Sunday, August 28, 2016
These pictures are pretty old. (They're from last year.) But they're timeless in essence, because of one eternal truth: I hate pants. I hate feeling conscious about my hips and my butt and my thighs. And I need vaginal ventilation.
Another thing remains true: Winter sucks. Summer dresses rule. Tanning is a danger that exhilerates anyone.
Friday, August 26, 2016
My best friend June (and the only real-life kindred spirit I have trusted with the reading of this blog) started uploading pictures of her study settings to her Tumblr a few months ago. I tried to do the same, but honestly, unlike June, I'm too much of a mess to even pretend that I'm a cutesy studyier.
But I have loved the Studyblr fad. It's so energizing to see smart, driven women (and sometimes men) display proudly the way they work their asses off to be independent and smart. And they do it in style.
In fact, I have always loved this kind of woman. Especially in fiction. My forever favourite smart ladies are:
|Rory Gilmore (of course my horse.) Anne Shirley from Anne of Green Gables. Elena Greco from the Neapolitan Novels. And, yes oh yes, the beloved Hermione Granger.|
This semester I took one course too many in Uni and I'm going to look to these fab gals for #studyspo. Girl Power and Shine Theory at its greatest.
Good luck to all of us on our school years [insert the heart emojis which I wish Blogger had.]
Saturday, August 20, 2016
Saturday, August 13, 2016
|Hi. These are the books I'm currently reading.|
I couldn't find a notepad, so why not turn this list into a blog post?
- Ghost World by Daniel Clowes (you can't read graphic novels on a Kindle, that would be sacrilege)
- Cat's Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut (I really want to own a collection of Vonnegut and feel all Alaska Young-ish)
- The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera (can you believe they don't have this one for Kindle?)
- A poetry anthology by Edna St. Vincent Millay (again, poetry on a screen, sacrilege. Where's all my Jess Mariano-ish annotation going to go.)
- Essays by Harold Bloom (want my personal library to look all intellectual and snobbish and stuff)
Yay yay I'm through two whole seasons of Gilmore Girls and the Rory vibe is really hitting me. I want to read through all of my lunches because university and people SUCK.
Love you guys and if you have any recommendations, I'LL TAKE 'EM,
Saturday, August 6, 2016
Monday, August 1, 2016
The elegant blonde in the picture above is my grandma. (The smirking infant is me.)
A few days ago I downloaded a few Maria Callas songs on Spotify, because, let's face it, if anyone can make opera fun, it's Maria Callas. And as I listened to them, I thought of my grandmother.
My dear old grandmother has beaten genetics (both her parents died when they were 50-something) and life. She was born a working-class girl and once told me as a giggly secret that when she married, she knew that what she wanted to do with Grandpa was eat, travel, and get rich. A Chilean Holly Golightly but without the slut part (not that the slut part is bad.)
I write this ode because as of late her mind has been wandering, and it refuses to wander with us. It breaks my heart, and has my mother all fidgety about her own genetic destiny.
This woman infused into my family love for literature, for music, for beauty, for nature, for enjoying oneself, all in great style and with a brilliant sense of humor. This is an ode to a woman who treated life like a fine delicacy and her loved ones like true works of art.
I love her, and I'm going to make sure that her future years are a constant reminder of it. That will be the greatest ode I can give her.