During my last post I mentioned how life in the spring is just a monotonous series of events that includes constantly going to work, increasingly bad hair, and impressive experimentation on what a grown woman can actually define as her evening meal. What I'm saying here is time is of the essence when one is working what seems to be endless overtime. It's these moments where creativity, especially in the kitchen, can be key.
When I'm this busy I find it hard not to feel like I've somehow lost myself. I'm an individual who takes pride in defining herself with her hobbies. For example, I love to read fiction. I am a bookworm. I enjoy sewing. I am a crafty type. I'm fond of cooking. Actually, I believe I may be the, "Casserole Queen." Lastly, these days I find myself mostly writing. Basically, a good therapist is too expensive so I opted to start this, "style," blog in order to ramble on about the stuff on my mind while showing endless pictures of me trying to look like the person I want to be. In actuality, this blog has been a very effective way for me to have just a smidgen of control over my self image. Sometimes I look back and read past posts that literally, "crack me up." This blog has made me realize that sometimes I think I'm pretty funny. Whether others agree with this statement is really of no consequence because I'm not looking for others to define me. I'm seeking my own personal definition of self. Which I now believe is a Stephen King reading, tater tot hotdish slinging, narcissist wearing yet another amateur re purposed creation straight from her sewing machine. See, all I needed was a little time on the computer keyboard to work that definition out.
I named the title of this blog post after a Radiohead lyric that goes, "Phew, for a minute there I lost myself, I lost myself." I've always felt very connected to this lyric and the idea of the sudden realization that one can get swept up in the day to day grind and loose what is constant and true about themselves. I must state, I've always hated loosing things. It brings a real sense of anxiety to me. For example, I lost the brooch I'm wearing in the above photographs for a whole year once. I had worn it while going to an outdoor art festival with friends. Upon arriving home I realized it was no longer pinned to my button down shirt. I remember being super frustrated by this and decided to immediately rip apart my shirt and transform it, via aforementioned sewing machine, into a pretty impressive headscarf. Writing this now, I anticipate people may think this to be odd behavior. I suppose I should admit it is totally possible that I had decided to transform the shirt before noticing the missing brooch, but that just doesn't make as good of a story. Anyway, I mourned the loss of my missing item for about a week until I moved on to whatever new, "crisis," came my way. About a year went by (we're talking seasons of rain, sleet, snow) and one sunny day a maintenance man brought it to my door saying he found it laying in the yard and thought it might be mine. I couldn't believe it! There it was, a little tarnished, but as I remembered it. Sometimes this is how I feel about myself. So this time, I decided to take some pictures of myself and the brooch. Now, a part of me feels like neither one of these things can ever be totally lost.
Blazer: Ann Taylor
Jeans: Silver Jeans
Boots: J. Jill
Brooch: Thrifted (then lost, then gifted back by a nice stranger)
Rings: Spoon Ring: https://www.etsy.com/shop/ELOFSON Costume Ring: Thrifted
Sunglasses: Vintage https://www.etsy.com/shop/ELOFSON
Radiohead's, "Karma Police": https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IBH97ma9YiI