Finito.

Finals Preview

So as I'm slaving away on finals (aka running around in confined circles trying to figure my life out), you can look at this silly collage of two of my looks with a mishmashed homage to Hayley Williams in the background.

my true loves in life:
Monster
Hayley Williams
Small Sweaters
Lack of Dignity

Now I'm One of Those Crazy Girls

I've always thought of myself as a pretty self confident person, sometimes verging on egotistical and narcissistic. However I find my inner-self doesn't quite come across the same when I interact with others, and I become incredibly conscious of this when I'm around the opposite sex. I suppose I want to come off as vulnerable, and sometimes I even fall for my own self-consciousness.

It's funny. Recently I've gone on dates and been complimented more than I've been complimented in my lifetime and I still walk away feeling like shit because, well, it just doesn't penetrate. We're taught from a young age that a man's approval is a very important standard to gauging our self worth; yet we're also taught to not trust a word one says when he has that "one thought" on his mind. No matter how conscious I am of this conflict it's not an easy thing to brush off, and no matter how many men I do or don't sleep with I don't think I'll ever work through this paradigm. I'm know many, many women are on this same boat.

I suppose this also leads into how conscious I've become of my evolving humor, or lack there of. I think the best way to describe my breed is as a "tumblr feminist." The website has really helped evolve my views a bit, which is rather awkward because I feel like I was way late to the ladyparty (my fault alone, I've always had access to the information but have chosen ignorance) and micoposts don't do the ideologies justice. I'm the generation of TL;DR.

I was hanging out with a likeinterest and his friend and they were joking about the friend picking up a couple chicks. I'm lucky in many respects in that I can come off as a pseudo-intellectual and can almost be "one of the guys", something I contribute to having a very socially awkward brother and a former /b/ lurking best friend--I've been exposed to and can bond over nerdboy humor.

"Send her a dick pic" my likeinterest joked. I laughed along. The joke continued for a few more minutes and I could feel myself disagreeing with these jokes more and more even if they did not have any imminent impact on the girls' lives, I was consciously quelling the urge to voice opinions that I knew would make things uncomfortable. I felt like I was that girl who was waiting expectantly at my phone for a text back. I have been and probably will be again and again. I have and will be the butt of those jokes. The fact that I was feeling uncomfortable voicing my opinions on something I know better than any guy--being a girl and being hit on--is kind of messed up. I feel myself moving away from that boy's club that I once thought I was tiptoeing the perimeter of.

(Please excuse any typos, I'm on Monster #3. Finals week has commenced!)

Make Up or Break Up

I think I've finally gotten my makeup routine to 10 minutes. Yes, my friends, I can look like a glorified shuck of a human being in a sixth of an hour, flat. No, I'm really not worthy of your applause, really!!

In other news, I'm reuniting with my Italian roots and am exploring the Futurists in context with the state of Italy pre-World War I. It may seem really lame, but nothing gets me more excited than Boccioni's paintings. I suppose it's probably a blessing and a curse that he passed so young during the war; as a friend once said after I had showed her a picture of him chumming with his fellow Futurists, "I love it when they die young".

"Will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful?"
Y.

Behold the Bratz Dolls

These were the sketches I presented at my first panel crit. I'm the kind who likes to develop a collection as I drape so many of these are going to go through a lot of changes, but they're a starting point!

I am.

I am depressed.

Not because I want attention. It's not because I feel ugly, it's not because I feel worthless, it's not even because I absolutely hate many of the people and departments that run my school and my life. I'm not depressed because of my family life nor am I depressed because I'm compensating for my lack of exciting familial backstory. I am not depressed because I am white or privileged or female or dumb or young or self-conscious. My depression does not stem from my lack of faith or my abundance of questionable knowledge. It's not because I listen to Hawthorne Heights or Fall Out Boy. I am not depressed because I drink too much or because of my addiction to coffee or sex or sugar or mayonnaise. It's not technology's fault and it has nothing to do with world news. It's not a production of my imagination. And it's not my fault. But it is my responsibility to hide it.


As I've delved into my senior thesis head-first, I've been trying to develop a vocabulary to deal with my symptoms. I'm transposing my feelings into this collection by making lingerie and underthings that represent the "darkness" that I feel when I am approaching a low, and then making overcoats, jackets, and dresses that represent the mask that I wear overtop my feelings. It represents my overcompensation and how I personally deal with what an estimated 1 in 10 Americans deal with.

I hate pity. I am not doing this as a cry for help or as a PSA. I'd have done that years ago. I'm doing this because I've learned to relatively deal with myself. It's nothing I'll ever just "snap" out of and it's not an illness that anyone should ever say "sorry" to (I mean, would you say "sorry" to me telling you I'm a natural blond? Or would you say "I'm sorry" to a friend who has come out of the closet?). The pain has dulled considerably since it's onset, but it's still not something I'll ever get used to. Art is an expression and I can't devote a year to absolute bullshit. This collection will be me in this current state of being, as imperfect as that may be.

A-muse-ing

a sketch for my
portfolio development class

When developing my concept for my senior collection, I've found myself relying on a few of the same influences for inspiration again and again as if they were a watering hole.

Hayley Williams of Paramore
idol.

Seeing as I began my process while in Italy I had to connect myself back to the comforts of home in order to feel sane and healthy. Music has always been an extreme influence on me (even though I can't play) and was a medium that has always solaced me through the toughest times. In high school, oftentimes, being able to point to a calendar date for the next time I could find a spirit of happiness would keep me content enough to keep living.

That being said, in Italy there were two major albums that came out and helped me through my brief loneliness: Paramore by Paramore and Siberia Acoustic by Lights. Listening to "Still Into You" and watching the music video could so easily plaster a real smile on my sullen face. I definitely needed the lift.

Even now, I keep finding myself scribbling lyrics from Paramore across every piece of paper my pen comes in contact with. They are just so applicable and are one of the few things right now that can make me want to really get my hands dirty.

Lights
picture by Matt Barnes

I guess I'm going through my pop-punk-loving second-wind. My music tastes made a turn off the grid after entering college and discovering my favorite bands were a bit too mainstream.

I guess its the correlation in that I'm finding me again. I have no reason to act cool. I'm a cheesey fashion design senior and nothing can take that away from me.

Except Pratt...