08 back bone

A few days ago I cut up a shirt and used childhood flame's tutorial for a pleasure principle copy shirt :) the result is quite nice, I think, contrary to my mom's opinion. hehe.

07 rose salve

I am completely and utterly in love with these shoes by no.6. Either of these will be mine.

04 fuck yeah photography

ALRIGHT WE'RE SHOOTING WE'RE STATING TOMORROW, YEAH?

As spring finally gave way to summer last year, my family and I went strawberry picking. It was one of the highest points in my life.

.....At least psychologically it was. 


I didn't know I could ever feel that good. 


Nothing seemed even potentially able to go wrong. 






Living never felt so fucking good.

I remember sitting on a bare part of the strawberry field, letting the sun kiss my cheekbones, the grass prickling gently against my calves. And smiling. Smiling, gently, like one of those things that you can't help but let turn your cheeks rosy and your entire skin radiant with love. Like one of those things that, you know you should be in denial of because life just can't be that good. Too good to be true, but can' t help but bask in the hope that maybe it's all true. Maybe it's all too real that, you just can't believe it. I thought maybe I could enjoy the moment, which perhaps is false and is too presumptuous for my own good. Why the fuck not?

Because I couldn't catch myself when I fell. I kept clawing at the lost hope. It's like drug addiction. Seeing things. Dreaming shit. Turning to escapist resorts.

I've still never worn the forest green polish on my nails. Except on my toes, but that doesn't count because they just looked black to me anyway from so far away.

So fucking far.

I think I loved you.

03 film grain

Today was not much of an eventful day. Spent most of it grazing the kitchen for something to eat, taking head shots of myself to submit to college, reading the nutrition textbook, and browsing my dad's film scans. Which was probably the highlight of the day. So I loaded a Pentax with Fujifilm 400. 50mm 1.7f lens. Let's see how this goes.

I've developed an unhealthy relationship with food. The problem is the guilt I feel when I eat something I "shouldn't," a habit of judging my food choices, or so my nutrition professor warns. "I don't judge people on what they eat!" she says with a pointed finger in the air. Well. Actually the problem is that I lack the drive to pursue some type of hobby, with a passion. I have loads of things I'd love to do, I just never get the rush of motivation I need to accomplish them. Apparently my threshold is quite high. Frankly, I blame my toddler brother and my family situation. It's difficult to openly enjoy an activity when my mother sighs bitterly at her exhausting maternal responsibilities. Maybe it's just my convenient excuse. I don't know, I suppose it could be both.

So one of those things is clothing, shoes, adorning myself with jewelry. Collectively "fashion," as many may agree, but I despite the term. It wraps up everything so easily and too plainly that I find myself wrinkling my nose at its every utterance. I feel like it's a lot more than can be squished into a seven-letter word. Something more fluid, I suppose. Yes, fluidity, like cascading drapery and graceful silhouettes.

Like art.