Sun & Moon

scarf, blouse, belt - thrifted, skirt - banana republic, earrings - vintage

So I recently wrote a story for one of my classes about a guy that sees butterflies

No seriously. This was my second story due for an assignment, my first one I was proud with, but didn't feel it was necessarily a "break through" - ie didn't really do what crazy things run through my mind on a daily basis much justice. Sometimes I humor myself and pretend I know what I'm doing, using intuition as my own critic.

So I wrote this story, right? It was about this crazy guy who hallucinates, written from his point of view. You really can't decipher what's real and what's not (or at least, I like to think.) I'm very drawn to psychedelic things thanks to my renewed obsession fascination with the Led Zeppelin film "The Song Remains the Same" and I decided to jump in head first. 

So the day it's due, and we're all critiquing each others stories (me with my pink pen of doom) and I see my story being passed around and I get to briefly take a glimpse...and I see it covered in writing from all different handwriting. Ugh. Fine then, I think to myself. Some things work and some don't. I made a mental note to scrap the idea entirely. I was incredibly worried this was too specific of a theme for a general audience - not everyone finds what weird things I find interesting. 

A day passes and I get my story back. Turns out the writing all over the page wasn't endless criticism, like I thought. It was actually praise! Everyone loved it! I was floating on cloud nine the rest of my day, even took the next class to reread the comments people made. If there's been one immediate affect this writing class has had on me, it's coming face to face with my worst demon, even more than writer's block - the fear of having my baby torn apart and ridiculed. This is yet another aspect I've fully emerged myself into, in hopes of breaking this habit - I practically throw my writing to anyone with eyes. I used to be so secretive. It's a great feeling. 

I tell this story not to "brag" of any writing skill I might possess, but rather, to update on a thought I posed a while ago. I opened up, honestly for the first time ever on this blog, about some rather personal feelings I was battling with - mostly about inadequacies and struggling with a real vision for my artistic endeavors. I'm nearing very important life deadlines, mostly regarding college and career choices. I'm at my absolute wit's end with decision making (god knows I'm horrible at it...I think I found a demon to challenge that other one...) and I'm telling you all this to explain the beauty of falling so low you can't fall any further. At this point, all you have is instinct and primal need. And I thought, what's my absolute most basic need? Writing. I want to do nothing more in life than write to my little heart's content. 

So not only is this a story of self discovery, but listening to your heart. It took me a while to find my own voice, especially with the "writing" medium. I took a lifeline and wrote about something uniquely inherent to myself and bit the bullet with my fear of criticism. I know I'm going to mess up in the future and write a less than perfect story, even to myself, but at least for now, I know what I'm capable of and have a steadier eye on the prize.

Oh, and the look today. SCARF. Love it. I love sun and moon things, saw this scarf, and have been planning a number of ways to wear it and show it off. Also, yellow colorblocking. Funnily enough, I dislike the color yellow on a regular basis, but the flow of colors and the spectrum I'm working with were appealing enough.

Thank goodness for swanky neighborhoods with fountains in the middle of the road.

-h.

Sometimes as I'm editing my photos, I feel like my cat is watching, so I let him do the decision making for me. He doesn't approve.