Waste

With finals afoot, I am majorly identifying with this series of prints by Alyson Provax. "This series is a sort of audit of how I spend my time," she writes, "but the prints could also be thought of as permission slips allowing you to spend a period of time in a wasteful way." I love that! 

If I were to add a few of my own they would probably sound a lot like '30 seconds reheating the brownie in the microwave,' '1 minute and 14 seconds sitting in the car waiting for the song to finish,' '23 minutes staring,' and 'the next two weeks in constant duress.' 

The Oscars, my friends. THE. OSCARS.

I have finals to do. I am like, really busy. Like, super busy. But why not take 6 hours on Sunday when I should be doing homework and projects due the next morning to first watch Ryan Seacrest awkwardly compliment celebrities on how jealous he is of their hair volume followed by about a half a dozen long haired men accept awards for things like sound mixing in a foreign animated short or Avatar (that's still being nominated, right?). I'll tell you why. We do it for the fashion. We do it for the moments when Jennifer Lawrence falls on her face. We do it for the rare occassion every few years where we get invited into Jennifer Garner and Ben Affleck adorable marriage. WE DO IT FOR OSCAR. 

And where I didn't time budget on Sunday, I am having to time budget now. For this year's wrap up, I don't have enough time to rip apart Seth Macfarlane's sub par hosting job or how much I don't like Jennifer Hudson (I know. Sorry.) but I'm going to focus on my favorite fashion moments. Duh. 

Let's start with the big winner. J-Law. This Dior Haute Couture dress was simultaneously her best friend and worst enemy. Yes, the dress fit her like a glove and emoted sophistication and timelessness like no other, but it also ended up being to blame for her great fall (which, I might add, could not have been done more gracefully) when accepting her award. The pale pastel color was a definite trend of the night, as well as my top picks. 

Me and my clique absolutely loved Amanda Seyfried in Alexander McQueen. Not everyone can pull off the high neckline (also worn flawlessly by Salma Hayek later in the evening) but her choice to keep her hair, makeup and jewelry simple complimented the dress beautifully. She rarely ever makes a misstep when it comes to fashion choices and this is just another one in the bank. Well played, Cosette. 

Ok, this is almost completely arbitrary to write, but Charlize Theron looked beautiful. She is wearing Dior Haute Couture. Her hair is amazing. Her makeup is stunning. Her jewelry is sparkly. I loved it. Let's move on. 

Oh, Anne Hathaway. What are we going to do with you? I love you. I hate you. I love you. I hate you. You love your husband. I hate you. Let's start at the beginning, ok? Your dress. My sources at E! tell me that you were supposed to be wearing a Valentino gown, someone you've worn beautifully a number of times before, but at the last minute (an hour before leaving for the red carpet) decided to switch to this Prada dress. I want to love it. I see the great potential in it, but the problem with changing your mind at the last minute means that the weeks and weeks of tailoring said dress that would have happened with the proper planning, had to be Macgyver'ed in hour that was allowed. Thus resulting in a beautiful couture gown being worn by a beautiful woman, but that fit poorly. A shame indeed. Especially considering the flack she has taken this awards season for campaigning for her Oscar win, I'm going to assume that the Valentino dress she was previously planning on wearing just screamed "winner." Maybe she got cold feet and wanted to do something a bit more subdued, but everyone knows her Oscar was in the bag, so I wish she had just gone for it. 

Still love the dress, though. 

But before we move on, allow me to point out the lady to Miss Hathaway's left in the background. Opaque white tights. Baby pink Mary Jane's. A one shoulder black dress and a white cardigan. And that, my friends, is how you rock the Oscars! 

I absolutely loved Jessica Chastain in this Armani dress. Completely beaded could have gone wrong. Terribly wrong. But like everything Miss Chastain gets her hands on these days, she knocked it out of the park. Her Golden Globes look was a bit more editorial and I liked it, but this is a quintessential Oscars moment. 

Eddie Redmayne wins for the boys. Every time. Forever and for always. <3 

That's it for this year. I hate when awards season is over. 

Finals Starting in 3...2...1...

I can't believe I'm saying this with three whole weeks of class before Spring Break, but it seems, in spite of intense protest and denial, finals have begun.

Wanna know how I know?

I went to Taco Bell for dinner last night. At 10:00.

I've been rocking a sports bra for 4 days straight.

Spencer is turning to spaghetti squash and a jar of honey as her main food groups.

I don't really know... no... I can't quite recall... I definitely don't know when my last shower was.

This is either because it's been a quite while or because my short term memory is rapidly deteriorating due to lack of sleep and sunlight.

...It should also be noted that it's been the same sports bra for the last four days...

Whatever. Boyfriends are overrated.

Words were exchanged today with a girl at Eckburg over how long it's appropriate for one person to hog use the scanner before moving out da way for other humans.

I may or may not have pulled up a chair next to her and watched her work until she decided to be mature and do the right thing.

Again: Whatever.

I'm listening to Pussycat Dolls Pandora. And loving it.

It's obvious that I'm already in over my head. Please stay tuned to watch my tri-annual mental breakdown. For the next three weeks, you are either with me or against me.

What?

Remember when you were a kid, like a little, little kid and you were learning how to function? And you'd be in kindergarden and you'd play games like what things start with the letter B? Or name things that are purple. Or what sound does a goat make? Well, the system is broken because I don't know about you, but at my school, they told me the correct answer for that last question is "baahhhhhhh."

That is not the correct answer. Or maybe it was the correct answer, but now, there are these super fancy Goats 4S that are making new sounds and turning into humans. Very loud humans.

Galentine's

Our Galentine's extravaganza was wonderful. And we have instax to prove it!

How was your Valentine's Day?

Happy Valentine's Day

“But I like you.” He cleared his throat. “I like you first and second and third."  

— F. Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise  

Dancing

I was already planning on posting this video today of Fred Astaire and Eleanor Powell dancing because it made me so happy when I watched it, but right before I did, I read this article about learning to dance and this excerpt alone made me want to close my computer, hit the yellow pages and find a beginners ballet class pronto. 

"We sat in a circle on the first day of ballet class, thirty-or-so adults on the floor. Our teacher was a lovely woman with the sort of soothing presence you’d hope for in an introductory-level dance class meant for grown-ups, and she’d asked each of us to share three things with the group: our name, our level of dance experience, and whether we had any injuries to report. ‘My name is Shoko,’ I said when it was my turn. ‘I was probably in kindergarten the last time I took a dance class. And my body feels fine.’ Next to me sat a man who must have been in his mid-sixties. He had an angular face, a friendly smile, hair that glinted silver. He introduced himself, telling us he was the proud father of two dancers, now grown. ‘Any aches and pains?’ the teacher asked. The man smiled. ‘I’ve lived a colorful life.’"

Oh to be regarded as a graceful dancer one day. What a dream it would be. 

Happy Wednesday. 

Did you think I had forgotten?

It's Valentine's week and... brace yourselves... but I think I'm sort of excited about it. I know. Who is this person? Because I sure as bells don't know her. The only reasoning I can come up with is that somewhere over the last three years of publicly mocking and berating this holiday on this very blog, I sort of developed a soft spot for all of the hearts and pink and red and love mush. What can I say? I didn't see it coming. I guess what they say is true, when you least expect it...

The roomies and I are hosting our annual Galentine's Day Party with all of our favorite single gals (or semi-single gals or boyfriended-but-boyfriend-is-out-of-Valentine's-range gals) and let me tell you, this is a coveted invitation. There's major buzz. I have even heard from a few ladies in Savannah who do in fact have steady beau's in their lives, that they would rather abandon their men folk in favor of ringing in the Boo Year with us. 

These are the invitations. I made them. Not gonna lie. I think I'm pretty funny. 

You wish you could come, don't you? It's ok. Break up with your boyfriend, and we'll talk next year. 

Anyway, to round out today's post, I leave you with kid's talking about Valentine's Day. It's dangerously close to exceeding the amount of cuteness that I allow myself to intake per day, but there are no kittens or elderly people or slow loris' so, it just makes the cut. 

Also:

It has just been decided that I am making this for dinner. Today is shaping up quite wonderfully, wouldn't you agree? 

Class Cancelled

Last night, I got an e-mail saying that my teacher had a family emergency and that this morning's class was cancelled. I am not a heartless monster. I hope she is ok. I hope everything in her life is ok. I really do. But, this morning, I can't help myself from sliding around the kitchen in my pajamas and my favorite pair of brown dress socks, stolen long ago from dad's closet, making raspberry scones and listening to a little music.

Music is such a gift. How boring would life be without dancing and singing and moving? Like, I listen to music every. single. day. Ugh. I love music. I mean, who doesn't? Seriously. Show me a person that doesn't like music and I will show you my confused face.

Anyway, I just figured out how to embed playlists from Spotify and I'm really excited about that. Not sure if you can listen to it if you don't have Spotify, but if you don't have it already, you really should just download it. Because it's free. And totally legal. And it's got music. And as we have just discussed, music is really great. Plus, then you'll get to listen to the exact same music that I'm listening to at the exact same time that I'm listening to it and it will sort be like we're hanging out, right?

Small Lists

Things you could send me if you wanted to:

• A jar of Cookie Butter from Trader Joe's. I wanted to try it over break and forgot. 
• My oatmeal colored tank top that I left at home. I just bought it. I only got to wear it once. 
• A letter. 

Tattoos that I would get if I were ever forced/allowed to get a tattoo:

• A small illustration of Baby Bok Choy
• Just the words "Baby Bok Choy"
• A list of different types of sugar

Reasons why it'd be handy to be married:

• Someone built in to help me put the sheets back on the bed after you wash them

 Dinner options:

• Pasta
• Panini

I need to start:

• Knitting again
• Working Out

Sweet Potatoes: A Love Story

I blame Dionna Schmidt. 

When she came over nearly 5 years ago and effortlessly threw a sweet potato in the oven, I can only assume that she was unaware of the beast she so easily unleashed. A salt and peppered temptress. A dangerous love with tiny, delicious, orange cubes. A tasty, tasty, slow baked sweet potato. 

Since that day, my obsession has only grown deeper. Here I sit, typing this very post, with a plate of baked sweet potatoes sitting in front of me. For the third time this week. Ok. The fourth time. I just can't help myself. 

They are, in my opinion the nicest vegetable. And the most forgiving. I can chop them up in the most casual of ways with all different shapes and sizes, no real uniformity required, douse with a little olive oil, slide them in the oven, literally forget about them, and 45 minutes later, that are better than ever. The only flaw in that scenario is that I would NEVER forget about them. Ever. Because from the second the word "lunchtime" dances into my head each day, I am counting down the seconds until the oven does it's job and I can pop these little bite sized beauties into my pie hole for immaculate consumption. 

So, secret admirer, this Valentine's Day, don't send me flowers. Don't send me chocolate. Send a shoe box full of sweet potatoes. And I'll be yours forever. 

Eating Oreos in Bed

Today I had a second interview with Anthropologie. I didn't feel like it went well. I didn't really feel like it went badly either. The whole thing left me confused. I mean, when someone starts an interview off by asking you to tell them about yourself... Um, are you kidding me? What a question! Especially when you're asking this girl. Tell you about myself? Where do I begin? Where do I stop? 

I like pasta, but not waffles. 

My whole family lives in California, but I live in Georgia. 

One of my biggest goals right now in my entire life is for my hair to be shoulder length by summer.
I really like watching spinach wilt and I also know how to use Photoshop. 

I'm a fashion design student who isn't sure she wants to design fashions, but wants you to hire her for a fashion design internship, pretty pretty please. 

The whole interview was ten minutes. I spent two of those minutes talking about Catalina Island. Don't ask. 

When it was all over, my only response was to panic eat Oreos in bed and fall asleep with a few crumbs on my cheeks. No shame. And now, we wait for the powers that be to drop the hammer and e-mail me back. I'll keep ya posted. 

Reset

Homework was not a top priority this weekend. As a matter of fact, the idea of homework was quite offensive. Spending such wonderfully chilly days holed up in my room focusing on anything other than the prospect of future food adventures and napping just seemed so wrong. 

On Thursday, we went on a failed Dairy Queen exploration. Ok, what happened to all of the DQ's everywhere? You spend years driving past Dairy Queen's every day and never utilizing them and then the day comes when all you ever want in the world is a Oreo shake and you realize you've missed your chance. For shame. 

Let's skip Friday. I was sick. 

Ok. Saturday. The farmer's market, which is closed in the winter, re-opened this week. I just really love the Forsyth Farmer's Market. If you ever are in Savannah, I would say that it's a must go. It's not the largest, as a matter of fact, it barely has 15 vendors, but if you go on the early side of the morning when the sun is warming up the tree branches and park is still quiet, there is nothing more wonderful than picking out the most beautiful butter lettuce or sampling fresh baked French bread to kick off a Saturday. 

For dinner, I got to spend the evening with a large majority of all of my favorite people in the world at Lindsay and Kara's way too cool for school apartment. Lindsay's mom is visiting Savannah and spoiled all of us with a delicious home-cooked meal. We all spent hours sitting on the floor, sipping on wine and eating delicious cheese, talking about life and school and affirming each other. It was such an uplifting evening that made me realize what cool, smart, talented, beautiful and kind friends I have. And Mrs. Giambattista made me realize how much I miss my own mom and her support and genuine excitement for my and my friend's dreams and lives. It's simple. Mom's are just the best. This night was such a blessing. 

Spencer and Oli in the elevator leaving Lindsay's apartment. They are just so cool. I think they are just so cool. 

Wait. Guys. This is really cool. After spending three years at an art school, you acquire a lot of art supplies. Specifically paper. Pads on pads on pads on pads of paper that is way overpriced and annoyingly hard to store and easily forgettable. And even though as a fashion student you never use said paper, it's heartbreaking to throw such (overpriced) pads of paper away (in spite of it's annoyingly hard to store qualities). And so it sits in the corner of your room. And you look at it every day and try and think of a creative way to keep that gross pile of paper, but hide that gross pile of paper so you don't have to stare at such a gross pile of paper. But you'll never be able to think of anything. And right when you have reached your whits end and you are about to throw it all away, something funny sort of strikes you and you decide that you want to do some sort of art project involving using the gross paper. 

Like yesterday. 

(Hold on. I'll get to the point soon. I swear.)

Inspired by Saturday night's dinner party, I wanted to play around with my ink and nubs. And when I opened this pad of paper that I swear I have not even looked at since freshman year, I saw this little note in the corner that I apparently wrote to myself sometime over 2 years ago. Like a time capsule! (I live for stuff like this. I hide a lot of stuff just to find it later. Sort of like a crazy hoarder. No. A lot like a crazy hoarder.) Anyway, I was so excited/sort of weirded out when I saw this because of how applicable it was. Like always, life is a little up in the air right now and there are some decisions that will have to be made in the next few months that are going to be hard. And I've already been working on the idea of trusting in God in regards to my future and letting go of expectations that I have put on myself or I think that people have put on me, but this note was just a little affirmation of that in perfect timing. He works in mysterious ways, doesn't He?

Anyway, I really did try to do homework a bunch of times. I really did. But I ended up having fun instead. 

What did you do this weekend?

Comprable

Heard this today. And I liked it.

"When you compare yourself with others, you are comparing your insides with their outsides."