An imperfect life.

I ridiculously love Degas, and have since I was a kid

I've been trying for a long time to have my perfect life, to be the perfect me, to get to the edge of my potential. Is it possible that I've been trying so hard to be awesome that I've neglected how awesome I already am, just as I am?

I've recently learned that I'm a pretty attractive person. Heretofore, I still held the beliefs bestowed upon me as a child: that I was annoying, dressed like a man, had terrible hair, and just generally looked horrible all the time. So naturally I assumed these things meant that I was ugly, and unlovable. Funny thing is, I'm not ugly, and I'm pretty damn lovable. All of that time spent believing the lies made me create a persona to cope with the ugliness. Everything I wear is an attempt to not look decrepit. I avoid certain hairstyles because they accentuate my utter awfulness. I exercise and eat healthy because it keeps me from looking horrifyingly ugly.

But now I know these things are a lie. Every. Single. One. So now what? How do I find out who I really am under all of the things I've put on to keep from showing the world the ugliness underneath? How do I become someone who is completely herself whilst still communicating health and well-being in my professional life? Where is the perfect middle and how do I get there?

And what happens if I stop striving for perfection altogether?

Avoid extremism!

Holy freakin' shit! Didn't know what I bought - listed for $250 on eBay.

When I meet new people who also love thrift, I often get asked the question, "What's the best store in town?" And, unfortunately, I can never offer a succinct response. "Well...it depends," I say, knowing that everyone thrifts for different reasons, and I can't possibly predict what's perfect for you. That being said, I'm beginning to recognize in myself a distaste for labels. What does best even mean? It certainly means something different to you than it does to me. I find that I make more friends when I allow every person I meet to have their own favorites, their own tastes.

Um, solid brass Eiffel Tower? So cool!

I'm an extremist by nature. I have to catch myself, watch my behavior, make sure I don't start living on green smoothies and doing yoga constantly. Because that's the goal, right? We're all supposed to be walking towards more perfect versions of ourselves? Meh, I don't agree. In fact, I disagree quite strongly.

I think we're all okay just the way we are, that of course over time, we will all grow and change, but that doesn't mean that we are worthless or not good enough as we already are.

Egyptian-ish choker collar necklace

So yeah, it usually takes me until after 3 o'clock to eat lunch, even though I'm hungry before that. I am oftentimes too stressed about something small to get a good night's sleep. I cried at a party yesterday for no reason and constantly say inappropriate things in polite company.

There are a hundred other things that make me imperfect, and one by one I work on them over time. I've been doing this my whole life, working on becoming the person that I want to be. I don't expect that person to look anything like anyone else or to save the world or be everything to one other person. I recognize that I am human, and flawed, and imperfect, and I'm quite okay with that. I'm okay with eating dinner with my small group when there is milk and bacon in the soup (omg. Best clam chowder of all time), not because I'm all awesome and hospitable, but because damn, even I have to let go of my rules sometimes. Of course, this is probably scarier than the other option, to create rules for everything so I can always feel safe. But it's that kind of safety that gets terrifically overrated, that people strive for so that nothing ever changes, so they feel no pain. But change is constant, and pain is a reality, and we're all in this together. Blah, blah, blah. Speech over.

I needed to give myself a pep talk, so I wrote it down - cheers y'all :)

Celebrate good times, come on!

Vintage Tiki Hula Girl Boob Mug from Harvey's

I've spent the morning researching PhD programs outside of California. Those non-resident fees are astronomical! Don't bother getting a PhD without getting a research or teaching assistant position, which will likely give you automatic resident status and give you a stipend or scholarship in return.

I don't want to be a "doctor" per se, but I continue to run into the reality that I think in a research/clinical way, and my work does not particularly allow me to pursue these things actively. I love to research and write. I don't necessarily want to do tests on people, or rats, or monkeys. I just want to write about the thoughts in my head. I think that's a reasonable goal for a doctoral program - Dear Dean of Admissions, I'm brilliant and I need to share it with the world. Please accept me. You won't regret it. You'll be happy you did.

I tried to do this as a seventeen-year-old applying to the honors program at my university. It didn't work out so well. It made sense to me, but I guess they diagnosed me with narcissism, and threw the essay away. I'm struggling a lot with self-doubt right now, and will be spending the next two weeks trying to work through that. I don't think I want to go back to school. I think I just want to go to Montana, and meet some lumberjack with a thick beard who will appreciate my intellect, and write poems about trees.

Actually, I'm less interested in men than I ever have been. It's pretty wonderful. I highly recommend it. I think I've dealt with some issues surrounding my feelings of inadequacy about being single. Or maybe I'm just pretending. Who knows?

Anyhoo, good to have you. Please come again :)

I sell damaged things.

Vintage magazine advertisement - love those togas :)

Over the past two years of my very short reselling career, I have received some pretty nasty messages from strangers. In the beginning, I may have cried, and now I find them comical. I have the power, I remind myself, the power to block.

I sell damaged things because I am not an expert in everything, but I am a finder of cool things. I like to be a conduit to other thrift-lovers, those who lose to upcycle and rehabilitate. I like being somewhere in the middle of the pack. I occasionally fix things, sew up little holes, but for the most part, I list things as they are.

The Salvation Army stores in my city sell mattresses. They take donations of old mattresses and strip out all of the schtuff away from the skeleton of the mattress, then refill it with new schtuff (foam? fluffiness?) and sell them for low thrift store prices in like-new condition. Another store in town just takes the mattresses apart, but they don't sell the mattresses, so I figure they like being middle-people too, like me, just a cog in the larger wheel of thrift.

Where do you fall in the thrift spectrum? Are you primarily a donater? Shopper? EBayer? How do you find your identity in the pretty-freakin'-large recycling world?

Haiti relief: Parte Deux

Stoneware mugs made in Romania - Eastern Europe, hollah!

Sometimes I get a pain in my chest when I wish that I could do something that I cannot do, and it usually has to do with helping someone, or teaching someone something. When I have that special moment of realization that I cannot control other people, or change them, or teach them adequately what no one but Life has taught me, I sit in a pool of sorrow, with the chest pain.

The world can be a horrible, awful place. And in my life, I have seen a lot of that awfulness, and I've had to reconcile with it, look it in the face and acknowledge that it exists. This has made me the awesome person that I am today, but it also makes me like eighty-years-old. And I walk around with this knowledge every day, hoping that I could save people from it, save them from war, and murder, and rape, and incest, and the deep lasting wounds in families and people that last for generations. I wish I could save people from ever knowing, because it's an awful thing, this knowing.

But it is in the knowing (about all the bad awfulness) that true peace and understanding can be found, where that inability to control that we all have, can be accepted and owned, and truly felt deep down in our bones.

When we try to spare others from pain, sometimes it backfires, and our best intentions are like water in a bucket full of holes. Sometimes the best things we can do for one another, are to stand in solidarity, to acknowledge pain, and to comfort those who mourn.

Too abstract? Whatever. Peace out mofos :)

Regroup, keep movin'...*

Vintage I. Magnin Pottery - Pretty neat, huh?

I am currently sitting in a whole house, looking onto a rain-spattered patio, two needy poodles by my side, French Toast and coffee in my belly, and listening to talk radio, ensuring that my extreme liberalism is mediated a bit by the other side.

What is it about me and the fall that makes me such a mess? What is it about me that makes me such a mess? At this time last year, I was working through my final year of grad school, and it felt like agony. It felt neverending, like every day was scheduled to the minute, and I had no room to move. This is different. This is emotional exhaustion, and I'm going to sit in this chair until I figure out what to do about it.

How did this happen? Well, it was a confluence of events, really: I haven't been doing so well on reaching my goal of no more freak-outs and no more chasing men (I know - I'm sorry), and I'm dirt poor and constantly worrying about money and blaming myself for my own choice to work in a field that will never help me leave the garage, and I'm in a weird spot where my support system has changed pretty drastically and I'm still trying to restructure and rebuild.

And then there is the reality of being a grown-up, that relationships are difficult, work is everyday, and sometimes low blood sugar becomes life threatening. Sometimes I want to scream at my friends who don't see that the answers are right in front of them, but right now I'm on the other side, unsure that there are any answers or solutions to what are really pretty small problems that I have allowed to overwhelm me.

I don't believe in "God's lessons" or that somehow I'm in a complicated play where in the end, I will be wiser because everything has worked out perfectly for the best. I believe in choice, and human nature, and this morning I am really, really stuck.

I'm taking some time off from life, gonna regroup, try to make sense of it all. Peace out :)

*The title is part of a lyric from a math album I sang on in elementary school. The full lyric goes, Regroup, keep movin', don't let the numbers get you down. Classic.

Thrift Share Monday :)

Maroc Cologne Spray

It's been a while since I've bought (and sold) perfume. Sometimes I have to guess, and sometimes I take a chance. For example, this purple bottle is not labeled in any way, but I bought it. If anyone has any guesses, I'll take them. Under the "Pi", the bottle reads "1.2 oz".

Unknown Fragrance - I think the initials are "Pi"

I'm going to yoga now. Yoga has saved me over the past month and a half, as I've struggled to become this professional person who always does the right thing, and says the right thing, and never makes anyone mad.

Well, that person doesn't exist, and yoga, for whatever reason, helps me to forgive myself. I'm not perfect. I certainly don't forgive myself as often as I'd like, but it probably helps me stay calmer in general. I've decided to stop freaking out in general. I don't know if it's possible, but I'm gonna try. I'm kinda neurotic.

Linking up with Apron Thrift Girl :)

Laziness & Photographing Textiles

Vintage Vera Neumann Curtain - A Rare Find!

So I have a ridiculous procrastinating habit with photographing textiles. They're so big! So yesterday, I faced my fear and did a bunch all at once, just laid them in the driveway in the early morning light, and shot the hell out of them. Yeah, so it's not professional, but it got the job done, and in the end, that's really all that matters.

In my professional, non-eBay life, I deal a lot with the term laziness. People tell me that they don't/can't do something because they're "lazy". And in response, without fail, I say, "Bull. Laziness doesn't exist. Find another word." It's my shtick. It's my higher self speaking, because in my darker moments, I am just as likely to think those same things about myself. But I don't want to be a person that ever talks about myself that way. Would I say that to a friend in a condescending way? Would I insult them like that, or would I be understanding and acknowledge their weariness/exhaustion/pain and need for rest? Probably the latter.

Calling yourself "lazy" is a cop-out. It's the end of the sentence. Nothing can follow it. It prevents you from digging deeper and figuring out what's really going on. It prevents you from acknowledging your own humanness and forgiving yourself from being imperfect and a non-superhero.

So forgive yourself already and take a nap.

Word.

Drunk teenagers

Vintage Peanuts bed-sheet - Charlie Brown & Snoopy :)

Yesterday, I hung out with drunk teenagers. It was 5 o'clock in the evening, and they wanted to start roaming the neighborhood, so I accompanied them. We went to the park, swung on the swings, and generally had a nice time. They were overly affectionate and making friends with people they referred to as "hobos", as in, "Hobos sure are cool, Megan." Eventually, I decided I'd had enough and turned for home. Once we were inside an enclosed space, I immediately wanted them to leave. I wanted to sit with adults and eat dinner, and not have teenagers screaming in my ear.

At one point in my life, I too was a stupid drunk teenager. I drank a lot in high school, and by the time I graduated, was pretty much done with the scene. I got to college, and it seemed so strange to me. Where was the fun? Where did I fit in if I didn't drink? How could I be social and well-liked, but not have to go to worship night and sing hymns? It never seemed like there were other options, so I played the part. A close friend regales me with stories of me at parties, drunk and topless, which I have no memory of.

I drank for the same reason most people do. I drank to get away from feeling lost and alone. I drank to fit in. I drank to pretend that everything in my life was okay, and that I wasn't miserable all the time. It worked. But it also brought out my selfishness, and my tendency to be unkind. I was too honest, unfiltered, and passed out quickly. I was like a tornado, spinning quickly through the room, spreading loads of damage, then disappearing into the night.

I don't miss those days. I don't miss feeling so awful, hating myself so incredibly much. I like myself today, and I strive to spend my time in a way that encourages self-love and discourages self-loathing. Oftentimes, I am too hard on myself, and I expect more of myself than I do of anyone else. But sometimes I get it right, and then on a rare occasion think, "Gosh I'm glad to be alive". But that's not today. I'll try again tomorrow.

Peace out :)

Postscript (10/21/12): I in no way contributed to the teenagers being drunk, just in case you worrywarts are having anxiety.

Thrift Share Monday :)

Vintage clip-on earrings - no signature, but aren't they awesome?

I am being really hard on myself right now. I usually assume that everyone thinks as poorly about me as I do about myself. I don't know that this is true. I've been told that it isn't. These moments (and I have them every once in a while) are full of comparisons to other people, and self-flagellation about not being A, B, or C when I reach age thirty less than two months from now.

Laurel Burch "Toucan" earrings - very fun :)

I wish I thought less of myself, as in, thought I was less important. But I was raised to believe that the world's emotional health was entirely dependent upon me, and that's a tough false belief to shake.

I just know that someone out there would love these, just not me.

When we thrift, like as a lifestyle, nothing is ever perfect. We may see it as perfect, but let's face it. Think of all the hands that touched it before you found it. How's that for perfection? I don't know why I allow everything else in my life to be imperfect, yet continue to expect myself to somehow rise above and defy gravity.

I suppose sometimes I imagine that other people need me to be perfect in order to keep loving me, and my love of thrift is my statement to the world that I will, in fact, never be perfect, and everyone just needs to deal with it. Now if only I could get my frontal lobe involved in this operation...

Linking up with Apron Thrift Girl :)

Dumpster diving

Do you ship stuff? Do you dumpster dive for cardboard boxes? If you don't, I think you should. I get mine from an elementary school cafeteria. They're constantly throwing out boxes because of the amount of food they go through, and then I only take the ones that work for me. Oftentimes, there are produce boxes, and those don't work so well because of all of the holes. When there are small ones, I take them all. I don't take any that are gross, because that would be, well, gross.

In doing this, and combining that thrown-away cardboard with my all-recycled paper tape, somehow I am reducing my carbon footprint with my shop. Maybe no one notices, or even cares, but it matters to me. It matters that what I'm calling "recycling" is in fact, recycling, and that what I use is biodegradable and/or recyclable. When I'm at the post office, I take the Priority Mail boxes that other people have tried to use, but have thrown away. I really need to get a stamp to put on all of my boxes and packages that reminds people to recycle or reuse the packaging (I really want to buy this one).

Share your unique ideas for recycling shipping supplies :)

Saddened silence

Vintage Mug - Bernad Creations 1950

I am super sad right now. Yesterday, I was confronted with my emotional limitations, and I don't think I've eaten in almost 24 hours. I don't know what I'm going to do to make things better, or how I'm going to do it. I had a date last night, and now in the chilly light of day, I think I'm going to choose to be single for the rest of my life, not because it's what I want, but because it's just plain easier, and any other alternative requires emotional energy I don't have, or perhaps don't have to give.

For those who know and love me, I am just wallowing in self-loathing and self-pity. I am continuing the cycle that began a very long time ago, and it doesn't appear to be ending anytime soon. I used to cry when I thought about my limitations. Now I just sit in saddened silence.

Online Dating #1 of ?

If I dress like this, maybe life would be better.

I'm sorry to say it, but I've begun the process of online dating. I began about 36 hours ago, and I'm already reconsidering my decision. Who do I think I am? Someone who could possibly be attractive to other people, namely one other person? I can barely remain attractive to myself. I feel like listing all of the reasons that I'm undateable. Shall we?

Remember to pronounce the two 'u's separately.

1. My apartment is a mess, like no-one-should-come-in-here-ever. I don't remember when I changed my sheets last, or vacuumed. There are holes in the walls that I said I would fill months ago.
2. I have a job I can't be completely honest about (i.e. I'm a CIA spy. That's what you thought, right?).
3. I have a weird diet that makes me seem like a fascist, and in some ways, I feel like one.
4. I have life-long chronic conditions for which I will always need treatment.

Okay, this is boring. If the worst things about me are that I'm messy and don't eat animal products, I think I'll give it another day or so.

Grad plans #1

My outfit plan for graduation:

1. Orange linen dress from Salvation Army, altered from a long dress (for a less tall person) to a mid-knee dress, perfect for moi. I got the thumbs-up from the seamstress when I tried it on. She was super sweet. I love that I found a good eco-friendly dry cleaner next to a good shoe repair shop. An extra plus? There's a post office there too :)
2. Pearl earrings, a gift from my friends who traveled to India my first year at the seminary. They need to be fixed so I can wear them.
3. Turquoise beaded sandals, thrifted a few months ago when it was definitely not sandal weather. They're so awesome, I can't stand it.
4. My new red ring! I sold some Frye boots, so I had enough money to cover it. I didn't expect to do it before graduation, but then I got antsy when I found exactly what I wanted.
5. I'd like to have my hair done up. It's still pretty short, but I think that if I have enough bobby bins, I'll be fine. Here is something that resembles the look I'm going for. I don't know if I can make it work, but I'm gonna try.

I needed to make a plan to orient myself to a time of celebration. Now I need to figure out how to have a party, even though I'm not really a party girl. How can I incorporate recycling into a fun-for-all soiree?

Funkdigity

Knitting? Gardening? Staring out the window?

Should I be doing something else? Should I be watching less television? Should I be walking on the grass and staring at the sky more? I'm in that weird place where my life is changing and I don't quite know what to do while it's happening. I've been talking about it for the past nine months or so, but now my graduation is a week away (nine days to be exact). I'm in a funky funk, and I'm just going to have to ride it out.

I'm pretty much a professional now. I'm a professional who sells trash on the internet (when I'm trying to convince someone how lame I am, I create really pithy sayings like that). I'm actually pretty awesome, but I don't know if it's okay to really live in that feeling. I might become obese or sociopathic if I care about myself too much (or too little for that matter). I guess I have a core fear that I have to maintain some kind of emotional balance that errs on the side of depression. That way, karma will repay me in my next life by blessing me with many virgins (seriously, why are virgins so valuable in the afterlife?) or cows.

I created an outfit for graduation day. I bought a dress yesterday, and took it to be altered today. I still need to have my earrings fixed. Everything fell apart at the beginning of the school year, and I've just kinda limped along ever since. Now I'm on the other side, and everything needs repair. Including me, probably.

It's too bad I'm not urban.

I am so enjoying my tiny little apartment. It's really too bad that it's not ideal for a long-term solution. The space itself is okay, but not having a kitchen is clearly a problem, as is being connected to someone else's garage. I'm starting to dream about a tiny little place of my own, but I think that a small place in a good location would be difficult to find. I think that there are a lot of mother-in-law places on my street, but I don't know if that would be a good long-term solution either. I want something that I can stay in. I want to have enough space for my stuff, and a little wiggle room, but not too much. I like to feel cozy.

I used to have a one bedroom place. It was a duplex. Later I lived in a studio which was also a duplex. I preferred the one bedroom. It was small, but very well organized. My kitchen was large enough to cook, and I had a washer and dry hooked up in there as well. The trouble with that place was that the landlords were ridiculous about the lawn, but refused to put in sprinklers. So in the end, it was a battle over me not wanting to water crab grass in 110 degree weather, and them wanting the crab grass to be green. I'd come home to a threatening hose on my front porch as a warning. Ridiculous.

I have a lot to say about landlords, and some things I've been thinking about in terms of ethics and city planning. Perhaps tomorrow...

Cheers!

Ideals vs. reality

Today was not a good day for me personally, but it was a pretty good thrifting day. I spent less, which is always great. I didn't take care of myself as well as I should, though. I'm losing steam, and making unwise decisions, or maybe I'm just being thrown complex problems. Who knows?

The dog and I are not a good fit. We're just not. But I'm caught between the ideal of never going back on an agreement, and the reality of a dog who needs a different structure to thrive.

Can someone bring me some ice cream? I think that ice cream would make me feel better.

Beautiful fabric

Here are a couple of the fabrics I bought the other day. Aren't they lovely? I tried to just get pieces that were still useable. The first piece is about a full yard, and the second maybe has a total of a half of a yard, but is quite narrow. I still need to take photos of the largest piece, and I'll show you that when I do. It's yellow and I think there's enough to cover a couch (or maybe just a love seat).

I turned in my big paper to my peer readers a couple days ago. I am working on an editing project right now, and am failing my dear blog readers. My apologies. I've had a difficult week. I wish that I could be more specific, but it's all very close to my vulnerable places, so I have to keep those safe.

Be well, my friends.