sawcebox

For the past few summers there’s been this realiable trend of me staying up later than I meant to (I wanted to be asleep by 11:30), basking in this as inglorious as can be heat, daydreaming of the fall and buying tights and knit hats and sweaters and cardigans and mittens and scarves, etc. 

I really could be a very stylish lady if my funds allowed. Not that I am unstylish now, but I am not really even up to my own standards. Living in the no man’s land between Bushwick and Billysburg that is East Williamsburg has made me all the more sensitive to the fact that I can’t get away with just walking to the store in with my hair thrown up in a pair of bike shorts and a Dio shirt. Although I guess my frumpiness can pass for a type of lackadaisical fashion irony that maybe I’m even pioneering on my Coke Zero runs. But I know that I’m just being lazy.

There’s also just something about this time of year that makes me want to revamp my wardrobe. Maybe I’m a sucker for Back to School marketing, but growing up in a very working class household, I only got a few new clothes once a year, and that was in those last few days of summer. I plan on working my butt off (metaphorically, because I plan to keep my butt), so that I spoil myself for my “Back to School” season this fall when I start grad school. Here’s some fashion blog inspiration: 

The above pics are of Sonia, the adorable lady behind Anomalous Allure who I found posting on Fatshionista and thus spent a few, oh I dunno, hours combing through her adorable looks. SO jealous of her thrift store finds. I miss thrift stores!

MessyCarla!

So now I really wanna go shopping. Things I must get this fall: 

• A nice pair of boots that will survive the winter but also look cute. I am thinking I’m gonna splurge and get some mid-calf Naturalizer boots. Or more realistically, I have been contemplating black 14-eye Doc Marten boots for awhile.
• Many scarves. Not like knitted scarves, but while I’m in Buffalo, I wanna find as many neck scarves as possible. I ended up losing most of my collection when I moved the first time and I miss them. :(
• Tights!!!!!! We Love Colors will probably supply them.
• Cardigans. Buttoned, loose fronts, any type at all, every color imaginable, whatever the hell I can afford. 
• Big, billowy knit hats. I think this compliments my long hair pretty well. 
• Cat eye glasses. I’ve been trying to score some on eBay for weeks and I keep getting outbid. 
• Accessories…. Forever21, I am your bitch.
• Belts. See above examples!

Alright. I’m pretty much done being a girl here. I think I actually am finally tired enough to get some sleep so I can wake up in the morning and, yanno, earn some of the money that will supposedly pay for some of this crap. 

I’ve had health insurance that has covered “dental emergencies” for about three years now, with the last of it ending a few weeks ago (currently insurance-free). I’ve needed serious dental work for a lot longer than three years, but I haven’t considered any of it a dental emergency because I haven’t had serious pain outside of some tooth sensitivity that lasts a minute or two, and I never wanted to go that route because it doesn’t cover crowns and if you need a route canal, you’re just sort of left with the damaged tooth once it’s over and done with. But my pain-free days of dental issues are over. I am pretty sure that my teeth found out I am no longer insured, and they decided that they would just rot right the fuck out of my skull, and while they were at it, they would just make my face hurt really fucking bad in the process.

What a bunch of assholes. There is not enough ibuprofen in the world for this. 

You know what your problem is? You hold yourself back too much. I don’t just mean in conversation, but from things in life you want to do or from experiences that would just feel really good. For example, you used to talk about how you wanted to hit the open road/join that band/write that novel/live that dream when you were younger, but you never could. But I know you had your reasons. Everyone always has their reasons.

While love is something you take your time at and you nurture, there is this other part of love that is hurried. There is a part of love that is rushed, if you’re doing it right anyway. Love makes you into a kid who wants his dessert before dinner. There’s this part of love that makes you want to burst, this part that sometimes makes you want to cry, sometimes makes you smile when you think about that person when you’re walking down the street and makes you want to tell everyone you pass why you’re smiling. “I’m in love!”

Love, love, love, love, love, it’s a word so many are afraid of. It’s a word I’ve said to a lot of people—probably to people I didn’t actually love I guess in the true sense of the word. But I never didn’t mean it. I truly thought I loved that person. I truly felt love at that moment. And what’s the harm in love? Years later, I have no regrets. Broken hearts, and all, they’re usually worth it.

So, when you hold yourself back like this, when you tell yourself you got to take it slow, what you don’t realize is you are sleeping through the party. Your party. Your own surprise birthday party, every single day. That’s what being in love feels like. You wanna tell the person you love happy birthday (or “I love you” or another expression thereof whether it’s a kiss, hug, whathaveyou) whenever you get the chance. It’s not like the party isn’t happening. It’s on, right in front of you, right next to you, right in your arms, while you snooze away. Little do you know, there’s cake. There’s balloons.

Wake up.

People are assholes. No, really. People, in general, are not very nice. We judge each other, and we just rarely give each other the benefit of the doubt. We are rude to each other, and then we people are rude to us, we don’t take a moment to ever understand that perhaps the rudeness is coming from a place that has more to do with that person’s pain than any personal reflection on you (which it typically is, so why do we all sweat is so much?). 

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. I had this weird moment last week where I was working in my living room. My roommate had a friend over and they were talking. I had my earbuds in, but whatever record I was listening to was over. I didn’t mean to listen in on their conversation, but it’s not like it was a personal one or anything. Rather, it was a pretty loud conversation about anti-depressants. Specifically about how anti-depressants are wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong. I can’t imagine they assumed I couldn’t hear them. Their conversation made a lot of assumptions. 1) People who take anti-depressants do so without much thought. 2) They take them out of weakness. 3) There are plenty of other viable options to treat mental illness.

I almost exploded. I bit my tongue, but seriously, I almost exploded. It was this type of postulating that made me go without anti-depressants for years. If you have not ever had a major case of depression or you have not had extensive training in psychology, don’t talk about this stuff. Ever. (And even if you have had personal experience with it, your experience will not look like everyone else’s) And don’t talk about this stuff in front of someone you barely know, because the chances are, that person is on anti-depressants. And I am. And I can assure you it was not a decision I took lightly. It took months of thinking, and worrying, and panicking before I realized, maybe I should try taking medication. If it helps me get out of bed in the morning, it might be worth it. And it’s not out of weakness. It takes a whole lot of strength to tackle something as stigmatized as mental illness, medicated or not.

Finally, what other viable options? They were speaking mainly about Eastern medication, things such as meditation and the like, which I know helps out a lot of people, including some pretty close to me. But it’s not exactly like we live in a society that is accepting of meditation. It’s not like if I am at work and I am having a depressive mood swing that I can just be like “Yo boss, I am going to book a conference room and meditate for an hour, lates.”  

Truthfully, overhearing the conversation in my home of all places made me feel pretty alienated. I struggle enough with the fact that yes, I have to take medication to live my every day life. I don’t understand why someone, who has never experienced what I’ve experienced, feels like they are in a place to make a statement that says what I do is either right or wrong. 

I think we all just need to realize that people, with the exception of a very itty bitty percentage, are not inherently bad. We also are not stupid. I just wish we all could trust each other a little more. And that’s saying a lot coming from me.

*For the record, I think my roommate is really cool and nice. To keep in the spirit of the rest of this post, I realize that she probably wasn’t think about how what she was saying could hurt someone who was on anti-depressants, and she probably had never heard that perspective. She’s the type of person, who I’m sure if she found this, would be receptive and open about it. For what it’s worth.