A new shop?

Finished Vintage Paragon Stitchery :)

I especially love finding beautiful wall hangings, vintage art for someone to buy and delight over its uniqueness. I've found several small oil paintings that customers have enjoyed. And these things are fun for me to sell, because I know (or imagine) that they will be used and benefit someone with their beauty. I'm high-minded, if nothing else.

Both my Etsy and eBay shops have been cluttered with random things for most of their existence. Yes, I have things that I do more frequently (e.g. vintage ties, mugs, shoes), but for the most part, there is no rhyme or reason. The Recycleista, a thrifty blogger, recently opened a new shop with a specific theme (vintage papers), and it occurred to me that I am capable of doing the same. I too can hone in a little more, make a niche through what I already do, and offer it up to the masses in kind. The thing that has stood in my way has been an insecurity about what I sell, or perhaps an insecurity about myself as a person in general.

Anyhoo, I am thinking about it. It might just mean that I wait until summer arrives fully, or that I develop a better stash than I do today. I think that I'd like for it to be original art (in theory), though items like the above are also quite lovely.

Thoughts?

Being bilingual :)

A rare find from a local artist :)

Not being bilingual in english and spanish makes my life difficult pretty much every day, and for a long time, I've berated myself for it. But last summer, I made the decision to start learning, since I had more time after graduation. I watched videos on YouTube, listened to Spanish radio, and started to pay attention to people speaking Spanish in thrift stores.

I found that I knew a lot more than I thought I did. I didn't take Spanish in high school (I took French because of ballet - whatever), but I grew up in California and have always had a lot of interaction with Spanish-speakers. My stepdad spoke Spanish because of his work. My college roommate dated a Spanish-speaker. I traveled to Peru. Somehow all of these things, though brief and seemingly insignificant, have created space in my brain for Spanish. And since most people in thrift stores are talking about simple things like, "Does this good on me?" and "Can I have a toy, Mommy?", I'm able to get some momentum with my Spanish.

Anyhoo, I think it's important for people to be able to communicate, and I know how important it is for me in my community and neighborhood to be able to communicate in Spanish, not because it's necessary (I could avoid it if I wanted to), but because in some ways, I think it shows respect to people who would otherwise assume otherwise from someone like me.

Have you spoken to a child lately?

Like really, seriously and intentionally, had a conversation with a child? Children, who I often refer to as aliens in this world (because everything is new to them), are extraordinarily brave and authentic. I often feel thankful when I remember that I spend a lot of my days working one-on-one with children, children who want to be heard and seen. And it seems like such a small thing, my entrance into their lives, such a small, insignificant thing.

But then I remember how I saw adults who took time for me when I was young. The smallest things changed me. When I was about nine years old, a friend of the family picked me up unexpectedly from ballet. I don't even recall why, but she was going to take me to her house where I'd wait for my parents to pick me up. And on the way home, we stopped by this little burger stand and she got me a burger and fries, and for some inexplicable reason, this seemed like a magical gift to me.

I'll never forget that moment, and how I later felt when she died, that she had seen me in this really sharp, powerful way, and gave me something to hold onto when life continued to be rough. I think that maybe, deep down (because I'm tearing up right now, just thinking about it), she really cared, and somehow, deep down, I could feel that. So every time I see a child, I know how important it is for me to see them, and acknowledge them, that small things that seem insignificant to me, might seem huge and life-changing to them, and I won't let those precious moments go by wasted.

Anyhow, thoughts of the day. Peace out :)

Delusional hope.

I can't decide whether to give these to my shoe-loving friend for Christmas.

I think I've decided (for a brief moment of time) to be hopeful, for the future, because why not? Hope might be silly, and embarrassing sometimes, but it's tangible. There is no ephemeral hope. There is only hope for change, hope for better, hope for something different already, geez.

I often hope for a day without war, without violence in name and deed. I hope for this because I believe that we, the people, have the power to change the world for the better.

There's nothing better for fostering hope than staring through the window of a moving car (or train, if you're so lucky). That's how I get recentered, I guess, seeing the same scenery I've been seeing all my life, the same highway, the same crazy religious signs, the same oleander bushes. And I think to myself, "Well maybe I could change, maybe things could change a little, and everything would be okay".

I have hope that emptiness will be filled, that loss would be redeemed, and that someday, everything will make sense already, geez.

Peace out :)

I never want to let go.

The most difficult things I have had to do in my life have been to see people as they really are, not what I imagine them to be, but as they really are. And this process usually ends in tears, tears of regret and grief, and then the ultimate work of figuring how to move on.

A few years ago, I had to do this over and over again, and it almost killed me. And I never wanted to do it again. I never wanted to be disappointed again, I guess. But then, this year (oh God), I've had to do it again. I've had to see the people I love for who they really are, and figure out whether or not I'm going to accept them, or whether I'm going to move on (fuuuuuuuck).

The thing is (and this is the most difficult thing), I don't have a lot of relationships that I've had for over a decade. And that makes me want to cling to the ones I have left, to forgive and forget, to make it work when I'm pretty sure it won't. Because I don't want to go on in my life and leave everything behind. I don't want to leave my younger years behind me. I don't want that part of my life to disappear; I don't want that part of me to disappear. And I'm willing to compromise big-time to salvage parts of my life that have all but disappeared. I don't want to lose everyone, because it makes me feel like I'll lose myself in the process.

Sad day.

Yeah right you're moving to Canada.

I've been keepin' this in the bull pen for today :)

People love to threaten to move out of the country if the candidate of their choice doesn't win the presidential election. Whatever. Seriously? Your life is that tenuous? Your life is so tied to your external environment that you wouldn't survive with a [insert opposing party here] president in the White House?

Well, here's a hopeful note from someone who's lived with less than she's wanted for a fair bit of time. Get over yourself. The world is not going to end tomorrow if you don't get your way (nor will mine - I have feelings too). Take some time today to remind yourself of all of the things that you already have, that comfort you in the bad times, and remind you of how beautiful life is in all of the other times. And maybe eat a cookie.

I'll be drinking beer tonight watching the results, maybe probably disenchanted, and maybe eating some sweet potato fries, because those are sounding pretty good right now.

Peace out mofos. See you on the flip side :)

I've found my vice.

For a long time, I've complained to anyone who will listen that I need a vice badly. I need something that I can do that is mine, that feels like rebellion, something I do that says, "I really don't give a fuck". Well friends, I have found that thing. And it is Whole Foods.

Whole Foods gives me vegan muffins and scones, vegan cake, soy yogurt, fake wonderful meat, kombucha (!), and men who smile at me like goons. Whole Foods has the most comprehensive selection of vegan options than anywhere else in town. Yeah, so it's more expensive, but I don't care. It's food! It's what I put in my body, the houser of my soul and all that jazz. So I'm gonna own it. I'm gonna own my vice like nobody's business.

How long?

The nuclear symbol on a vintage tie - how cool is that?!

Have you ever held on to something for so long that it was unrecognizable? What immediately springs to mind is baby blankies. When I was four, my mother decided that the milestone of my pending entrance into kindergarten warranted throwing my blankie away. Now this was bad, especially for me, but the sentiment was in the right place. She wanted to mark the transition into school by saying, "Hey, you need to leave this behind. New things are coming."

Now that I've written that last thing, I'm starting to think about what I need to leave behind. I cut my hair. It's super short, but no fat face = okay with short hair. I'm actually not terribly unattractive without my usual fro overwhelming my face.

I've made two significant decisions this week: 1) I am no longer having freak-outs. I am calm and cool. I am an adult who handles her business and does not lose it at any given moment. 2) I am no longer chasing men. It hasn't been working, so I'm done. You've all been put on notice, I suppose.

Peace out.

Actually, you're pretty awesome.

We all have baggage. We've all made decisions we regret. I mean, if you're over the age of 30, you've had lovers, haters, and maybe even some pregnancies. You've been drunk one too many times, written one too many poems on your arm, and made out with the wrong person in front of a room full of people.

You've dropped out of school. You've broken up with the love of your life, "...because while he was sweet and sexy and basic, you were afraid you wouldn't be able to discuss Russian novels together (The Deep End of the Ocean, Jacquelyn Mitchard)." You've listened to more Phil Collins and Taylor Swift than you care to admit. You have a tattoo of someone's name that treated you badly. You've loved other people, taken care of other people, more than you've taken care of yourself.

You've hurt people on purpose, and said nasty things that still haunt you. But you deserve to be loved unconditionally, with abandon, just like everyone else, no matter what you've done.

Taking a lover :)

Aren't these super cool?

Don't hide your love...

Michael McDermott - "Lantern"

So if you've ever spent any kind of significant time with me, you have heard me talk about sex. It fascinates me. It scares me. It's endlessly interesting to discuss. I've been trying to work it out, figure it out, for a long time. I think I'm at a better place today than I was fifteen years ago, and even five years ago, but I still have questions about morality, sexual ethics, and the very Megan-esque question, "Should I take a lover?"

Every six months or so, for the past thirteen or so some-odd years, I ask myself this question. And several of those times, the answer was "yes". But for the past few years, the answer has been "no". I entered seminary, quickly got into a relationship, and was confronted by my spirituality and sexuality, all at the same time, in the same room. It wasn't pretty. It was scary and not healthy. I was old enough to know better, but I didn't know how to make decisions that were good for me.

Celibacy is an awful word. So much of the person I want to be is plain hard core. And celibacy is not hard core. But it's also a reflection of how far I've come in those thirteen years. At the beginning, I was sixteen, totally in love, and unable to move in my own body, accept my own sexuality and act on it. When I lost that relationship, I did a 180 and slept with anyone who would have me. I was heartbroken and confused, and it took me a really long time to work through those feelings. It took me a long time to forgive that sixteen-year-old girl who couldn't sleep with her boyfriend, the one person I ever really loved. But I have forgiven her. It was a lot of emotion for a previously unloved little girl. It was overwhelming and terrifying.

So maybe I'll take a lover, but I probably won't. I want to be with someone I love. So yeah, that's the thing I've been talking about lately, that painful, suffering, wanting. I want to be with the person I love, and it's an almost impossible thing to wait for.

30, here I come :)

Oh, the cliché! Oh, the pain!

I think I've spent the past decade trying to pay for crimes committed in the previous decade: friends hurt, men poorly treated, siblings bullied. So now that I'm entering the next decade, I think I'm going to turn a new leaf, and stop apologizing. I've put myself out there, with all of my warts, said "I love you" and "I'm sorry" to those that matter, and now I'm going to turn around and just let life happen.

I've been a beggar looking for scraps. I constantly espouse the need to compost (the necessity, I should say), the benefits of thrifting (it's fun!), and my deep love of recycling, but I've emphasized those things because I, at my core, believe that I'm not worthy enough to have what other people have. But I think I'm done with that. I think I'm done waiting for other people to tell me how amazing I am, and start telling myself, and treating myself, the way I want to be treated.

Look out world!

Thrift Share Monday :)

Shimano clip-in Mountain Bike Shoes

On Saturday morning, I went out and had a breakfast burrito with friends, then stopped for some thrifting on the (long way) home. I had a gift certificate for $30 to one of my favorite stores, and spent all of it on shoes to sell and clothes for myself. I was going to wait until the end of the summer for clothes shopping, but I had to spend the money all at once, so I split it on my business and myself. I feel like it was a good combination.

Good 'ol Swedish Wooden Clogs :)

I sell a fair number of shoes, so I'm always on the lookout for good quality pairs. It's been difficult to sell high-quality unknown European labels, however, so I've been more cognizant of that lately. I have a wonderful pair of sandals, that look just like Birkenstocks, but they're not, so in my shop they've sat for months. Some things I buy without even thinking, like these clogs. I've sold at least two or three pairs over the past year, and they tend to sell pretty quickly, especially if they're a reasonable size (these are a 38).

Aerosole Patent Leather Pumps

I also look for high quality sports shoes, like the Shimano shoes at the top. I always think about how expensive a sport can be, especially as an adult, and how nice it is to be able to still do the thing you enjoy without having to worry as much about money. My friends love rock climbing, and I found a pair of rock climbing shoes last week. We worked out a deal. They really wanted them, and it was a no-brainer to sell them to friends (and quick!).

Linking up with Apron Thrift Girl.

Boosting your own ego

Not completely empty, but mostly :)

This week's episode of The Bachelorette made me think about a phenomenon I've seen in heterosexual romantic relationships: Women pressing the man to admit that he is indeed hopelessly in love with her, causing total exposure and emotional nakedness (but only for him). She manipulates the situation because she wants to know that it's a sure thing. She isn't going to go all-in unless she first knows that he's all-in first. It's like, "You show me yours first, then I'll think about whether I'll show you mine."

I call it a phenomenon because I've seen it happen over and over again with my single friends. They agonize over whether or not some guy likes them because they depend upon that knowledge to judge themselves. If he loves them, then they're worthy of being loved. Their worthiness is completely dependent upon that knowledge (Oh man, this drives me crazy).

We use people's vulnerabilities against them in order to make ourselves more powerful! When I make the guy admit his feelings first, then I have the upper hand. I have the power to crush him if I want, and now there's zero chance that I'll get crushed. Self-protection at its worst, my friends. Using other people's vulnerabilities to boost your own ego? Not cool.

But resistance is not an easy task. It means making up your own mind. It means a whole hell of a lot of risk on your part, with the possibility that there is only pain on the other side. But the cool part is, you get to become a whole person in the process, and that's worth every painful moment, and every tear.

I love Air Supply :)

Miniature oil painting - It reminds me of my home

Perhaps some of you wonderful readers remember last summer's heartaches and long posts about love, and longing, and loss, and "Oh! The meaning of it all", as I struggled through ex-boyfriends and trying to figure out how to be grown up.

I was watching Crazy, Stupid, Love for the second time yesterday, trying to turn my brain off in the midst of familial clatter. There was a lot of stuff in the movie about "soul-mates" and how when we find our soul-mate, we should never stop trying to be with them. I don't know how I feel about this. Just because we feel a certain way about another person, doesn't mean that that person feels anything similar to that for us. I don't believe in destiny or fate. I believe in human beings and the choices they make.

I'm a huge Air Supply fan (Making love out of nothing at all). I am a lover of cheesy '80s rock ballads. I'm ready for the time in my life when I can look backwards and think, "It was all worth it". I don't know if I've completely learned that lesson yet. I'm ready to be grown-up already. When does that happen?

What I won't buy

I buy food from discard food stores that look like they should be shut down. This includes vitamins, coffee, tampons (which I've recently given up completely), and cereal.

I always buy used shoes and clothing. I recently bought a new container of baby powder. I buy bras, but not in bad condition, and I NEVER buy underwear. I really went through it a couple years back trying to figure out how to solve the "underwear in thrift stores" problem, but to no avail.

I buy swimsuits that do not appear to be used. I buy stuffed animals very rarely if they're vintage. Most of the thrift stores I go to are very happy to test items, or mark them as tested, so I would have no problem buying blenders or food processors.

Now I'm on a roll.

Rugs can be cleaned. Comforters can be cleaned. Let's reuse instead of buying new!

Also, I'm a big fan of cleaning products that don't hurt the earth, but clean the stuff I get at thrift stores, because I get a lot of stuff that needs cleaning, and it isn't worth the purchase if it can't be reused effectively, or if it's going to gross someone out or make someone sick.

My comment on a recent post from Thrift Core

Oh man, after I wrote this, I reread it, and realized how marginal I am. I love who I am, but in some ways, I worry about exposing these parts of myself to other people. I don't want people to be disgusted by me. But I also am very passionate about figuring out ways to use what is already available. I'm all about the dumpster diving, but I only do it for boxes, because I have an image to maintain for my real job and all. Also, I have an autoimmune disease, and I don't like to mess around with that. But I completely support it, and think everyone should do it.

Hope for better.

Vintage Christian Dior Eyeglasses - yeah buddy :)

There's a Lori McKenna song that I listened to on repeat last fall. I couldn't get enough of it. It made me feel like someone was speaking from my heart; someone understood how it felt to always be the most honest and vulnerable person in the room.

It seemed like I'd always been in a relationship with someone who cared enough to sleep with me, but not enough to be seen with me. And over and over I felt alone in my feelings, judged by my friends for staying with men who treated me badly, and judged by the significant (?) other for always being too much.

I suppose those experiences taught me to be less expectant, less dependent upon other people for supporting my emotional well-bring. And that's a good thing, no matter what. Today, I'm pretty glad I had a tough time after my first big heartbreak. It's been thirteen years, and I've learned so much about life and love and other people. It's difficult to be bitter when so much good has come out of so much pain. But I'd never tell that seventeen-year-old that her heartache was a good thing. I'd tell her that it was going to hurt more than she ever expected, but that many many years later, things would get better.

Hyphy.

A wonderful vintage quilting book with really great ideas :)

I'm a little hyper right now. When I don't get enough sleep, that tends to happen. Whatever. I finally started cleaning out my clothes, so I'm using it to my benefit. Maybe I'll put this energy to good use and walk to the grocery store later (two birds baby).

An ongoing conversation I'm having has hit a road marker for me. I've had to state very bluntly my position on drugs, and I don't know that I've ever had to do that before with anyone. It's interesting what becomes a part of one's internal identity mapping. I imagine that some people feel this way about other things, very different things. Maybe some vegans put veganism on the line for a person they love; maybe some vegans put love on the line for the cows. I believe in compromise, and shared results, and it is my hope that someday my crazy will be just spunky enough to be attractive without being overwhelming. I think I may be hitting my stride right about now.

We are not cylons.

 

I'm starting to hope that somehow, some way, I can overcome the monstrosity of my childhood and manage to eek out a healthy, long-term relationship. Most of the time, it feels hopeless. People who don't really know me assume I'm attached, because for all appearances, I look like someone who has a stable person in her life.

I'm not trying to be coupled to meet anyone else's expectations. I don't even know if I could manage a long-term relationship under one roof. I don't know because I've never done it. I don't know, because in my life, it has not yet proven possible. It is a very difficult thing to hold two things in constant balance: the desire to be with another person along with the need to be comfortable in my own skin and content with my own life, as it is, today.

Somehow, I have to hold on to both of these parts of myself, and continue to move forward. I have to choose to be the person whose life I have lived, whose full life I have lived, and still hope for something different to be created in the future. That person has suffered. That person hurts. But that person is only a person, a human being, if all of those things are true. To be human is to feel pain, and not be able to turn it off, or successfully wish it away. To be human is to be imperfect and my imperfection happens to be highlighted in this one particular area.

We are not cylons (tee-hee -- I am currently hooked on Battlestar Galactica).

"The Hunger Games"

 

In an attempt to avoid spending the evening staring at my bedroom ceiling, I went to see The Hunger Games with my friend and her eldest son.

I haven't read the books, for a couple reasons. The first time I heard about the series, and asked about the premise, I was horrified. Later, I spoke about the books with a different friend, and discovered the philosophical nature of the series. Sufficiently impressed, I decided to read the books over the summer during my decadent book-reading marathon which will commence soon after graduation (Obviously only after I've sobered up and begun sleeping in my own bed again--Ha! As if).

The movie was wonderful, and powerful, and disturbing. The crowd was awful, and horrible, and emotionally disabled. They laughed when they should have cried. I wept all the way home. I wept for our world, where violence is normal, and a brilliant concept like Hunger Games is misunderstood by the masses as some kind of thriller series.

I am saddened by the state of our world, where a film whose cinematography gave me a migraine could draw such delighted crowds, and so many mothers with children. I feel like I should take off all my clothes, cover myself in ashes, and shave my head. I feel like nothing I ever do is sufficient. There will never be enough. The beast of greed is insatiable.

I have to be perfect--I have to.

As my future perfect self, I will wear awesome vests like this one.

I am experiencing a new kind of anxiety: the anxiety of being responsible for another living being, and not living in a vacuum.

Pretty much constantly, for the past few days, I have been worrying about how my decision to get a dog affects other people. How long will she bark after I leave? Will my neighbors hear her? How long will my supervisor be upset for my bringing her to a meeting? Will my landlords be upset?

It's an awful feeling. I can't wait until it ends. Of course it will only end when everyone loves me and I stop making mistakes. I will only be truly happy when I become perfect.