Frances Halloway

I've been wanting to watch Francis Ha for THE longest time and I finally got around to watching it on Netflix last night. I wish I could ironically or un-ironically hate this movie but really, I almost want to say I loved it. How is it that a movie can so aptly summarize everything you're going through and everything you're feeling and know you're going to feel in the near future, without having ever met you? Frances always wears these leggings and socks, a fur collared aviator jacket, some sort of wrinkled button up, and Converse high tops: a uniform that remains the only consistent aspect of her unpredictable and confused life.
I think I need a uniform for my own life.

i do what i want

Sometimes, life calls for a celebration (and drinking wine from a straw in a pineapple cup).
Happy hump day!

habits

I came upon this little piece about famous writers' quirks and habits and it made me realize yet again that there are no rules when it comes to writing and honing your craft.
I was also reminded of this book that I gifted a friend last year.
Maybe I should buy it for myself.

stuck in the house need to get out more

If you asked me if I liked Drake two years back, I would have responded with a grimace and an open mouth ready to say "ew." But I think I understand now why exactly he's so popular, and it's not because he was born in October (I have an affinity for people born in the same month as me). It's his relatable lyrics; those one-liners buried in his countless laments of rising to the top and staying grounded at the same time. Right now, at this time in my life, I'm his "mom cooped up in her apartment, telling herself that she's too sick to get dressed and go do shit."
I've been stuck in a limbo far way too long. It's a limbo where I'm almost forgetting what I am, who I am, why I'm even existent on this Earth. At this point, music's one of the only things reminding me I'm alive and in the words of Drake, to not think about it to much. Or think about it at all.

Frame a memory

Isn't this video just so soothing?
I remember seeing Rita Konig's apartment on The Selby and wishing it was mine. Every inch seems so stately, English, and elegant yet homey, personal, and cozy at the same time. I also thought her handwriting was really similar with me. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.
Coincidentally, I've been really into the whole multiple frame phenomenon for the past year, thanks to Pinterest and thousands of other blogs.
Here are some of my favorite frame setups.

But I don't

Yes I own this shirt and no I don't wear it out in public and yes I bought it when I was in a state of Urban Outfitted delusion.

I'm realizing more and more that California- actually let me rephrase that- Southern California is not the place for me.
Forget the beaches, the boho hats, the "dude's," the judgement, the materialism. I now understand it when people say they dislike LA.
I've always thought I was raised in the wrong coast, my aloofness a better match for eastern metropolis familiarities and a penchant for prep school garb more suited for colder temperatures.
I'll always leave my heart in this utopian land of milk and honey but at this point in my life, I'm ready to move on.

My Morning Routine

Wake up.
Wish I could sleep more and worry about the rest of the day.
Make coffee.
Don't feel like making breakfast so snack on some pretzels instead.
Go on too many fashion blogs/sites and mindlessly click and scroll.
Listen to a podcast or watch a TED talk.
Wish I could be somewhere else.
Make a list of places to travel to, things to do, things to accomplish.
Notice that the sun has risen and wish it hadn't yet.
Contemplate whether to make more coffee.
Look around messy room and vow to clean before the end of the day.
Watch some TED talks.
I especially enjoyed this one today.

Pay Up

Paying your dues.
What does it even mean to "pay your dues"?
In a world of unpaid internships, of which I have been an unfortunate full-fledged participant of, logging in hours, and hoping for the best, aka a paid position, is paying the price and paying your dues really all that worth it? Yes you're gaining "experience" and another byline on your dim resume and possibly a noteworthy reference, but is that all worth more than working at an honest paid position as a grocery clerk or a front desk assistant? At least at either of those two jobs, you know you'll be reaping the benefits of long and tiresome hours with some sort of monetary compensation. I'm so damn sick of this hopeful, waiting for the best with stars in your eyes, attitude. Experience isn't going to pay my rent.

Flight essentials

Amid the noteworthily horrible service, the lack of personal television screens, and barely edible food on my international flight home, I vowed to never again forget to bring these few non-negotiable essentials for enduring a flight of this (low) pedigree.

1. a beanie for that post flight greasy hair

2. moccasins that are easy to slip on and off

3. a face mask is a must for saving your skin in the stale airplane air; looking like the Phantom of the Opera in air most definitely trumps having cakey, flakey skin when you step off the plane

4. a perfume rollerball to mask your nose from your own body odor as well as that of the person next to you

5. noise canceling headphones to drown out annoying people

6. a water bottle to keep you hydrated and because you know the flight attendant will be annoyed by you asking for water more than twice

7. and last but not least, hot Cheetos or some sort of snack to keep you from potential starvation since you're obviously not going to be full from the airplane mush