If my fiancee weren't such a handsome hunk, I'd have to say that River's Cuomo has a good chance of being my obsession:
*le sigh* That being said, I have to say that my fiancee is, in fact, *the* handsome hunk.
This is my desktop background, by the way.
Okay, seriously. No more engagement pictures, I promise!
Plans are going great... My dress fitting was last week, and it only needed to be hemmed, so I'm stoked. I found some awesome things for the bridesmaids on Etsy, and... I'm sick of talking about the wedding, actually.
No, for real.
I might actually talk politics, or theology, or literature maybe: Since my friend Em had me read a few of his poems, I'm a little bit obsessed with Robert Frost: he twists around just enough in the head to keep me coming back. Especially a few points in the poem "Maple"
....She would forget it. She all but forgot it. What he'd sowed with her slept so long a sleep And came so near death in the dark of years That when it woke and came to life again The flower was different from the parent seed. It came back vaguely at the glass one day, as she stood saying over her name aloud, Striking it gently across her lowered eyes
To make it go well with the way she looked.
It really just strikes me as fascinating; a common human theme to wonder if our name makes us... or we make our name. I'm sure Frost was trying to say so much more, but that's how I relate to the piece.
Well, this has been one long ramblyness that should probably end for now.
Engagement pictures today, then swing-dancing at the Coffee Depot. I wore the dress my mom and I have been sewing and stressing over the whole weekend. I tried a Depoccino (Espresso over vanilla ice cream... like an espresso float)
I am utterly exhausted and happy.
A small taste of the engagement pictures to come (Much much thanks to Emily and her brother)
In one sense, I have been follicly blessed. I do have a head full of hair, after all.
The problem lies, however, in the fact that running a brush through my hair has often been a physical impossibility. Curly, wavy, frizzy. Whatever you want to call it-- it's a little twisted. I'm not sure when my hair became the way it is, because I look at pictures of myself in child form and my hair then seems to have been quite manageable. Or maybe it just lived a peaceful life because I didn't care what it did... So, by that logic, the moment I started to care about it, it rebelled. It rebelled in 8th grade. I don't suppose it helped that the styles that year were incredibly pin-straight. I used to watch those shampoo commercials where the models ran their fingers through their fantastically straight and shiny hair. I'll tell ya, there is nothing worse for a curly-haired girl than a single Fructis commercial; it will squash your ego under a rock in the Mariana Trench for at least six months, maybe more if you were having a really bad hair day on the view-date.
Over the years I have tried many, many approaches with the willful beast on my head. (Pardon all the self portraits. There have been points when I had no life and entirely too much camera access) I'll get the worst out of the way first:
The "Let's Pretend it's Not Curly" The procedure was simple: Slick the front with enough gel to keep even my eyebrows immobile, then stick the rest in a ponytail: out of sight, out of mind. Also known as the most mindless thing I have ever done. Notice the random tendrils. Those were on purpose, please don't ask me why.
The Somewhat Bun. The slightly more subtle evolution of the first. Sad confession: I still do this sometimes.
The Legolas Wannabe Mis-use of a straightening iron. I was a LOTR addict. (note the random braid) This is painful for me to talk about, so we'll move on. Covering It Up scarfs, hats, headbands. You name it. Then I went short. Easy to take care of, I loved it. But looking back, I have to admit that it was a tad triangular.
And in Pigtails Oh poofball pigtails and green eye makeup...I'll miss you.
Straightened and Short I actually would not mind this again. Wasn't all that much work with most of my hair completely gone.
Grown-out, Again. Experimented with mega-curlyness.
Annnd Straight. Again. Still wishful thinking from time to time..
And The Recent Method ...doing nothing to it at all.
Your turn: What's your hair evolution? Did you do insane things that make you wince when you see old photographs, or do you have a signature style that remains pretty unchanged?
My Xanga (yes--I am that old school) was raided by the gossip bots recently, so this may soon be the only place I can maintain a small level of anonymity for the venting of my frustrations. No worries, though, I don't feel like ranting at the moment.
I am in love with these fellas, lately. Sure, they're over-played, but with good reason. I guess I never gave them a chance until Day and Age came out, but I've found myself listening more and more. I realize Hot Fuss has been around forever, but I'm just now realizing the complexity of it and--like I said-- totally in love.
Valentine's this year has been a tad uneventful, but making Drazin's card *pictures soon, once I get to see what he thinks of it* made me think about making more cards/paper-crafts in general. I'm not actually that bad at it, and--though it's probably chock-full of carcinogens--I love spray-mount. And different papers... Tissue... Envelopes. Yep.
I want to keep this little blog up, so I have a few little projects and ideas coming up, hopefully.
The problem lies however, in the fact that, while my concious-self is thinking "Aww, cute!" my subconscious mind is playing the themes from Jaws and Psycho.
I've always been a book-lover: I'm not just talking about the words in the book, the stories contained--I'm addicted to the yummy, sniffable pages of a new softcover, or the pleasant mustiness of a creaky old hardcover. I love the font, the covers, the random stains you find in ones at thrift stores (a rather creepy feeling, to wonder if those drops are tear-stains from an overly-emotional reader or.... something else).
So, something like the above (which requires one to glue pages together and cut a square hole in the glued mass) or the image below--th0ugh my sister made me a beautiful one for Christmas--:
....gives me chills, and perhaps not in a good way. Because, yes, in theory the idea is freakin' adorable; however, the dramatic thought that future generations will never thumb through the pages of those books makes me want to faint away, or something. How could something like these crafts be used to display a love of books? One has to murder a tome in the process!
The question remains: Will I quash my deeply-held principles to pursue that gorgeous wedding idea?
Probably.
But I'll use an empty journal or something, to feel better about myself.
Story behind this one: The new tradition upon seeing this sign is to shout "OH NO! HAWAIIAN BBQ!" in the most terrified of voices.
Faces help too.
And for something completely different: A "craft project"
If one pair of sunglasses makes you cool....
Our ultimate honeymoon destination.
"We'll charge you an arm and a leg and then give you....an armless suit"
The "Brad Pitt" face.
I snuck a camera in the DMV.
After a few weeks of some pretty extreme highs and lows, including getting my little heart crushed over a dream-house deal that fell through, it was good to have a lovely day with Drazin. In my life, I have had friends who prefer to just hang out, and those who work out these structured activities, and it's all amazing--- but I prefer nothing above just driving around with this kid.
I honestly wish I could say that I'm skilled in irony, with a cutting wit... but my wit at this point is more butter-knife sharp ( I think it might have something to do with being in love and wanting to be nice to everything as a result)
*shrug*
Death by blunt trauma is still death.