There are a lot of songs you shouldn't sing at your grandmother's birthday party and very few that you should.
I know this.
I know this because I've spent about a month and a half trying to find an acceptable song to do just that with.
They're all either too depressing, or impossible to play and sing simultaneously (unless you're pro, which I am decidedly not), or too testosterone filled (by which I mean the singer is a man whose range I cannot imitate without squeeking and/or growling- I'm looking at you, Jeff Buckley's Hallelujah!), or too completely sappy and unoriginal (that means you, Wind Beneath My Wings).
It got so bad that I tried to write my own song.
That didn't go well.
Actually, in one sense, it did go well. I think the song is hilarious. But it sounds like something Buddy Wassisname and the Other Fellas (this singing comedy troupe from Newfoundland, FYI) might write.
Don't get me wrong, I love Buddy, but according to my grandmother, he brings shame to Newfoundlanders. So that's out.
I eventually settled on How Great Thou Art, because she likes southern gospel and the chording is fairly easy.
The only problem is that I'm still somewhat inexperienced at playing my guitar in front of people, so I tend to freeze up and mess up even the easiest and most well-rehearsed of chord progressions every now and then... what to do about that? I wondered...
Then I came up with an EXCELLENT idea.
I can purposefully choose a song my grandmother probably wouldn't know! That way, if I screw it up (and statistics say I will), she won't know how it's supposed to sound anyway! Perfect.
Like I said, brilliant. :)
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Monday, June 27, 2011
My Craptacular Day
When it rains, it pours, I guess. Today it metaphorically poured.
My morning started innocently enough, with me not wanting to get out of bed, but then eventually doing it anyway and going to work.
When I got there, it quickly became apparent that this was not going to be a good day. I stumbled sleepily out to the patio to water and care for the hanging baskets out there (one of my many duties as Random Crap Manager). As I went to pull the dead flower heads off of a petunia, a whole branch of flower came with it, much to my dismay. The plants were being destroyed by the frequent rainstorms we've been having lately. I wouldn't normally care, but since I'm charged with making sure they don't die, I really don't want them to...die.
After that dissapointment, I went in and started working on another project. I was to transfer papers from one set of binders to another. Except that I'm not technically authorized to enter the room with the first set of binders. This usually isn't a problem because they leave the door unlocked for me, but today it was locked. So I spent the majority of my morning waiting for people to let me in as I went in and out of the room.
After lunch, I was told that they had another task for me. Somewhat grateful to temporarily abandon the binder task, I went to find out what I was supposed to be doing. They wanted me to drive to Walmart and buy candy. I was like "okay, but where is Walmart?", to the person who explained the task to me. She pointed in the general direction of the corner of the room. "Oh, over there."
Of course, for some one who had never driven to this particular Walmart before, these directions weren't sufficient to even give me an inkling of where I was going. So I went on Google Maps, and wouldn't you know it? The walmart I was supposed to find wasn't even on there.
So off I went, with only a very vague general idea of where I was going. To make matters worse, I couldn't figure out how to work the radio in the company car. Fail. I ended up getting lost, but I did eventually make it to walmart in one peice.
Then came actually going in. I disliked walmart when it was just "Walmart". They were just boxes full of cheap merchandise to me. Then they "upgraded" to Super Walmart. Awesome. More of the same shoddy, poorly made crap that takes advantage of poverty to come into being in the first place . On top of that, the new Super Walmarts are veritable mazes. After twenty-some off minutes wandering aimlessly like the proverbial lost soul, I finally managed to locate the candy aisle. I proceeded to grudgingly purchase enough candy to keep the fat kid from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory satisfied for a week. And then I got lost again on the way back to the office.
Then, just for a nice little cherry on the cake, I got chased by a bee that turned out to be just a fly. Not impressed, fly.
When I got home, all I wanted to do was practice my guitar. When the internet was down, preventing me from going on the website I've been getting practice material from recently, I nearly lost it. I grabbed my guitar and pounded out some songs without even bothering to turn on the amplifier, screaming out some corresponding lyrics as I went.
It's funny how that always makes everything better. :)
My morning started innocently enough, with me not wanting to get out of bed, but then eventually doing it anyway and going to work.
When I got there, it quickly became apparent that this was not going to be a good day. I stumbled sleepily out to the patio to water and care for the hanging baskets out there (one of my many duties as Random Crap Manager). As I went to pull the dead flower heads off of a petunia, a whole branch of flower came with it, much to my dismay. The plants were being destroyed by the frequent rainstorms we've been having lately. I wouldn't normally care, but since I'm charged with making sure they don't die, I really don't want them to...die.
After that dissapointment, I went in and started working on another project. I was to transfer papers from one set of binders to another. Except that I'm not technically authorized to enter the room with the first set of binders. This usually isn't a problem because they leave the door unlocked for me, but today it was locked. So I spent the majority of my morning waiting for people to let me in as I went in and out of the room.
After lunch, I was told that they had another task for me. Somewhat grateful to temporarily abandon the binder task, I went to find out what I was supposed to be doing. They wanted me to drive to Walmart and buy candy. I was like "okay, but where is Walmart?", to the person who explained the task to me. She pointed in the general direction of the corner of the room. "Oh, over there."
Of course, for some one who had never driven to this particular Walmart before, these directions weren't sufficient to even give me an inkling of where I was going. So I went on Google Maps, and wouldn't you know it? The walmart I was supposed to find wasn't even on there.
So off I went, with only a very vague general idea of where I was going. To make matters worse, I couldn't figure out how to work the radio in the company car. Fail. I ended up getting lost, but I did eventually make it to walmart in one peice.
Then came actually going in. I disliked walmart when it was just "Walmart". They were just boxes full of cheap merchandise to me. Then they "upgraded" to Super Walmart. Awesome. More of the same shoddy, poorly made crap that takes advantage of poverty to come into being in the first place . On top of that, the new Super Walmarts are veritable mazes. After twenty-some off minutes wandering aimlessly like the proverbial lost soul, I finally managed to locate the candy aisle. I proceeded to grudgingly purchase enough candy to keep the fat kid from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory satisfied for a week. And then I got lost again on the way back to the office.
Then, just for a nice little cherry on the cake, I got chased by a bee that turned out to be just a fly. Not impressed, fly.
When I got home, all I wanted to do was practice my guitar. When the internet was down, preventing me from going on the website I've been getting practice material from recently, I nearly lost it. I grabbed my guitar and pounded out some songs without even bothering to turn on the amplifier, screaming out some corresponding lyrics as I went.
It's funny how that always makes everything better. :)
Sunday, June 26, 2011
The Mind's Epidemic
I think society expects women to be somewhat masochistic.
First, we're saddled with all of these painful beauty routines. We wax, we pluck, we cut ourselves shaving, we inject botulism into our faces to appear younger, we risk skin cancer to look like we're fresh off the beach.
Then there's the clothing. Sure, we've grown more evolved over the years. We've gone from corsets and footbinding to high heels and extreme push-up bras.
Self loathing is also a must, as you're expected to bond with other girls about whatever genetic feature you hate most. Also, medical conditions don't count. You have to choose something visible. If you take to hating it enough, you're in luck. There's plastic surgery for just about any part if you've got the wallet to facilitate it.
And for those of us who can't find something to detest all by ourselves, there are stacks upon stacks of magazines showing you fake images of "the beautiful people" and what hand cream they use. If you're still content with yourself, find a girl with low enough self esteem and she'll gladly try to knock you down a couple of pegs.
When I was a kid, my dad taught me to tell a rather insightful joke which ran like this: Q:Why do women wear perfume and make up? A: Because they look ugly and they stink. And we do, at least in our own heads. We give money to all sorts of people hoping that they'll be able to turn us into the barbie dolls that grace our television screens. Maybe they can fix us.
The problem is that nothing is even wrong to begin with. Ugliness is an epidemic of the mind, not the body. All we need to do to shatter the funhouse mirrors we see ourselves through is break out of the mindset that we're hideous. All we need to do is embrace what we have, learn not to pine over what we don't, and start to see ourselves as those who love us see us.
We need to stop accepting all of this pain that society heaps on us just to sell a few more lipsticks and realise that we are all beautiful. If we can do that, we'll be golden. If not, then there's a lot more pain in the future.
First, we're saddled with all of these painful beauty routines. We wax, we pluck, we cut ourselves shaving, we inject botulism into our faces to appear younger, we risk skin cancer to look like we're fresh off the beach.
Then there's the clothing. Sure, we've grown more evolved over the years. We've gone from corsets and footbinding to high heels and extreme push-up bras.
Self loathing is also a must, as you're expected to bond with other girls about whatever genetic feature you hate most. Also, medical conditions don't count. You have to choose something visible. If you take to hating it enough, you're in luck. There's plastic surgery for just about any part if you've got the wallet to facilitate it.
And for those of us who can't find something to detest all by ourselves, there are stacks upon stacks of magazines showing you fake images of "the beautiful people" and what hand cream they use. If you're still content with yourself, find a girl with low enough self esteem and she'll gladly try to knock you down a couple of pegs.
When I was a kid, my dad taught me to tell a rather insightful joke which ran like this: Q:Why do women wear perfume and make up? A: Because they look ugly and they stink. And we do, at least in our own heads. We give money to all sorts of people hoping that they'll be able to turn us into the barbie dolls that grace our television screens. Maybe they can fix us.
The problem is that nothing is even wrong to begin with. Ugliness is an epidemic of the mind, not the body. All we need to do to shatter the funhouse mirrors we see ourselves through is break out of the mindset that we're hideous. All we need to do is embrace what we have, learn not to pine over what we don't, and start to see ourselves as those who love us see us.
We need to stop accepting all of this pain that society heaps on us just to sell a few more lipsticks and realise that we are all beautiful. If we can do that, we'll be golden. If not, then there's a lot more pain in the future.
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Sartorial Saturdays: Souvenir Tees
For this outfit, I wore a t-shirt I bought from Disneyland, but paired it with a grey cardigan, a string of beads, and a pair of white denim capris. It was still a little tourist-y, but since I was on vacation when the picture was taken, I'll forgive myself. :)
This T-shirt, which I bought at a church convention in Florida, already had an interesting graphic design and color, so I decided to keep the rest of my outfit simple with skinny jeans and a small stack of silver bangles.
For this outfit, I paired the t-shirt I bought at the U2 concert a few weeks ago with a black and white striped skirt and a dark grey shrug and accessorized with a charm bracelet, a seashell pendant, and a headband. This outfit was easily my favorite out of the ones here because it was so comfortable. I felt like I was wearing pyjamas all day. :)For my last outfit, I dressed up a T-shirt I bought on a trip to Texas and blue jeans with a black vest with military detailing and a simple headband.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
An Observation
It gets harder to write posts the more you think about them.
I've been writing new drafts pretty much every day this week, and each seems more heinous then the last. So apologies for my recent silence, hopefully I'll get over this writer's block soon. :)
I've been writing new drafts pretty much every day this week, and each seems more heinous then the last. So apologies for my recent silence, hopefully I'll get over this writer's block soon. :)
Sunday, June 19, 2011
iPod Win
As much as I love my iPod, it and I generally don't agree on music. I usually prefer upbeat, rock anthems, while my iPod tends to favor any filler tracks that happen to sneak on there (I generally delete them once I notice they're there). And then, when I'm in the mood for something a little more subdued, what should come on but the rock anthems I would have loved at any other time.
Which is what makes those rare occasions when my iPod and I agree so darned special. I've noticed that these amazing moments tend to fall into three categories:
The Perfect Fit:
Staring out the window, watching snow melt to the Beatle's Here Comes the Sun? Yes, please.
A sunset bike ride to the tune of Coldplay's Clocks? How perfect.
The LOL:
When Bon Jovi's Livin' on a Prayer comes on while I'm driving to church, and ends just as I pull into the parking lot, you can bet I'm loving it.
When I'm driving in the pouring rain, I can't not smile at my iPod's downright witty selection of Drowning Man by U2. Sure, the lyrics are somewhat irrelevant to my present situation, but just the title makes me want to laugh.
And what better song is there to accompany the ruthless tossing out of your Dad's life work (hey...boss' orders) than U2's Seconds (of which, a predominant line is "It takes a second to say goodbye")? Even though I know that the song's actually about the Cold War, I can't help smiling at the inadvertant perfection.
Good Job, iPod:
These are the most illusive incidents, but also the most amazing. As the end of the current song approaches, you fantasize about how awesome it would be if a particular song were to play next, but for whatever reason you can't set it up so that it does yourself. So, you leave it up to the iPod, knowing that the odds are firmly against it. Like 800 to 1 against it for me, and even more remote for most people.
Then, against all odds, the song you were thinking of is indeed the next to be played. I've made a habit of thanking my iPod for its impeccable taste and apparent mind-reading abilities when this happens, even though I fully realise this probably qualifies me as insane.
But I can't help it. In those moments, everything just feels so right. I crank the volume and sing along as loudly as possible. If I hit a red light, it's time to rock out until some one sees me and I have to smile in an embarrassed way at them and stare straight ahead until the light turns green. Or until the light just turns green.
It's so cool when the music you listen to seems to fit your life because it's just like having a soundtrack. You're not just in the imaginary movie in your head, it's YOUR movie. YOU are the star. And for a moment, you can live in that fantasy and enjoy your perfect, imaginary limelight, full of adoring fans, but free from paparazzi and stalkers. Of course, when the next song your ipod chooses is a dud, the illusion is shattered until next time and you're back to being a plain Jane (John), but for the moment, just enjoy the feeling. :)
Which is what makes those rare occasions when my iPod and I agree so darned special. I've noticed that these amazing moments tend to fall into three categories:
The Perfect Fit:
Staring out the window, watching snow melt to the Beatle's Here Comes the Sun? Yes, please.
A sunset bike ride to the tune of Coldplay's Clocks? How perfect.
The LOL:
When Bon Jovi's Livin' on a Prayer comes on while I'm driving to church, and ends just as I pull into the parking lot, you can bet I'm loving it.
When I'm driving in the pouring rain, I can't not smile at my iPod's downright witty selection of Drowning Man by U2. Sure, the lyrics are somewhat irrelevant to my present situation, but just the title makes me want to laugh.
And what better song is there to accompany the ruthless tossing out of your Dad's life work (hey...boss' orders) than U2's Seconds (of which, a predominant line is "It takes a second to say goodbye")? Even though I know that the song's actually about the Cold War, I can't help smiling at the inadvertant perfection.
Good Job, iPod:
These are the most illusive incidents, but also the most amazing. As the end of the current song approaches, you fantasize about how awesome it would be if a particular song were to play next, but for whatever reason you can't set it up so that it does yourself. So, you leave it up to the iPod, knowing that the odds are firmly against it. Like 800 to 1 against it for me, and even more remote for most people.
Then, against all odds, the song you were thinking of is indeed the next to be played. I've made a habit of thanking my iPod for its impeccable taste and apparent mind-reading abilities when this happens, even though I fully realise this probably qualifies me as insane.
But I can't help it. In those moments, everything just feels so right. I crank the volume and sing along as loudly as possible. If I hit a red light, it's time to rock out until some one sees me and I have to smile in an embarrassed way at them and stare straight ahead until the light turns green. Or until the light just turns green.
It's so cool when the music you listen to seems to fit your life because it's just like having a soundtrack. You're not just in the imaginary movie in your head, it's YOUR movie. YOU are the star. And for a moment, you can live in that fantasy and enjoy your perfect, imaginary limelight, full of adoring fans, but free from paparazzi and stalkers. Of course, when the next song your ipod chooses is a dud, the illusion is shattered until next time and you're back to being a plain Jane (John), but for the moment, just enjoy the feeling. :)
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Sorry :(
Satorial Saturdays is cancelled today. :(
I know, it sucks. It's just that I've been super busy this week, and given the choice between posting something that's half-baked or nothing at all, I've decided to post nothing. This week.
The good news is that the post I'd started to work on for this week should hopefully be ready for next week.
Sorry for the inconvienience.
I know, it sucks. It's just that I've been super busy this week, and given the choice between posting something that's half-baked or nothing at all, I've decided to post nothing. This week.
The good news is that the post I'd started to work on for this week should hopefully be ready for next week.
Sorry for the inconvienience.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Shades of Tired
Lately, I've been running on 5-ish hours of sleep a night due in equal parts to business, and insomnia. It's mostly sucked, but I did discover something interesting: I tend to get tired in layers.
First, I'm REEEAAALLLYYY drowsy. Think anesthesia.
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Then, I go kind of psycho. I get really energetic, and run on adrenaline rather than common sense.
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Then I'm inexplicably depressed for the tiniest of reasons.
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After that, I find pretty much everything funny. Even the stuff that's not.
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Finally, I'm so tired I don't even realise anything is wrong anymore.
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I'm at the stage where everything is funny right now...my favorite! =D
First, I'm REEEAAALLLYYY drowsy. Think anesthesia.
Then, I go kind of psycho. I get really energetic, and run on adrenaline rather than common sense.
Then I'm inexplicably depressed for the tiniest of reasons.
After that, I find pretty much everything funny. Even the stuff that's not.
Finally, I'm so tired I don't even realise anything is wrong anymore.
I'm at the stage where everything is funny right now...my favorite! =D
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
I'm Going For It
This post is not intended to be entertaining in any way, shape, or form. It's just me, venting all of the confusion that's been welling up inside of me for the past month or so. Basically, if you don't want to read a bunch of aimless ramblings, you should stop reading now.
I've been tormented lately.
You see, singing is the only thing I've ever felt truly passionate about. I don't know why this is (after all, I'd be so much better off pining over being an academic- at least it be an attainable goal for me), all I know is that all I want to do is sing. All the time. When I'm really happy, I'll belt out whatever the first song into my head is. When I'm really sad, I warble off-key though the tears.
What's more; I've noticed something. Whenever I go to any kind of concert (even the tiny ones my Social Studies teacher in high school sometimes held in the Atrium), I'll enjoy the show like everyone else, but I'm always left with this other, nagging, sensation.
This is what I should be doing with my life. Or so something deep down tells me. It almost feels like jealousy and it hits me like a brick every time I see anyone performing live (sometimes even karaoke will do it). Of course, to make a living at singing would be awesome, but I know how hard that is and how unlikely it is that it'd work out.
When I was 16 (and consequently fairly naive about that sort of thing), I felt a particularly strong version of this feeling during a Bluetree concert. It was such a strong sensation; I thought for sure that it was God's calling for me. I was so excited. I was positive that God was going to bring something huge out of it.
As the time passed, it didn't seem as though anything had happened...at least not in the way I'd expected. I was still a small part of the church worship team, instead of fronting some insane Christian music group like I'd expected. When I realised this, I was disappointed. But what I didn't realise is that over the years I'd gained something else...influence.
I've never really considered myself an influential person...to be honest, I still kind of pity the fool that would follow some one with as flawed a personality and sense of logic as me. And yet, people consider me a leader. Even I've been forced to notice that people will sometimes follow my example. And I hate the idea. I'm not qualified to lead, at least in my opinion. But God has put me in this position for some reason, and I don't think that it's to have a reggae-style church service like I've always secretly wanted to. The problem is that I'm not really sure where He wants me to go next.
That "music-is-all-I-want-to-spend-my-life-on" urge has been welling up inside me, stronger than ever recently, inflamed by the concert I was at a couple weeks ago. It got to the point where it has even made me a little depressed that I'm not already pursuing it actively. I've wondered whether God would give me such a strong desire and passion for music if I wasn't ever supposed to use it.
At the same time, I've been having tons of new ideas for ministries that could benefit the church and community. Seeing as I'm now apparently a leader (seriously, God? I'm probably one of the most timid people in the whole church- do you really want me to lead?), I'm in a decent position to set some of them into motion.
Recently, I've been corresponding with a friend from my church who is on a missions trip around the world (you can check out her blog here). We've delved pretty deep into spiritual matters and today she sent me an email saying that she'd prayed for me and that God had laid a message on her heart to give to me:
I'd never told her about my pipe dream of becoming a musician. In fact, I've really only started being more open about it recently. I've also never told her about any of my ministry ideas for our church, although she did point out to me once that people seem to look up to me for some reason. So, I obviously freaked out at this. After I calmed down a little bit, the inevitable question came up:
What did God mean by this? It could apply to either situation. I don't think I could lead. I don't think I could make a living singing. I need to trust God, but with what? I've decided to go after both. I intend to talk to the pastor about starting one of my better ideas this fall, and I've decided to enroll in voice lessons (for credit!) at school.
I'm still not really sure where God is leading me or whether my actions are the right ones, but I definitely need to make some sort of change. As it is, I'm getting up on the church stage a couple times a month, nonchalantly singing songs in a bad key, with no real training apart from when I used to play Rock Band with my family. I'm not sure where I'm going all I know is that I cannot stay still any longer.
I need to go for it.
I've been tormented lately.
You see, singing is the only thing I've ever felt truly passionate about. I don't know why this is (after all, I'd be so much better off pining over being an academic- at least it be an attainable goal for me), all I know is that all I want to do is sing. All the time. When I'm really happy, I'll belt out whatever the first song into my head is. When I'm really sad, I warble off-key though the tears.
What's more; I've noticed something. Whenever I go to any kind of concert (even the tiny ones my Social Studies teacher in high school sometimes held in the Atrium), I'll enjoy the show like everyone else, but I'm always left with this other, nagging, sensation.
This is what I should be doing with my life. Or so something deep down tells me. It almost feels like jealousy and it hits me like a brick every time I see anyone performing live (sometimes even karaoke will do it). Of course, to make a living at singing would be awesome, but I know how hard that is and how unlikely it is that it'd work out.
When I was 16 (and consequently fairly naive about that sort of thing), I felt a particularly strong version of this feeling during a Bluetree concert. It was such a strong sensation; I thought for sure that it was God's calling for me. I was so excited. I was positive that God was going to bring something huge out of it.
As the time passed, it didn't seem as though anything had happened...at least not in the way I'd expected. I was still a small part of the church worship team, instead of fronting some insane Christian music group like I'd expected. When I realised this, I was disappointed. But what I didn't realise is that over the years I'd gained something else...influence.
I've never really considered myself an influential person...to be honest, I still kind of pity the fool that would follow some one with as flawed a personality and sense of logic as me. And yet, people consider me a leader. Even I've been forced to notice that people will sometimes follow my example. And I hate the idea. I'm not qualified to lead, at least in my opinion. But God has put me in this position for some reason, and I don't think that it's to have a reggae-style church service like I've always secretly wanted to. The problem is that I'm not really sure where He wants me to go next.
That "music-is-all-I-want-to-spend-my-life-on" urge has been welling up inside me, stronger than ever recently, inflamed by the concert I was at a couple weeks ago. It got to the point where it has even made me a little depressed that I'm not already pursuing it actively. I've wondered whether God would give me such a strong desire and passion for music if I wasn't ever supposed to use it.
At the same time, I've been having tons of new ideas for ministries that could benefit the church and community. Seeing as I'm now apparently a leader (seriously, God? I'm probably one of the most timid people in the whole church- do you really want me to lead?), I'm in a decent position to set some of them into motion.
Recently, I've been corresponding with a friend from my church who is on a missions trip around the world (you can check out her blog here). We've delved pretty deep into spiritual matters and today she sent me an email saying that she'd prayed for me and that God had laid a message on her heart to give to me:
You will not fly if you don't step off the cliff. Trust me.
I'd never told her about my pipe dream of becoming a musician. In fact, I've really only started being more open about it recently. I've also never told her about any of my ministry ideas for our church, although she did point out to me once that people seem to look up to me for some reason. So, I obviously freaked out at this. After I calmed down a little bit, the inevitable question came up:
What did God mean by this? It could apply to either situation. I don't think I could lead. I don't think I could make a living singing. I need to trust God, but with what? I've decided to go after both. I intend to talk to the pastor about starting one of my better ideas this fall, and I've decided to enroll in voice lessons (for credit!) at school.
I'm still not really sure where God is leading me or whether my actions are the right ones, but I definitely need to make some sort of change. As it is, I'm getting up on the church stage a couple times a month, nonchalantly singing songs in a bad key, with no real training apart from when I used to play Rock Band with my family. I'm not sure where I'm going all I know is that I cannot stay still any longer.
I need to go for it.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Sartorial Saturdays: Souvenir Tees Preamble
I have a confession to make: I love souvenir t-shirts. Whether I go on a trip or to a convention or concert I always buy a t-shirt as a reminder of the experience. I was there. See?!?!
The problem? I never wear them. When I'm on vacation, it feels tacky. Like I just scream "tourist". After I get home, it still feels tacky. Like I'm bragging about where I've been. Wearing a band tee sometimes makes me feel like a crazed fangirl of whoever's face/name is on the shirt. And even if (read when) I am, I don't want to feel like people see me that way.
Then there's the problem that these t-shirts generally don't fit perfectly. Often, you buy them from a crowded, hastily set up kiosk and don't have the opportunity to try them on first. As a result, the fit is a bit looser then the rest of your shirts, but still somewhat flattering at best. At worst, these shirts can be anything from too short to way too big, too boxy to fitted in all the wrong places. It's always a gamble.
The worst part is that I feel like everyone is staring at my shirt all day. No one notices me, just Mickey Mouse, the convention slogan, or the long list of places "X" Band has been on tour this year. Almost like the t-shirt is wearing me instead of the other way around. And that looks as bad as it feels.
The mission? To incorporate some of the commemorative t-shirts I've collected into outfits that make me feel if not polished and fashionable, at least somewhat presentable while wearing them in my day to day life. Hopefully by the end of this I'll have some ideas about how to make use of my souvenir tees.
Stay Tuned for the result...
The problem? I never wear them. When I'm on vacation, it feels tacky. Like I just scream "tourist". After I get home, it still feels tacky. Like I'm bragging about where I've been. Wearing a band tee sometimes makes me feel like a crazed fangirl of whoever's face/name is on the shirt. And even if (read when) I am, I don't want to feel like people see me that way.
Then there's the problem that these t-shirts generally don't fit perfectly. Often, you buy them from a crowded, hastily set up kiosk and don't have the opportunity to try them on first. As a result, the fit is a bit looser then the rest of your shirts, but still somewhat flattering at best. At worst, these shirts can be anything from too short to way too big, too boxy to fitted in all the wrong places. It's always a gamble.
The worst part is that I feel like everyone is staring at my shirt all day. No one notices me, just Mickey Mouse, the convention slogan, or the long list of places "X" Band has been on tour this year. Almost like the t-shirt is wearing me instead of the other way around. And that looks as bad as it feels.
The mission? To incorporate some of the commemorative t-shirts I've collected into outfits that make me feel if not polished and fashionable, at least somewhat presentable while wearing them in my day to day life. Hopefully by the end of this I'll have some ideas about how to make use of my souvenir tees.
Stay Tuned for the result...
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Battle of the Boys- Thor Edition
I learnt something about myself last week.
I'm a lot more boy crazy than I like to admit. How did I discover this?
Well, it was a dark and stormy night...actually, no. It was a pleasant and sunny evening. Since I'm Canadian, you'd think I'd be out tanning or tossing a frisbee or something (the best of us get out and enjoy the warmth- we all know it's fleeting). You'd be wrong, though. See, I pretty much fail at being Canadian, so I was hanging out at the movie theatre with my buddy. We were going to see the latest superhero movie to come out, Thor.
I usually like superhero movies. There's plenty of action, a plot (if not a decently thought out one), and cool music. However, in terms of what I usually look for in a superhero movie, I found that Thor was lacking.
But it made no difference to me, because they hired beautiful actors to play the leads. While my comic book junkie friend eagerly soaked in the plot, I started playing "battle of the boys". Basically, this involved choosing and then rooting for the most crush-worthy guy, regardless of whether or not he was the "hero".
In the red corner, there was the guy they got to play Thor (the hero). He was absolutely goregeous, with ocean blue eyes, a bit of masculine scruff, and shoulder length, golden blonde hair. Also, they let him wear normal clothing for a good chunk of the movie (+10 points, considering that he looked pretty excellent in a T-shirt).
In the blue corner, there was the guy who played Loki (the villian). He had pretty ice-blue eyes, a charmingly quiet, mischievious demeanor, was clean shaven with dark hair and...a very slight Irish accent. He was dressed like Neo from The Matrix meets Frodo from Lord of the Rings for most of the movie (-10 points).
Who won?
I was torn, they were both so cute.
But someone was down for the count. 3...2...1...KO!
Who was it?
Loki wins!!!
Because as much as I love seeing a man with stunning eyes look amazing in a T-shirt, Irish accents always win for me. They're just so warm and pretty sounding. In fact, sometomes I think my life plan should involve me running off to Ireland to find a boyfriend (it would have the added bonus of turning me from an average Jane into "The Exotic Canadian"). So, anyway, I went ahead and rooted for the bad guy. The entire time.
He (predictably) lost. I was sad. It sucked. Oh well, I thought, maybe next time they'll do the responsible thing and give the lead the irish accent...
I'm a lot more boy crazy than I like to admit. How did I discover this?
Well, it was a dark and stormy night...actually, no. It was a pleasant and sunny evening. Since I'm Canadian, you'd think I'd be out tanning or tossing a frisbee or something (the best of us get out and enjoy the warmth- we all know it's fleeting). You'd be wrong, though. See, I pretty much fail at being Canadian, so I was hanging out at the movie theatre with my buddy. We were going to see the latest superhero movie to come out, Thor.
I usually like superhero movies. There's plenty of action, a plot (if not a decently thought out one), and cool music. However, in terms of what I usually look for in a superhero movie, I found that Thor was lacking.
But it made no difference to me, because they hired beautiful actors to play the leads. While my comic book junkie friend eagerly soaked in the plot, I started playing "battle of the boys". Basically, this involved choosing and then rooting for the most crush-worthy guy, regardless of whether or not he was the "hero".
In the red corner, there was the guy they got to play Thor (the hero). He was absolutely goregeous, with ocean blue eyes, a bit of masculine scruff, and shoulder length, golden blonde hair. Also, they let him wear normal clothing for a good chunk of the movie (+10 points, considering that he looked pretty excellent in a T-shirt).
In the blue corner, there was the guy who played Loki (the villian). He had pretty ice-blue eyes, a charmingly quiet, mischievious demeanor, was clean shaven with dark hair and...a very slight Irish accent. He was dressed like Neo from The Matrix meets Frodo from Lord of the Rings for most of the movie (-10 points).
Who won?
I was torn, they were both so cute.
But someone was down for the count. 3...2...1...KO!
Who was it?
Loki wins!!!
Because as much as I love seeing a man with stunning eyes look amazing in a T-shirt, Irish accents always win for me. They're just so warm and pretty sounding. In fact, sometomes I think my life plan should involve me running off to Ireland to find a boyfriend (it would have the added bonus of turning me from an average Jane into "The Exotic Canadian"). So, anyway, I went ahead and rooted for the bad guy. The entire time.
He (predictably) lost. I was sad. It sucked. Oh well, I thought, maybe next time they'll do the responsible thing and give the lead the irish accent...
Monday, June 6, 2011
The Re-beggining of a Beautiful Friendship
I was reunited with an old friend today....
My bike.
We used to be pretty tight in middle school, but we'd had a falling out of sorts in ninth grade. Mandatory and unreasonably demanding phys ed classes, as well as my conviction that bike helmets were dorky looking had driven a wedge between us. By the time I returned home from three mentally challenging courses and one physically challenging phys ed class (which, for me was more like a torture session because I have a lung condition that makes me tire from physical activity more easily than most), I was just too exhausted to have any desire to invest time in our friendship. For two long years, I endured this, and my bike and I grew further and further apart, until on the last day of phys ed 10, I literally skipped and danced out of the gymnasium as I silently vowed never to put my body through anything like that again.
For three more years, I kept that vow, avoiding excercise more often then not, even though I knew doing so is unhealthy. My attitude was excersise, die eventually anyway, so what's the point? Today, however, I had an epiphany. My biggest joy in life is singing, and I am doing next to nothing to persue that hobby at the moment. Sure, I occasionally volunteer my voice at church, but I know I could be doing so much more. If I could just get in shape, I could hold notes for longer and perform for longer in general without getting tired (not that a Church service is long enough to tire me out, but hey, why not work toward more endurance?). Now I had a motive to try to get fit, but how?
Then it hit me: the purple mountain bike, still faithfully waiting on the wall in the shed. It just so happened that my dad was cleaning the shed out today, so I got him to take out my bike, put air in the tires, and adjust the seat an handlebars for the considerable amount of growth I'd experienced since our last meeting. As we fixed her up, I noticed that she'd done some aging, too. Rust coated areas that were once silver, the gears were coated in dust, and the sticker was starting to dissintegrate. But, despite those mere cosmetic flaws, she was exactly how I remembered her.
So, I took a deep breath, found a helmet that sort of seemed to fit me, cued up my ipod to a song that's been stuck in my head, and prepared to relearn how to ride a bike.
My bike was none too pleased by my previous abandonnment, and she let me know it. I wobbled, nearly fell, slammed the hand breaks, and accidently switched gears to the toughest one to pedal. Some kids were playing at the nearby park, bikes parked nearby. Wobbling past them was pretty awkward, especially when one was walking towards me trying not to laugh as I struggled not to fall over. "It's my first time riding a bike in years!" I explained with a laugh, trying not to show my extreme embarrassment over my pathetic lack of athleticism.
After botching the first trip to the nearest cul-de-sac, it (thankfully) started to get easier. I rode past the park without struggling and made it uphill back to my house. I was so on top of the world at not having completely wiped out that I decided to do it again. By the end of the second lap, I was even able to go fast!
Memories of being a kid and having freshly removed the training wheels flodded back. A whole new world was opening up: I could ride to work, to my friend's house, to the park, to the grocery store, to work...well, maybe not, as it is a twenty minute drive away. It was weird, because there is really nowhere I could bike that it wouldn't be easier to jump in my car and drive to, but it still felt really good to know that I still had it...
I'd heard people say that you never really forget to ride a bike, but it sure felt good to find out that there was some truth to that saying! I'm really excited to get back into biking this Summer! :)
My bike.
We used to be pretty tight in middle school, but we'd had a falling out of sorts in ninth grade. Mandatory and unreasonably demanding phys ed classes, as well as my conviction that bike helmets were dorky looking had driven a wedge between us. By the time I returned home from three mentally challenging courses and one physically challenging phys ed class (which, for me was more like a torture session because I have a lung condition that makes me tire from physical activity more easily than most), I was just too exhausted to have any desire to invest time in our friendship. For two long years, I endured this, and my bike and I grew further and further apart, until on the last day of phys ed 10, I literally skipped and danced out of the gymnasium as I silently vowed never to put my body through anything like that again.
For three more years, I kept that vow, avoiding excercise more often then not, even though I knew doing so is unhealthy. My attitude was excersise, die eventually anyway, so what's the point? Today, however, I had an epiphany. My biggest joy in life is singing, and I am doing next to nothing to persue that hobby at the moment. Sure, I occasionally volunteer my voice at church, but I know I could be doing so much more. If I could just get in shape, I could hold notes for longer and perform for longer in general without getting tired (not that a Church service is long enough to tire me out, but hey, why not work toward more endurance?). Now I had a motive to try to get fit, but how?
Then it hit me: the purple mountain bike, still faithfully waiting on the wall in the shed. It just so happened that my dad was cleaning the shed out today, so I got him to take out my bike, put air in the tires, and adjust the seat an handlebars for the considerable amount of growth I'd experienced since our last meeting. As we fixed her up, I noticed that she'd done some aging, too. Rust coated areas that were once silver, the gears were coated in dust, and the sticker was starting to dissintegrate. But, despite those mere cosmetic flaws, she was exactly how I remembered her.
So, I took a deep breath, found a helmet that sort of seemed to fit me, cued up my ipod to a song that's been stuck in my head, and prepared to relearn how to ride a bike.
My bike was none too pleased by my previous abandonnment, and she let me know it. I wobbled, nearly fell, slammed the hand breaks, and accidently switched gears to the toughest one to pedal. Some kids were playing at the nearby park, bikes parked nearby. Wobbling past them was pretty awkward, especially when one was walking towards me trying not to laugh as I struggled not to fall over. "It's my first time riding a bike in years!" I explained with a laugh, trying not to show my extreme embarrassment over my pathetic lack of athleticism.
After botching the first trip to the nearest cul-de-sac, it (thankfully) started to get easier. I rode past the park without struggling and made it uphill back to my house. I was so on top of the world at not having completely wiped out that I decided to do it again. By the end of the second lap, I was even able to go fast!
Memories of being a kid and having freshly removed the training wheels flodded back. A whole new world was opening up: I could ride to work, to my friend's house, to the park, to the grocery store, to work...well, maybe not, as it is a twenty minute drive away. It was weird, because there is really nowhere I could bike that it wouldn't be easier to jump in my car and drive to, but it still felt really good to know that I still had it...
I'd heard people say that you never really forget to ride a bike, but it sure felt good to find out that there was some truth to that saying! I'm really excited to get back into biking this Summer! :)
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Sartorial Saturdays: A Fashion Expirament
Recently, College Fashion did a post challenging it's readers to wear one article of clothing for a whole week, creating a new outfit around it each day. As though this week hasn't been jam-packed enough already, I decided to go ahead and try it anyway. Here's what transpired:
Saturday
Scenario: My Mom and I went to the local greenhouse to pick up some flowers for our yard. I wanted something comfy, casual, and most importantly, something I couldn't wear to work.
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| Greenhouses are an excellent venue for photos, by the way. |
The Outfit: I wore my chosen item (a plain white T-shirt) with a pair of darkwash denim shorts. To make the outfit more interesting, I accesorized with a straw fedora, a black and white scarf, and a short stack of silver bangles. Black sandals finish off the casual look.
Sunday
Scenario: Since the plan for today was to go to church and sing in what is essentially the church worship band (but they call it a "team" instead- to make it sound less commercial, I guess), I needed something pretty and youthful, but also church-approved.
The Outfit: I folded down the top half of a black dress with a w
hite graphic print on the skirt, wearing it over my t-shirt, and covered the seam with a bright yellow belt to add color to the look. The look was finished off with a grey cardigan, a black and white statement necklace, and black ballet flats.
Monday
Scenario: Back to work once again. I was really tired this morning, so style was still a priority, but was on the back burner compared to sleep.
The Outfit: I layered a light blue chambray button up over my t-shirt and added a string of pink and purple beads and for a free-spirited, creative, kind of look.
Did it Work?: It was a very comfortable outfit, but I couldn't get the blouse to sit just right. Perhaps if I had a skinny belt to give it shape, it would have worked out better.
Tuesday
Scenario: Work is pretty much the only thing on the agenda for today. Since tastefulness and jeans are essentially the only dress requirements, I had plenty of artistic license.
 |
 |
| Up close- sorry the t-shirt doesn't show in the photo...it's there I promise. |
The Outfit: I wanted white to be the primary color used in this outfit, so I added interest by adding texture. I started by layering a cream, sheer lace t-shirt over my white one and layered a white linen blazer over that. I wore a lighter wash of denim to prevent the outfit from becoming harsh and because I don't own a white pair. Finally, a watch on a string of pearls completed the outfit.
Did it Work?: Not as well as it would have with white on the bottom, too. Note to self: buy white jeans.
Wenesday
Scenario: Work, then a U2 concert!! :D The band was asking everyone to wear either white or red in support of Project (Red) and the ONE Campaign , which fit in nicely with my choice of clothing article
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| Confession: I would have cheated on the challenge if I wasn't wearing the right colors. XD |
The Outfit: I figured that this would be a great time to let my red skinny jeans make a rare appearence. My t-shirt served as an anchor for a white, frilly tank top, while making the outfit work appropriate. I also wore a dark grey sleeveless cardi and my black ballet flats. I topped the outfit off with the Desi(RED) pendant that I bought a while ago from GAP, with some of the proceeds going to project RED.
Did it Work?: Well, in theory, yes. It was work appropriate, and still a fun look for the concert. However, the temperature dropped and the sky was threatening rain, so I was forced to add a red and black checkered jacket. I've also been carrying a red and white purse for almost a month, now. As a result, I ended up being dressed in head-to-toe red for the concert, which was pretty unfashionable. At least I looked like a die-hard fan and/or die-hard Project (Red) supporter, way up there in the nosebleed seats, I guess. :|
Thursday
Scenario: Work, then off to the movie theatre with my friend to see Thor.
 |
The Ouftit: I started with my usual white t-shirt and darkwash jeans combination. I then added a black vest with military details and my black statement necklace from Sunday.
Did it Work?: Mostly. I'm a pretty messy popcorn eater, so crumbs and kernals got everywhere, but that would have happened no matter what I chose to wear. Also, it was kind of a bummer not being able to wear my U2 tee.
Friday
Scenario: Work, then hanging out with the youth group at church.
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| Sorry about the crappy picture... |
The Outfit: I layered my grey cardigan from Sunday over the basic t-shirt and jeans work combo, then added a blue and tan statement necklace for interest.
Did it Work?: Perfectly. I think I'm finally starting to get the hang of this. I won't lie, though. I'm super looking forward to wearing my U2 t-shirt on Sunday...maybe that'll be the next post...hmmm...
Lessons Learned
- Spray on febreeze is a lifesaver. Otherwise I would have had to wear a stinky t-shirt all week.
- I need to buy a pair of white jeans and a skinny belt.
- Accessories are important. I don't usually put much thought into them, but they can definitely make or break an outfit. I'll have to pay more attention from now on.
- It takes a REEAALLLY long time to upload multiple photos to your blog. I apologise this post is so late. Now that I know how long this takes, I'll try to do them in advance of Saturday from now on...
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Best Evening Everrr....
Because I totally completed an item on my life (bucket) list!!! :D
17) attend a U2 concert? Gets a big ol' check mark! WOOOO!!!!!
Cue Beautiful Day (if you don't know this song, click. Do it. Now. Seriously, it's amazing. :P)
Ok, now that that's out of my system, you may have guessed that I went to see U2's 360 Tour last night.
It was REALLY crowded. This is the first big concert I've ever been to, so I really had no idea what 68,000 or so people in one football stadium actually looks like. Now I know that it bears a striking resemblance to a terrifying angry mob. I was so glad that I brought my ipod with me (for the car ride) because when I got there, the crowd was so overwhelming that I needed to crank it and drown out the noise a bit just to calm me down.
Then we got in line for T-shirts. The line up ran a quarter of the length of the stadium. But you don't go to the concert of a band you love without buying one of their T-shirts or a CD or something. So we shuffled our way to the back of the line and stood for an hour and a half. My ipod did the trick until the opening act started, I couldn't hear it anymore, and there was live music anyway, so I put it away. The line was so enormous, we ended up waiting in line for over an hour and a half and completely missing the opening act (if you're reading this, sorry, The Fray, from what I heard you sounded excellent, I'll try to catch you guys another time!). At one point, people tried to cut through the line to get to their seats both in front of me and behind me at the same time, effectually turning me into a still, 100-ish pound, island of nervousness, clutching protectively at my purse. We were almost to the front when a woman offered my mom 20 bucks to buy her shirt for her. Nice try lady. It didn't happen.
Also, I now know what pot smells like (don't ask how I managed to get through high school without ever walking past a person while they were smoking pot, but somehow I did). It smells pretty awful, FYI. It kind of made me want to throw up. I don't know how people manage to inhale the crap. Then there was the guy who was smoking a cigarette which the wind was forcing me to share the whole way to the stadium. Suffice to say the poor guys took a beating.
Did you know they sell beer at concerts? The closest thing I've ever been to a rock concert were Christian conventions targeted at young teenagers, so I did not (laugh at my sheltered naivety if you must, you're probably right to). I don't know how the idea of warm, overpriced beer in plastic cups that you will have to avoid spilling while practically crowd-surfing to your seat is in any way appealing, but they seemed to make a fortune. I was really paranoid about someone spilling on my white T-shirt (see this Saturday's fashion post and you'll know why).
Also, I had my brand new, adorable umbrella confiscated by security. I didn't even get to use it once! :( It really sucked when the sky was threatening rain.
Guess what, though?
I made it to my seat without being trampled or pick pocketed (well, except for the umbrella, but after seeing how crowded the stadium was, I understand why they have that rule...).
I bought an adorable grey T-shirt. It's totally killing me that I can't wear it until Sunday (again, see Saturday's post).
I probably did inhale some smoke of indeterminate origin, which is not awesome, health wise. But I caused just as much damage to my vocal chords screaming my lungs out when U2 took the stage.
No one spilt their beer on my shirt, and it didn't end up raining hard enough to soak through my jacket.
It was a teensy bit chilly after the sun set, but as Bono said they're Irish and we're Canadian. We can handle the cold. :)
And singing along to "Beautiful Day" and "Pride" back to back as the sunset faded to twilight was one of the best experiences of my life so far. It was just one of those perfect moments. I don't know if you know what I mean, but I wanted to pause it, take a mental snapshot of it, and never, ever forget it. The speakers were so loud I could feel the sound of my favorite songs shaking the stadium. The light show was equally amazing.
By the way, I'm kind of thinking that if I ever get the chance, I might go touring with the band for a few stops. Because, hey. Life's too short not to get random beer stains and swim through crowds. :D
17) attend a U2 concert? Gets a big ol' check mark! WOOOO!!!!!
Cue Beautiful Day (if you don't know this song, click. Do it. Now. Seriously, it's amazing. :P)
Ok, now that that's out of my system, you may have guessed that I went to see U2's 360 Tour last night.
It was REALLY crowded. This is the first big concert I've ever been to, so I really had no idea what 68,000 or so people in one football stadium actually looks like. Now I know that it bears a striking resemblance to a terrifying angry mob. I was so glad that I brought my ipod with me (for the car ride) because when I got there, the crowd was so overwhelming that I needed to crank it and drown out the noise a bit just to calm me down.
Then we got in line for T-shirts. The line up ran a quarter of the length of the stadium. But you don't go to the concert of a band you love without buying one of their T-shirts or a CD or something. So we shuffled our way to the back of the line and stood for an hour and a half. My ipod did the trick until the opening act started, I couldn't hear it anymore, and there was live music anyway, so I put it away. The line was so enormous, we ended up waiting in line for over an hour and a half and completely missing the opening act (if you're reading this, sorry, The Fray, from what I heard you sounded excellent, I'll try to catch you guys another time!). At one point, people tried to cut through the line to get to their seats both in front of me and behind me at the same time, effectually turning me into a still, 100-ish pound, island of nervousness, clutching protectively at my purse. We were almost to the front when a woman offered my mom 20 bucks to buy her shirt for her. Nice try lady. It didn't happen.
Also, I now know what pot smells like (don't ask how I managed to get through high school without ever walking past a person while they were smoking pot, but somehow I did). It smells pretty awful, FYI. It kind of made me want to throw up. I don't know how people manage to inhale the crap. Then there was the guy who was smoking a cigarette which the wind was forcing me to share the whole way to the stadium. Suffice to say the poor guys took a beating.
Did you know they sell beer at concerts? The closest thing I've ever been to a rock concert were Christian conventions targeted at young teenagers, so I did not (laugh at my sheltered naivety if you must, you're probably right to). I don't know how the idea of warm, overpriced beer in plastic cups that you will have to avoid spilling while practically crowd-surfing to your seat is in any way appealing, but they seemed to make a fortune. I was really paranoid about someone spilling on my white T-shirt (see this Saturday's fashion post and you'll know why).
Also, I had my brand new, adorable umbrella confiscated by security. I didn't even get to use it once! :( It really sucked when the sky was threatening rain.
Guess what, though?
I made it to my seat without being trampled or pick pocketed (well, except for the umbrella, but after seeing how crowded the stadium was, I understand why they have that rule...).
I bought an adorable grey T-shirt. It's totally killing me that I can't wear it until Sunday (again, see Saturday's post).
I probably did inhale some smoke of indeterminate origin, which is not awesome, health wise. But I caused just as much damage to my vocal chords screaming my lungs out when U2 took the stage.
No one spilt their beer on my shirt, and it didn't end up raining hard enough to soak through my jacket.
It was a teensy bit chilly after the sun set, but as Bono said they're Irish and we're Canadian. We can handle the cold. :)
And singing along to "Beautiful Day" and "Pride" back to back as the sunset faded to twilight was one of the best experiences of my life so far. It was just one of those perfect moments. I don't know if you know what I mean, but I wanted to pause it, take a mental snapshot of it, and never, ever forget it. The speakers were so loud I could feel the sound of my favorite songs shaking the stadium. The light show was equally amazing.
By the way, I'm kind of thinking that if I ever get the chance, I might go touring with the band for a few stops. Because, hey. Life's too short not to get random beer stains and swim through crowds. :D
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