1. Cat is trying to kill me. Picked up a thread and ran around the apartment with me screaming at him in hot pursuit. Stupid cat.
2. ADAM IS COMING TO VISIT EVERYONE FREAK THE HELL OUT
3. Found my rugby dress! Holla Baller Shot Caller.
4. 26 days. Jerks.
5. Rocholoos and I have awesome plans for her birfday. Now you know.
6. Aww he poked me on FB. Awww. AWWW.

To whom it may concern:
You said 3-4 weeks. It’s been 25 days. You’re killing me, people.

Hugs!
LP

P.S. Don’t be mad, I love you

According to Chris Martin Coldplay sews, y’all:

“Making clothes together in our studio makes us feel complete. We probably sound like a group of grannies in a knitting circle but it’s the truth and it gives us some control over our visual identity.”

Aaaaaaaaaaand now he’s perfect.

Why don’t I write anymore?

I don’t really know.

I’m trying to figure it out because there’s a whole host of things I don’t really do anymore- I don’t write as much, I don’t go outside my neighborhood just go hang out somewhere as often, I don’t get to be on the radio anymore, I don’t go to philamb or class or what have you. I don’t do those things. I’ve gotten sketchy about showing up to church and have just been listening to the podcasts. It’s not that I don’t want to do things or go places, I just don’t. And for some of those, I don’t know why. Maybe I’m depressed? I don’t feel depressed…

THE THINGS I DO NOW:
1. Work on Operation Project Awesome. (Rachelees called it Project Awesome today and I like that better)
2. Work
3. Sew
4. Plot my trip to visit Rachelees for her birthday
5. Hang out with the Whalers (Given that I know them all through Joseph, the creator of Whale, I have named that clique thusly.)
6. Read
7. Sleep
8. Hang out with Igbert.
9. Play with Polyvore.

These are the things I do.

But to brush away vestiges of my former life means my old life can be brushed away, and much as I want to be made new, I don’t know that I want to forget anything; how else are we to measure growth if we do away with old standards?

I think maybe we need a shakeup around ol’ Oodleday. I think we might. The internet factors heavily into Project Awesome, so it’s important that I do this thoughtfully, but I mean everything with PA has to be done thoughtfully so ehhhh. In a move that surprises no one, I am making this much harder than it is.

Other things:
Went out with the Whalers to Rocky Horror Picture show last night and definitely dressed a bit out of character, but getting my outfit to look exactly how I wanted it to still gives me an extraordinary rush. I looked sortof like a turn of the century dominatrix, but I really loved it. There’s something about being someone completely different for one night that makes me so, so happy. Hopefully we’ll have a tarts and vicars party soon so we can dress like that. It’s especially funny because you’d never know what yahoos we can be to look at us, but there we were- a girl in white underthings, a guy in drag, a vamp in mismatched technicolor lingerie, and me.

I have named this persona Bunny Von Rathbone. Be advised.

Also, I would like to thank Ellen and Portia for getting married and McGosling for getting back together, because I might actually start believing in love again after seeing all the photos of them being so happy, despite all the crazy relationship dramas I’m privy to currently within the circles of people I actually know. I don’t want to be afraid of things like that and happy couples help me not be afraid.

I want to love someone this much someday. Awww.

I miss my friends. I never see most of the ones who’re still here and I’ll be even worse off after December, though I am SO HAPPY for Regan and Laura. So I need to make new friends, I guess, and spend more time with the other friends I have already. Though it should be noted I talked to Rachelees about how Aaliyah was/is my JFK and didnt have to explain the comparison AT ALL. That’s gold you can’t buy, people. That is BFF gold. She is the only person I can ever see House Bunny with. I’m just saying. Don’t click that link unless you’re into the COMPLETELY INANE.

So here’s what we’re going to do. There is going to be something new to look at every day on this blog. There WILL be something. Might not be anything big, but there will be SOMETHING. Something to help me get back in the rhythm of the old things I still love despite my not doing them as much. And I need to find a new blog theme. This one is old, and all things old are new. I don’t know how long I can keep it up, but I’m going to try it. So….yeah. Come back tomorrow.

Okay.
So.

I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but we’re in a recession. We as in America. I know probably everyone knew that, but I wasn’t keenly aware of it myself, to be frank.
Mostly because:
1. Gas prices are high but I only fill up MAYBE once every two weeks because other than church and KVRX my world is pretty much geographically confined to Northwest Austin and I don’t drive very far at all.
2. I don’t buy alot of food and when I do, I rarely, RARELY buy fresh produce because I’m never home and it spoils.
3. I make enough money at my job to live happily/comfortably (and it’s getting progressively better as these one-time costs go away).
4. I don’t have cable, I steal wifi and I turn the AC and the lights off every time I leave the house.
5. Fabric’s not any more expensive, holla!

My needs are few. It keeps things simple. I like simple.

However, it is August, and that means September fashion magazines are out. Much like the prom issues of my teenybopper mags (Prom!Prompromprom!) September’s issues usher in Fall resplendent with about 3x more pages of ads, spreads, copy, etc. More magazine! 800 pages for $5! IT IS A MIRACLE.

I read somewhere where they rated the major players this month (Elle, Vogue, Lucky, InStyle, W) and said that InStyle was the best of all of them, but InStyle’s kinda silly so I bought Lucky. But then I finished Lucky and went on to Vogue.

Anna Wintour’s Letter from the Editor is a complete and total joke. It has to be. She acknowledges the recession and says something like “we tell you in this issue how to spend your money wisely on classic pieces” and that they styled the magazine to be budget-conscious, etc. It’s all BS. As it should be.

If Anna Wintour had just come out and SAID “we don’t give a f*ck about the recession” (as the clothes CLEARLY indicate) I would have subscribed then and there. I would have. Because it’s not important. What’s important is beauty. This is Vogue. Vogue. Letting a recession define Vogue’s aesthetic is like making Monet work with crayons. Like rewriting Dickens in chatspeak. (It wuz tha Bst of TYMEZ but it wuz tha wrost of timz 2 lol amirite???).

Art is transcendent. Vogue sets the bar at $850 silk Oscar De La Renta pants and then Jones New York says “Oh look we can copy those pants” and then Target copies the copy. Note the epic speech from The Devil Wears Prada, the entirety of which is quoted on my facebook:

*Takes a minute to recover from Meryl out-badassing anyone who’s ever been badass*

Vogue sets the bar. Vogue…..how to put this….Vogue and W and their ilk are supposed to be escapist, something to hope for. If I only look at outfits I could put together on my own, I’ll never learn and grow. It’s the pinnacle, the height. Few can buy the clothes but everyone can be inspired by them, and strive to recreate the feeling and emotion of a look and mood within their budget. If you can’t, you can learn, and if you don’t want to learn then shut the hell up. Style spoonfed to you is no style at all.

Glamour, Cosmo, Marie Claire, those are the magazines of an everywoman. Those are the ones for everyday tips, for coloring within the lines. But nothing should keep the upper echelon, the fashion leaders, the mavens from enlightening us, for stretching the definitions and boundaries of art.
But Wintour caved. And that sucks. I wish she hadn’t. I wish she’d grown a pair (a pair I thought she had) and known her role. So now we have the message that innovation can be tempered, that necessity is NOT necessarily the mother of invention. They could have led the rise against, instead they’re just as downtrodden as the rest of them.

Bad form.