looks sleek and fierce. None of the styles overwhelm the coat, but complement one another perfectly. It's the best of all my favorite styles, but without the pre-packaged rebellion of punk and goth wear, without the the stuffiness of equestrian, or the crappy gold/brass buttons-on-green-drab-or-navy-look of military.

As odd and materialistic as it sounds, I feel like I had a small epiphany about my self: I saw a vision of the fused sense of me, as both a tomboy and a girly-girl, bounding down the runway, and I was thrilled.

bummed