Dress up: Part 2

A collection of my absolute favorites.

Right now, I don’t have much to write about. But I still want to post. Therefore, because the last dress-up post was so much fun, I thought I would do another. Once in a while it’s nice to dress up and have a “photo shoot” of kinds. Especially those clothes that winter (and, unfortunately, it’s winter outside again) has kept you out of. And tada. Summer really cannot not come soon enough for me. Nope, not at all.

pink shirt & pleather tights. this pink shirt is comfy, and I always turn to it when I’m having one of those days.

my china doll shirt. technically my mom’s shirt from germany. I dug it out of the basement years ago, and adore it. it’s actually a pj top, but shhhhh.

bought this last summer on a whim. usually it’s worn with jeans and a shirt underneath, but I was feeling daring. and i love the drop in the back.

yves saint laurent shirt found at frenchy’s for $3. what can I say other than j’adore YSL.

black sweater dresses are my staple be it spring, summer, fall or winter.

I threw this in here, just for fun. a cute outfit worthy of a dance and drink.

and finally, my zebra stripe booty shorts. I’ve had these literally forever, and they are the best pjs ever. and doesn’t every girl deserve a cute pair of pjs, worthy of late-night summer adventures. oh, the times that were had.

♥

Of course it would happen that after two days of beyond beautiful weather, it’s raining. No, not just raining–pouring. Winds howling. The skies dreary. I guess it’s one step forward, two steps back. Then again when you have no choice but to lock yourself up inside your bedroom, or the library, then it’s almost a relief that it’s a cold nasty day outside. You don’t have too worry about missing out on the sunshine. Okay rain, I’ll let you win this one time. But there better be more sunshine on the way.

So what is a girl to do when skies are gray? Play dress up, of course.

just a quick note: the necklace I’m wearing in the last set (with the green dress) was made by the fabulous apricot-tea. She makes seriously beautiful jewelry, of which I’m lucky enough to own a couple pieces. Her blog is amazing, and so is she!

She also sells her stuff, so check it out!

Spring is in the air. Or rather, should I say, it’s peaking out of the ground. It feels as though winter is finally behind us, and it’s only a matter until our days are all sunshine and daisies and days at the lake. In fact, in honor of the beautiful weather I made myself a delicious soymilk smoothie for supper. Just don’t tell my nutritionist.

Yesterday, before taking a trip to my favorite grocery store with my parents, I took a minute to catch the flowers already peeking out of the ground. Even though they’re surrounded by dead leaves and brown grass, there is something so hopeful about the bright green. Absolutely beautiful.

Not to mention, I’m so glad to see that last little bit of snow melting away.

Another sign of the spring like times: I have officially started to be able to wear skirts and dresses again. I realize that this doesn’t seem like that big of a deal. But to me being able to wear a shirt without worrying about absolutely freezing makes me giddy and happy. Of couse I’m still forced to wear tights, just because it’s not summer, but I love being able to get creative with what I wear again. And I think that, soon, I’ll be able to get more into it. The days of jeans and t-shirts and oversized winter jackets are on the way OUT. Soon it will be all about shorts and skirts and sunshine. Oh yes, sunshine how I’ve missed you.

Oh, I’m suddenly wishing I had a picture of my new high-wasted skirt that I picked up the other day at Frenchy’s on a whim, and I’ve officially fallen head-over-heels in love with. Soon, I’m sure. As the days get sunnier and warmer, I’m sure that fashion-orientated posts will probably become more and more popular. After all, I love an excuse to get dressed up, and even more, I love an excuse for pictures.

And, now for something completely different (but what I thought was cute). One of my budgie birds, Blue, attempting to get into his cage. Both Roxy and Blue have their wings clipped, so they can only fly short distances. But I thought this was just the cutest thing (hence why I captured it). Who ever said birds weren’t smart?

Another late night and another late night entry. Yes, I should be sleeping. Instead I’m downloading an entire soundtrack of songs from summers past. It’s funny–my mind keeps drifting to those warm months, to smiling faces, to be carefree and silly. I’ll never be sixteen again, getting drunk off cheap wine at the lake with my best friends. But there is something special in just remembering “the best days of our lives“.

I’m in a peaceful mood right now, smiling to myself about nothing at all. It’s not often I feel just so effortlessly happy. And so, I thought I would share….

the simple things that bring me joy:

• downloading the soundtrack of my summer between sixteen and today.
• writing easily and effortless after what feels like so long in silence.
• making friends with the sidewalk pigeons.
• the fact that I can make a killer soy cappuccino all by myself.
• spending hours walking around book stores, just staring at the covers & reading the first pages.
• the way Andrew looks at me right before he laughs.
• the way Andrew looks first thing in the morning.
• random text messages from friends when I’m feeling lonely.
• sunshine.

To answer your questions, yes I am writing this in the middle of the night and no, I don’t plan on sleeping anytime soon. Well, maybe soon. My sister has been experimenting with our poor, unused cappuccino machine this fine, and unfortunately snowy, evening. And I was her very willing guinea pig.

But before I even think about sleeping I thought I would share something cool. I recently joined a website (Authonomy) where you can post stories, and there is the possibility of having real live publishers reading them over, without having to worry about sending your manuscript out. Of course, this only happens for the best of the best (which is another issue entirely). One of the things I noticed upon registration was that you are required to post the (potential) cover to that novel-to-be. This, of course, naturally got my creative juice flowing. When I first finished Nameless, I couldn’t help but think about what the cover of the book would look like. I wanted it to be captivating, to sum of the emotion of the story with one glance. To be honest, from the second I finished it, I knew exactly what I wanted it to look like, the image burned into my head. And so tonight, while I should have been doing homework, I created my cover. The story isn’t quite ready to be posted on the site, but the cover–it couldn’t be more ready to be seen.

And someday, I can only hope, something similar (with my name proudly displayed) will be seen on the shelf of your friendly neighborhood bookstore. But, in the meantime, here is a brief glance into the future:

ps. — the tattoo, unfortunately, is not real. Yet. But the second I have both the money and the bravery, that design will be a permanent part of me. I’m thinking of making it a graduation gift to myself but we will see.

You know it’s funny when boom, out of no where, you are hit with inspiration.

When I am stuck with writer’s block, I’m constantly searching for something to write about, usually to no avail. It doesn’t matter if my favorite songs are playing, or I read through old diary entries. So that is why when random inspiration strikes me, and I find my fingers typing faster than my brain even works? It’s strange. I’m not complaining, of course. I’m much happier than when I’m not writing.The same goes for writing in here, although to a much lesser extent. I am a storyteller. Plain, simple. Period.

The inspiration for my newest story, titled Mr. Rich and Famous, comes from a random reunion with my grade five crush on the bus this morning. He was wearing a suit and tie, looking like a business man. No matter how far I’ve come since, I was taken back to grade five instantly, remembering how much I thought I was in love with him. It made me laugh.

And that got me to thinking: what would it be like running into that elementary school crush after years apart, and he was now a famous movie star? That’s the situation my character Sasha finds herself when Owen Ryder, her fifth grade crush and current Hollywood superstar, comes back to visit Dalkery, the town he grew up in. And Sasha will stop at nothing for her chance to tell him the things she never got a chance to say.

Without future delay:

“Mr. Rich and Famous”

written by Shannon White, March/09

Life hasn’t been too overly exciting lately.

Aside from school, I’ve been not doing much of anything. Tuesday (otherwise known as St. Patrick’s Day) I did go out, but was home and asleep by 10:30pm, forgoing celebrating my Irish heritage. While at the party we had gone to I was falling asleep on Andrew’s shoulder, and that was without having drinks in me. I also slept until noon the next day. My sleep pattern has been kind of out of wack, so I’ve either been wickedly tired or completely unable to sleep.

Last night, I was invited to go out for drinks and dancing for the birthday of a friend of Andrew’s. I wore my brand new dress, which I hadn’t yet had the chance to debut somewhere fabulous… or well anywhere outside my bedroom. We went to this club that I had never been to before, Pacifico, and it was really nice. Kind of reminded me of the clubs the girls went to on Sex and the City. Of course, I could really only afford the cover, so we hung out at Andrew’s apartment before hand, drank a little and laughed a lot. It was nice. It felt grown up. That’s not to say that I don’t enjoy my drunken memories with friends, it’s just like sometimes it’s nice to take a small glance into what the future could hold. And it is also nice not being the one who has to be carried home.

Actually, I realized something last night. I haven’t been falling-down-can’t-talk-or-remember-the-night-before drunk since October. And, okay, maybe it’s not something to gush about that I could ever be that person. But I’m proud of the fact that I think I’m… gotten control over something which–at one point last year–was spiraling horribly out of control. It feels nice to be able to just laugh and dance, and not let myself get to the point where I can’t stand, speak, or even think. Really, really nice.

Andrew and I also went to the Saturday morning farmer’s market this morning, which was beyond nice. We always mean to go there, but sometimes life, and sleep, gets in the way. Not only did we pick up a nice package of gluten-free everything bagels (which had garlic overload but were yummy none the less) but we also found gluten-free vegetarian sausage! Yes, this was pretty much the highlight of our market adventure. Before I went gluten-free I was able to find vegetarian sausage no problem, but it was a little um… “hamster-foodish” (to quote Andrew). This was not the case with this sausage. I absolutely loved it. Andrew wasn’t too keen on the texture of it although he said he enjoyed the taste, but I would definitely buy it again. It was probably one of the better vegetarian gluten-free things I’ve had in a while. I just wish you could find it on my side of the bridge but it is actually made by a restaurant in Halifax. Oh well. Another excuse for sleepover’s at Andrew’s I guess. I also have a list of vegetarian restaurants we need to try out, all we extensive gluten-free options. I’m really trying to do better with the food thing, and eat healthier.

Now, I’m off to watch either Across the Universe or Breakfast at Tiffany’s and wish that I had lived in New York in the 1960s. There is just something about that time period…. sigh.

I’ve kind of been in a rut lately. Even with the reading on Thursday (which was terrifying, nerve-wracking and scary as hell all at once) I just feel… blah. Even shopping today, and snatching up some awesome deals, or the beautiful spring-like sunshine was not enough to pull me up out of my emotional gutter. It’s school ending, and graduation and this whole idea of the real world. And the closer these grand events approach the worse and worse my anxiety gets. I’ve never been someone who adapts easily to what life throws at me, so this idea of a whole chunk of my life just disappearing sends me right into my closet.

No, I’m serious.

Okay, so maybe this is a slightly embarrassing thing to admit to the Internet, but when I’m at my worst–usually upset, or anxious–I find no place more soothing then the floor of my closet. I’ve been doing it since I was a kid, running and hiding in my closet whenever I needed to escape. I don’t even remember why I started, just that it always felt like the safest place, between the shoes, shirts gently brushing the top of my head. Of course, I always fit much better when I was a kid. Even still, it’s my place of comfort even though now it usually involves me sprawled out, my body only half inside. Maybe it’s strange to think of a 22 year old girl terrified enough of the world that she has to hide, but oh well. The world is scary, growing up is scary.

I really don’t know what’s going to happen, and it terrifies me. There is no excitement, just fear.

I want to be happy. I want to be excited. But all I can wonder if “what comes next” and if I’ll be able to handle it. Or, if once again, I’ll find myself hidden, body pulled in so tight, trying to tell myself that everything will be okay as I stare up towards the meshing colors of my grown up world.

So I think I may have found it: the story. It was created as most of my other stories are created–when I should have been doing something else. I just keep thinking of the kind of story I wanted to tell, and this is what came out of it. And now I am going to return to the dreaded word of essays and pray that I don’t write a story instead.

“uncrowned”

written by Shannon White, March/09

It’s that time of year where the weather is getting nicer and the school work is piling up. Which means since I already have so much piling up I shouldn’t be taking even more on. But since when have I ever tried to make things easier for myself? I’ve always been the girl who wrote stories when she was supposed to be writing essays.

The writer-at-residence I’ve been seeing for my writing workshop is holding a reading on Thursday. She’s reading from her own work, and she invited others to read. And I agreed to. Don’t ask me why I agreed, considering I’m terrified of speaking in front of my classes during presentations, but I agreed and now, on Thursday, I am going to have a five minute slot to share my own written words with the world. And I have absolutely no idea what it is I wanted to read. Part of me wants to find something that represents my very best work, part of me wants to share what everyone will love and relate to the most, and part of me wants to share what represents me–as a writer and as a person–best.

Now if only I could find someone which captures all three, and I would be set.

I did consider writing something brand new for Thursday, but with two assignments, and two quizzes this week, the changes of that happening are pretty slim. Not impossible, but slim. So now on top of all that, I have to try and go through my old work and find me in words. Find a story which will awe and amaze. Which will show that small room who I am when it comes to writing. And try not to pass out while I’m standing in front of everyone. Oh yes, if I didn’t already have enough on my plate. Again, why do I do this to myself?

In the end, I know it will be okay. And I will have faced another one of my greatest fears–public speaking. But right now I have a million and one things rushing through my head, and no idea what I should do, what I should read, and if I’m even going to make it to Thursday before having a mental breakdown.

And I haven’t even began to think about what I’m going to wear.