All these were taken by me, except for one taken by my boyfriend. I keep getting obsessive with the aesthetic of all white, or shades of white. It's like I have a special eye for it. There are certain people who turn their entire internet presence into a matter of just monochromatic shades and it baffles me. I can't get enough of it. From time to time I like to indulge in their blogs or instagrams or what have you and just cleanse my clogged up aesthetic plate.

Everything white (or black and white) is like an alternate universe for me, and bloggers who manage to stick to rigid color schemes must find solace in the absence of excess as well. My main problem is my actual lifestyle--and how bursting with excess it really is. I'm not rich, but I have a lot of things cluttering my familiar spaces constantly. It's stressful and colorful and overwhelming. 

In my mini instagram 'about me' blurb I put "a maximalist with minimal undertones." It hardly makes any sense, but it's my little way of proclaiming that I am truly a maximalist-- I love lots of jewelry, makeup, clothes, THINGS, people, love; but in the "undertones" of my daily existence, I truly find peace with the idea of minimal colors, things, and just ways of life. If that makes sense. When I strip everything down to what it's really worth, I get this primal satisfaction that no excess of anything could really gratify.



























Some older photos from this winter. These definitely have a melancholic twinge to them (not just the obvious first photo of Owen with a sad face). I enjoy compiling photos from the same time period that don't have much relation to each other in terms of composition or subject. That's what really lets *nostalgia* feelings/aesthetics form, it seems. I guess the only relation these have is the snow. Even after summer finally started showing its sunny face, I sometimes still feel the cold wistfulness settled in my bones... I guess winter never really ends.








Lately I've been a little obsessive over pleated skirts and fishnets. Both are from American Apparel, and my top is old F21. It's a little harder wearing [normal] outfits like these now that I'm home for the summer (even though I'm 19) because my parents still think that short skirts and fishnets are "slutty." 
"It's okay, you just don't understand style" is my extremely juvenile response I usually give them. I guess we both need to be a little more progressive.





These were taken last fall, shortly after I got my job as a sales associate at American Apparel downtown. I was very excited about my lips print, and at the time, I posted some instagram photo of myself in this outfit saying something about how "femininity rules" mainly because there's lips on my shirt and lips=femininity. 
I've been feeling many feminist things lately, and I've also been feeling bummed about my lack of voice in that department. That's why I'm back to this little blog. I'd say I'm still in the early stages of being a feminist (even after a few years of identifying with the label), where I'm constantly reminded of little things in media and in the streets of my place in culture as a ~woman~. I'd like to say that people who have been feminist for the greater portions of their lives grow an even *greater* awareness that makes it possible for her/him to not always feel so anguished by feminism's acknowledgment of social issues pertaining to women, but there's another part of me that also acknowledges that those anguished feelings might lessen, but will never go away.
I'm still young, so I'm still figuring things out.









Again and again, I'm here on the floor
the snow is starting to collect
over my eyelids
please
sing again,
I'm crawling on the ground for you
for when you open your mouth
i'd be damned
if the sun didn't move out of those
clouds, those godforsaken clouds
keeping me in the brisk shade,
under the swallowing tree,
the clouds have captured me.
for my endless minutes waiting and
waiting, for the sun
to emerge from them.
there's nothing like
rubbing up against your pillow
when you're at a loss of what to feel or
wondering if you should have fallen asleep by now.
there's nothing like the grand scheme
of me trying to run around my words
like something is going to come out of it that
maybe you'll want to read
and it can mean
something, it can
mean a lot more than I
think it will, in the end.


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