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The Soviet-Era Ribs Records I found In My Grandparents' House
7.21.2023
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Mother's Day 2023
5.18.2023
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The Safety Blanket
2.21.2023
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The Story of Our Reunion
2.18.2023
Maybe it’s oversharing, but the story of my reunion with my mom has been one of the most harrowing and important developments in my adult life. Between her hospital discharge and today, I managed to get my mom a cell phone and she has been able to slowly figure it out. It feels like a miracle. She’s amazed and delighted by the ability to send text messages and the chance to keep a tiny camera in her pocket.
I wasn't sure I’d see the day where she would be able to regain and maintain the lucidity I had been grieving was lost for so many years. Her bravery, dignity and joie de vivre is so moving it brings me to tears. She explains she’s an optimist because she “was born in the spring”. On May 10th, heavens willing, we will celebrate her 68th birthday, at last, together.
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Catching Up: Wears/Wares
9.03.2022
Observe: 2 years-worth of catching up on the stuff I fill our apartment with and a couple amusing outfits.
Here are some wares\wears
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Rachel Comey made these flared fishnet pants. I'm pretty sure I have only ever worn them under dresses, especially in the summer when I wanna wear something that feels fall-adjacent but still has sweet, sweet airflow. Here I paired 'em with a Theyskens' Theory dress that I have own two colors.
Know: I loooooooved Theyskens' Theory in college. Between 2010-2014 Olivier Theyskens took the lead designing these über cool, slick and perversely practical city girl-friendly collections under a sub-brand for Theory, and I have a nostalgic thing I can't let go of from clothes from that time. Everything felt sexy and dark.
This dress is actually two pieces: an a-line shift with a wispy/smoky chiffon overlay, PLUS it has a hidden hoodie pocket under the overlay!! I mean!!!
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I'm Tired, So Wanna Pick Up Again
7.23.2022
I used to type "b" into my browser address field and it would bring up the blogger homepage that I stubbornly keep this thing hosted on. Because in my heart I'm still 15 and this is still 2009 and I'm futzing around the attic with hot lights for some stupid reason to help me pretend I know how to take a photo and set up a camera. Instead I check in with myself, and realize it's not the streets of Buffalo, New York outside my window anymore, where it smells like fireplaces and crispy, cold air. My world doesn't feel small and hopeful, or nearly as romantic as it did when I was a teenager. This happens to everyone, but y'know, now I'm writing about it.
I'm 30 now. I turned 30 this year.
I have a life I had no idea how I would land when I was a teenager. I pay bills and work a job that is way beyond what I could have comprehended as a child and it humbles me every week (an understatement). I question myself constantly and I'm just as hard on myself now as when I was looking down the barrel of taking the regents exam. I wonder if making money is satisfying enough. I have family members who have died now who I thought would live forever.
I'm a dime a dozen now, which I guess is its own comfort.
Here's my check-in:
• I work in tech
• I'm naive but creative
• I'm satisfied by a sense of purpose and "fit" but I kinda lost my way.
Still, I love trying to understand style anywhere I can, I like talking about why people want to express themselves a certain way. I love what Omondi's doing, her work is the closest thing I have to the feeling I would get after seeing someone shared a new blog post.
Instagram sucks, I loathe TikTok, though I dig through Tumblr and Pinterest still, as this is where I can still fall down holes and remain a dinosaur of internet life comfortably. I miss magazines. I miss the feeling of waiting. I waited. If you are still reading this and had been in a position of waiting, welcome back. I hope I can satisfy something in us.