I Am Speed

Driving home on a classically crowded Los Angeles freeway, red beads shining into my eyes, my mind wandered miles away from my body. The cars in front of me sped off and I pulled away, my vision becoming a vertigo zoom. All around me lives are moving. People are having children, graduating from university, getting married and receiving modeling contracts from top firms while I do the same thing I've been doing since kindergarten. 

I've voiced this realization to a couple of my close friends and they've all replied the same thing, give or take a few platitudes. "Your life is happening! You're moving to New York!" While New York City is approaching fast (a reflection for another time) and it is quite exciting, it certainly is not the same as bringing life into the world. Where am I? Typing to a blog that I've had since freshman year of high school, which is no major contribution to the world (send my apologies to my fan club and biographer). 

When everyone and everything seems to be moving with superhuman speed to their purpose in life, taking more time feels stagnant and unproductive. And then there are moments like today. Everything moves in slow motion, but you're grateful for it because you can take it all in. Your best friend's dumb joke is just a little bit more funnier than usual.  The sweat down your brow inspires you to be more. A slight breeze reminds you that you're alive. For a moment, it doesn't matter that your legs are killing you, there are bugs everywhere, and you aren't sure if you're taking the right route outside of the forest. The whole day becomes a still of you smiling like a maniac in a really comfortable outfit. 

Hermit Falls fell victim to the Southern California drought. The waterfall was so adorably pathetic that we decided to spare it and not go in. It rendered my American Eagle one piece useless for anything but aesthetics. Airy and loose Ivy Park terry cloth shorts kept me comfy as I struggled up hill after hill. I wish I had such high marks for my Nike Roshes, but their soles left me slipping at every opportunity. Still cute? 

In an effort to evolve my style, I've been resorting to adding more layers, accessories and color. This outfit was a good pause--a slow-motion descent as I continue that journey. This day and this outfit are a pretty reminder that going slow is better than not doing anything at all. The next time I begin to question my path, I'll throw on a white tee and leggings. 

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Making Summer Last Forever

Tunic: New Look Tank: Forever 21 Shorts: Vintage Guess Denim Slides: Forever 21 Bag: Steve Madden

There's a photo in my bedroom of a small, screaming me next to my mother and a giant anthropomorphic female mouse. When I say it like that, it's easy to understand why I was so afraid of Minnie. Perhaps my former self was more #woke to Disney's capitalism and near monopolization of children's media. I won't even mention the racial discrimination and the fact that Walt was a Nazi (oops!). Then why is it that nineteen year old me--and every future me that I can fathom--is so obsessed with Disneyland?

I'm going to chalk it up to the hope that is always in my heart (but is completely petrified by anxiety), the thrill of magic, and the incredible technical detail that goes into the rides. I not-so-subtly request that my boyfriend becomes an Imagineer with "Babe, your animatronic could kick that Indiana Jones' ass". 

Disneyland and California Adventure is the ultimate summer getaway for me. I can thank my parents for taking my siblings and I in the summer when school was out. Not only is Disneyland Resort out of my small town, but it's almost in a completely different universe. There are no troubles at Disneyland. I stand by that. 

And since it elicits such a strong emotional high for me, I can always go back to this place and time in my head. There, it's always summer and there are no worries. 

I'm giddy over my outfit today. I'm wearing my favorite shirt: this colorful brocade tunic. The neck rises high to cover my chest and it flows right on over my tummy. On top, this little blue pleated tank added texture to my otherwise flat tunic. Not to mention, two tops layered basically signals to my brain that I don't have to wear a bra! Happy days are here again!

Before I leave the house, I do a pose in my mirror that best demonstrates the outfit's assets. And I completely forgot to do that pose. Because of that, you can't see my vintage light wash Guess shorts and the slightly bohemian looks served. 

My trusty gold slides made my beautiful gold ears a given and lit up the more matte look. I can also picture this outfit with white sandals, but that triggers something NorCal to me and that's so not my goal. 

Problems aren't so big when you remember that it's a small world after all
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I Went Back In Time (But My Outfit Didn't)

Did I ever really share with anyone the experiences I gained in London? Probably not. There's something about them that I find hard to articulate to anyone. Those who were also there will probably get a sense of what I'm saying, but their own perceptions will likely warp them. I'm okay with that. I like having sacred, untouchable memories and feelings. I don't mind that I won't ever get them back. Now, in my childhood home, it almost feels as though I'll never experience anything like it again. But since I'm moving to New York in less than 20 days, I know that it simply isn't true.

As lucky as I am, I got a quick taste of my British life at Universal Studios Hollywood, where they lay out their version of Baker Street in Westminster. The first thing I did? Take a photo with the telephone booth. Before this, I had only done it one time--in Windsor with my good friend. Better late than never!

This day was dedicated to avoiding butterbeer and trying not to be Avada Kedavra'd by little kids in too-big Hogwarts cloaks. I wore a t-shirt dress that I haven't been able to keep off of my body all summer. Around my waist, a chambray shirt that will not be seeing the fall with me (it's mutual, we've discussed it). My ever-trusty Nike Roshes who aren't Nike Theas but that's okay kept my feet connected to my legs. Together, I feel cool. 

My two favorite adjectives to describe an outfit are "effortless" and "deliberate". I'm aware that sometimes I don't dress conventionally and I want everyone around me to be aware of it, too. Another favorite word is: "fun", which is what I think my hair is, with two small buns at the top of my head. Theme parks mean I have an excuse to be silly, don't they?

And while I may have been having severe London flashbacks, I felt very "model off-duty" in this almost athleisure, almost normcore look. All of which doesn't seem to be going away any time soon. 
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I sat in a park for three hours watching my mother, brother and significant other play Pokemon Go in this very outfit. 

This was before I became addicted myself. Above all of the hype and lacking a nostalgic bone, I read Anton Chekov's Uncle Vanya peacefully under a tree. I long for those days again. Now, I'm obsessed with the game. I name my pokémon after Gilmore Girls characters and I've spent $2 on in-app purchases (which is miniscule compared to the amount I spent on Kim K: Hollywood. Shameful.) 

Last night, I got a total of three hours sleep. I did have a bad day. I was trying not to let anxiety overwhelm me when, out of a near-REM experience, I had a realization: Hitmonlee and Hitmonchan are named after Bruce Lee and Jackie Chan. I had to confirm it. Peering into my iPhone's bright screen, I was justified and wide awake. During the next few hours, I kept seeing Charmanders in the shadows against my wall, hearing faint "Chansey"s whispered in my ear, and I tried to uncover the name meanings of other pokémon as if I win some sort of prize for doing so. It was agony. 

I like the games, show, and movies enough, but I think it's time for it to stop infiltrating my life. I can't spend another night anxious about Bulbasaur's leech seed. I know that Pokémon Go is helping a lot of people with anxiety, but definitely not me. 

Here's a bit of an homage to the person I was two weeks ago and the outfit that started it all. 

I had been ON in my own brain about wearing this beach cover up as a top for weeks. When you're as boobly as me, it's hard to find a bandeau or bralette that works. I settled for a plain black one and that's where this story ends. 

I exercise minimally, so these neon coral yoga capris were basically brand new at this time. I needed something inconsequential to wear to sit on the grass and these are about as expendable as they are comfy.

Finally, and I can't help but mention this, it was h o t. So sandals were basically my only option. Black with this pink would be a bit too 80s harsh for me and rose gold has become somewhat second nature. The thick straps and the almost ornate lace that hangs on the front and back take me to Ancient Greece on a layover. 

TL;DR: I'm quitting Pokémon Go and grateful that I'm taking Greek Theatre next semester because I'm questioning my own credibility. 
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