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?

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 :)

Black-and-White Thinking

I have not been able to find information on the artist :(

Last summer, almost a year ago, I decided that I had enough oomph in me to tell an ex that I'd been in love with him for a very long time. I'd never told him because it seemed so silly. As time had passed, from teens to twenties, it became more crazy a thought. Then suddenly, one Saturday afternoon in July, I had a chance, and I took it.

Boy did I ever take it. When I got him in front of me, I dumped a decade of thinking on him in a single evening. All of the things I never thought I could say, I said. Suddenly, I had no shame. Those years were behind me; there was no future between us. I figured I would live in the moment and do the thing I thought I'd never be able to do. Except he didn't leave. He stayed and listened. He was kind. And that's where everything went wrong. He told me we could be friends. I told him I could never be his friend - that was the whole point - and then the next day wanted a response. I poured my heart out! I wanted a response! We disagreed vehemently, and that was it. We didn't speak again.

It took me a year (I had to finish graduate school, after all) before I realized what I'd done, that I'd thrown away a relationship just because it didn't fit the mold I wanted it to. I wasn't mad at myself. I understood why I'd done it. I was scared, so very scared, and it was the bravest thing I'd ever done. But the year between then and now was a huge year of emotional growth for me, and suddenly I had more oomph left in me. I called him a couple weeks ago and said I was ready to be friends.

So now I'm trying, in spite of my emotional limitations, to be a friend to someone who I didn't think I could ever feel friendly towards. But somehow my capacity for patience has increased dramatically, and I'm recognizing that relationships can be tricky suckers, and that my black-and-white thinking has kept me from being with people I love. So it's worth the not-knowing. It's worth the gray areas, I think, not because it's easy for me. It's never easy. But I wanted something so much, I think I was willing to let go of my stubbornness. I want to be a person who has good with people, who doesn't have broken relationships all over the place. So, as it often does, this means that I have to let go of unrealistic expectations and go with the flow a little more.

Phew. Life is hard work, folks.

What do I do with my car?

Two days ago, I was in a hit-and-run on a local freeway. A large truck was swerving in the far left lane, ran into me on my driver's side, then sped away. There was a fair bit of traffic, and I couldn't move or swerve. It all happened so fast, and for the next several hours, I wasn't quite sure if I had done something wrong, but no, it was an accident, and it sucks, and that's just how it is.

So now my car is in worse shape than ever, and I don't want to deal with it anymore! I just want it to end, this whole car craziness. I don't want to drive a car that people feel compelled to run into (as per this comment last night from a friend: "Yeah, I'd run into that"). This darn rabbit keeps digging me into a deeper financial hole, and all I want is out, out, out!

Yesterday, on a lovely trip to see my parents, and do their laundry (disabled parent = need to be productive in the face of chaos), a friend offered me a non-running 1990 Toyota Corolla which needs the following: serpentine belt, temperature gauge, radiator. It's been sitting in their back lot for at least a year, and was running fine until the aforementioned items exploded from the dashboard (no joke). The car has air conditioning, four doors, and upholstery, all of which I covet. And it may be free (before repairs, obviously). So I'm spending a few days deciding what it will cost to fix, whether or not it's wise to do so, and praying to God that somehow, in some small way, I can be relieved of this mess.

Peace out :)

I'm hooked.

House of Lloyd - 1988

I'm currently drinking out of a mug that says You're Sensational with a rainbow shooting star. I figured I needed some more positive energy with my morning coffee. The news just isn't doing it for me.

I think I went on a thrifting binge today. Three stores. $50. If it helps, I donated a huge box of stuff I'm done with. I really need to go through my clothing. One of my drawers is way too full. I think I've accumulated more clothing that I like and look good in than I have in the past. However, I just saw a photo of myself and it was not so great. I think I need to figure out how to just deal with what I look like. It's a lifetime of work.

So there's this guy that I'm talking to from my online relationship forays. We've sent several emails back and forth, and I kinda like him. The process is making me more of an adult. I'm usually more like a horny child (see here-oh no, now I've distracted myself with SNL). I don't know what it is. I'm trying to figure it out. I think it has to do somewhat with preconceptions about the process and how it works. We act as if we care. We put forward our best selves because that's what we want to be seen. Yikes, this sounds like dating in general. Maybe I've underestimated my own abilities, or maybe I'm reaching some sort of synergistic epoch where all of my wisdom and knowledge are working together for the first time in synchronicity instead of some sort of haphazard experiment.

I'll be in touch. Stay tuned.

Record setting day :)

Thorvald Marthinsen Scandinavian Sterling from Norway

Record listing to selling time: 3 minutes

I listed these spoons at a reasonable price, because I wanted to sell them quickly. I just didn't know how quickly. I'm so proud of myself for taking the time to find all the marks. 

NM: Norsk Monster
N: Norway
830S: Scandinavian Sterling Silver
Chalice/Goblet: Thorvald Marthinsen Solvvarefabrikk (1900-1925)

I think I've made some big gains over the past month or so. I've been selling fewer low-priced items, and that was difficult to do at first. First of all, I have had to work really hard to learn what to look for. Then I had to take lots and lots of risks, and allow items to sit in my shop for months. I had to be confident that I had listed the item at a fair price for its value. I definitely had a few bad days over the weekend. I lost my confidence big time, and I was starting to doubt myself. Self-doubt is normal, and sometimes I need to take those moments of self-doubt to remind myself that all is not lost.

Patience, friends.

More risk = more reward

I spent $30 on three pairs of vintage men's Florsheim shoes this week. I'd like to do things like this more often: pay more money for things that will make me more money. But when I don't buy as much, I get nervous, and spending more money is always scary. I'm finding that biting the bullet and putting money down is more likely to get me money back in the long run. But it takes risk, and that's not always something I'm willing to do. But in order to get return, I have to take bigger risks (Yikes, I sound like a capitalist).

I'm likening this to my dealings with men. More risk = more reward. The more I risk, the more I put out there, the more good that will come back to me (The more bad will come back to me too, but that's not the point I'm trying to make today).

It's scary. So I falter, and hem and haw, saying that it's better to sell the little things. But think of all the energy I expend, and how little I have to show for it! I go back and forth on this issue a lot, so it really helped me to think about romantic relationships, and moving forward in my life rather than doing the same old thing and having nothing to show for it.

I don't think I can go one more weekend without getting a dog. I held a [human] baby for a while today, and I feel like I'll burst if I don't have something to hold onto and love soon.

The non-science of thrift

I'm always looking for things that sell. Of course, this isn't a science. It depends on time of year, even time of month, and time of day at the end of an auction. There are multiple variables, and one can only control for so many, and leave the rest up to fate. These boots were amazing, and when I brought them home, to my dismay, I realized that they smelled like cigarette smoke. Well shoot. That sucks.

I've kinda decided to stop looking for "sure things". I'm not sure they even exist. My best sales are special and rare, and I just have a hunch and go with it. People tell me that they would love to do what I do, but I don't talk it up. It's a job. I happen to love it, but it's still work. And it's a lot of work. My recent feedback problems have only reminded me how much work is involved, and how many people I'm trying to keep happy. Not too many repeat customers when I don't carry the same stuff week-to-week.

I do hate thinking that I've found something great only to have it sit in my shop for months with few overall views and no watchers. But I've learned to brush it off. You win some...you lose some. And that's okay. This week, I bought a bunch of beautiful vintage fabric and upholstery. I hope to list it later in the week. It was a gamble though. I don't know what will happen. I will enjoy taking pictures of the lot though. Beautiful stuff.