Clothes Whore

I know the correct term is “clothes horse”, but who are we kidding? I mean, really.

I thought I would take a brief moment today to talk about something other than sex (which, like everything else, is all in my head.) Although I will say, for those of you keeping track, that my sexuality is so looped at the moment, I am practically a gay man. Which means that if I tell you you’re hot, you have to take it as gospel. Seriously. Gay men don’t lie… at least not about that, anyway. (It also sort of explains my obsession with catchy show-tunes… and costumes… hmmm…)

But we digress (for now, anyway).

I love clothes. I mean, I LOVE clothes. Well, perhaps it is more like lust than love, but you get the idea.

Current list of things I NEED in my wardrobe:

1. Band Jacket

2. Betsey Johnson Bra

3. These sandals

4. This dress

5. These Ray-Bans (in Cherry Red, please!)

I could totally wear all those at once, no?

Okay, who knows… but the point is, I want them! I don’t really need to save up money to go travelling, do I? I mean sure, travel would broaden my horizons and introduce me to new cultures and ways of thinking and art and music and life. But clothes I can have RIGHT NOW!

Damnit.

I guess I should probably focus on cultivating actual life experiences, instead of buying pretty things. But what can I say? I like the instant gratification.

Plus, clothes actually look good on me now!

In the past, shopping was all about what I needed in order to have a fully functional wardrobe. Shopping was fun in theory, but never in  practice. In high-school this was because I had no money and had to depend on the charity of my parents… which meant buying hardly anything, EVER. But when I came back home from Toronto (where I “ran away to” the fall after graduation) shopping was even worse. No longer a mere irritation as it had once been, it had at this point graduated to the status of sheer TORTURE.

I had gained weight. Like, a lot of weight. And I had always been skinny! (You remember that scene in “Selena” where she says that the way she maintains her figure is by eating hamburgers and never exercising? Well that was pretty much me… only smaller.) Being over-weight(ish) made it pretty difficult to enjoy shopping, because everything I tried on just served as a reminder that I needed to lose weight. And really, did I need to be reminded of that every time I was innocently shopping for work-appropriate clothes? No, I did not!

All this discomfort with the way I looked was bad enough in itself, but to deprive me of the joy of new clothes? CRIMINAL. Because I LOVE new clothes. The way I feel about a store newly filled with the latest trends  cannot be described. Although if it could, the words “lust” or “ravenous” would probably be thrown around quite a bit. It’s a little unhealthy, sure, but it’s also just one of the many things that quickens my pulse, causes my pupils to dilate, gets my blood boiling, and flushes my cheeks… which is a really good look, so really, who cares if it’s unhealthy?

Of course, it would be fine if I could just be a crazy-excited observer of fashion, an appreciator of the art, if you will. But I can’t. I have to get involved. I have to embody that new idea, that reinvented concept. And now that I find it easier to find things that look hot not only on the hangar, but on me as well, how can I refuse? I can’t, I tell you!

I wonder if there’s a pill I can take for this?

Trapped

Recently I have been finding it rather difficult to update this blog on a daily basis. I have posts in mind –  things I want to say, things I probably will say but know I shouldn’t, etc. – but I just can’t seem to find the motivation to write when I am actually at a computer! It’s beyond frustrating, especially as I seem to be suffering a decline in readership at the moment…

BUT, I will continue on… because I have to, godamnit! And because, really, why give up now?

So… today I am not feeling all that great (physically)… The shaky/freezing aspect of last night is gone, THANK GOD, but now I have a cough and I sound like a frog. Well, okay, I don’t really sound like a frog… I still have a human voice, but it is just a little froggier sounding than usual!

Because of this momentary impediment in my physical wellness, I slept in REALLY, REALLY late this morning. Okay… it was noon, the morning had gone. I was punished for my lethargy with a splitting headache, but it has since been defeated by an Ibuprofen and coffee chaser. Western drugs, yay! And really, I should not be writing today, because my mood is crap. But I will go on! (Currently, the Spice Girls are playing on my iPod for energy-boosting awesomeness… no joke!)

Aaaanyway,

As it became very clear very quickly that I would not be doing anything productive today, I decided to break out the new NYLON and live vicariously through other people’s creativity. And then, it hit me – the reason why I have been lately feeling so Effing uninspired… I live in a SUBERB! As far as revelations go, this one is not very significant. I have been aware of my address for quite some time, ever since the amnesia wore off and I stopped insisting that people refer to me as Goddess Divine (kidding!)… But I guess the real revelation was in realizing just exactly how much my surroundings have been affecting my state of mind. How can I be inspired in a land where everything stays the same?! Is it any wonder that I feel this strange compulsion to shop/re-invent myself/cultivate ridiculous obsessions every other week?! I think I may be on to something here…

The only question now is – how the hell do I get out of here?

I need to start making more money, that much is clear.

In the past, I thought this meant college, a career, etc. But in going back to school and attempting to figure out what exactly it is that I want to do, I have discovered something – I hate school. Really, truly, physically hate it. I used to think it was my pathetic lack of social skills that made me so miserable in high school, but I was wrong… it was the being forced to sit through six painfully uninteresting classes a day that was the true source of my unhappiness! Of course, the having so few real friends part didn’t help either…

Currently, the plan is to get a Cosmetology license. I already cut and die my own hair, obsess over other people’s (celebrities) appearances, and see potential makeovers everywhere I go… so this should simply be a natural extension of that which I already am… right? I figure that if all goes well, I will be able to move out of my parents house (and into an apartment with oddball roommates… yes!) manage my own affairs (as in, shop, see movies, go to shows, etc.) and maybe, if I’m really good about saving (I’m not), I’ll be able to do some actual travelling - which I NEED… seriously, my soul is dying without it.

I also need to develop more of a personal life… for your sake as much as my own! I realize it is no coincidence that my view count peaks every time I write about one of those silly little crushes of mine… and I sincerely apologize for the utter lack of development in that area.

(Okay, I realize that it is really not necessary to apologize to all of you for simply failing to develop my own personal life… that I am probably, in fact, only transferring my own regrets onto you! But really, I think I would get annoyed if I were reading a story and all the author ever did was introduce love interrests who dissapeared a few pages later. I really will have to do something about that!)

So, right….

More money and a personal life

This should be do-able, right?

RIGHT?!

In Which I Contemplate Becoming a Lonely Wanderer

I spent the better part of this morning scouring Expedia for affordable plane tickets. To anywhere.

And when I say “morning”, I mean afternoon.
(The morning and I were not thrilled with each other today. We got up, looked at each other, and sighed apathetically. I went back to sleep and it didn’t complain.)

I have always been fairly certain that the place where I live now is not the place where I should live forever, and rather enjoy the idea of living in several different places throughout the course of my life. That being said, I have cultivated many unattractive habits which keep me from living this dream, and trap me in a place of “learning to love what you have.” (A worthwhile skill, yes, but in the end a bit of a cop-out.)

So far, I have been to a few places (Toronto, Switzerland, Amsterdam and Cairo.) However, I have always travelled with a group, never alone. And in reality, I don’t want to travel alone. Although I am fairly awesome at being alone (if only because I find myself fascinating, and know what songs to play on my iPod in order to become instantly happy.) But for some reason, company (for me) is a must when exploring new lands.

Or so it seems.

Sure, having a travel-mate would be awesome… but certainly not necessary.
In fact, in the modern world, the benefits of a travel-mate can be acquired by other means. Non-human ones.

For example, if I need to:

1) Find my way (I’m horrible at directions) I could either
a) Ask a directionally-superior companion, or
b) Get a GPS

2) Comment on what I’m seeing?
a) Talk to said companion
b) Write in a journal (the old-school blog)

3) Defend myself from mythical creatures (or you know, predators)…
a) Hide behind companion, or
b) Pull out the mace

Yes, having someone to share the experience with would be fantastic, preferable even. But traveling alone? Still better than not travelling at all.

Now, if only I could kick that ugly shopping addiction…

A Letter To My Lovers

Dear $200 pair of pumps,

I want you. The way I feel when I look at you can only be described as pure, unadulterated lust. (You know you see me staring!) It’s embarrassing, but I can’t help it. I think of you and imagine how perfect we could be together, what I wouldn’t do to have you! And yet I know, deep down, in my heart-of-hearts, that I must pass you by. In the end you would only hurt me, and what was once a joyous and wonderful relationship would turn into a black hole of resentment and despair.

Regretfully,

Your not-so-secret admirer

Dear Starbucks’ Grande Cappuccino,

How lovely you are to me! So exactly the opposite of everything I seem to stand for, you invite me in to a place of warm acceptance, and spoil me with affection. A little conservative, to be sure… and true, your corporate lifestyle is not to my taste. But the way you give me exactly what I want, when (and where) I want it, is enough to make me want to see you time and time again! Never too little, never too much, you are there when I need you, and gone when I don’t. And did i mention how good you taste?

Affectionately,

Your mid-morning come-and-go

Dear Blogger,

I simply cannot get enough of you. An endless source of wit and wisdom, you are all I need to make the day seem worthwhile. You are always introducing me to new ideas, people, and ways of looking at the world. What can I say? I’m obsessed. Does it hurt to admit it?

Forever yours,

The Weirdo

P.S. I may someday leave you for WordPress. Don’t hate me!

Pretty Messed Up

Today is the first day in maybe two months that my room has been clean. My excuse? I share my room with my 17-year-old sister. Who has A LOT of clothes. And a closet, which she never uses.

I, on the other hand, wound up using half a closet in my parents room when I moved back and realized there was no longer any room for me in the old one. So yes, sometimes when I get home at night and can’t go into my parents’ room because my dad is sleeping, I plop my clothes on to the end of my bed… which later turns into a small pile which spills on to the floor.

But I think it’s perfectly acceptable… because I say so. (And that’s final!)

Anyway, in addition to having way too many clothes which she never puts away, my sister also (apparently) does not have enough clothes! Now, if anyone can understand the “I don’t have anything to wear!” complex, it is me… I just went shopping (again) at Forever 21 (because I don’t have any brights)… I simply am not thrilled with the part of this complex which seems to dictate that she borrow ALL of my clothes, EVERY day, and usually WITHOUT asking. Even more frustrating? The clothing-pile-deep understanding that while I am out busily feeding my shopping addiction, she is effectively using my lack of self control to save money. NOT FAIR. There is really no point to being the oldest. Seriously.

But whatever, I’m too old to whine (or something.)

In other news, Andrew Bird is releasing his new album on TUESDAY and I could not be more excited! I’m thinking of making it an all-me-on-my-own day… getting stuff done, exchanging a mistake for something awesome, getting lunch, coffee, etc, and OF COURSE picking up the CD at my favorite local record store. Yay!

You know, sometimes it really is nice not having a steady job…

What Dreams May Come (and bug the hell out of me)

Part One: Sex and the City makes me want to shop!!!

For the most part, I’m pretty well satisfied with my life… I live at home, but I love my family (and we actually get along, gah!); I work in retail, but I like my co-workers (one in particular I like a little too much, but we’ll get into that later); and I have friends whom I adore (though some of them unfortunately live very far away!)

For me, it’s all the little things that really count, like the fact that I can be made inordinately happy with the mere mention of musicals – live or filmed, have a very good time being obsessed with certain books (Harry Potter and Twilight series’, anything Jane Austen or Oscar Wilde, etc.), and love nothing better than a good night in playing SingStar or watching the beloved TV. But sometimes, I come across something that makes me feel as though I need to drop everything and become a world-wide success (and subsequently become filthy-stinking-rich) IMMEDIATELY! One of these things is Sex and the City. I love this show for many reasons… unfortunately one of these reasons also makes me feel severely inadequate, and that reason is THE CLOTHES. I know, I know, it’s just material, they’re just possessions (I barely even believe that at this point), but that doesn’t change the fact that one episode later and I am more than convinced that if I could only dress (and maybe even look like) Carrie Bradshaw, my life would be A MILLION times better!!

Honestly, I had the computer on my lap while watching, and before the show was even over I had this very strong impulse to go to UrbanOutfitters.com and completely re-invent myself. (For me, UO is like the version of SATC that I can actually, sort of, afford. I know it’s not the same, don’t be confused.)

The good news is that I PREVAILED! I resisted the online-shopping urge and am no more in dept today than I was yesterday (or the day before, when I bought two Cd’s I really didn’t need.)

(Part two to come. Although I should mention that the only things Part One and Part Two will really have in common are the titles and the dates published. Bare with me, it’s fun.)