I love clothes.

This is fact.

I hate being force fed fashion though. I want to wear what I want to wear, regardless of whether or not it is “in style.” I went to the mall recently, and I was disgusted by the fashions being displayed. They were played out and down right ugly, not to mention overly priced.

I am a pretty big fan of thrift stores and vintage shops. You can create unique and fantastic outfits from the things you can find from the past~

Examples:

The cardigan and the belt are from Goodwill. The paintings are mine . This was before I lost some weight, so my legs look big.

I found the shirt and belt at Salvation Army, and the pants at a random store for ten dollars. This photo was from two hours ago. Compare leg size... if you want.

Vintage high waisted skirt from Etsy, belt from Goodwill. More of my art in the back .

The vintage sweater is from Etsy. I took the beads off of it though since this picture. I also lost weight.

So yes, these are some outfits I’ve made (I’ve made many others) out of thrift and vintage finds. I infinitely prefer the wide variety found in thrift shops to the forced generic fashions found in mall stores. And besides, a lot of second hand shops donate their profits to good causes.

I’m tired of writing this post now though. Goodnight.

I’ve had an abstract thought about art for a while.

An artist has no obligation to anyone beside herself. Art in its purest form is an emotion brand new, splayed out in lines and textures so that it may be tangible and legible to its creator. It should serve no other purpose than helping the artist understand her cognition, her spirit, and her heart.

there it is, expressed in words…finally. I guess I have a clear head today.

freethought.

do you remember me in our days of naivete? weak in the knees, we spoke through harlequin lips and shot sparks out of our finger tips. in the depths of a dissolved valley we caught fire, and oh how we burned, how we turned the earth black, how we discovered that there is no turning back. withering petals cascaded in the biggest blaze ever created {bourne from our tongues, a slithering lie} as our consciousness faded into a lust filled passion {dancing in the rye}. broken and bruised, alive and abused, we awoke to destroyed innocence and we spoke of the remaining flowering quince. its symbols, its spines, its blossoming rhymes; foreshadowing the beauty in our painfully fragile times emerging from this cataclysmic mistake.

do you remember me? i persuaded you to deconstruct the world.

Well, my precollege summer experience application is finally finished. I’ve spent months dawdling and trying to create pieces I thought would be worthy for the process. I just have to burn my portfolio disc, print off my application and statement, and send it off to be judged. I am hoping for a large scholarship, but I know I shouldn’t be too optimistic in case I’m not rewarded one. I’m thinking of setting up a donation paypal account (my family is dirt poor, to anyone reading this) to make up the difference if my scholarship is small or non existant… but I have a feeling no one would donate. Haha.

Which suddenly makes me feel very grateful towards the wonderful and generous people who have given me art supplies these past couple of years… thank you <3.

As soon as this envelope I have here is in the postage system, I will feel such a relief knowing I actually did it; I actually had the balls to apply to a prestigous art school’s summer program. I don’t even think I will worry about getting a scholarship or even getting accepted until the day they are supposed to announce the recipients.

Anyway… It’s three a.m. and that’s typically my Sunday bedtime.