channeling cher

i remember distinctly, when the movie clueless came out. i was in fifth grade and it was the first time i became truly aware of the idea of personal style. up until then, i had experimented a bit with some ghetto-trashy fashion. even as a kid i was drawn to all the hoochie stuff. but it was alicia silverstone's cher who opened up my eyes to the fact that clothing can be just as artistic an outlet as painting, writing or dancing, and that you can use your image to tell the world all sorts of things about yourself.

from there i went wild, taking fashion risks, going through a goth phase, a glam phase, a slutty phase. i still phase in and out of different styles, tyring to find the one that works best for me, but i always look fondly back at that first phase, the one that started it all.

which is why i'm fixin to bring that shit back! i know that the nineties is experiencing a weird sort of resurgence in fashion lately anyways, so it's not like this is totally original of me, but still, somewhere deep inside, i've always been waiting for the day when i could rock my knee-hi's and plaid skirts with pride again.

now, all that's left to do is find an uber-hot, smarty-pants, paul rudd look-alike and my life will be complete.



love always

let's talk about baz luhrmann please

i totally meant to write something about just how much i adore baz luhrmann right after i watched australia, but i never got around to it because i was too busy crying about how freaking adorable nullah is.

in any case, baz luhrmann is my favorite director ever, without a doubt. so when i read today that he's gonna be directing a movie version ofthe great gatsby, which is my favorite book ever, without a doubt, i pretty much did cartwheels all around my condo despite the sweltering heat and lack of a/c.
the tool who wrote the stupid article was concerned that the new version won't be "american" enough. if by american he means dull and polluted, then he's probably right. here's what's going to happen: baz luhrman is going to come in and make the whole thing into a huge fucking sparklefest. personally, i think this is a good thing.
i have never been let down by luhrmann's work. the images in his movies appeal to me on such a deep, subconscious level. they've been with me for so long and they mean so much to me, it's like you could use them to make a map of my heart.


love always

i have a new girlcrush

i went to see beyonce on thursday night, and i must tell you, she was so insanely good. i'd never really given her a second thought before. i admired the fact that she has always been fearless about flaunting her curves, and i assumed that she must have a big heart to be able to get past the fact that jay-z is hands down, the ugliest human being on earth (no matter how rich and talented he is). i kept a few of her songs on my ipod for those days when i felt like being super girly, but would have never considered myself an actual fan.
then, by some brilliant stroke of luck, i somehow managed an invite to the super-special, private, vip party thrown by moet in the top box. in all honesty, i could have been seeing fucking nickelback and i probably would've still loved it because of a). the amount of champagne involved and b). the idea of being glared at enviously by the paltry masses who had to sit in regular old seats. if i had been able to figure out how to use the camera on my new phone, i would now be bombarding you with pictures of my insane glamouressness.
on the other hand, i think i would've been pretty floored by beyonce even if i was sitting in the worst seat in the house behind some fat, drunk guy who smelled like ass. the second that she came out, she owned that entire stadium. something about her energy is just larger than life. she had about eight million costume changes and everytime she left the stage you could literally feel her absence. when she smiled, i could see it from all the way up where i was sitting and it made me want to smile too.
her stage show, with all it's glitter and costumes and special effects felt like something i would've dreamed up as a little girl. she looked unapolagetically gorgeous, with all this fake wind blowing her long hair around, and she danced flawlessly the whole time in high heels. it was so over-the-top fabulous that i felt like i had been sucked into some kind of super-girly alternate universe (this is where i think all the moet had a big influence).

and that's the other thing, her performance was so female-centric and y'all just know how i go weak in the knees for the super-feminine. every single musician on her stage (all eight-hundred of them) was female and she made a point of mentioning that to the audience. she sang songs about loving yourself, being proud of your accomplishments, not needing anyone or anything else to survive. i think it was during the part where she asked the audience to sing irreplaceable when i realized that i was surrounded by a sold-out stadium full of girls all singing about how they don't need a man and feeling totally empowered by that.
it occured to me then, that beyonce is more than just a pop singer. she's a feminist icon, making room in this world for more girls to be sexy, glamorous, succesful, proud of the bodies that they were born with and still maintain their dignity, class and self-respect. how often does she mention the fact that she makes her own money without ever relying on a man? i never really noticed before, but it's like every two seconds. that is the message that i want my unborn daughters to hear; go out in the world and make your own way, so that you can make your own rules.


as you can probably tell, i left this show feeling so inspired, so empowered, so reassured and validated, that in the course of the past twenty-four hours i have become beyonce obsessive. songs that used to sound like pop fluff to me, now sound like pure musical genius for no other reason than that they make me feel good. and everyone knows that the world could certainly use a little more of that.

love always

bring on the karma baby!

on the 21st of this month, there's supposed to be a huge solar eclipse. the longest of the 21st century! unfortunately, all us middletown folk will not be able to see it. it will be visible only to people living in china or the pacific ocean, who i am now insanely jealous of.
according to penny thornton whose horoscopes i follow obsessively on astrolutely , "eclipsed new moons bring new beginnings, which is an entirely positive process, however, the way those new beginnings come in could be disturbing. if you go along with the notion of karma- the spiritual law of cause and effect- you might like to think of eclipses as karmic points- periods in which the harvest of past actions is reaped, and the seeds of of future events are sown."
normally this sort of proclamation would send me into a panic, obsessing over every little thing i've done wrong and wondering in what awful ways god would choose to smite me, but for some reason, i'm cool with it. when i look back at my past actions, i feel pretty happy. i'm no angel, but especially recently, i think i've run my life with a fair bit of integrity, grace and compassion. i may have had my ups and downs, but i've worked really hard to not betray myself and that, i think is what makes for the best karma.

love always

it's all about me, me, me, me, me!

when i was in something like sixth grade, i had this shirt from contempo casuals that said worship me like the goddess i am. it was pink and adorable. the only problem was that the words were written in this elaborate cursive scrawl that was a bit hard to make out and so people would always come up to me and be like "who's the goddess jam? i never heard of her..." and i'd just be like "duh, loser, it says 'worship me the like the goddess i am' so, you know, get on your knees bitch"

i'm not even exagerating. i was like that all the time as a preteen, and most of the time as a full-blown teen as well. then, something happened. call it whatever you want. getting lame. getting old. getting a conciense. one day, i just went too far and i hurt someone who i cared about and all of a sudden i became aware of other people's feelings, and then the next thing you know, i was taking responsibility for other people's feelings, and soon after that, there was no room left for my own feelings, so i pushed them off to the side and with them went my self-esteem, my lust for life, my faith in god, not to mention my sex-drive, my social life and a whole slew of other things that no longer seemed important. i was being noble. i was being humble. i was doing the right thing .
and eventually i would be rewarded for it
but i wasn't rewarded for it. i don't know what i expected, except maybe for the sky to open up and shower me with blessings, but it sure wasn't happening. even worse, i found that when i neglected my own feelings to pick up the slack for others, they rarely did the same for me. still for some sick reason, i perservered. i was determined to be selfless, because i thought of that as a good thing.
now, i look at that word and it seems so accurate. self less. without my self, there was less of everything. less love. less fun. less faith. the truth is, i ain't no martyr. i do really, genuinely want everyone in the whole world to be happy, but if you gave me a choice between my own hapiness and that of another person, and i made that choice genuinely and from the heart, i'd choose myself, one-hundred percent of the time.
and is that really such a bad thing? i'm not saying that there aren't people who i care about in this world. i'm not saying that there aren't sacrifices worth making. i'm just saying that truly, no sacrifice is worth making if it doesn't eventually contribute to my own hapiness. no person is worth so much of what's mine that there's none left over for me. after all i've been through, the hard truth i've finally learned is that if i abandon myself to care for another, no one's going to pick up the slack for me. if i don't look out for myself, no one else will.

there's a word we generally use for someone who understands this: self-centered. in our culture, we throw this word around like in a derogatory manner, accusing people of being self-centered when we want to guilt them into doing something for us. but if we really look at this word, if we take it apart, we're left with self, as in self esteem, self worth, self actualization, to thine own self be true, and then another word: centered.
doesn't that kind of sound like it'd be better for all of us?

love always

fancy footwork

for some reason they were playing this video at my gym today and i couldn't help but swoon over these amazing moves:

i've had a thing for mr. pop since i was a kid and my momma used to lay in front of the stereo and daydream while listening to candy, which is totally my favorite song ever. in fact, i have this crazy fantasy where i meet my soulmate and the only way i know he's my soulmate is because he knows all the words to that song and we totally sing it together just like in a musical.

short shorts, fat ass

it's finally summer here. the sun is shining. the birds are singing. the rain has slowed to just one eensy-weensy little thunderstorm a day (trust me, this an improvement). all in all, i should be a pretty happy girl, right? i should have little to nothing to complain about, correct?
nope. never!
my latest qualm was actually brought on by the beautiful weather, which has reminded of one of life's little injustices that i never fully could accept:
my complete inability to wear shorts.
for years, i avoided even the mention of them. why? because the second i put them on my big, cuddly ghetto-booty takes one look at them and goes oh! what a cute little pair of shorts you are! let me give you a hug! om nom nom nom! and then proceeds to swallow them whole so that all that's left is a tiny swatch of fabric sticking out of the vast landscape of my bare asscheeks.
now, i've tried some basic solutions i.e., buy a bigger size, shop in the old lady department, avoid anything fabrics that might be prone to riding up. apparently, nothing works. case in point: i recently bought a pair of sturdy denim shorts two sizes too big and a few inches too long. i'm talking grandma style. my mom even borrowed them from me once, reasurring my initial assumption that coochie cutters, these are not. so i wore em out last week and i'm walking towards my friends car and she starts screaming out the window "damn girl! put some clothes on you little slut!" later, after much scowling, sulking and pouting from me she's like "you know i was just kidding right?" and i'm thinking yeah, sure you were.
now normally, i wouldn't sweat it that much, but the situation brought back a seriously painful memory for me. a few years ago, my current beau and i decided to grab a pizza and spend the night in. i wore a sexy little pair of velour booty shorts, hoping to seduce him. so when we went to go pick up the pizza down the street, the owner/manager of the pizza place who happens to be an aqaintance of ours is like "um, excuse me but your ass is hanging out. i can see your buttcheeks. you might want to put some clothes on" and of course, i'm completely mortified! i was just trying to look nice for my boyfriend, and on top of that, it's not like i'm the first woman to ever wear a pair of short shorts. once we got in the car, i told my boyfriend how embarassed i was and he was just like "bae, what do you expect when you dress like a slut?" EXCUSE ME, MOTHERFUCKER, BUT I WORE THOSE FOR YOU!!!!!
i now realize that it takes a huge d-bag to make a comment like that, and an even bigger d-bag to not have his girl's back, but still, the memory of it shames me and induces massive amounts of cringing, not to mention a strong aversion to ever wearing shorts again.
the problem is, i like shorts! who the fuck wants a pair of skinny jeans hugging up on your thighs in ninety degree heat? plus, the fashion possibilities are endless! shorts with tights, shorts with knee-his, shorts with boots. but no matter how i wear em, i always end up looking like this guy:

*le sigh*

love always