on being a bitch

My mother has always told me that I have a strong personality. My best friend has recently said that this is my mother’s way of kindly calling me a bitch. She says her mother does the same. This thought had never crossed my mind. All my life I had thought that my biting wit and opinionated banter contributed to what I deem a jealous-worthy independent lifestyle. Could I be wrong? When I think of a “bitch,” the words selfish, scathing, and soulless come to mind. These are not words I associate with my personality. In fact, on the ever-classic “getting to know you” surveys that my old sleep away camp used to mandate each summer, I would always write that I pride myself on selflessness. Anyone who knows me would attest that I would do anything for those I care about; I’d catch a grenade for them, throw my hand on a blade for them, I’d even freaking jump in front of a train for them (shoutout to my boy Bruno Mars.) Hell, last time I checked, selflessness such as mine was the dominating quality of the anti-bitch.. Despite my confidence that I most certainly did not fall victim to this label that my friend falsely accused me of, I nonchalantly, without letting her sense any sense of doubt in my mind, BEGGED her to explain. She said I am dismissive to people that I don’t care for- that I am intimidating. Hm, I thought, this sparks a memory. Maybe I DO faintly recall practically now ancient old classmates and friends telling me that I have a certain “intimidation factor.” My heart sped up as my friend continued. Could she be right? Was I really a bitch? The latter of her shpiel discussed my impatience with said people I don’t care for. She cautiously, noting my face begin to red, suggested that MAYBE I don’t know how to sufficiently mask my disdain for certain individuals. To be honest, it would be a lie to say that I was anything near flabbergasted at hearing her description of that aspect of my personality. I knew her accusation was true. In fact, I know that on occasion, I purposely manifest these intimidation tactics. I’ve been, as my mother called it, “strong willed” my whole life. I never took a moment, though, to step back and ask myself why it is I act in such a way to certain people. I have always recognized my dismissiveness as a folly of mine, yet never sought to understand it- let alone fix it. So now, after my folly was brought to attention in a way that screamed the message “YOU NEED TO FIX THIS” I got to thinking about my actions. My rationale has always been this: the people I like, I love, and the rest of you, I don’t feel the need to waste my time faking a connection that isn’t there. This is not to say I am outwardly stand-offish to people I don’t consider friends; rather, I subconsciously erect an aura of so-called dismissiveness that quickly gets the people I don’t care for to stop speaking when it is inopportune for me. It is important for me to clarify that I am never short with strangers. I only act in such a (what I now recognize as immature) manner in front of acquaintances that I have, through ample experience and a substantial amount of time spent, and established that I don’t care for. That is no justification for my actions and by no means do I think those circumstances are a fair cause for my actions. You see, giving people a chance has never been my problem; rather, I struggle with how to cope when I don’t like what I see. 

10.5.11

A delicious meal shared with my boyfriend this past weekend at Half & Half in St. Louis. If you're ever in the St. Louis area, I highly recommending grabbing brunch at this cute spot. The food was superb, and while I'm no coffee snob, I've got to admit that the coffee was the best I've had.

 Yes, that IS cool whip!!

Steak and Eggs

Diag Debates

For the past two days on my campus, there has been a massive petition promoting the pro-life stance. In the center of the diag, where the petition is taking place, stands an approximate 20x30 ft area with large photographs. On one of the four sides of the structure are photos of fetuses. Some are of developed bodies while others are of mangled limbs. The photos made me uneasy, but not angry. I continued walking around the square structure and noticed that the rest of the photographs were entirely different and not about abortion at all. In front of me I saw photos of emaciated bodies laying dead in piles. I saw the swastika, and images of African-American's being lynched. I saw back a portrait of an abused child. I wanted to cover my eyes, but resisted. Rather than fall victim to the petitioner's pathetic scare tactics, I stared right back at the disturbing images presented to me. My friend and I conversed, and after deciding that we both were highly offended, went over to one of the young women handing out pro-life brochures. We asked her to explain the provocative comparison. First, she started explaining the term genocide. I told her I knew what the term genocide meant. She apologized, then continued to tell me that approximately 37,000 fetuses are murdered a year which indicates a mass genocide. She told me that if she were a Jew in Nazi Germany she would hope that people would be brave enough to stand in the diag of a campus like U of M's and fight for her life. This infuriated me. I walked away feeling more angry and confused than I had to begin with.

Personally, I believe in the women's right to choose. I don't know what I would do if I had an unplanned pregnancy. I couldn't possibly know how I would feel upon realizing that there was a baby growing inside of me and I couldn't possibly say what I would choose to do with that baby since I have never experienced such a thing. However, I am certain that I would NOT be comfortable with the government or any other superior force deciding for me. I don't necessarily believe that abortion is the right option for all circumstances, but who am I to judge what one women believes is right for her body? Also, it's important to recognize that being pro-choice is not synonymous with being pro-abortion. By being pro-choice, I feel that not I nor any other figure should be so powerful that they could dictate a decision such as whether or not SOMEONE ELSE should bear a child. Especially men, for that matter. I could not help but wonder who these men think they are, standing and petitioning vehemently against abortion rights. After all, how can one hold an opinion on something that they will never in their life experience?

I can clearly see the other side of the argument. I can see why the petitioners compare abortion to genocide, because to them, fetuses ARE people. I can see why government officials feel that it is their duty to abolish abortion because what type of government would promote the mass killing of any peoples? I can see why men feel justified in sharing their views despite the fact that they will never experience what the women do, similarly to how I support  and will proudly promote gay marriage as a straight women. I can see why the petitioners use these facts to support their case, and I understand where they are coming from. However, in a case such as this one, I believe that only one side of the argument can be right. My side is the right side. Pro-choice is the right side.

Hello loves, and welcome to my dorm! The room that I am about to present you with is a mere 11x11 sq. ft. These dimensions, though still provoking a slight shudder, are actually quite manageable. My roommate and I decided to half loft our beds, which gave us extra storage room underneath. The beds are balancing on a set of wooden drawers, which we carefully centered under the bed as to create a sturdy base. With the extra space, I was able to store the jeans and extra sweaters I brought that did not fit in my minuscule closet. 

One of my greatest concerns about college was that I would not be able to make this new place feel like a home. I was pleasantly surprised. Within a week, I have made some great friends that I truly believe will last throughout the years. And as for my dorm room, I tried to make it resemble my bedroom at home as much as possible. I covered the walls in photographs of family and friends, and also added a chandelier decal for a chic touch (purchase the chandelier and other awesome decals at www.dormify.com!) 

Turns out I needed more storage space for the 20+ pairs of shoes I brought, so, in lieu of textbooks and other school supplies, I shelved them on my desk. How thecoveteur.com of me, yes?

While it was surely a challenge picking through my clothes at home deciding what to bring, it's somewhat refreshing only having items in my closet that I KNOW I will wear. I have plenty of cute pieces at home that I know are nice, but for one reason or another, I never put on. With my favorites already picked out for me here, I know I will wear almost everything in my tiny cupboard of a closet. 

The clothes.

A zoomed in version.

chat soon,
A

on goodbyes

Today I said goodbye to a woman that I have been meeting with weekly ever since I was twelve years old. Strangely, I didn't cry, and for the past several hours I have been wondering about what stopped the tears. The woman I speak of is my therapist and I have cried in front of her countless amounts of times, so I know that the tears were not held back out of embarrassment. Friends of mine know that I am one of the more sensitive folk (a loved one today told me that (jokingly) I could cry anywhere from two to fourteen times a week.)  Overall, I am not a sad person. We each deal with stress in various ways: some of us sleep, some eat, some shop, I cry(fiiiiine, I do all of those things.) For me, releasing tears bears more relief than it does sadness. Anyways, I had (and have) to make some of the hardest goodbyes today: one to my boyfriend, one later to my best friend, and one of course, to my therapist. I cried saying goodbye to him, I undoubtedly will cry saying goodbye to her (bff), yet I didn't cry saying goodbye to my therapist, someone whom I hold of equal importance. I suppose that all goodbyes are different and have different connotations. Perhaps for me, goodbyes are harder to say to those whom I am uncertain of what our future holds together. On the contrary, I am a firm believer that those you love will stay in your life regardless of distance and time. I think college and all other major life changes for that matter is an excuse to rid yourself of the "useless" folk that just loll around you and don't really produce any sort of positive impact to your life. However, those people that truly matter from your pre-collegiate years will continue to do so as life goes on. In fact, I think that those relationships are something quite special and they will grow in a remarkable and beautiful way. I am certain of that.

I guess I didn't cry saying goodbye to her because I have no doubts about the future of our relationship. Our future together is quite predictable. I see weekly phone calls and emails, and the occasional session when I am home for breaks. I don't count on any surprises. This is not to say that I doubt the other important relationships in my life; in fact, I have more faith in those now than I ever have had before. With the right communication, these relationships will continue to blossom and become stronger. I know that this can be true for all you readers out there, as well. Hold on tight to those you love. Here's to a year of strength.

xx
A

Sasha Pivovarova Vogue Japan
fashiongonerogue.com

i don't even know what to say. the bows. the bows kill me. this is too perfect.

Phil Oh for Vogue