Self Portrait Artist Statement IX
Self Portrait Artist Statement VIII
Monday, January 18, 2016
“Final Cut Pro”
About “Photoshop” all I have to say is I’m not any type of professional “graphic designer.”
Any “professional” “graphic designer” who has any type of 4-year degree in “graphic design” would attest to the fact I unintentionally outline and cut-out my silhouette as if I were ‘a’ badly designed cut-out paper doll.
The two reasons for why I have a distinctive white outline around my silhouette is because 1) with Carpal Tunnel I have terrible eye-hand coordination when it comes to “Photoshop” 2) the lotion around my face and in my hair tends to coagulate thus and therefore I look ghostly and haven’t figured out how to get rid of the white ghostly outlines in post production.
Eventually with time I’ll figure it out.
Furthermore, to properly outline and cut-out and scale any person is of professional and vital essence otherwise the picture of the person looks like it’s done by an “amateur” “Photoshop” worker.
White outlines are as unprofessional as it gets in “Photoshop.”
A white outline is to admit one doesn’t know how to maneuver “Photoshop” in the same manner as professionals do.
No, I’m not an “amateur” at either “Final Cut Pro” or “Photoshop” since I’ve worked with “Final Cut Pro” and “Photoshop” for 16 straight years.
No, I’m not a “professional” at “Photoshop.”
Nevertheless, “Photoshop” is indeed my weakest professional point.
The only reason why non-linear editing and “Photoshop” are my weakest professional points is because I tend to over-think what I do.
No, I don’t seem to relax around these two computer programs.
Instead of cutting large portions of non-linear editing footage I over-think my work and tend to cut frame-per-frame which isn’t only tedious and difficult work yet also unnecessarily insecure at this stage in my career.
‘Old habits sure are tough to break.’
Yes, I think of “Photoshop” in the same perspective as I do non-linear editing.
With “Photoshop” I tend to fill in each and every pixel thus and therefore my work looks overworked and over-thought out and tedious and unnatural therefore I often have to go back to the drawing board and eventually leave the photographs untouched.
No, I’m not insecure as a person or professional otherwise I wouldn’t be writing about any of it.
Both of my non-linear editing and “Photoshop” work are more often than not unnecessarily insecure since I’m navigating through rough waters.
Yes, I want both of my “Photoshop” and non-linear editing to be perfect which is the wrong lesson to learn and the wrong outlook and the wrong approach.
Yes, I do tend to overwork each piece of visual elements only because I think it’ll be better for the overall piece simply to discover in the end the work isn’t worth the perfectionism or the tediously unnecessarily insecure effort.
After 16 straight years of working with both “Photoshop” and non-linear editing I’ve become much better at both.
Yes, I’m decently good at both computer programs.
However, I’m still not great at either of the two programs.
Both “Final Cut Pro” and “Photoshop” computer programs are my professional technical weaknesses even though I’m truly quite very good at them both. (I’m comparing myself in the spectrum of my overall 16 year professional career.)
Nonetheless, I’m good at both programs.
Better than good. Only I’m not great yet.
Finally, I have to work this much harder at both programs not to lose my eye-hand coordination with the recently developed Carpal Tunnel (2012) as well as to continue to advance and produce awesome conceptual pieces of visual work even though the professional “graphic designers” know I fail at the technical aspects.
The first reason for having a self portrait series is to create a flipbook.
The second reason for having a self portrait series is to get more comfortable in front of the camera.
The third reason for having a self portrait series is to continually work on my “Photoshop” skills thus I am.
Sound and lighting are the two Ut-most difficult elements of mise-en-scene to correctly produce in high quality production value.
One may have professional make-up and wardrobe applied to one’s person.
However, if the sound and lighting is off then the entire picture is off.
In modern times there’s much importance added to make-up and wardrobe.
Nevertheless, lighting is capable of doing ten times more and better effects than any make-up or wardrobe may or ever is capable of making blemishes disappear or pounds disappear or, or, or…
Yes, indeed the camera does actually add 5 pounds.
Yes, factually any human who inserts any of their fingers and/or other objects into their vaginas or rectums while recording video does actually indeed produce pornography.
Anything for which goes inserted into any private orifice is automatically considered pornography.
Let’s not worry about “double chins.”
In an era of tablets and cell phone pictures it’s the most difficult thing in the entire world to get one good picture without any “double chins.”
The angle for which one must hold up both tablets and cell phones is conducive towards taking pictures of “double chins.”
Don’t worry about it. It’s the era for which we live in.
No, I wouldn’t ever have cosmetic surgery simply because our technology falters into the early decades of this century.
No, nobody’s cutting open my round and beautiful face.
Yes, I’ve had a “double chin” ever since I was born.
Yes, I carry a little bit of fat on my face.
The little bit of fat which I happen to carry is on my round face and not on my derrière therefore I must live with the little bit of fat which shows and be content to be alive and beautiful as I am.
Yes, a little bit of fat will help anybody fight off disease.
Yes, I’ve been vaginally hemorrhaging since Spring 2009 to present 2016.
Yes, I’m ecstatic to have a little bit of fat on my bones to fight off this illness.
Yes, I was factually 164 pounds December 20, 2013.
Yes, as of today I’m factually 150 pounds at 5’2”.
Today my high waist measures 23 ½ inches round.
Yes, I take a size 10 pant even though a size 10 is exactly 1 inch too big around my waist.
Yes, I like my pants in such a slightly baggy manner for room for agave (non sugar) dessert at the end of a long work day.
However, I neither like my pants too loose or too tight.
Yes, my inseam measures exactly 28 ½ inches long.
Yes, my outer seam measures exactly 30 inches from waist to right below my ankle bone. (Yes, Eric took my measurements.)
Yes, one of my favorite aspects of fashion is belts.
Yes, I wear my belt around my waist and not around my derrière.
Yes, supposedly I ought to weigh 138 pounds.
Yes, I’m 12 pounds away from being medically considered “average” weight for my height rather than “overweight” or “obese” as I’ve been medically considered “obese” as well as “overweight” for the past decade.
Ever since February 2014 we completely stopped eating white or brown table sugar and I lost 14 pounds and haven’t gained the 14 pounds back in 2 years.
No, I no longer purposely exercise.
No, I don’t walk anywhere anymore.
No, I don’t enjoy any exercise of any type.
No, I didn’t ever enjoy any exercise of any type.
Yes, I love the great outdoors.
Yes, I love bonfires in our great beautiful large backyard.
No, I don’t camp anymore.
No, I don’t skateboard anymore.
Yes, on average I do about 1.5 to 2 hours of daily housework.
Yes, housework is far more difficult and more of a great workout than any gym workout I’ve ever done before and I factually clocked in 8 years of gym workouts lifting weights and the entire works.
Yes, on average from 2006-2012 we walked 4 miles per day and I didn’t ever drop one single pound.
Yes, when we did walk I had more fat than muscle tone.
Now I have more muscle tone than fat and we don’t exercise at all.
Yes, housework keeps me incredibly fit while I keep our home in order and beautifully kept and wonderfully run throughout the years.
No, I don’t like the idea of housework.
However, once I get going then I love to clean once I forget how much work housework actually is.
Yes, I correctly make the bed military style each weekday and once per week I change the bedding on Sundays and I do the entire weekly cooking and clean-up and wiping down of counters and wash and dry and fold 5 loads of laundry per week and vacuum and dust and mop and sweep and take out the trash and recycling to the curb and both spring and fall I do the cleaning of window sills and wash curtains and clean out closets and kitchen cupboards and once per week I give our dog a bath and in summers I sweep the patio and weed the patio and in fall I prune the overgrowth on the tree branches and keep the backyard clear of sticks thus our dog doesn’t puncture his paws and I clean-up neighborhood garbage and, and, and…I write a daily Nonfiction blog and do edits and watch one hour of cinema and write screenplays and one hour of daily research and check daily correspondence and make the weekly grocery list and do our online shopping for our apparel and house wares and, and, and, etc., etc., etc., until death do us part.
The most difficult work in the entire world is to be a housewife.
Sometimes, I’ll look up on any given Friday or Saturday night and the clock reads 2:44am (in the morning) and I’m still washing dishes and doing laundry.
And I’m only a part-time housewife and its backbreaking work.
Yes, ever since we read scientific factual modern data and scientific journals about how it’s wrong to exercise the body then we stopped exercising.
According to factual modern science supposedly stretching and exercise quickly ages the body.
We’re grateful to have stopped stretching and walking since walking felt more like pounding on the knees than good for the heart.
In ten years of our marriage we feel better than we’ve ever felt before.
Neither of us has put on any weight in two years without any exercise.
We watch what we eat.
We’re happy not to ever have to exercise another day in our lives.
I have other work to attend to.
Gabriela de la Holm
Self Portrait Artist Statement VI and VII
Wednesday, December 31, 2014 - Thursday, January 1, 2015
Happy New Year’s Evening
Happy New Year’s 2015
“If you want to get rid of an old hound dog,
you take it out where folks can see it.”
--- The Hillbillies of Beverly Hills
“Take off the last accessory you put on.”
--- Coco Chanel
The Thesis of this Artist Statement
Please learn to decipher “art” from “reality.”
Clothing photographed is made to look a certain way when one uses double sided clear tape to create (without movement) any creative “look” yet when any woman on the street does wear all the way open any button down shirt to the middle of her ribcage causing her shirt to flap open like an unanchored sail then her clothes look cheap and desperate and awkward on her and her sexual appeal or allure quickly diminishes since she cheats herself and movement and any others of any form of decency or discipline or imagination for intellectual sensuality vs. overt and crude sexuality. She blatantly says, “Wanna?!”
Sophistication is success.
Why is it mostly when womyn get dehumanized
Womyn’s opponents do “hit below the belt”
and go after her genitals
as though any womyn’s vagina
represents womyn’s intellectuality or vitality?
Why are women desexualized when they’re dehumanized?
All I know is that I don’t know anything about fashion.
(Not literally. Indubitably: rhetorically speaking.)
Fashion and style and clothes are ever entertaining nevertheless one of the most important and essential aspects to power (or lack thereof) since mostly people already know the quote about how “with great power comes great responsibility.”
The late 19-teens and 1920’s and 1930’s and early 1940’s are some of my favorite decades for clothes.
There’s durable sophistication in the decades mentioned above ever so classically “chic” and properly astute propriety (minus large pleats or distracting ruffles) about the clothes of 1921-1941 yet intellectually sensual and highly regarded as another protective time period in the fashion history of the United States of America before “the war broke out.”
The 1931’s clothes are ‘real’ adult attire and ready for anything which might suddenly come along the way thus the clothes look smart and sharply smart and sanely intelligent, too.
Sometimes, I “daydream” we might someday before “we” die (my girlfriends and I) we’ll be able to find as beautifully sewed clothes and as responsibly powerful as the clothes of 1921-1931.
(Might we not live the dream? Yes, we’ll live the dream. Yes, we can dream. We’re not asking for too much other than clean air and oceans and municipal streets.)
The early 1930’s complex “heavy wools” and other durable and protective and sturdy materials and smart prints constructed into “sport suit coat jackets” or “blazer suit coats” or fine silks or satins at which time were sewed into “blouses” all have in common the good fortune to be extraordinarily well made and constructed and stitched with enough various fine detail “to kill any devil” with any strong defensive pose with feet spread shoulders wide apart with a grounded stance and slightly bent knees and with enough padded elbow room in the sleeve of the arm to sharply and without warning bring-up and reach-up over one’s face with one’s “rugged individualist” properly Liberal Arts educated astute wrist and forearm to shield one’s brains from any violent blow of any type since global private and public establishments and institutions are physically dangerous places for womyn and men and children due to “sexual violence” or “sexual molestation” or “sexual exploitation” or “sex trade” or “sex slavery” or “sexual assault” or etc., etc., etc... So on and so forth.
As of 2014, my Father informed me about the atrocities of “sexual misconduct” and “sexual harassment” and “sexual violence” and “sexual assault.”
My Father told me not to be “gullible” about “sexual assault” or “rape” or “sexual molestation” or “sexual exploitation” or “sexual harassment” in any workplace.
My Father informed me not to be “gullible” about how “sexual assault” occurs in many branches of government and the military and universities and colleges and doctors’ offices and psychologists’ offices and medical and non-medical specialists’ offices and people in power all the way to presidents while in leadership positions at the White House.
My Father informed me about how the number one problem in the field of psychology is psychologists who “sleep around” or hold “sexual intercourse” or “sexual relationships” of any nature with their clients/patients which is any huge breech of ethics and client/patient trust and lack of diplomacy and lack of professionalism which such appalling unprofessional misbehavior ought to get “anybody” disbarred from practice.
My Father is one retired psychologist who as of this summer 2014 informed me about the in-depth and complex adult dangers of “sexual assault” in all variations and forms of any workplace in the form of sexual violence or abusive sexual power struggles and discriminatory hierarchies to misguided power.
My Father told me the truth about how I mustn’t believe anything corporate mass media outlets or commercial television has to say about what’s any definition of “family” or what constitutes any “family” or what even so much as defines any “family” since there’s any large portion of Americans who get “raped” or “sexually assaulted” or “sexually harassed” or “sexually exploited” at their workplace each year and the numbers are staggering and unbelievable like the unbelievable military complex’s’ yearly annual defense budget yet our American Sons and Daughters enlist in the military only to hold any high probability, for which, maybe, most likely, someday, they, too, might possibly be next in line for “sexual assault” or “rape” or “sexual harassment” by their peers and/or their military complex’s’ bosses.
Such concrete examples can only mean workplace and professional working environments take advantage of such positions of power to place and keep most professional workers in harm’s way of any unwarranted sexual advances or violent physical sexual touch of any type especially sexual harassment and/or sexual molestation and/or sexual rape and/or sexual exploitation.
The rule of thumb is: "don’t be a schmuck and date “anybody” from the office" no matter how strong any hormonal sexual urge unless one were to “on the spot” propose marriage otherwise forget it.
My Father informed me not to fall for the lie about how workplaces are “family” oriented since more people get “sexually harassed” or “raped” or “sexually assaulted” or “sexually exploited” at work as well as universities or colleges than any other place.
Most often than not the abusive and violent sexual perpetrators happen to be “somebody” the victims are already acquainted with or loosely acknowledge or has and/or have some form of already non-sexually established basic interaction or non-physical contact from one adult to another adult.
1 in 7 young college women get “sexually assaulted.”
(Please, do the math for the entire country of college women.)
My Father informed me about the mistake about how the American corporate mass media wrongly perpetuates or “forces” to establish clichés about “close familial bonds” amongst co-workers yet such any wrong and unethical portrayal “couldn’t be further from any truth” since workplaces are places in which one may get “fired” or “let go” at any moment’s notice for anything thus “work” isn’t “family” because “work” also happens to be one major economic institution in which workers may or may not get “sexually harassed” or “sexually assaulted” or “sexually attacked” or “sexually preyed upon” or “sexually exploited” along with possibly get “fired” while wrongly companies “get away with murder” as well as with going through their employees’ online digital underwear drawers of newish online “social media” and private interpersonal digital communications (email.) (Point made.)
(Please, do the right and correct action and stay out of employees’ top personal newish online digital “social media” and private interpersonal digital communications (email) top underwear drawers.) (Point reiterated.)
“Family” are people whom one surrounds oneself with outside of work or school or any other established institution or, per se, newish online “social media” (although social interaction isn’t real unless one interacts with others in the physical form and face-to-face.)
Work pays a salary (which most often isn’t enough money) or in which one pays tuition (which happens to be far much, too, costly for today’s market rate.)
Hence, once, one’s hands exchange money other than “monetary gifts without strings attached” or “ultimatums” then “game over” and don’t ever forget money is dirty and breeds “greed” and “discontent” and “abuse” and “insignificant melodrama” and “mean-spirited manipulations” and major “power struggles” without much of any reason or logic.
In this day in age life would be nicer if only clothes were made with or as protective gear only fashionable and deliciously beautifully constructed with chic modern styles as well as with the strength of one hundred Ninjas and the wisdom of twelve Samurai Warriors.
Either modern fashion is made for stereotypical looking women who are considered either by modern terms: “hussies” or “sluts” or “obese” women or “frail” or “waifs” or “rail thin” or “skinny” or “starved” looking women without any curves or women without any supposed “libido” or “old looking womyn clothes” and not much in between for us who face and deal with the almost daily struggles of both public and private places in which womyn either are literally “grabbed” or “pushed up against subway walls” or “pinched on the breasts or derriere” or clothes are sometimes violently “torn off” or private body parts “groped” or, or, or… there’s worse.
(Please, pick any of the above of whichever one wishes to pick as a steadfast example since adult womyn do contend with at times mentally ill or “horny” sexual perpetrators on any daily basis even if sexual assault happens to be drunken gay “myn” who slam heterosexual womyn up against railings and “dry hump” womyn fully dressed against their will while in public dance establishments.)
What’s between womyn and their vaginas?
There isn’t much between womyn and their genitals.
There isn’t much protective clothing or gear to keep womyn and men and children safeguard from “sexual assault” or “rape.”
What I don’t like about modern clothes is contemporary clothing isn’t even made beautifully much less as protective gear.
By now I was convinced and certain jean companies would make zippers which stay upright and the buttons made impossible to rip open while facing any person or ink or “raccoon spray” or whichever toxic spray could repel on command and voice activated when “anybody” were to scream “rape” since any rape’s the difference between any matter of seconds whether womyn or men can get up and get away and run or not. (As imaginative examples about protective clothes and gear.)
Mostly modern clothes are unattractive.
Modern clothes tend to walk around with any pout plastered to its botched silicone filled fish lips and any offensive “middle finger” ever since fashion ran out of new ideas for durable construction for public safety and consumption.
Modern fashion’s “dumb kids” who smile, too, long while their bug-eyed faces make one’s skin crawl.
Modern fashion’s “dumb kids” “without any marbles in their brains” only rocks to fill-up their thoughts.
Modern fashion’s “dumb kids” with their emotions hanging out of their shirts and pants since such “dumb kids” ever so desperately require attention from “anybody” around.
In the past decade (2004-4014) mostly “modern” fashion continues to copy the 1980’s and the worst parts of the late 1980’s and early to mid 1990’s.
For some reason modern fashion keeps trotting out some of the ugliest aspects or terrifyingly unattractive prints or designs or cuts of mostly recently recycled modern fashion eras (every 2 or 3 or 4 or 5 decades).
What’s the point to trot out the worst parts of any other fashion era?
There isn’t any point to trot out the worst parts of any other fashion era other than to convince mass consumers to purchase unattractive looking clothes which aren’t even well made in this modern day in age of computers and robotic advancement and intellectual development.
There isn’t any point to trot out the worst parts of any other recent fashion era because then an entire populous or masses or populations (at large) end up looking like a sea of green all over the lower decks and we all know how tough it’s to clean up lunch off of velour or suede cushion seats much less electrical panels.
In the past decade clothes are made either for womyn who are considered stereotypically “obese” or “plus size” or “malnourished sticks” which such womyn can look more like twelve year old boys with flat chests and/or linear body types without hips or breasts and this, too, is beauty in the eye of the beholder.
No, I don’t believe in “plus size” clothes since “obese” womyn enable the wrong ideas about overall physical bad health and mental health degeneration and overall health injuries.
(I speak as any mature adult “womyn” who’s been considered stereotypically “obese” by Minnesota doctors for the past decade (10 years, 2005-2015) until four months ago when I finally dropped eleven (11) pounds and now I’m considered “overweight.” However, other womyn in general call me “little.”)
No, I don’t think it’s okay to commercialize “plus size” clothing because “obese” women possibly and harshly represent potential “diabetes,” “heart disease,” possible “deadly cancers,” “early on-set dementia,” or “Alzheimer’s.”
No, there isn’t much healthy or sensual about any “obese” human.
No, there isn’t much healthy or sensual about any “starving” human.
It’s mighty difficult to relate to “modern” fashion when contemporary fashion becomes, too, “passive” about the Ut-most single important aspect of their line-of-work which is commercial as well as to represent any strong and ethical public astute social role to ensure the masses look well put together and wonderful and feel good about themselves at cost or nearly thereabouts rather than enslave the masses into some of the most unattractive and sexually demeaning clothes “on the racks” season-after-season for ten straight years.
Let’s turn a new page in freshly modern smart and intelligently respectful durable sensual fashion without getting our American Sons and/or Daughters “sexually harassed” or possibly “killed” or “raped” or “sexually assaulted” or “sexually exploited” on the streets of America or in the military while they honorably fulfill any service or active duty to our Nation.
Until modern fashion designers mature and stop giving the consumer the derogative “middle finger” either to hide or disguise the fact most modern designers haven’t ever physically sewed or stitched any article of clothing in their entire lives much less made wearable clothes fit for public attendance.
Until modern fashion designers mature and stop hiding the fact commercial fashion industry designers “are only ‘in it’ for the money” and not for the love of consumer goods or loyalty to returning customers hence modern fashion doesn’t care if people live-or-die much less if people get “sexually harassed” or “raped” or “sexually assaulted” or “sexually exploited” while riding any bus or mass transit or while at work or university or garment districts working away as indentured servants and economic slaves in poor and deadly dangerous working conditions. Enough said.
Modern fashion seems to say, “ ‘Be as derogatory as possible and we’ll watch you get “sexually assaulted” from afar while we sit back in boxer shorts and stuff massive amounts of junk food into our faces as we enjoy a good “rape” on any Sunday afternoon. Pass the chips, ‘bra’.’ ” (No pun intended.)
The past decade of modern fashion has been one complete disaster and difficult and painful decade as most consumers state the prints and cuts and patterns and designs have been unseemly and undignified for fit modern consumption only because “club kids” “got an ‘in’” with the fashion industry and ever since fashion either ‘turned-out’ (placed on the market) “frumpy” or “dowdy” or “club-brothel barmaid” clothes and nothing much else.
The past decade of fashion has been one complete disaster while most average American consumers were kept metaphorically illegally imprisoned in some dirty fashion Guantanamo Bay prison cell handcuffed to prison bars to sit for days on a cold slab tiled floor with only a sweatshirt-on to die from hyperthermia as urine stains ran down any fashion corpse’s’ leg (as any hyperbole of metaphor or analogy.)
Mostly modern fashion and clothes have been difficult to metaphorically swallow or stomach as any strong analogy is difficult to handle.
Thus American consumers “cling” to their late American made-and-manufactured 1990’s wardrobes and fashions (not modern imitations in style or cut or pattern) which are far more outdated than I care to admit yet well made because in the late 1990’s clothes were still made in America and value was guaranteed no matter what unlike today average standards aren’t even guaranteed by the Chinese or Pakistani or Indian or Mexican manufacturers.
In the late 1980’s American t-shirts Made-in-America were well manufactured because t-shirts were made by Americans in American factories by generations of factory workers who took great pride in their manufactured goods and standards must be maintained.
Yes, in the late 1980’s clothes were more expensive (relative to its economic times) yet clothes were better made and lasted longer than clothes today.
Today’s modern fashions are still somewhat expensive yet it costs ‘pennies on the dollar’ to sew clothes abroad or overseas in China or Bangladesh or Vietnam or Cambodia or India or Pakistan or, or, or… Mexico.
In the late 1980’s any average standard t-shirt cost about $30.00 dollars and lasted as much or as little as five years in relative good condition.
If dress-up t-shirts didn’t get any “washed out” look then it was “good to go” or until t-shirts looked slightly worn out or slightly used then designer second-hand clothes were offered to the ‘next generation’ of children on the block for “play clothes” only if the children graciously received the “play clothes” or even wanted or liked the “play clothes” which I adored free and ‘next generation’ clean and comfortably used beautifully kept designer clothes only worn for one season to play around our backyard and make forts in thick dense forest of greenery and trees almost thick as jungles and beach sand or igloos (snow structures) without any single worry in the world as to ruin such magnificent clothes because after us the “play clothes” went into the dust bin to be made into dust rags.
There were options and no terms or conditions or ultimatums to the second-hand designer “play clothes” except if we didn’t want them then we were asked to please donate the designer “play clothes” to organizations and thus we did.
Who doesn’t love cool free second-hand play clothes?
One doesn’t have to come up with ideas as to what to shop for. Brilliant.
Cool free second-hand designer “play clothes” in excellent condition and with their vibrant colors still intact as well as first-rate cuts and patterns and soft materials and general overall cool modern and urban styles and looks were superb because smart and intelligent and wise youth older than thirteen picked out fashionable and sophisticated and expensive designer clothes since such teens were classy and bossy people with taste had already picked out the play clothes then the ‘next generation’ of youth didn’t have to do anything except play in the second-hand designer clothes which looked more like ready for Polo, yachting and golf or the country club than already worn-and-used “play clothes.”
Preppy “re-usable” second-hand play clothes came soft and broken into perfection for the ‘next generation.’
We weren’t allowed to wear second-hand designer “play clothes” to school no matter how cool second-hand designer “play clothes” looked since they were clothes for around the house yet presentable to greet guests, if needed to or not.
Nowadays, mostly creative graphic arts t-shirts still do cost on average about $30.00 dollars yet one’s lucky if one’s t-shirt will last one season much less three years.
Nowadays, modern fashion is for the most part garbage. (Literally. Not as an insult.)
Any consumer may consume modern clothes which quickly become discarded and bam!
There’s more added garbage to our oceans and seashore lines and natural landscapes and, and, and…
A globe fit for modern consumption yet modern consumption isn’t fit for a modern globe.
Please don’t ask me about finite etiquette.
Remember, I’m a young womyn who passed up her “coming out” ball or “cotillion” dance because I thought the word “debutante” actually meant “amputee.” Not so.
Can anyone only imagine what English as a Second Language young womyn from the jungles of Central America must’ve thought at the age of 16, 17, or 18 or 19?
It wasn’t any physical handicap I had a problem with. No.
It was more the mere thought of any ballroom full of puffy white ball gowns of “amputees” possibly ‘stuffed’ into such ridiculous dresses seemed more of any mockery to our amputee sisters than any compliment thus I opted out and spent an entire summer under an umbrella on one specific beach and read “” from cover-to-cover without a care in the world.
What I can say thinking from the top of my head is this: when I last read through our families’ authentic “Coat of Arms” it read the word “coat” the same as when one’s cold then one will put on an outer protective layer of clothing or gear known in the English language as “coat.”
For sure, I know it’s not “Code of Arms.”
(No, I’m not certain as to why most readers keep asking this question other than it has something to do with “Downton Abbey” vs. “Downtown Abbey.” (Please to look it up.) Thank you.
Yes, I love all “white” clothes. They’re beautiful.
No, I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing “white” clothes after “Labor Day” or before “Memorial Day.”
Yes, it’s a strong fashion tradition and a good one to remember.
Thus I keep within step of such traditional clothing fashions out of respect for our enslaved history for which such any enslaved history shan’t repeat itself.
No, I don’t wear white because I don’t want to feel entitled like slave owners did.
Personally, I refuse to commit such an extraordinary former and modern fashion “faux pas” as to wear “white” off season.
My skin would crawl to create such any general classical social blunder known to most people in Europe and America as a “faux pas.”
(We mustn’t forget about inadequate economic social caste systems and social classes and modern economic slavery and imbalanced power hungry or power starved hierarchies.)
(If we were to wear “white” all year round then we would most likely forget our enslaved history and the drastic and unfair economic social caste system within historical and modern American context and structures.)
We believe in purchasing mostly all 50% to 100% organic Turkish or American cotton from “Patagonia” and/or ‘conscious’ “H&M” since such responsible companies provide some sort of ethical consumer relief to the enslavement of cotton’s modern industry.
(As of November 2011, “consciously” (intentionally written in such a manner) we surpassed, aside from our steadfast commitment to our twenty year (20) sociological economic project (we’re into our 9th year of study) to keep our “household budget” at or under $40,000 dollars with the exception for which we went ahead in November 2011 and purchased “Patagonia” fleece jackets even though most “middle income earning” families don’t usually afford such “rugged individualist” outdoor gear or clothes on their Twin Cities’ annual median income of $38,000 per family of four (2013, 2014 statistics) as such families only afford $950.00 per family member per annual (yearly) wardrobe expenses.)
“Shoulder pads” must’ve held some sort of function or stylistic purpose in the 1980’s and 1990’s.
However I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing “shoulder pads” for as long as I live after physically and actually living through the 1980’s and 1990’s.
(Please, stop recycling the most unattractive ideas from any fashion or style era in which people are still alive. Thank you very much. We’re not dead yet.)
It’s difficult to find any womyn’s blazers or suit coat jackets since my upper biceps (nearest to my armpits) are naturally 12.5 inches (twelve and a half inches, measurement re-taken, November 2015) round in circumference without any sweater on underneath any suit coat as well as making this measurement without lifting any single object other than a fork to my lips.
Now I wear a size “medium” around the bust and bodice of any blazer or suit coat jacket however not around the upper biceps because “I can’t put my arms down.”
Thus, the fashion “hunt” continues.
To search and purchase for any comfortable suit coat jacket or sports suit coat might take years for me to find anything in my size.
My last real suit coat jacket hunt lasted ten straight years with my “Benetton” suit coat jacket I purchased in 2002 when I started out as any young filmmaking executive producer and director of independent documentary feature length films and as sole proprietor to a now dissolved documentary film company as of December 31, 2014.
Yes, I refuse to wear any clothes with titles such as “hobo” or “burnout” since I wouldn’t want such connotation to “rub off” on me. Yes, I’m preppy.
The brain doesn’t forget one single aspect of life.
Yes, I like to keep my attire respectfully classical and sophisticated clean minimalist unless I must teach any whipping moral or ethical or “Green Man’s” lesson yet I no longer play the “village’s idiot’s” deliciously decadent role dripping with idiotic and rich chocolate icing. No.
(The toughest acting role to pull off in the entire world is “village idiot” when one’s considered “overly educated” by one’s own Father in conversation.)
(Now, by social standards of the highest order whenever protecting one’s life; I simply and directly whip the metaphorical rear end of any unruly horse which might have murderous inclinations because such any dumb animal will most likely get humans possibly killed or gravely injured and such any moronic animal knows it doesn’t deserve to live hence it’s any disservice to humanity by being violently dangerous to itself or others.)
We went to “JCPenney” and as soon as we found out the derogatory remarks on one line of well-made men’s three piece suits then we quickly moved further down along the aisle of wall racks and further and further away from purchasing any clothes with any label which read “Portly Size."
We almost fell over to discover any consumer clothing label described as “Portly Size” since people have such difficulty with losing weight and with some aspects of their body image as it is.
Weight of any type is any strong private and delicate issue or matter or endeavor which “nobody” else is allowed to bring up or mention unless one personally talks about one’s own weight or one does bring up the topic of “weight” to share and possibly teach something to another otherwise please don’t imply or talk or even as much as insinuate anything about anybody else’s body or size.
It’s in poor taste and ill-bred to point out the obvious on someone else’s physical body or to make any crude remark such as “Portly Size” when any consumer might already have a terrible and/or difficult enough time with clothes shopping as it is. (Please, place one in the shoes of another. Thank you.)
“Portly Size” is the equivalent of giving any consumer “a jab in the ribs” or a “middle finger” or two fingers up the nose.
Dog boots are terribly designed and constructed.
Last winter 2013 we bought one set of “Mutluks” for $60.00 dollars and watched our dog bleed on all four legs all winter long from his “extra” appendages.
Dogs have appendages (placed further up and in the inner insides of their legs) which “Freeway’s” extra nail appendages further dug into our dog’s legs and broke skin exactly where our dog’s little extra appendages are where the Velcro straps are sewn thus digging into him and cutting him and breaking his skin open thus causing him to bleed.
Once I shed one silent tear for our dog.
The sight of our dog’s blood made my skin crawl.
The sight of blood running down our dog’s legs looked ever so painful yet as hard as we tried, we continued to purchase dog boot-design after dog boot-design without much success.
Yes, we still had to place something on our dog’s feet thus our dog wouldn’t get frostbite on our dog’s paws in -15 to -40 (negative fifteen to negative forty degrees) (with a wind chill) below zero temperatures (neither any hyperbole nor any exaggeration.)
We did the best we could with what we had at the time which we ended up with a whole bunch of different poorly designed dog boots which were ridiculously designed for any modern dog as well as overpriced.
The search’s still on for non-excruciatingly painful bloody dog boots.
We know our breed’s knees are the first thing to go in his degenerate genetic line of breed thus for our dog to have to curl-in our dog’s two front knees each time we dress our fog into a “3M Thinsulate” (the warmest material in the world) down coat then our dog must contort our dog’s knees forcing our dog to move in unnatural ways against the natural layout of his anatomy thus design and construction of dog clothes and coats is completely and utterly wrong for most dogs of any breed to be forced to do such weird repetitious knee bending motion is criminal.
Any unnatural movement which goes against any dog’s anatomy causes trauma to the joints through repetitious movement overtime.
We might have to design and construct our own dog clothes no matter how unattractive or homemade they might look.
We don’t have time to sew dog clothes yet our dog’s clothes might have to be custom made to perfection to fit our dog’s body and legs and head and keep him warm and shielded from severely cold natural elements here in Minnesota’s harsh winters.
Our search’s still on to find further “3M Thinsulate” down coats for which our dog could step into the coat then our dog’s coat would Velcro or zip or button at the top along the ridge of our dog’s spine or backline rather than along his underbelly which is difficult to reach and Velcro-in at such an awkward human manner at the best of times.
We love the material and feel of “3M Thinsulate” dog down coats.
We won’t ever give up on Minnesota’s “3M Thinsulate” material since “3M Thinsulate” material is factually the warmest in the world. Thank you.
We wouldn’t be caught dead wearing “camouflage” clothing unless we were to go bear or grouse or wild turkey or wolf or moose or deer hunting. (Thank you very much.)
Camouflage is function and not style or fashion.
Yoga pants are function and not style or fashion.
Sports wear is function and not style or fashion.
Sports jersey tops are exclusively to be worn only to sporting events.
Sports jersey tops aren’t to be considered any type of style or fashion or fit to be worn anywhere else outside of such specific sports settings otherwise professionals will refuse to conduct modern and mature adult civilized responsible business with sports “hooligans” or “anybody” who as much as imposes such a modern “faux pas” upon larger societal cultural structures at large.
Wearing any sports jersey top to events other than sports events is the same as wearing any “super hero” t-shirt which by mature adult standards would be social-and-fashion suicide unless it’s Halloween.
Leggings are function and not style or fashion.
We made the mistake to purchase our dog a camouflage down coat only since to find any size “medium” for ‘a’ dog’s long upper body in dog winter “3M Thinsulate” down coats is nearly impossible to find. (Supply and demand.)
Not once have I ever physically protested in any political demonstration or marched nor have I ever desired to do so. No.
As of this week I’ve strongly begun to consider the idea of marching in summer 2015 as a peaceful private citizen and civilian demonstrator in the one known social justice march in which peaceful private citizens and civilian demonstrators wear only their underwear in public to bring awareness to “sexual violence” or “sexual assault” or “sexual misconduct” or “sexual molestation.”
Not ever would I be caught dead publically wearing only my underwear unless I lost my outer layers of clothes and was possibly in serious trouble.
However, I would be willing and daring enough to wear my underwear for any peacefully institutionalized private citizen and civilian demonstration or march against “sexual violence” or “sexual incest” or “rape” or “sexual molestation” or “sex trade” or “sex trafficking” or “underage porn” or “online un-taxable enslaved sex trade.”
Although, right after I was done peacefully demonstrating as any private citizen and civilian does then immediately I must put my clothes back on.
(No, I didn’t peacefully demonstrate as any private citizen and civilian demonstrator in the 2015 march for “No Pants, No Problem.”)
No, I shan’t be physically demonstrating in any future private citizen or civilian peaceful demonstrations because demonstrations have not ever been my thing and demonstrations are still not my thing.
I sign on-line petitions as a political private citizen and civilian.
Finally, last night I purchased (online from Amazon.com and “Allegra K”) six modern and fashionable “Chinese” blouses for the average cost of $13.00 per blouse which each blouse on the pictures looked more like $225.00 dollars per item. I haven’t visually seen such specific blouse cuts or styles since 2002 with a freshly modern 2013-2014 take.
Insert: One of the “Allegra K” blouses came without any receipt since the item is non-returnable and non-refundable.
The following “Allegra K” black and white stripped “Large” (Size 14) blouse is “a13051700ux0653” and “CO141209115” without any labels or instructions for care or material percentages is two times (2xs) (XXL) larger than me (by two and half of me, a possible American size 18) yet the “Amozon.com” size chart read as though the blouse would be “spot on” exactly the measurements of any American size “14” “Large” or exactly the tape measurer’s measurements and the reason why I bought a “Large” size “14” is only because most of the online private citizen and civilian reviews stated this blouse ran “small” (American size 4,6) thus which is it?
The reason why the “Allegra K” “Large” size “14” shirt is twice (2 times larger) as big on me is because in America a size “0,2” is considered an “extra-small,” and “4,6” is considered a “small,” and “8,10” is considered a “medium,” and “12,14” is considered a “large,” and “16,18” is considered an “XL,” and size “20-22” is considered off the charts in scale as well as “XXL,” and “24…” is considered “XXXL.”
(Correct American standard inch and sizing measurements as of December 2015.)
As of now (December 2015) I wear either American shirt size “small” or medium.”
However, I still don’t know how to purchase Chinese apparel when China’s sizes are all over the map.
Still yet this huge quasi sweatshirt which isn’t a real sweatshirt (as specified) is twice the size of a “Large” which in America is considered “Plus Size XXL” in other words sizes “20,22” and I’m literally top size “medium,” “8,10” or “small,” “4,6.”
Furthermore, the material isn’t a sweatshirt.
The material is more like a lightweight spandex and cheap to the touch. The design, style and cut are awesome but the fabric is terrible for the amazing design.
If I were to order the same style of beautiful quasi sweatshirt then I might not be guaranteed any proper size since I’ve been informed “Chinese” manufacturers and factories don’t have sizing standards, procedures or protocol or worker safety regulations.
For example, if possibly someone’s having “a bad hair day” then they might sew a shirt the size of an elephant or another day sew a shirt the size of a baby since China doesn’t have to comply by standard regulations in sizing or inch increment or otherwise.
The shame with this type of business interaction is “Allegra K” isn’t necessarily held accountable for adequate and proper and correct mathematical sizes thus one could drop $100.00 on shirts which might not ever fit and still be out $100.00 dollars each time since the shirts are non-returnable and non-refundable and subpar sizing regulations.
“Allegra K” must make tons of money from consumers like me who ought to know better than to purchase from some “wild wild west” Chinese manufacturers.
Please refer to any measuring tape and learn what an inch is exactly.
Let’s go back to the fundamentals of mathematical construction. (Thank you.)
It’s not enough to make a shirt.
The shirt actually has to follow some sizing guidelines and regulations or it’s considered “highway robbery” as well as “garbage.”
Yes, I love modern and fashionable and stylish and machine washable 100% polyester “silks” and/or “satins” especially “chiffon” material as well as modern “embroidery.”
However, modern materials must be machine washable friendly or forget about it.
Yes, I’m extremely “picky” since I was bestowed with a “fine tuned eye” for what looks "dowdy" and the difference between what looks “chic” and “fresh” and “modern” or not.
Yes, I studied both cinematography and filmmaking and writing and engineering so I do know what’s aesthetically pleasing to the eyeball or not otherwise.
Yes, I automatically know when clothes looks “odd” or “out of place” or “weird” or “uncouth” or “disdainful” or “inappropriate” or even “disrespectful” or “ugly” or “cheap” or “classless.”
Excerpt From Life.
No, I’m not “matronly.”
Not in the least bit.
Simply, I don’t dress like baboons
with my genitals dropping out of dresses. No.
As of this summer August 2014, I’d two “disrespectful” and “immature” and “cruel” and “thoughtless” and “mean-spirited” and “cowardly” and “unlawfully frightened” (beyond scared) and “rude” and “disrespectful” early-to-mid twenty-something’s verbally abused me to as much as call me a strong and derogatory word such as “matronly.”
Such individuals run around with their genitals hanging out of their clothes like they were two year olds with ruffles on their underwear.
Still yet while such individuals hosted a party at their home they allowed for a particular young womyn (their guest) to get raped on their property.
Thus their word doesn’t mean much to “anybody” much less me yet such derogatory people do get “verbally abusive” when they can’t get their spoiled way in life then they lean towards their strong propensity and tendency to punch “below the belt.”
“Control freaks” get “verbally abusive” because they’re out-of-control.
No, I’m not “anybody’s” “wet mommy” or “nanny” or “matron.” No.
Please, don’t get personal with me.
One Classic General Example
If we don’t know each other and we haven’t ever at least once been properly socially introduced to one another by any common third party or we haven’t ever at least three times in our lifetimes properly met and if we haven’t ever directly socially introduced ourselves to each other face-to-face in any social common space such as hence forth we both know our social host then please let’s not hug at all and at maximum let’s act upon professional and sturdy handshakes as we properly conduct ourselves for modern professional business or ask out loud and directly if/and when “touching” another person is okay and/or permitted to touch or not because one’s body might utterly physically hurt from hemorrhaging for five straight years. Thank you. (We knew ‘you’d’ understand since ‘you’ did come across as any genuine gentle and kind soul does.)
To hug any modern private citizen and civilian “perfect stranger” is to take liberties as much as to take any private citizens’ and civilians’ picture for free business publicity and/or promotional materials for any company without ever having “perfect strangers” “sign on the dotted line” or in exchange of royalties.
(Especially in business please be careful as ever to take it upon oneself to take any type of liberties with “perfect strangers” (especially first time customers or returning costumers) as to overstep any professional physical boundaries or take from any private citizens’ or civilians’ “private property” in the form of private citizens’ or civilians’ image and/or likeness for which includes one’s own physical body and one’s own physical being and one’s own physical form and one’s own physical voice in likeness as well as in look, sound and unique genetic organic material as well as bodily fluids.)
Nobody may collect “anybody” else’s’ bodily fluids without anybody’s’ written consent. Yes.
In other words: Any business personnel or private citizens and/or civilians or public and/or private businesses may not take first time costumers’ or any repeating costumers’ and/or private citizens’ and civilians’ picture without the first time costumers signing on the dotted line “personal agreement statements” since such publicity campaigns and/or promotional companies will mostly utilize for free rather than for pay use one’s own “private property” in likeness and/or image and/or literal picture for free in the form of free company promotional materials and publicity which is considered exploitation and theft by modern digital communications and global communications legal standards.
Please, allow for professionals to do the publicity and/or promotional campaigns of any public and/or private business since public relations is highly legal work and must not be left up to anybody to do especially not attorneys since public relations work is left up to public relations legal as well as creative professionals to do.
As any public relations professional one-must-not-only-be-legal since one must also be creative as any public relations professionals are and/or do.
In other words: Don’t take your customers’ pictures and use customers’ pictures for free publicity because it’s highly fraudulent.
One must get any private citizens’ and civilians’ signed consent to have their image or likeness utilized for any public business’s’ promotional campaigns and/or in any public setting and/or in any business establishments’ locations and/or in general public whatsoever for which any general public occupies any space indeed open to the general public for business.
One doesn’t take any specific and/or particular pictures of anybody’s “private property” in likeness and/or image while “singling out” (lack of better words) individuals in public spaces unless one has written or on-camera or voice recorded verbal consent to take any picture or moving image beyond three (3) seconds with one’s private or public cell phone in any capacity in any public space pertaining to specific individuals for which anybody could possibly witness and recognize the private citizen and civilian individuals for who they are which such any individual has paid any ticket for attendance of any dated public event and could possibly sue for using their likeness to make fun of them or single them out over social media. Yes. Be careful.
No taking pictures or videos of strangers for one’s own amusement to share over social media. It’s considered personal theft.
One may take any personal pictures with one’s cell phone.
However, one may neither publically nor privately “take” pictures nor moving images nor upload “private property” in the likeness and/or image of anybody else otherwise to take specific private citizens’ and civilians’ and individuals’ picture while in public is like rudely staring at somebody and not stating direct words pertaining to the individual such as, “watch out!”
When one goes as far as to publically and/or privately upload or share specific moving image footage for any more than 5 seconds (film school taught us not any more than 3 seconds, actually) of anybody else’s image and/or likeness then such action is criminal and either considered exploitation and/or theft by the person who commits such negative actions against anybody else as to take such liberties as to take specific defamation pictures and/or moving images of womyn while womyn are heavily and/or publically and/or privately intoxicated on anything then such illegal actions of thievery might be grounds for legal ramifications. Yes.
Please, with one’s intelligence and kindness and smarts avert one’s eyes and put one’s cell phones away before one gets any mighty lawsuit in their hands.
For us who attended four year undergraduate global communications degrees and hold minors in wet-photography, classical poetry, film studies and creative writing then we know our basic legal rights when photography becomes the moving image and or the minutia of legal global communications in many forms of digital media “private property.”
Unbeknownst to the private citizens and civilians who have their pictures taken without ever signing on the dotted line of any “personal agreement statements” or royalties then such individuals may innocently do get “used” by any business personnel for which is an amateur to photography and has no right to take any pictures of anybody for public consumption unless business personnel do get any form of signature of one’s’ clients since most private citizens and civilians don’t want and/or care to and/or desire to have other general public have private citizens and civilians be looked at without publically being present in the moment to represent one self since free publicity or promotional campaigns for businesses aren’t any part of properly conducted personal socialization or professional business. No.
The individual or company may not use the likeness and/or the image of first time costumers or any repeating costumers unless one signs on the dotted line and gets royalties from the company for using one’s own “private property.”
To hug any modern “perfect stranger” is to take liberties with any perfect stranger or anybody for which one conducts business or doesn’t know or has neither been formally socially introduced nor as much as met anymore than three times in specifically and commonly shared hosted private events.
Such mistake is okay to do twice and the third time then strike out.
It’s impossible to know what type of illnesses others might live with since anybody’s health is quite their own personal private business and private affair not necessary to share with anybody else other than one’s legal consenting sexual monogamous domestic partner or not by legal rights.
No, I can’t help it I like to bake my own homemade organic non-GMO and no sugar whole wheat breads and be extremely responsible to my family and work and life and friends.
No, I can’t help it I was stuck in a “fashion rut” for three (3) whole straight years of only wearing non-logo gray (grey) t-shirts because I refused to wear “Muu Muu” dress prints on my body.
(Otherwise, I’m afraid I would’ve been physically ill wearing unattractive cuts or prints or designs near or on my body.)
Ever since we’ve began our personal sociological economic “project” to live on $38,000 dollars per annual “household budget” in the same manner as any other ‘”middle income earning” Twin Cities’ families of four family members thus far our nine year sociological project is any great challenge to live-on according to our champagne taste on any “beer budget.”
Ever since 2008, we set our household budget to $35,000 (now $38,000) and it’s very challenging to purchase clothes on an annual budget of $1,650 per family member of two (plus a dog $275.00 on clothes) per yearly “household” clothes allowance.
(Such an annual clothes budget’s merely scraps off of the floor, $1,650 per household family member of two on a set “household budget” of $38,000.)
Really, shirts ought to cost no more than $10.00 in America because $1,650 dollars per annual allowance is all anybody will afford without taking out credit cards and getting into further debt which we refuse to do.
All these years we’ve carefully budgeted and did our duty to “King and Country.”
Yes, we’re waiting for the rest of the country to economically catch up and for the fashion industry to connect and understand the gravitas of the economical situation of most recent Americans (2000-2016.)
For any family of two adults $1,650 dollars is nothing especially since I have ridiculously expensive taste for almost anything from cars to watches to apparel.
Anyone may place any item in front of me and I can tell if it’s luxury or high quality or not.
Back to social insults and general disrespect for mature adults.
Yes, I much rather have had “gutless” twenty-something’s call me an “asshole” or a “cunt” instead of having them unlawfully partake in “accessory to rape after the fact.”
Twenty-something’s go straight for the jugular and called me “matronly” because the supposed “insult” implies I have no vagina.
Matronly couldn’t be further from the truth since less than one day ago I checked my vagina when we had glorious sexual intercourse and my vagina was still rightfully where it belongs.
The last time I checked I had a myomectomy done not a hysterectomy and even then I’d still have a vagina intact.
They knew perfectly well the word “matronly” would hurt.
Especially, after all of the irresponsible sexual misbehavior and lies and deceit and all of it came down to one single word which broke my trust with both of them because I didn’t realize what cruel young people they are.
After the age of thirty one ought not for any reason or under any circumstance socially entertain any twenty-something’s (especially not to babysit them) since some twenty-something’s can be some of the most “dense” and “sexually vulgar” and “sexually crude” people one will ever encounter.
Who cares to hang out with “dumb kids?”
Nobody cares to hang out with “dumb kids.”
Yes, I’m still hurt from their verbal abuse because they called me “matronly” out of spite rather than truth.
They became verbally abusive when I “put my foot down” and refused for our home to become a late night hotel or brothel yet not once did they complain while I almost killed myself to serve them hand-and-foot.
Yes, I’m still wounded to have been called “matronly.”
Yes, I was “sexually assaulted” at the “Gay 90’s” this summer 2014 when a strange Iraqi man put his hand down my shirt and up my chest and pinched my left nipple while one of our house guests went around town making out with nearly every single strange black man they saw like they were some starved beast on both a Friday and Saturday night.
(When I finally peeled off our house guest from some black dude’s penis and informed them of my misfortune and mishap and what had happened to me, our house guest barely reacted and wanted to know which bar to go to next.) I could’ve almost killed them with my bare hands and probably ought to have done so.
Our former house guest stood in dark and dusty corners as they helped lift up their genitals to strange men’s penises to have the men stroke our house guest’s genitals while they cheaply gave themselves away to strangers bar-after-bar as our house guest went in search of only black men.
Our former house guest who happens to be a great “liar” and a “know it all” (terrible combination) is nothing but a “foreigner” and a “cunt” (in some sense of the word) not to be trusted because our former house guest does indeed have a cruel streak in them.
To be cruel is to be retarded with a wayward genetic strand.
(Our former house guest lacks empathy and they’re some of the most dangerous people to run around with because they’ll get “anybody” gravely injured or killed.)
When any person is born or developed in such any terribly cruel manner then they’re not much good for anything other than to fulfill their ego. (Touché.)
Oh, I told our former house guest exactly what I thought of them and went so far as to text the word “cunt” to describe their sexual misbehavior and misconduct as house guest.
(I’m proud of myself.) (When one’s house guest gets their host “sexually assaulted” then no holds barred. House guests might as well go straight to hell.)
Calling someone “matronly” is a good way to cowardly tell someone to “go fuck themselves” without having the balls to do it.
Twenty-something’s have so much to prove and to make up for.
My Father told me, our former summer 2014 (correction on year) house guest’s sexual misconduct is a sign of “mental illness.”
(Okay, but not on my watch and not on my time because our former house guest costs us thousands of dollars in a short span of time while we wined and dined them and their social company wasn’t even intelligent or smart. Our house guest’s company were some desperately horny bar pimps. Take it someplace else.)
Yes, I’d do it all over again in the same volatile manner in which I reacted because I did get “used” by some déclassé floozy nobody from nowhere.
(A “virgin/whore” is worst type of liars there are.)
Now this written story’s here for all of time as part of this season’s Self Portrait Artist Statement thus “anybody” learns a good moral lesson in not taking advantage of their hosts and getting their hosts either “sexually assaulted” or almost “killed.”
No, I don’t socialize with scum no matter who they are.
I’m, too, preppy and modern prim and proper for idiotic temperaments.
No, I’m not prissy.
Yes, I did get called “matronly” because I wouldn’t let myself get further used thus I was verbally abused by the stupidest twenty-something’s I’ve ever met who one of them sexually slept their way across the Midwest in the course of one summer and still managed to get kicked out of three different Minnesota homes and sent back to Missouri in disgrace because no one wanted to deal with their house guest’s horny bullshit and deeply seeded control freakish issues which are mentally ill issues, anyway.
Yes, I’m a woman in the prime of her life and career.
Yes, I’m a success.
Yes, I’m astute and intellectually sexy and clever and sensually smart since I know exactly what happens past dark.
Women get realistically “raped” or “sexually assaulted” past dark as well as in the light of day.
Nothing good ever happens after midnight.
As of 2014 I decided to purchase (no logo) outlet “Armani Exchange” clothes because a $30.00 t-shirt sure is better quality and better made and better cut and fit than a $10.00 t-shirt’s worth even though t-shirts are mainly made under a $1.00. The mark-up is ridiculous!
As of August 2014 my personal five (5) year boycott of Chinese made clothing stopped ever since I discovered “Armani Exchange” is made in China.
Of course, I fell in love with Armani’s high quality of online customer service and beautifully made Chinese apparel. (Thank you.)
Remember to always spend 10% on one’s wardrobe from one’s annual yearly salary income (pre-taxed for a family of four.)
Automatically take care of this vitally essential aspect of the personal self.
For example, the average median annual income for a family of four in the Twin Cities is $38,000 (2013-2014) then multiply by 10% equals $3,800 divided by 4 family members equals $950 dollars per individual family member per year.
Any average median annual income for any family of four with an approximate salary of $100,000 (pre-taxed) multiply by 10% equals $10,000 divided by four family members equals $2,500 dollars per individual family member in 2014.
Christmas Eve, I stepped inside a “Coach” store and I was practically “thrown out” because the store representatives didn’t think I had enough money on me.
Yes, I walked into “Coach” with $16,000 dollars.
Remember, we donate $30,000 per year what used to cost to make one single independent feature length documentary film.
Thus now we don’t make feature documentary films we tend to donate such a sum.
No, we’re not talking about credit cards. Nope.
We’re talking hard earned cash in the form of debit card.
For the second time in my life I considered purchasing a “Coach” bag.
Yet I didn’t have a clue as to how much a “Coach” bag would cost thus I went shopping with $16,000 dollars only to have discovered later the most expensive “Coach” bags are sold for no more than $500.00 (five hundred dollars) in stores while “Gucci” or “Versace” bags start at $5,000 (five thousand dollars.)
Yes, I was surprised to find many of “Coach’s” bags which seemed outdated and “dowdy” for any new fashionable era.
“Coach’s” latest “modern” 2013-1014 bags are nothing special to look at or go home and brag about.
Yes, I’m asking men and women to boycott “Coach” for one complete year thus “Coach” may get their house in order (until December 24, 2015).
Yes, I’ll do my best to purchase a “Coach” clutch next December 24, 2015.
However, no, I don’t want to see or hear “Coach” anything because “Coach” doesn’t have anything worth listening to unless “Coach” would like to apologize for having their customer representatives treat me like any complete trash.
Last year’s “Coach” line is for “old women” without supposed reproductive body parts or libidos for such matters.
“Coach” smells of “upper middle income” money and nothing much else.
“Coach’s” clutches are terribly constructed and flimsy like soggy bread.
Over a phone conversation I told my Father about the incident at “Coach” and my Father replied, “When you step inside sewage, you come out smelling like sewage.”
Some of my Father’s best friends are global Italian buyers for some of the most expensive and extraordinary clothing labels in the world.
“Drop the attitude, you work in a shop.”
Why is it Minnesotans only seem to afford one nice item in their annual wardrobe en masse yet everything else either looks “raggedy” or “worn out” or “shabby” or “old looking” especially when Minnesotans frequent museums for such matter?
Why don’t Minnesotans’ lower their economic expectations and instead of only purchasing one nice $500.00 bag possibly purchase an entire nice new ensemble or a complete $500.00 outfit from outlet designers?
“Leggings” are stockings.
“Leggings” are hosiery.
No, one doesn’t wear “chiffon” or “sheer” or “see through” clothing of any type without any proper “Camisole” or t-shirt or tank top underneath otherwise that’s another déclassé ignorant person walking around who doesn’t seem to be able to decipher “make believe” mean spirited fashion industry from reality.
No, one doesn’t wear a “blazer” or suit coat jacket with only a bra underneath and nothing else otherwise that’s another déclassé ignorant person walking around who doesn’t seem to have any critical analytical thinking skills to decipher stupidity from fashionable smarts.
Clothes can make or break human careers and interpersonal relationships.
What is it about “obese” women who mostly fulfill a deeply empty or intrinsic or inner starving need to have their “larger than life” eighteen pound breasts each fall out of their clothes?
What is it about smaller or average thin women who dress ever so beautifully modern “chic” and proper like Audrey Hepburn did?
At heart I’m modern preppy and there’s nothing else to it.
There’s a proper time and place for clothes.
“To the Good Life” (According to the Costa Rican greeting.)
Gabriela de la Holm
Monday, December 22, 2014
One last correction: “Leggings.”
“Leggings” without any layer over them is “inappropriate” attire to “sport” or “wear” outdoors at any time. Yes. (Correct.)
“Let’s put it to rest.”
“Leggings” are the same as “stockings”. Yes.
“Leggings” are the same as “hosiery.” Yes.
“Leggings” are technically “undergarments” or “underwear”.
“Leggings” is no different than walking around in one’s underwear. Yes. (Correct.)
“Leggings” aren’t “long johns” or “long underwear”. No.
“Leggings” are worn one layer above “panties” as well as one layer underneath “long johns” or “long underwear”. Yes. (Correct.)
“Leggings” are only worn underneath clothes such as either “trousers” or “jeans” or appropriately lengthened “shorts” or “skirts” (supposedly when one sits down the skirt length covers both knees) and “long skirts” or “leggings” are worn underneath “long johns” for another layer of warmth and protection.
The point is this:
After an entire year of answering this question:
Are “leggings” appropriate to wear in public? No.
No, “leggings” aren’t appropriate to be worn in public at any time no matter what anyone debates or argues about “leggings” unless one accidently gets locked out of one’s home, possibly not even then.
Why aren’t leggings appropriate to be worn in public?
The reason why it’s inappropriate to wear “leggings” in public is because “leggings” are no different than another layer of private “undergarments” or “underwear” or “panties.”
“Leggings” are another “basic” or “base” layer to be worn as protective gear for one’s private body parts (or genitals) which private body parts (penis / vagina) mustn’t be “shown” or “used” for anything other than to be shared with intimate partners or spouses whom which people give ‘only’ agreeable mutual sexual consent otherwise “tuck in private body parts” and have an excellent day unless one’s zipper becomes broken then go home and change.
The “faux pas” of public “leggings”
If for some “awkwardly” misunderstood reason men or women wore “leggings” out of the house this calendar year 2014 either to “work” or “school” or to the “grocery store” or to any “restaurant” or any other public “establishment” then know this:
The public’s been looking at a calamity “fashion” disaster for an entire year (2014) ever since some “messed up” commercial ideal came about how “leggings” suddenly “became” “outdoor” clothing when in reality (factually) “leggings” are “panties” or more precisely “stockings.”
(How embarrassing for so many Americans to get ever so confused about inappropriate attire.)
Be careful not to be able to decipher or process critical analytical thinking skills in knowing the difference between “reality” from “art” or “reality” from “commercialism” or “reality” from “surrealism” or “reality” from “make believe” or “reality” from “storytelling” (visual or oral or literary form or otherwise which indicates the main components in semiotic communicative structure in any storyline vitally important in significant communication about “anything” at all otherwise it’s gibberish or nonsensical which means whatever the fashion or style or ideal falls apart in argumentation like weak debate.)
One must learn the “basics” to basic attire in function.
“Clothes make the man” or woman.
Clothes can also destroy the man or woman.
When people or “the masses” blindly follow “anything” they don’t seem to understand or some ridiculous “style” does catch their eye or any weird “style” or “look” or “fashion disaster” “catches on” then the masses place themselves in danger of sabotaging their work or interpersonal relationships by following anything as easily misunderstood or as simple as any “faux pas”. (Cringe.)
“Faux pas” are incredibly stupid social mistakes not ever to be repeated in any social form or function because such things as stupid as “faux pas” can either close or open up doors or destroy entire careers or opportunities.
If for any chance in the year 2014 “the masses” did get “caught up” and swept away by the strong under currents and tides to wear inappropriate “leggings” while out in public then “chuck it up” to “a” (one) terribly inappropriate fashion year in lack of style not to ever be repeated again because now we know better as women have known better for the past 100 hundred years.
There’s no excuse for publically wearing “legging stockings.”
Correct one’s attire or sensibilities in clothing.
Make corrections to mistakes otherwise it’s no good.
Yes, my last fashion “faux pas” was in the summer of 2009 when I took it upon myself to write down “lyrics to songs” or “titles of songs” or “music” on my under forearms with black sharpie marker whenever I heard the title of a song or band I’d write it down on my forearms because I don’t seem to remember titles or names of bands for anything.
Of course, I loved black sharpie marker scribbles on my forearms because then later when I went back home I did remember the almost impossible task to commit titles or bands to memory yet almost one year later in 2010 I came to discover that only people who were recovering from drug addiction wrote on their arms to help them get over their addictions. (Okay.)
Well, I did what I did only I did it out of ignorance because I thought sharpie writing on my arm looked cool until I came to discover what sharpie writing on one’s arms really meant to modern American “hipsters” getting over heroin addiction. (No, thank you.)
For as long as I’ll live I shan’t ever write on my body for anything. (Absolutely not.)
No, I don’t have a single tattoo on my body. (I love it.)
Okay, another example of a “faux pas” is this:
Do you know how “New Englanders’” north of Boston saying, “Right? Right.”?
“Right? Right.” signifies one’s laughter when one must be appropriately deadly serious about anything at all in front of “authority” or when there’s nothing else to be said without laughing out loud or when one mustn’t and doesn’t burst into heaps of laughter (because one’s sophisticate classy) when one’s supposed to be extremely serious yet there’s humor in the undertones of the communication or circumstance or linguistics.
The “faux pas” is when someone says, “Right. Right.” after “anything” anyone’s ever said as a simple reply to fill up air because such any person doesn’t have anything intelligent to contribute to the conversation or situation or linguistics.
The “faux pas” is when anybody ignorant says, “Right. Right.” all of the time which “Right. Right.” after anything’s said comes to mean complete and utter gibberish or the same as saying, “I’m dumb and I don’t have anything intelligent to say,” “I’m dumb and I don’t have anything intelligent to say…” over-and-over again because “I’m dumb because I haven’t ever been taught what “Right? Right. means yet I copy it without any significance or understanding” or signifier to “upper crust” blue blooded New Englanders and they’d know immediately when one doesn’t have one single clue about anything at all since one were to keep repeating themselves either like any broken record or any parrot.
(Words without meaning or substance to them or reason or logic or history are “queer” indeed. Empty words of style or sheep-like-mentality fall to their metaphorical death over cliffs of mourning disaster.) (I can’t seem to help it. I want to write poetry.)
(Doors get slammed shut because people get scared of what’s not natural or what seems “odd’ or “queer” or “contrived” to others.)
The reason why one mustn’t “saunter off” or blindly or ignorantly or arrogantly pick up others’ traditions or “copy” a look without knowing what first anything means is because then one might get trapped inside any social maze of aimlessly wandering around forever without purpose while inside private parlors “everyone else” makes global plans to contribute to the world at large by implementing global fair wages and protective workers’ rights.
No, not ever in my life have I ever worn “legging stockings” out in public.
Are you mad?
No, I’m not insane.
Yes, I wore “legging stockings” in the December 2013 “Self Portrait of an Artist” photography series.
Yes, I made the ever so serious decision to wear “legging stockings / hosiery” in my photography series because last December 2013 I blogged about how at that time I was 164 pounds and emails arrived which asked and wondered if I was “as huge as a house” or a “whale” (correction) or “a big fat ass.”
Out of rebelliousness, I wore “legging stockings / hosiery” in my “Self Portrait” photography series to better show off the contour lines of my body at 164 pounds and not for any other reason.
Furthermore, in last December’s 2013 “Self Portrait” series I also wore a long shirt which covered my entire mid drift or mid section as well as my derriere and hips. (Pay close attention.)
No, “art” isn’t necessarily appropriate attire for “school” or “work” or “television news” or “weather news” or “five star dining” or any other “public social activity” or “function.”
One of the greatest fashion “faux pas” is to wear “Yoga” pants in public (2005-2014).
“Yoga” pants are in the same category as spandex “running tights” or “speedskating tights” or “sports tights” which one doesn’t see through such particular durable materials.
For women to wear “Yoga” pants in public is the same as to wear mid-calf dark brown socks with loafers and white boxer shorts and any sleeved white undershirt with a side pocket on the front while women stand at makeup counters and pretend like their inappropriate attire is Kosher while giving everyone around them the “middle finger” ever since such women gave up on themselves and let themselves go.
What’s the point of looking at any gorgeous woman inappropriately dressed?
There isn’t any point to look at any woman inappropriately dressed because most likely she’s not prepared for her day or life or most likely she’s neither any good as a decision maker nor much less any type of leader nor does she know anything about “anything” when she doesn’t even seem to know how to appropriately dress for modern female adulthood and society and basic civility.
'She’s nobody' and makes sure she broadcasts such ridiculous notion to the entire world.
One mustn’t and doesn’t publically “run” errands or around in one’s “pajamas” or “Yoga” pants or “running tights” or “bicycle riding tights” or any other type of sports tights because it’s disrespectful as well as “lazy” of anyone not to get out of their “sports clothes” or “pajamas” and change into appropriate pedestrian clothing or attire.
(The rest of the globe’s not going to put up with our lack of American fashion sensibility and lots of mierde styles.)
There’s nothing uglier than to look at women who refuse to appropriately attire or dress themselves because “comfort” seems to be all some women or men have in their lack of style or fashion sensibilities or moral and ethical code of misconduct in attire.
This is serious business.
This is serious subject matter we’re talking about here.
This is serious topic of discussion in any Era in which 1 out of 7 women are raped or sexually molested or sexually exploited or sexually abused or sexually harassed or sexually assaulted across the United States of America, 2014.
Please, put some proper pedestrian attire on and make any strong effort to look handsome or lovely and classy and sophisticate.
Any one wearing “legging stockings” out in public past 2014 is either “mentally ill” or “out of date and style” or “without any parental figures” to teach and guide their youth through what’s what of wardrobe lifestyle and health and wellness and how attire’s properly and correctly done.
To wear “Yoga” pants out into the world is as bad and as inappropriate as to wear “jeans” to any funeral.
“Yoga” pants mean one doesn’t know how to pay appropriate respect to one’s society at large.
“Legging stockings / hosiery” or “running tights” or “sports tights” or “Yoga” pants are ever so crude or vulgar or inappropriate clothes to wear for “school” or “work” or mostly any other pedestrian social functions unless one’s exercising or in the privacy of their home.
America, please learn how to appropriately dress for success.
Yes, I wore “legging stockings” in my December 2013 “Self Portrait” photography series because I’m a professional artist and hold “creative license.”
However, “I wouldn’t be caught dead in public only wearing “legging stockings / hosiery” and nothing much else over them” because I’m not in the habit or tendency of only wearing my underwear out in public yet last year’s “legging stockings” held such a delicious look and color and texture for photography which I couldn’t seem to pass up otherwise. (Blush.) Really.
With Respectful Regard to American Wardrobe Success;
Self Portrait Artist Statement V
Tuesday, September 16, 2014
As of this fall 2014, I denounce high heeled shoes and ‘valuable’ jewelry for as long as I live with the exception of this series.
Finally, I found “costume jewelry” and like it very much since I don’t have to think about breaks or wear-and-tear or depreciation of “valuable” jewelry.
First, high heeled shoes are gorgeous to look at on other women yet painfully backbreaking and injurious to any physiological mechanism in the human body or anatomy.
Personally, I refuse to have my feet bound forevermore or ever again for as long as I live unless I were to be hired to pose for a professional photography session yet again, that, too, can become tiresome or tedious work standing for hours at a time in high heeled shoes while posing all at the same time.
Modeling takes talent and patience and a strong skill set in understanding the human anatomy and its mechanisms and camera angles and body positioning and still motion of every single second as one stands defiantly still for the camera and slowly breathes yet ever so calmly and subtly holds a pose and makes each position look good and refreshed in almost every single photograph, is, well, almost remarkable. Whew.
Models make life look better than any wrinkled shirt on a hanger.
Actually models make the world look deliciously “drop dead gorgeous.”
Yes, I do have a great deal of respect for healthy and professional working models (not obese or waif) who pay their taxes and contribute to society and culture at large so that women won’t get publically sexually harassed or molested or assaulted or raped by men because models are smart enough to pose for fashion contributors of great importance rather than greedy fashion mongers without any vision for the future.
Hypothetically If I were to get paid to wear high heeled shoes such as professional models do then possibly I’d consider such a grueling task to pose for misogynist companies to achieve that comfortable look in high heeled shoes because it’s all about controlling facial muscles to make one’s face look like nothing hurts yet we all know perfectly well how painful high heeled shoes truly are after about a good fifteen minutes; Then, game over; In every single room where ever there’re any women in high heeled shoes then she’s begun to get crabby unless women “sit down and look pretty the entire time” yet and again that’s not really participation that’s the sidelines and that’s just fine since torture sure is painful and so are high heeled shoes.
Flat shoes are where it’s at for me, forevermore.
What a tragic love story about high heeled shoes and women’s relationship to pretty torturous objects in this modern Era and Age of fashion that such a relationship seems to continue to be fragile and vulnerable, however. Not in a good way. Not like any kind girlfriend who holds one’s best-interest-at-heart for her boyfriend’s health and wellbeing.
The relationship between women and high heeled shoes is a relationship in which one tends to look at that one drifting cat outside of any stranger’s window on a dark cold stormy night: pathetic, lonely and hungry, drenched in rain water and one seems to understand perfectly well that hence one allows for the little cat to come indoors then forevermore the little cat will leave little gifts outside of one’s door and no matter how much the cat’s intensions may seem amorous or filled with friendship; it’s still dead mice and birds one must dispose of with a shovel each and every single time the cat decides to show it’s affection for saving them from a miserable cold stormy night even though animals have been living outside for tens of thousands of years just as bound tortured feet have been a considerable part of fashionable culture at large for thousands of years.
High heeled shoes aren’t natural in the least bit and that’s what ultimately makes high heeled shoes so unfashionably dangerous to even so much as to consider that which is torturous to be perceived as something beautiful is to equivocally bend all logic or reason to abide by violence and disrespect not love for all humanity.
If men wore torture devices on their feet then would women consider such a style or look or fashion statement beautiful or handsome? No.
If men wore torture devices on their feet then women would hurt for our beloved ones. We would wish for our beloveds’ pain to seize-to-exist because we care about the overall health of our beloved men.
I love fashionable classic modest sensual durable fashion for and of this modern age and era.
Contemporary types of fashion move me to compassion and inspiration.
What's there not to love about fashionable clothes?
What's there not to love about wearable art?
Everything, there’s to love about smart, strong, compassionate, durable sensual modest classic fashionable fashion is such particular fashion supports and loves like a best husband friend who’s a man’s man with dignity, clam patience and strength, stamina and everything robust male essence.
To become captivated by wearable art which doesn’t fall off of one’s body parts or limbs does feel exactly like being held at the waist by one’s husband’s gentle hands in which his grip is tender yet strong and compassionate and full of loving grace at all times. Such a stronghold won’t allow for women to fall over or down and that’s warmth and security and protection all rolled up into one sleeve.
Fashion is ever so political and holds a strong potential for controlled positive raw attitude and good intensions to culturally and economically revolutionize an entire industry from within as well as an overall corrupt system (no differently than any other corrupt industry) which allow for our global Brothers and Sisters to work under harsh and desperate and inhumane work conditions and situations in which literally buildings collapse and fall down all the while killing villages of work forces of hard workers in Bangladesh’s garment district and around the globe for that matter. Indeed, how gruesomely tragic. That’s not respect for one’s industry. That's pillage and blunder.
Bangladesh’s torturous industrial beauty is too harsh to swallow here in the United States of America when inflation is skyrocket and the last time Americans saw any significant wage increase was in the 1950’s.
The reason as to why Americans don’t want to purchase “blood fashion” is because our citizens and civilians bled for this nation ever since our Nation was first established and well before since.
Yes, people shed blood over animal pelts and vehemently fought over territory to pillage further forests and wildlife for the sake of fur hats and fur coats while partially decimating the greatest wild spirit: Our Native American Tribes of the Northern Hemisphere’s Western Continent and other global regions which the same history applies to different Indigenous groups and their war torn and bloodshed lands...
We realize and understand and know all too well the ever so horrific and startling history of fashion.
Personally, we don’t consume much fashion, however, what we do fashionably consume is minimal and contemporary and durable gear for the ever changing seasons.
Personally, as of late I like to consume (shop) online (internet) for clothing essentials or basics, however.
Regardless of this ‘Information Revolution’ we quickly discovered many fashion company websites are not only ‘slow as molasses’ or such fashion websites divert (steer away) consumers or online “users” or shoppers from shopping and instead redirects them towards social media (which that’s not the main reason or purpose mature consumer adults shop online in the first place.)
Mature adults directly navigate through consumer websites to spend money and not to have to deal with obnoxious “monkey on their backs” “jumping through hoops” games.
Not to be able to even so much as to look upon any merchandise pictures or find out basic information about such products is any recipe for disaster.
To only be granted one option to click to “Pinterest” is to deny a full range of motion to any consumer and such mere act conveys social online media is supposedly far more valuable an act than to spend money on any product one requires or needs or wants to purchase.
In other words: web developers say, “no, don’t look at merchandise, simply and only directly go to social media and waste more valuable time on nothing.”
In other words: web engineers say, “we don’t want your money because it’s not as important as social media which costs nothing.”
In other words: web engineers say, “don’t spend any money here only look at how cool we think we are as any cultural website made of cheese puffs running on empty calories.”
Such priorities are backwards and dull to say the least.
If consumers desire to link onto social media then most likely they’ll do it on their own time and not while they privately shop for undergarments.
Or when consumers are steered towards an extensive list of endless logins and passwords in which such any type of diversion mainly wastes precious and important consumer time and possibly enforces any shopping experience to become nearly impossible to multi-generationally enjoy.
Or when any fashion company website (somewhat moronically laid out websites, loosely used terminology) and its software developers and engineers “design” for “users” or shoppers to click away from any company product or digital “checkout” line then no one wants to shop there because such a website becomes a collegiate experience instead of an adult mature consumer experience.
There’s nothing more annoying than “checking out” (payment) on the same fashion company website from which one purchases online goods and products on average every three months or so and each time have the “checkout line” force one to type in one’s email and “checkout password” when most people don’t seem to remember what they ate for breakfast each morning. (What a waste of time.)
Mature consumer adults want to shop: get in and get out since adults don’t have time to waste on such frivolities otherwise adults shan’t shop “there” if their precious time gets wasted by teenage web developers with nothing better to do than talk about nail polish color and ugly plastic pink bow barrettes and flip flops.
Mature adult consumers are capable of spending hundreds if not then thousands of dollars all at once.
Factually young people are broke.
Mature adults are ‘banking it.’
No mature adult wants to be reminded of college because college was almost fifteen years ago and mostly peoples’ lives and careers and experiences moved forward as all natural progression does.
To stay young forever is ever so creepy and pedophile in nature.
Buck up and mature and become responsible mature adults.
Welcome to an amazing adult world with lots of fun filled mature activities in which adults take responsibility for their spending habits and fashion and lifestyle since awesome and sensually intelligent people do.
Consumers mustn’t get stuck in time warps therefore mature consumer adults aren’t creeps like some or many young people who have very little to no experience with the real world or money or time thus such younger generations seem “lost” or quick to “fill up” their lifestyles with anything which happens to come along and stupidly “numbs out pain” only for the sake of how empty their lifestyles or fashion or general styles seem to convey to others at large.
Time stands still for no human.
Nevertheless and regardless of how consumers are guided (forced) to face endless dribble of mindless misinformation as well as consumers are mandatorily made to remember useless passwords when one can barely remember what one had for breakfast the same morning then there’s nothing more to be said.
Why aren’t consumers allowed to directly checkout?
Why must one fill out numerous packets of information?
Why must consumers get stuck with elementary homework assignments each and every time they desire to make any purchase?
On average these packets of information take anywhere from ten to fifteen minutes for fill in.
If such a computer program doesn’t like the information filled-in then one might get stuck with a bum computer program for as long or as little as an hour re-typing and re-typing in correct and personal information yet the program might be finicky about zip codes or street addresses or this or that.
By then any consumer wishes to do is to either “kill a small rodent with their bare hands” or “throw their tablet out the window” or “more precisely not ever return to such an immature nightmarish fashion company website no matter how great the sales might be.”
Mature adults refuse to hang out with immature adults because one knows what they say, “you become what you surround yourself with.”
To “steer away” or “to divert” any consumer from making an online purchase is like an unspoken body language makes a profound statement which implies web developers and modern and younger software engineers haven’t ever studied either Global History or international law or business or linguistic complexities or war strategy or philosophy or music or poetry or calligraphy or film or graphic arts or visual media or psychology or The Humanities or, or, or…
When consumers are forced to “jump through moronic hoops” (collegiate; cloistered, idealistic, unworldly, naïve, removed, airy-fairy) then there’s nothing more to be said between parties involved and all lines of communication are lost or purposely cut off by consumers because to “corner” or “force” or “misdirect” any consumer to play some morbid game of “chase your tail” is not only ignorant and arrogant of fashion company website designers and developers as well as thoughtless and mindless about the psychology and nature of humans.
No more purchases need to be made at such fashion company websites since such “online hosts” aren’t good at what they do.
These particular fashion company websites which dare cultivate a complete waste of value are: “Timewasters,” who don’t uphold to respectful or valuable outcomes to society or culture at large ergo weakening the structure of an overall bottom line and diminishing any position of any fashion company website’s power in relationship to their consumers.
Humans can always live with less garbage and not more.
Yes, take time with humans.
No, mature consumer adults shan’t have to spend an hour with a “bunk” or “immature” or “slow” computer software program simply and only because such a program is “badly written code” or manipulative or demanding by nature according to how its code or sequencing was written or established.
How any computer code is written or laid out says a whole lot about the intelligence or lack thereof on the part of any software developer. Computer software programs say so much more about developers than they’ll ever know.
We could ‘lick’ fashion company websites by writing complex code simple-enough to navigate and incredibly human friendly as a support system.
We don’t have time to write code or design software programs because instead of doing so I now sit here deconstructing and analyzing the world to make it a better and more profoundly mature adult place in order for us to stop wars and create compassion through understanding and further complex development of the frontal cortex.
This decade long economic crises decimated the quality of merchandise which sure did ‘go out the window.’
Customer service became atrocious, if not abusive.
Within this decade long economic downturn, Americans begun to believe ignorance is acceptable through arrogance at the mere fact which hardly anybody’s capable of being accountable for anything anymore because Americans confuse responsibility with dirty filthy money.
Within the past decade, we came to find out: If Americans don’t have cash in their pockets then Americans refuse to be humane or responsible for their actions. (Tragic. Really.)
It’s as if though Americans became “retarded” in the pursuit of justice.
One of the main reasons to browse online merchandise is either to gather creative ideas or to make purchases.
When any savvy online consumer adult gets trapped or “forced” to “choose” any selective minimal range of limited options to “login” into any thoughtless or irresponsive computer program or system before making any final purchase then it’s like getting forced to play a game of “wander around inside the maze” for hours.
“User logins” and “passwords” are optional modes of operation and such computer programs ought not to coerce any consumer into digital traps of endless and meaningless miscommunication between humans and software programs since humans aren’t animal pelts to be skinned alive and separated from their expensive time and energy.
There’s nothing more moronic or uncouth than a “timewaster.”
The possibility of getting lost inside any maze might seem like fun for the first thirty seconds, however.
After the initial thirty seconds are up then consumers desperately want to opt out of any online “check out” maze.
Consumers want to stop themselves from aimlessly wandering and exhaustively having to look around for an exodus when in reality consumers know perfectly well they could waste hours and it’s not much fun when winter’s clipping along on our heels.
Hence one makes an exit from any type of disorganized or ignorant or moronic online maze (without a direct line of path to an end in sight) then one doesn’t desire back-in any time soon thereafter because immature digital systems may become irritatingly bothersome.
Such endless traps of meaningless clatter do keep consumers from their ultimate goal, which happens to be to make a purchase as quickly as possible towards any fashion company website’s “checkout” line with all limbs intact and peace of mind and glad tidings to be spending one’s hard earned dollars on purchases which most likely we won’t even need or require for a dependable survival or thriving status of the human race.
Our planet is ever overpopulated by sea and land and space garbage.
Who needs more garbage?
No species needs more added garbage to our Earth or planetary system or oceans.
Without essential or vital information about merchandise (in general) or as to even how much merchandise costs, or which color options the merchandise comes-in, then any consumer is robbed of “real” options and solutions towards wise decision making about their purchases and smart choices are what creates any strong economic outcome.
Thus no sale is made.
Consumers aren’t going to randomly purchase for the sake of making a purchase when Americans have almost ‘licked’ two recessions in a decade long economic battle thus when consumers don’t know what something costs or what it’s made of then humans tend to stay as far away from making purchases since what we don’t know is what we’re scared of.
It’s not acceptable to “click” on a menu button to make a potential purchase (window shopping) of any t-shirt (per se) and have a picture of such t-shirt enlarged on one’s tablet screen only to discover there’s absolutely no information about such merchandise with the exception of the option to “like” or “tweet” or “Pinterest” any product without the ability to find out sizing or in which colors one might consider making a purchase or even so much as without the possibility to head towards an online “checkout” line. (What.)
It’s not acceptable to go to an online store in which an entire “main page” or column of merchandise doesn’t even so much as show-up on any window’s drop menu (day-after-day and week-after-week) thus leaving one square picture of merchandise with an imprinted icon of a blue question mark as though the maintenance engineers don’t know their company or industry or business or product or ‘don’t give a hoot’ as to whether a consumer may or may not have options to best make decisions for themselves thus creating a cycle of mistrust between companies and consumers since such company’s engineers aren’t keeping up with their work and it shows quite evidently as clear as day.
Such fashion company websites aren’t kept up to standard or up to maintenance or even so much as open for business.
So, are online stores open for business or not?
It doesn’t seem like it.
“Are you being served?” No.
To imply an icon or picture of any given product is solely and only there for social media’s entertainment value is to definitely and without a question signify there’s no purchasing power in the selling of merchandise.
To imply such idiotic tendencies as to which, and however, then one doesn’t comprehend consumer value or purchasing power.
It’s only to say one doesn’t understand the history of trade (and that can only mean that...) one’s without power thus without… the commitment to uphold to accountability thus losing out on annual millions of dollars in profit or revenue.
Yes, I’ve given up wearing two dollar flip flops instead for thirty dollar flip flops because flip flops are terrible for the spine no matter what so I might as well wear decent quality flip flops.
Yes, it’s classic and contemporary fashionable for women of any age to cover up their cleavage and breasts and vaginas unless they’re strip dancers or prostitutes and give free peep shows to perverts.
However, not even strip dancers or prostitutes give anything away for free so what is it about private citizen and civilian American women which they so badly wish to give their breasts and vaginas away for free when rape and sexual assault are the number one crime across American college campuses and the military and in our culture at large.
Yes, the number one shoes men hate on women are “wedges” since not only are wedges the ugliest design ever made, however. Wedge shoes are also some of the most dangerous ankle twisting shoes ever made. (Why do gay designers hate women so much?)
Yes, the number one style of shirt or dress men hate on women are “peplums” since a little extra piece of material adds to hip volume.
A bit of extra material does seem to draw attention to the hips area which mostly women desire to hide rather than accentuate.
Yes, suede boots will literally freeze toes and feet.
It’s any wonder as to why boot designers and manufacturers are into “suede” winter-and-snow boots this season when any Minnesotan or Bostonian will tell you when suede becomes damp and eventually gets soaking wet from snow then quite quickly one’s toes begin to freeze and after about five minutes frost bite sets into the toes making the skin go completely white with a strong possibility of extremities turning black and fall off after about twenty minutes in freezing cold weather of about -25 below zero. (Why do gay designers hate women so much?)
In Minnesota we contend with -25 below freezing cold winter weather and must have rubber covered toe boots and heels and the rest of the boot must be made of some wind and water resistant material.
A proper winter-and-snow boot must have “3M Thinsulate” lining.
More precise Historical Correction:
In the 1970’s, men who’d been WWII prisoners of war swore by “3M Thinsulate” because they’d faced the harsh reality in which they were marched to prison camps by the Nazis and many witnessed other American soldiers or comrades who froze through Germany’s vast forests in freezing cold weather in which many men dropped dead or died standing up or sitting down and their bodies were left to litter the forested landscape like frozen statutes until spring came to decompose and become part of fertile land forgiving all war torn bloodshed amongst nations while prisoner of war’ souls still and forevermore haunt such forests.
If one’s winter boots aren’t equipped with “3M Thinsulate” or rubber heel and toe base then such boots aren’t worth much of a productive and active filled lifestyle.
Without “3M Thinsulate” lining then one’s literally dead.
To become fashionable or to be fashionable then one must study and know and understand Global History.
One shan’t allow for history to repeat itself otherwise one becomes another uneducated doorknob hick slave master whipping the rest of the world into submission and into one’s desired whims to rape the land and women and men and children.
One must not become any slave consuming master because you know what happens to any slave consuming master, right?
Slave consuming masters must live with the crimes they commit against humanity and that’s any heavy burden to carry for any man or woman.
Please, learn history otherwise one won’t know who one is or where one’s going.
History is the key to our future success.
Please, learn the right lessons.
Please, learn not to do wrong by others.
Please, learn to make peace offerings to one’s enemies and mean it.
Please, learn to do right by others.
Please, learn compassion for humanity and animals and plant life.
Please, learn to be soft yet humanely respectfully firm with one’s boundaries.
Please, learn mature and competent adulthood responsibility and accountability hence as sensually beautiful as any human can be.
Please, learn how to forgive especially when others aren’t capable to ask for one’s forgiveness when other wrongly or deeply injured or wounded thee.
Please, learn to humble thyself enough to ask for forgiveness.
Please, learn to be forgiven.
Please, learn to uphold to rules and abide by reasonable and logical laws hence rules are set in place for a very good safety reason.
Please, learn rules and boundaries are mainly there for safety and not to stifle anyone’s creativity or needs to express themselves otherwise one might learn the wrong lesson about mature adulthood freedom and either get themselves killed or injured or hurt.
Please, learn money has absolutely nothing to do with advancing culture or civilization.
Please, learn money is a necessary evil yet don’t make money into any form or type of a God(s) or such a demon will surely posses one’s very heart and soul deeming one a walking carcass.
Please, learn the most valuable aspect to life isn’t centered on money.
Please, learn to be hygienic.
Please, learn be gentle yet firm.
Please, learn to be fashionable without breaking the bank.
Please, learn to keep up with contemporary fashion otherwise one doesn’t want to turn into “Grey Gardens.”
Please, learn quality fashion can be found at cost.
Please, learn not to look down upon others who are less fortunate.
Please, learn donate your “good condition” fashions to people who need them most.
Please, learn to donate coats for children and youth and adults in need.
Please, learn “to let go.”
Please, learn to keep one’s wardrobe stocked and if at all possible then share what little one has with others when one’s done with any item.
Please, learn when one requires to replace clothes then do so not because advertisement campaigns tells one that one must seasonally purchase something “new” rather because clothes are a great short and long term investment.
Please, learn quality trumps fashion.
Please, learn fashion trumps style.
Please, learn we must get Americans out of the year 1992 and back on track with the rest of modern global society otherwise our masses will eventually turn into “Grey Gardens” and go insane with delusional self-aggrandizing ideals while feeding raccoons which live in the attic.
Please, learn Americans are still quite “broke” and haven’t updated their wardrobes in twenty-two years.
Please, learn fashion isn’t only political.
Please, learn fashion is about humanitarian risk taking.
Please, learn others have very little means to fashion.
Please, learn to give grace and thanks for what one does have.
Please, learn to be content with one’s little bit of Earth.
Please, learn not to contribute to anymore consumer garbage.
Please, learn less is more.
Please, learn “abundance” is indeed good fortune yet it doesn’t last forever.
Please, learn in my book: One’s made it when one does and can finally afford good quality made Patagonia products since according to the Ancient Maya (as it was written in stone two thousand years ago) a “cold freeze” is coming our way and it’ll last the next thirty-five years and fashionable well-made outdoor gear is going to be all the rage when the possibility to freeze to death becomes tangible.
Please, learn (once again) to survive in cold freezing weather -35 below zero.
Please, learn to share food or small inexpensive resources like matches or tissue.
Please, learn to “look out for others.”
Please, learn contemporary psychologists consider egocentric and narcissistic and egotistical and sociopathic propensities as forms of mental illness.
Please, learn how to change so one may become happier and more content with less.
Please, learn to use the word “please” more often.
Please, learn “The Meek Shall Inherit The Earth.
“To the Good Life” (According to the Costa Rican greeting.)
Gabriela de la Holm
Self Portrait Artist Statement IV
Monday, June 24, 2013
The Self Portraits for the month of May 2013 haven’t been color corrected or ‘touched’ or airbrushed or sharpened or manipulated for publication.
It’s not only obvious that these self portraitures are raw in their original form; Also these photographs are as beautiful as if they’d been doctored and that goes for the backdrops as well (yep, no color correction.)
Why are the original self portraitures as beautiful as if they’d been doctored?
The photos are just as beautiful as any because it’s rare to come across photographs in their original form much less with cosmetic mistakes.
It seems as though we live in an era in which our commercial publishers hide any imperfections for the purpose of publicity or marketing and by all means: It’s the nature of the beast.
Nevertheless, when it comes to art drenched in pure creative refinement then sky’s the limit.
Henceforth, being that I don’t have to force my selling hand at anyone like a commercial vendor does then I don’t have to push my goods or services upon the good people because I don’t have to sell my private work to the public.
Yes, I love the scratchy sounds of old records.
Listening to old records reminds me of snowy afternoons.
The sound of scratched records because it gives music a deep rich tone and high grade quality sound. The closer one gets to the raw quality of art then the closer one gets to any artist’s vision of perfection.
Imperfections are beautiful not because it ‘sounds good’ or ‘trendy’ to say it but because if you’ve ever really studied scar tissue or looked at a scratch upon an old photograph or listened to the sound of an old record then you’d realize that imperfections are lovely, sensual and real.
Why is it?
It is the way it is because in the subtleties of one’s mind one may feel closer to something authentic or raw and honest opposed to so much of that, which is manufactured for us.
The recordings of artists who are dedicated to pulling out the richest tones and sounds from their instruments are some of my favorite artists.
Sounds like that make me think of the Gunflint Trail in which a cacophony of wild animals in the forest are as real as humankind can get near and closer to himself without a single lie; just as silence holds a calm breath of life without ever telling any lies.
As an individual who’s been collecting wild nature sounds for about a decade; I like to record in mono because the sound comes across as flat to my ear and closer to the rich tones of its soul, if you will; (amuse me.)
When I listen to recordings done in mono I can imagine our friends at their studios in Iceland, Sweden, Finland, Norway, Denmark, Holland, New Zealand, Scotland and Ireland working away at the many textures and layers of sound to create food for the imagination.
Absolutely, I feel as close to their recordings as I do to my own work because I can imagine them hard at work in their studios producing music that enriches our global culture and their music pushes for me to become a better photographer and writer and filmmaker.
To the core I’m moved by music but more so by movement and words and lyrics.
To my soul I’m moved by anything that has meaning and compassion and intelligence.
“To the Good Life” (According to the Costa Rican greeting.)
Gabriela de la Holm
P.S No, I’m not a “Bleeding Heart” liberal by nature.
However, I can understand compassion.
Why wouldn’t I understand compassion? No? Yes? Yes.
No, we didn’t plant the “Bleeding Hearts.”
No, we don’t have time for secret loves.
No, we don’t have time for extra marital affairs.
Backdrop Photographs: “Bleeding Heart.” (Correction.)
Self Portrait Artist Statement III
Friday, March 29, 2013
Scattering of the People
When you came attacking, why did you not
have more men?
Why didn’t you bring more men so that
You would be a little stronger?
Long Hair has never returned yet, so his wife
is crying all around.
Looking over, she cries.
Long Hair, guns I hadn’t any.
You brought me some.
I thank you.
You make me laugh!
Long Hair, horses I hadn’t any.
You brought me some.
I thank you.
You make me laugh!
Long Hair, where he lies nobody knows.
Crying they seek him.
He lies over here.
Let go your holy irons [guns].
You’re not manly enough to do any harm.
An attacker, I drew him.
Before he did any harm, I wiped him out.
Oh, taking decent self portraits is tough to accomplish at the best of times like excellent communication or equal and respectful boundaries among strangers and having them uphold to social contracts which they very seldom know anything about such as good manners or social status etiquette and standardized integrity (no, we’re not talking doilies here.)
Note: In the recent self portrait series (November 2012) I succeed in taking great eye-ball angle shots into the mirror and proved to the entire world I’m not cross-eyed.
However, I didn’t succeed on the overall sharp-focus of the photographs.
(Ever since I’ve begun to exhibit Carpal Tunnel Syndrome I don’t tend to hold the camera as well as I used to for long periods of time and it seems to be the reason why I’m always in search of the lightest cameras rather than the fanciest or the most expensive.)
Eventually, I accomplished one cinematic element, well-enough, while I failed at another therefore I did use Photoshop’s contrast-tool to bring a sharp focus to the images rather than to Photoshop-out my blemishes. I’ll use Photoshop to correct some of my photographic blunders more so than my physical imperfections.
As it might, I don’t mind showing anyone I’m human and imperfect, nevertheless, I want others to see the best possible images especially when I fail as a human since my body does fail me as any flesh-and-bone mortality does.
No, I don’t wear makeup on a daily basis since I’m highly allergic to the harsh and synthetic chemicals in makeup (I break out in rashes) thus I’ve learned to live-in-peace and co-exist within a happy existence without applying makeup to my face.
It’s either rashes or a naked face.
Absolutely, I chose the healthier latter.
The greatest consolation prize about not wearing any makeup at all is I look the same all the time.
Yes, I like makeup.
Yes, I don’t seem to be able to bring myself to wear makeup since makeup outbreaks and allergy reactions seem to take about four to five weeks to get over any breakout episode even when it’s the most expensive organic / vegan makeup on the market.
Yes, I get these tremendous allergic chemical reactions to some organic / vegan lipsticks in which my throat begins to ‘close-up’. I can barely breathe while I try to gasp for air.
The chemical reaction feels like I’m suffocating.
It’s the weirdest thing in the entire world.
No, this allergic reaction isn’t psychosomatic. It’s real. It happens in the same way it happens to people who get severe allergic reactions to strawberries or cashews.
Have you ever seen someone pass out due to a chemical reaction?
One would think people were dying probably because most likely they are dying in fleeting moments between the fine balance of life and drawing-in another breath.
It’s quite serious to be in any room with someone going into anaphylactic shock from strawberries especially due to the proteins (and / or pesticides) in strawberries.
If you ever get to witness anaphylactic shock then it’ll bring tears to your eyes hence it looks so agonizing for the poor soul suffering through it.
Yes, I’ve seen it once. I could barely breathe watching the severe intensity of the pain in a lovely young teenage-girl whose family had sailed into Atlantic City as we had.
My soul felt for her. I, too, myself, was only fourteen-years of age as I watched her fight a tremendous battle between life-and-death as she drew-in every breath-of-life possible which she could while her entire face became swollen three times its original size.
Her father hurried to get epinephrine into a syringe and administer a shot.
Barely, I couldn’t help but to stand ever-so-quietly as my father gently rested his hands upon my shoulders while I screamed inside my head, ‘Hurry! Hurry! She’s so lovely!’ Life hung by a delicate balance between death and breath.
Yes, the only times I’ve gone into anaphylactic shock is when I’ve eaten tomatoes in Costa Rica.
While about my travels, I do have to be extremely careful or I’ll send myself to the nearest hospital sixteen hours away by dirt road.
For some reason my throat closes up and I can barely breathe and my face and entire body swell up and I contract nickel-size hives from head to toe.
In the past, it’s taken me about two full days to recover even when I’ve slept sixteen-hour-days to recover, I still felt as though I’d been hit by a ten ton truck and it’s because I had. Each time, felt like a blow to the stomach. Each episode left me ever so tired for about a year afterward.
Right afterwards, the persons who’d been there and witnessed while I recuperated told me ‘everything’ I needed to know by the look of terror upon their faces.
No one seemed to understand my insides felt like they’d been set on fire and my skin hurt to the touch. It was indeed serious business even though I made it look easy and simply treated my condition more like the flu while in front of others. I knew perfectly well I’d had a close brush with death. I pray to the Gods each and every single day for excellent health, strength, beauty, grace, endurance and calm-tranquility.
One knows these things about themselves even when others may not.
Yes, one knows when one comes close to death.
Yes, I wake-up with the same face as I go to bed.
The reason why our peers continue to tell me I haven’t aged a day past our twenties even though I received my first-hairline-fracture of a wrinkle one week ago and worked mighty hard for my first wrinkle.
Mighty proud I am of my first wrinkle. It looks quite sexy where it is. It’s definitely my rite of passage into adulthood. Even so, I still look quite youthful.
One week ago, I clumsily bought an over-the-counter chemically filled anti-aging cream which left my one eye-lid swollen half-shut and one of my cheek bones looks more like someone punched me than a brutal allergic chemical reaction (no, Eric’s not ever laid a hand upon me nor I, him.)
The swollen and bruised cyst looks embarrassing and quite painful.
No, I can’t tell you enough about how delicate my skin is when it comes to makeup. It was only a gel-cream I used three days in a row.
Yes, I loathe all of the cosmetic garbage sold at a high mark-up to ignorant consumers (like myself) who don’t know any better.
Preferably, I’ll age with a bare face rather than with pain and suffering of swollen skin from harsh allergic chemical reactions.
How could anyone not feel terrible for the little bunny-rabbits which cruelly get used to test chemicals in makeup laboratories for the benefit of humans? (For over twenty-years I’ve been completely and totally against animal testing.)
Since half of my eye-lid was swollen shut imagine what such scoundrels must do to poor suffering test subject animals?
We’ve been informed some (many) chemists place makeup drops directly into animals’ eye-balls and observe and test for their reactions. (Disgusting. Gross.)
Can you imagine working in cosmetic chemical laboratories where the animals scream and cry and beg for mercy? Nope.
My heart would break in half.
We wouldn’t be able to do it.
It leads me to think chemicals ought to be completely and totally taken off the market when animal cruelty is a main process.
High-quality organic-and-vegan cosmetics need to take over the market. It’s time. Welcome to a new century. Period.
All who respect and love me and know me to-be-me; ‘they get what they see’ and don’t ever think twice about my naked face being wrong or gross or different since I don’t wear any makeup.
When I cry which is seldom-in-private and hardly ever-in-public (unless I’ve been manipulated to cry (the last time, two-springs ago, 2011) by simpletons below my social status, cruel bi-polar types or mean alcoholics, heroin or cocaine addicts which I’m, too, old to allow for them use me anymore for documentary purposes, however, when I’ve been pushed to the limit by addicted lowbrow women who’ve pushed one, too, many buttons late-at-night or have told me I have no emotions whatsoever for not wearing them ‘upon my sleeve’ then I’ve allowed myself to feel quite hurt by people who didn’t have my best-interest-at-heart. After months-and-months of getting emotionally terrorized I’ve publically cried in front of people I hardly knew yet I worked amongst them. I think addicted American women can be mean-spirited and they secretly wish to take anyone down to their level especially when they have nothing, whether they’re rich or poor. It’s normally been people with drug and / or alcohol addictions (no, not moderates) who can wear me down and the reason for why I don’t hang out with people who want to tear down my soul especially when it’s the last thing they think they can get away with in their delusional alcoholic-and-drug addicted dependent minds). People sure are crazy. Where’s the moderation?
When I seldom cry my mascara doesn’t tend to run all over the place since I don’t wear any.
No, I don’t ever end-up looking like The Joker or a raccoon.
That’s indeed a saving grace.
No, I don’t think wearing a bare face is gross.
Only insecure women say such words about other women not wearing makeup or being unable to as well as choosing not to wear makeup because of health issues or lifestyle choices.
Contemporary men don’t ‘give a hoot’ if women do or don’t wear makeup.
If any man demands for a modern woman to wear makeup then he’s either emasculated or has serious Neanderthal control issues. Run!
Since the fall of 1996, I’ve been allergic to mold from wet and damp leaves on the ground and grass. My eyes constantly water on-and-off throughout the year.
At times I look like I’m softly weeping but I’m not.
[If I were to cry then others will know it because when I cry, I don’t care who hears or sees me cry. As a child I was taught by the Indigenous to purge myself of all horrible emotion. When I cry, I mean business and as an adult I cry alone. Wailing doesn’t mean I’m sad. Actually ‘wailing’ means I’m eradicating malevolence and…] (Wow, cultural differences sure are tough. No wonder there’s so much racism and cultural misunderstanding in America.)
Since my eyes slightly water on-and-off throughout the days from the moment I wake-up until the moment I fall asleep I’m not able to wear eye-liner or mascara and well, that’s that.
When anybody’s children get terrible allergies as I do then they wouldn’t judge women (such as myself) about not wearing makeup at all.
After seventeen years of watery eyes and the rubbing away at tears I’ve stretched the skin under my eyes and created slight lines.
Such lines are hardly noticeable yet they’re there.
Yes, I’ve learned to live with such lines and to love them because they tell the story of this life. I’ve become ever so gentle at drying my eyes which such patience creates balance in the force of one’s Chi.
I don’t consider myself any real great beauty by any means yet as I grow older the more people have approached me and told me I’m beautiful. It makes me truly bashful. (Thank you. We’ll leave it at that.)
No, I don’t need to be “petted on-the-head” or “fed cookies.”
No, I’m not some ashamed hotdog maker’s daughter from Buffalo, New York.
Yes, I’m my own Mother.
My New England Grandmother was my ‘only’ Mother.
Yes, I’m an Adult Woman.
Yes, I’m my now my own Mother.
Yes, I was bestowed Villages of Mothers.
How lucky, indeed.
Yes, I do take care of my emotional needs more so importantly I baby myself in ways I didn’t before I stopped taking care of needy dysfunctional people.
If I can help it then I don’t draw attention to myself.
Mist likely I may come and go as softly and as quietly as any solo panther does.
(Nope. There’s nothing creepy about confident and smart and intelligent loners with impeccable manners and good taste, so long as they’re not super anti-social.)
However, I find people really do want to look at me so I let them even though my face is faintly scarred from twenty-five years (more-or-less) of dealing with food allergies ever since I was first adopted at the age of ten.
(No, I don’t make enough enzymes or the correct stomach bacteria to process chemically or genetically modified American made foods especially if the food isn’t organic or vegan. The reason why my liver is constantly pushing out toxins via my skin is because my liver portrays poor function.) (In other words, I’ve got a weak liver.)
Yes, at times my intestines overheat and my lungs are damp. I love to eat honey and cucumbers, although, not together since honey’s a good antioxidant.
First, I no longer begin my mornings with one teaspoon of honey since we quit eating honey and sugar all together.
If one were to contend with acne then please stay away from traditional Chinese “hot foods” such as apricots, pineapple (which I adore), oats, carp, celery, cayenne, cherries, chicken, butter (yum), coconut, dates, lamb, malt, mussels, mustard, nectarine, peach, plums, shrimp, brown sugar, turkey and turmeric or oolong teas. (What a bummer.)
Do eat: Banana, beer, beans, bran, cottage cheese, crab (yum), cucumber, duck (yum), eggplant, frog’s legs (tastes like chicken), lettuce, mango, melon, mulberries, octopus, oysters, pumpkin, rabbit, rhubarb, cane sugar, summer squash, sunflower seeds, tangerine, tofu, tomato, watermelon, wheat, and wheat germ and green teas.
Yes, I abhor antibiotics or hormones in any foods. (Gross.)
We’ll go to great lengths to purchase foods without antibiotics or hormones in them because ever since our little boys in America now grow breast-buds from the plastics in soda bottles and the inner lining in potato chip bags (too much estrogen in plastics) while our little eight-year-old girls get their puberty at such a young age from antibiotics in the meats, dairies, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.
What have we done in the exchange for greed?
No, I’m not shy.
Yes, I’m confident.
Yes, I may get confidently shy.
Yes, I may enter any room and speak with anyone about anything at all with comfort and ease.
No, I’m not prejudiced about my conversational partners so long as they’re intelligent, kind and smart and keep their hands to themselves rather than ‘paw’ at me.
If others begin to emotionally pinch or dig into me or judge without first getting to know what I think then I’m gone with the night sky.
Open and frank conversations are gifts from the Gods which their guiding force was bestowed upon me ever since childhood.
Yes, I hold the power to make people feel totally and completely at ease with themselves while holding real and intelligent conversations even if the conversation were to become about bird flock migrations or different types of dirt or stomach bacteria or history or the latest political current events or real music and socio-political fashions and socio-economics.
We don’t talk film with strangers unless they can really talk shop with us otherwise tell us something we don’t already know about our craft which happens to be a lot I don’t always know.
We love getting surprised by perfect strangers but a know-it-all is just that, a know-it-all looking for their next job especially when they’re a complete turn off to others.
No, I’m not “the” most fashionable woman, alive, however. I do most certainly like to read fashion literature and look at pretty pictures of healthy models.
Yes, I tend to wear a professional utilitarian uniform of petite brown or grey or navy thin-ribbed or soft yet durable corduroys or modern non-print or long-sleeved or dark-navy-blues with see-through “chiffon” (correction) blouses with straight lined ‘Camisoles’ underneath or feminine dress-shirts in which the sleeves may be beautifully folded and buttoned at the elbow or feminine beautifully fitted suit coat jackets with soft or grey shirts with Crew Necklines (a type of cut in a shirt or) t-shirts underneath.
It’s a uniform easy to move-in when I want to pick up a camera and capture digital footage at a moment’s notice without looking grungy.
(I’m always ready to film, however. I do stay away from filming unless it’s time for pre production. I’ve got way, too, much other business to conduct other than to film most of the time.)
Yes, I stick to what’s semi-business casual (outdoorsy, durable and classic) and comfortable yet respectful and proper attire to conduct business in my industry as an independent filmmaker and entrepreneur and capitalist and researcher and analyst and writer and engineer.
Yes, I’ll admit I’m closer to a Maoist in fashion style than a fashionable modern American woman.
Please, don’t get me started about high-heels. I love them!
Since I’m petite I do need to find specific shoes in which the heel is comparable to my calf-ratio otherwise I sound like a teenager clomping down the street wearing high heels made for six-foot-Amazonian-women with long calf-ratio.
It’s ridiculous for me to wear something not made for my body size! I wish stilettos were made for petite women. There’s nothing sexier than a woman in high heels who can stomp the pavement or quietly walk through any room as though she’s gliding.
It’s all about mathematics.
Otherwise, it’s grey-colored or light-weight material and beautifully stitched tennis shoes for women who are active yet extremely feminine but with enough touch of Tomboy in them.
In warm weather I may skateboard to a ‘photo shoot’ at a moment’s notice. Yep.
Or in the winters, I like to wear black ‘moon boots’ without wedge heels because wedge heels tend to twist and break women’s ankles (more so than most other styles or cut of sole in shoes) plus men know wedge shoes are the ugliest looking sole on any woman when she walks or so men say so as of fall 2014! (Future notes.)
I’ve stood in rooms full of enemies.
If I’m provoked then I’m ready to verbally spar (to any metaphorical death) at any given moment.
Even if an entire room decided to take me on with a verbal debate then I’ll win, otherwise, bottoms up! Opa!
Rejoice in partying and dining amongst enemies, yet and nevertheless, please, don’t ever force one’s hand upon another.
There’s nothing more sacred or healthier and stronger than drinking with enemies who ‘love-to-hate’ and probably would love to make love rather than war.
If I get cornered then the ‘deadlier’ I become (figuratively speaking.)
Yes, I’ll debate anyone, anywhere, at anytime and possibly cut open their throats causing them to choke on their own words (metaphorically speaking.)
It’ll take a few years to recover.
The tendency is to leave enemies wondering what was meant by polite East Coast-style kind words and foolish nonsense.
It sure is terrible to get tested, isn’t it?
When one isn’t up to par then don’t spar.
The tendency used to be to test acquaintances for malice or psychopathic propensity through or with foolish inclinations such as straight forward teasing or linguistic accents acquired by hanging out with elected Prime Ministers’ adult descendants.
Yes, I kill with kindness and a disciplinarian outlook.
Nothing succeeds like success.
Yes, I was conditioned for excellence and victory.
When negative energy in a room is to make me into a “scapegoat” (an escape goat) for the suffering-blundering-stupidity of my enemies and if I were ever to be struck (metaphorically or literally) then one already knows very well what. Blood will be shed.
Maybe not today and maybe not tomorrow but someday I’ll take the whole bloody lot out-of-the-game by telling the complete and unfiltered and unedited truth.
Yes, I’m more “dangerous” an animal when I tell the truth than when I guard the secrets of others or cover-up for their drunken or embezzling inadequacies.
When I tell the truth then one better clear the room because I’ll be the one set free into the wilderness while others will have to pay for their sins at the lamb’s sacrificial alter.
I really do like to look at others, however. I don’t so much like to be stared at. (I guess it’s an INFJ personality trait.)
No, it’s nothing morbid.
Do you know how one tends to know or sense someone else’s eyes digging into one’s face? I abhor it. It makes me…
Yes, I like to be left alone to observe and really look at the beauty of others yet it doesn’t seem to be fair, either, because, culturally, as-any-good Scandinavian will tell anyone “it’s rude to stare” while peasant Mexicans have taught me to stare like any wild monkey.
Yes, I’ve been told by social elite men, “You’re not the prettiest woman in the room however you most certainly are beautiful.”
What else is there to do, when men quietly pay authentically-made-compliments only for one’s ear to hear yet it has nothing to do with sexual arousal rather with intellectual sensuality?
I think beautifully therefore my conversations are sought after.
I feel beautiful therefore I am.
When I speak from the heart about social justice or politics or any other subject matter then wholeheartedly I-mean-what-I-say: I can feel the words transforming any space into something which cultivates thought provoking kind gestures or in-depth outlook or festive serenity unless we’re playing ‘devil’s advocate’ then yet, again, give me a heads-up or I’ll want to turn my opponents into complete…
No differently than the 3rd Earl of Southampton did write in his plays while Mr. Quasi ‘Shakespeare’ pretended to have written such marvels of genius without so much as a seventh grade education.
(Please, don’t make me laugh ever so hard.)
I loathe conflict when I’m not respected in tested miscommunication.
What: is everything supposed to come easily to the arrogant?
When miscommunication’s arch
is bent to look like freakish misunderstandings
the ultimate test is
to see if the other can problem solve
through intelligent and smart solutions.
(It makes me laugh each time especially when I tease another.)
Once, miscommunication to understanding is severed:
We know where the other stands, stunted;
No matter how competent or successful the other might be.
While in direct conflict, if I’m ignored
then I’m no longer attainable for further communication.
I refuse to look back.
I won’t look twice towards the dame direction.
I’m the riddle between understanding and success.
Nope, stand back:
when one thinks it irritates me
to get ignored in miscommunication,
then think again.
I’ve been ignored, marginalized and discriminated
I know how the game is played between the classes.
It takes two to Tango
It takes two to play chess and to spar.
If one plays chess by themselves,
then good luck with that…
Playing with one self is like masturbation:
a one way conversation.
Sure might seem fun but not connected.
If no one else is in-on the game…
I’m the test:
No, not the Sphinx.
The Sphinx’s riddles.
The Pyramids’ history.
The Jaguar’s Spirit.
I’m Time Travel’s quest and...
No, I’m neither the traveler nor the shape-shifter.
Yes, I’m time itself patiently manifested.
Others don’t actually think social status comes easily, do they?
It’s more difficult to obtain status than fame-or-fortune.
If one’s social with others
then it doesn’t necessarily mean they’re peers.
Yes, I’ll fight, yet it leaves me physically ill in the long run
I’d rather we uphold to the standardized rules in debate like verbal chess than to personally get slashed at for no apparent logical reason why any opponents aren’t sophisticated enough conversationalists. (Yawn.) (I’m only teasing about the yawn.)
If we were to begin to verbally slash away at each others’ personalities then I want a King’s sword comfortably held in-my-dancing hands traveling back-and-forth like a basketball.
If my opponent were to miss his shot then it means metal-on-skin with blood at the tip.
Is self defense what‘s considered ‘Nice’?
(I don’t think so.)
It’s what’s considered humankind?
More often than not,
most don’t have the bravery to stick a dagger
anywhere other than in-the-back.
I’ll come from the front and won’t blink twice.
You’ll see me coming.
I’m not provoking anything.
It’s not in my nature to do so.
I come in peace, yet,
I may leave with spilled blood upon the tip of my sharp tongue.
I don’t want to have to spell it out because it makes me blush.
(Poetically written: not literally.)
I dislike attending parties outside of my real elite social status (not the ‘hanging out’ type of parties, however, the real sociable parties) because then it’s all about people self-promoting their egos instead of discussing ideas or solutions for a better future.
(I’ve attended “hang out” parties amongst the Minnesota “blue collar” and “working poor” and “lower class.”
At certain parties I’ve neither met nor spoke to a single person (which is fine) so it’s more like attending a party full of people in which they stand around and have a cheap drink and stare-out at the great outdoors which is fun.
Yes, I’ve been to Minnesota parties where complete strangers have mocked me for no apparent reason other than I was better spoken than most or dark skinned or genuinely was wholeheartedly and kindly teased yet the atmosphere could be cut with a knife.
Once a hostess slept with my former she-male-old-woman former friend I’d brought to her birthday party as my guest to celebrate her birthday one spring ago (2012).
She slept with him the same birthday weekend without knowing he also sleeps around with men. Mostly the Arts High School in Golden Valley does produce adult trash with nothing worth bartering.
(Yep. Read it and weep. It’s here on print for all of time.)
People sure will promote themselves.
What I want to know is if people truly have any complex ideas and thoughts roaming around inside thick skulls.
How about contribute! Contribute! Contribute!
It’s difficult to sit back and relax and have a quiet or sociable time while visiting among strangers when others are constantly self-promoting or sprinkling spit into one’s drink or selling something as the vendors they truly are since frankly they desperately seem to need money to keep up their lifestyles even though they pretend like they don’t need money but they tend to give themselves away each and every time they scan any room for their next social victim to devour upon.
There’s nothing more annoying and disrespectful and déclassé and ugly and out of line and an outcast than somebody who doesn’t know how to conduct themselves according to their social class and pretends to be something they’re not since they don’t even know their own social class etiquette so they get confused trying to mimic another’s identity and overstepping serious boundaries which can bring about grave disastrous outcomes for people outside powerful social circles with money and ethical and moral responsibilities to people which must be kept from manipulations or harm or death to any individual or any peaceful and graceful and integrity filled community.
Manners matter if you want to get ahead in the world.
People don’t forget how rude others are even in the subtlest of ways while trying to pull the wool over another’s eyes. Please.
People weren’t born yesterday.
People know if others are drunkards or seducers boasting about nothing. It’s the greatest test in the world. One can tell a lot about people’s character depending on how they react to idiots or not.
I’m a true snob by-and-by:
I’m true to form.
I catch subtleties.
I make blunders on purpose
to watch others react.
Yes, I simply won’t let on I know all of the rules to etiquette from the very bottom to the very top through the Ages.
Yes, I’ve lived through them all and such a privilege is what makes me high class elite due to the fact I do know exactly what I’m talking about from the gutter to the marble halls and sunsets.
Yes, I know what it’s like to wear only one set of clothes over the course of many years while an indentured servant in an orphanage. I also know what it’s like to be dressed by the hands of the help.
I’ve lived through most of it.
There’s no reason ‘to put on airs’.
I’ve been faced down in the snow.
My ego’s been humbled by life’s circumstances.
I was plucked from the jungles to this and back again.
Yes, I know how the game is played better than most yet the best way to win is not to play the game at all thus I’m free to write and speak as I do hence I chose to follow a path of the Ancients to become a Master of the Arts rather than any politician or any vendor or any preacher man’s egotistical sermons from the drunkard to the cruel bully pulpit.
I’m proud of my equal.
He’s truly an expert in his field.
Thirty years later, he’s completed twenty-thousand hours at honing away his craft and skill set.
Anyone can become elite through the rigorous tests of…over many decades.
The reason why it’s difficult to run with the Elite is because one must prove themselves to be true.
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Source from Tarr Family Notes- Charles Tarr-Usgenweb-Gloucester
Richard Tarr born around 1646 in the Western part of England, South of the Bristol Channel; died on 13 June 1732 at Rockport, Massachusetts. He died at the age of 86. He is buried in the Old Burying Grounds on Beach Street, Rockport, Essex, Massachusetts. The town of Rockport erected a granite monument at his grave in the Old Cemetery to perpetuate his memory. The marble tablet is hard to read, but it still stands on the old burying grounds overlooking the bay. Richard Tarr settled first in Saco, Me. By occupation: (Woodsman). Resided at Blue Point (Scarborough), Maine prior to Philip's War; Saco, Maine early 1680s to 1688-9; Marblehead, Massachusetts around 1680? also in 1688-9??; He later moved to Rockport, Essex, Massachusetts where he lived 1689 to 1732. He married around 1684 at Saco, Maine to Elizabeth Dicer, daughter of William Dicer and Elizabeth Austin.
Elizabeth2 Tarr, born 10 January 1691, died before her father in 1732, her children were in his will; married 9 Feb. 1714/15, Ebenezer Davis. They had children:
Honor2 Tarr, born 10 May 1693; married (1st) 2 Nov.
1712, John Wise; m. (2nd)
1720, John Wonson, They had a child:
1. Samuel3 Wonson I;
Isaac Prince, They had a child:
2. John3 Prince of New
Note: Honor2 is also listed as Onnor and Oner.
Elizabeth Austin; Town on Sandy Bay; a History of Rockport, Massachusetts by Marshall W.S. Swan, published in 1980 by Phoenix Publishing, Canaan, Connecticut. The following is taken from page 21. "Rockport's first family faced hardships as well. Down on the Tarrs swooped the scourge of witchcraft, for Cape Ann did not escape 'the prodigious war made by the spirits of the invisible world.' Before the battles were over, eleven women were dragged to the bar of justice for assorted 'diabolical acts.' In July 1692 the twenty-four-year-old Ebenezer Babson, his aging mother, and bachelor household were beset 'almost every night' by skulkers, as the jittery John Emerson wrote to the Mathers in Boston. The 'devil and his agents' required some sixty militiamen from Ipswich before they mysteriously evaporated - an episode which later inspired Whittier's jingly narrative, 'The Garrison of Cape Ann.' Subsequently, Babson denounced two of his female neighbors. Others charged included Richard Tarr's mother-in-law, Elizabeth Austin Dicer, committed to prison in Ipswich. On December 15 he personally signed a bond for yet another local victim. It is the earliest surviving document fixing Richard Tarr as a resident of Gloucester and speaks well for his courage during a time of public hysteria. If mother Dicer did return to live with her daughter's family after her release, such tales she must have had to tell."
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That on this fifteenth Day of December anno D[mbar ]: one Thousand Six hundred Ninty and two in the fourth year of the Reigne of our Sovereigne Lord & Lady William& Mary by the Grace of God of England Scottland &c King & Queen Defend'rs of the faith &c Personally Came and Appeared before me George Corwin High Shirriffe of the County of Essex of the Province of the Massathutetts Bay in New England Thomas Prince of Gloster in the County of Essex in New England Husbandman Richard Tarr of said Towne and County Husbandman and Acknowledged them selves indebted to our said Sovereigne Lord& Lady the King & Queen, and the Surviver of them their Heires and Successers in the summe of two hundred pounds to be Leavied on their Goods& Chattles Lands & Tennements for the Use of our said Sovereigne Lord& Lady: King& Queen& the Surviver of them if Default be made in the Performance of the Condition Under written
The Condition of this Above Recognizance is such that Whereas Margarett Prince Widdow Of Gloster aboves'd: is suspected & Accused of Committing Acts of Witchcrafts. if therefore Margerett Prince Widdow afores'd shall & do make her Personall Appearance before the Justices of our s'd Sovereigne Lord & Lady the King and Queen at the Next Court of Assize Oyer & Terminer next: Generall Geoall Delivery to be held for or within the County of Essex afores'd to answer w't shall be Objected ag't her on their Maj'ties behalfe: & Referring to the Witchcrafts. & to do & Receive that by w'ch said Court shall be then & there Injoyned & not depart without Lycence Then the above Recognizance to be void or Else to abide & Remaine in full force and Virtue In Wittness whereof the above Named Persons have here unto sett their hand & seales this fifteenth Day of December in the year of our Lord one thousand six hundred Ninty & two and in the fourth year of our Maj'ties Reigne
* Benja Gerrish
*Nathaniel Beadle Sr.
Prince his marke L.S.
*Richard Tarr L.S.
( Mass. Archives. Vol. 135 No. 71 )
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There’s nothing worse than getting invited to supposedly Minnesota “upper class” summer parties while one’s drunken hostess ends up screaming and crying out of desperation on top of a washing machine because she can’t get her boyfriend to have sex with her at the party.
Two years after the party, she had the gall ‘to tell me off’ in a torn written scratch-piece of paper (coward) I was a ‘narcissist’ ever since I wouldn’t see her through any more of her hateful and drunken-anorexic-stupors while her ex got fat-rich installing charter schools all over the districts.
She so much as had the gall to yell and preach her drunken speeches because she was wrong about sleeping with my Chicago visiting quasi-friend guest on the same weekend she met him (another horny bitch.) I sent him away and told him not to come back unless he wanted a… As if. Déclassé. (Gross.) Many of them.
::: (To this day, I loathe charter schools because I know what it’s all about. It’s been explained to me by drunken adult fraternity boys, charter schools are the easiest ‘buck to make.’ Its money stolen from the public school system and the public lets it happen since the public doesn’t know any better.) :::
There’s nothing more lowbrow than getting invited to a supposed Minnesota “middle class” dinner and within the hour; directly asked by one quasi host of four hosts to state my connections-to-money or to command me to become one of their “spiritual” clients without ever asking me if I even so much as cared to consider to become a client.
***** ***** *****
As of three summers ago my former-perfectionist-holistic-poser-female ex-friend had informed her holistic-charlatan-male-partner about our quite private and personal health matters in our marriage and her disclosure of our personal health matters drove a spear right through my heart to find out a complete stranger, unknown to us; knew all about our health issues in detail. (Creepy motherfuckers.)
At that time, my former girlfriend and her partner had been together for almost five years. I’d not once met her male partner much less shared personal and confidential health information with him yet he knew ‘everything’ about our health issues.
In such fleeting moments I despised her... She’d been, too, much of a coward to introduce her partner to us up to the point of intrinsically knowing perfectly well we’d most likely disapprove of any man who used her for money and she let it happen. (Touché.)
In such fleeting moments I despised her... She’d been, too, much of a coward and knew perfectly well we’d see right through him.
Yes, I did disapprove of any man who used her for money yet she let him do it under the guise of his deadly illness.
When he soon dies she’ll be ‘left holding the bag’ and it serves her right for doing his dirty work of drawing-in ‘needy’ clients while he cons them into a fake medical practice.
She wasn’t a friend.
Maybe, she’d ‘never’ been a friend.
She was a user and an emotional exhibitionist and a moron.
She isn’t someone, who, one cares to associate with or to follow her example no matter how much she may sugarcoat or harass others through holistic-eating since a hack’s always a hack till the very end.
No one will truly trust others when they ‘mimic’ such stupidity even if it’s covered-up to look good or nice and preachy while maniacally twisting one’s arm to believe as others do in their warped idealisms.
She’d been my “peer” however she’d not ever been my “equal.”
Yes, over dinner that evening, I realized she wasn’t worthy of anyone’s trust when her charlatan male partner suddenly blurted out our rather confidential and serious marriage health information about us and our friendship was immediately over as of then.
It was the first and the last time we’ll ever meet or speak about anything significant in nature.
You might as well know: She shared information about Eric’s hypertension and almost going to the hospital with a heart-attack-scare which turned out to be more like a strong case of severe heartburn. I was so scared to lose Eric. She knew that and our information wasn’t for her to share with others; absolutely no one else, especially, not a stranger to us.
We hadn’t gone to her or her charlatan for medical advice.
Hence, the charlatan blurted out our medical information I sensed I was in for a long evening of manipulation.
She’d come to visit us under the guise of friendship, yet she wanted to use us to help her build her clientele holistic roster; (over her charlatan’s dead body.) A doctor is confidential. These people are hacks and posers.
I’d felt like someone had punched me in the gut.
I don’t know how I made it.
I could barely breathe, yet I made my way through dinner.
Somehow I got the charlatan to let down his guard enough for me to learn he was after money as well as a wealthy clientele roster and fame-and-fortune.
Yes, I could’ve kicked him hard under the table sitting to the left of me yet instead I played along and kept my food from coming up. I realized dark forces surrounded their table…
It was evidently clear she saw our marriage more like a business opportunity than as a guarded and private friendship.
She was ever so wrong.
She knew very well she was wrong yet wasn’t humble enough to admit to it.
In general she’d overstepped some serious boundaries with us especially while all the while her charlatan smelled deadly of organ failure.
One can’t smell the repugnant odor of death when one beds it?
Yes, I can smell death upon others’ breath.
Anybody else can also.
She didn’t want a partner: she chose pity over love, thus and otherwise she would’ve chosen life over death.
Yes, I learned that day to not ever speak with anyone outside of our marriage about our marriage health issues or anything else for the matter. We’d trusted her with our private health information and she knew it very well.
No, I’d not ever been so hurt by her in our decade plus time together.
Other than the time she ditched me and left to go dance with other women who she’d barely known and who hadn’t ever cared for her. When we were younger no one invited her to parties so I made sure she knew about them because I felt pity for her.
Although, she was my guest on that particular night she left me standing on a sidewalk without ever extending so much as an invitation to go dance even though I would’ve declined the invite and she knew perfectly well I was embarrassed to have been ever so broke.
After traveling through Costa Rica and taking her home to meet some of my Harvard Ivy League friends and to see our property and listened to her go on-and-on for hours and days about her fears; always about her damn fears in life: she could barely be civil with me on that night and went off like an eager puppy which hadn’t ever had the opportunity to run with a mature pack.
How uncouth of her.
Yes, I learned about her true character on such a fine warm summer evening.
She was nothing but a vendor.
It seems ‘queer’ (strange / odd) when people think of others as idiots they tend to forget even idiots can see right through the pretenses of others’ body language. People give themselves away much, too, easily.
Seven years ago I would’ve declined her invitation to go dance because I was broke unlike today. Her body language said, you’re not invited after many years of making sure she’d get invited to parties no one wanted her around for.
Yes, I’ve always known where the most exclusive parties are at. It’s been a gift with me ever since I’ve been five because I’m the one who neither cares nor attends.
I hope our paths don’t ever cross again because I’d be politely cold towards her now which I know her true and vulgar nature in how she uses others’ private information to set herself up in business.
She’s not a doctor.
She’s a charlatan.
Yes, I’ve proven myself to be someone trustworthy especially when it’s information about my enemies while she loved to talk about ‘everyone’ down to the finest detail of their private lives.
Information’s sacred and at times more so than time or energy.
Stand up and become men and women of the world.
Responsibility to others is worth gold.
There’s no need for manipulation only respect.
At dinner that night: the entire time her charlatan excitedly spoke about money and ‘rich’ Hollywood and Beverly Hills people and their expensive kitchen counters; the whole while she clenched her jaw.
Yes, I realized she might’ve loved him yet she neither liked him nor much less cared for his déclassé demeanor. (Yep.)
Both she and I knew very well as a couple they we’re both desperate for each other and they weren’t good enough for us and the reason for why they sought my approval and I quasi-gave it yet I ran for the hills. (I wasn’t going to stick around a bunch of clowns.)
I couldn’t get out of there fast enough as I tugged at a sweater while they clutched to each other hoping they’d ‘pulled the wool over my eyes’ on such another fine summer evening. I felt like getting ill all over their shoes. My skin crawled and they were creepy.
The Indigenous are taught one’s spirit lives inside one’s mouth and the main reason why we believe in smoking the peace pipe especially with our enemies yet we don’t lose track of our enemies’ strengths or weakness nor should they of ours.
All this greedy little couple cared about is money and not friendship.
Money is their main focus of concern and connections were far more important to them than confronting the fact I was completely and utterly disgusted by their social misbehavior. Instead of treating me like a friend they treated me like an object to be manipulated.
They didn’t care about other people.
They were like addicts invested in self-promotion and ego.
On such a day I put her down.
I shan’t pick her up again.
She’s too prickly.
Her life’s not worth an intimate friendship because what our peers knew about her at sixteen which I didn’t realize until much later was she was any fake and any poser and any hack and any loser at any age and still is now and most likely will continue to be so until the grave.
Now I understand why our peers stayed far-far away from her even though she was a perfectionist ‘know-it-all’ too ‘good to be true’ in the end. An imposter. Really.
Mostly the Arts High School in Golden Valley and Central High School in Duluth does produce adult trash with nothing worth bartering.
Thank you, no.
I thought I was going over to dinner.
Instead I met a devil dressed in ego.
I didn’t think I was going to spend an evening with corrupt spiritual vendors disguised as holistic hacks without any recommendations or appropriate licenses to practice medicine.
Yes, I ran like the dickens out of there without provoking the ‘know-it-all’ devil on dialysis. (Doctor heal thyself.)
My hosts were so rude I went so far as to describe my bowel movements while at the dinner table to see how far I could take it.
When I’m cornered: then I show how high class elite I truly am: ‘all bets are off the table’: I go Egyptian Pharaoh on people.
They wanted my connections without me ever so much as offering such connection thus I gave them a thorough description of my bowel movements at the time.
It takes bravery to do what I did on our dinner night and make it look like I was innocent and had no idea why it was so wrong to speak of bowel movements while at the dinner table.
I knew exactly what was going on:
I tested my four hosts to see if I could get a reaction out of the real Alpha sitting to my right and I did.
Soon after he left the table in disgust I realized he allowed for the other three knuckleheaded wild beasts to run his home.
I would’ve left sooner yet my challenge commenced against their lowbrow guest from Beverly Hills High School taking over their home because the two omega females allowed for it and were, too, stupid to throw their guest out on his hunches since all he was good for was to eat them out of house and home while he pretended to cure one of the women of her cancer. Creepy. Very Creepy.
The one-visiting-omega-male quasi host-guest from California who’d taken over their house kept conversing right along with me about my bowel movements over our dinner ‘without skipping a beat’ as if nothing were wrong.
I was ever so grossed out by a devil I almost lost my food.
I could barely swallow.
I kept my front to test his honor which he had none.
I didn’t trust the omega male guest from the moment I smelled him because he, too, reeked of dialysis-death-breath even though he disguised it quite well. One can’t really disguise the smell of dialysis death upon one’s breath. Can one? Nope.
Oh, it was a frightful sight to see the deceit and corrupt nature of such any household. A plague o’ both your houses!
When I get disgusted to the breaking point of having another pretend to be ‘high class’ without "anything to show for" then I may squat right there-and-then and fling figurative poop like any other primate does.
Three summers ago, I was so disturbed by my hosts I can barely talk about their con-game in Colorado Springs.
Mostly the Arts High School in Golden Valley and Central High School in Duluth does produce adult trash with nothing worth bartering.
I know people who graduated from Beverly Hills High School and who can give me the inside scoop on the losers of their graduated classes 1993, 1994, 1995, 1996, 1997, 1998…
They’ve informed me as to why con-artist-vendors ended up in the Midwest while they failed to make a go-at-it in Hollywood as con-artists because one of the romantic partners went from being a Hollywood producer to standing at the breadlines of Minnesota while living off of mommy and daddy well into their thirties trying to scam the Minnesotans into spirituality.
One’s history will follow one around.
The difference between you and I: I’ll write about my history (because I’m not out to swindle anyone or to rub elbows to get unto the next set of rungs while I step all over others’ faces.) Nope.
I won’t bat an eyelash twice while getting my history down on ink because how classy elite I am. Quite.
When I write anything down then clear the room because dragons do spit fire. It’s any dragon’s nature to burn liars while dragons write truths.
To the Chinese dragons are the most revered of all.
I can see why.
‘The writing’s on the wall.’
There’s nothing more lowbrow than having one’s former Minnesota male-friends act like old gossiping women and ask me indirectly (spring 2012) to masturbate right along with them to homosexual porn while they masturbated each other.
Mostly Hamline University in St. Paul and University of Minnesota and the Arts High School in Golden Valley and Central High School in Duluth does produce adult trash with nothing worth bartering.
There’s nothing more lowbrow than listening to one’s former Minnesota male-friends act like old gossiping women while they made bets they could get a Minnesota-female-singer into bed by getting close to her children yet first by collecting gossip on her through her “maniacal” hairdresser who’s supposedly become her ‘best friend’ yet the hairdresser tells ‘everyone’ the singer’s secrets behind her back.
We know all about the singer’s life down to the smallest detail.
Poor little girl: there’s nothing like betrayal by people closest. The singer’s nothing except an object of morbid fascination to them all while riding her coattails.
I sat in a room and listened to my former she-male friends create a master plan as to how to sabotage the singer and make her a bride.
One of the men believed he could get her to marry him if only he could get close-enough to her children then he’d manipulate them into loving him yet he masturbates with other heterosexual males to homosexual porn.
Mostly Hamline University in St. Paul and University of Minnesota and the Arts High School in Golden Valley and Central High School in Duluth does produce adult trash with nothing worth bartering.
I’d rather hang out with hardworking bouncers or dishwashers or waiters rather than with people who scope-you-out and ask for your permission to make connections to one’s peers only because they want business connections and can’t get them any other way.
Mostly Central High School in Duluth does produce adult trash with nothing worth bartering.
There’s nothing more lowbrow than knowing one’s Minneapolis fair weather friend; his brother’s girlfriend gets sniffed like a dog yet doesn’t return one’s text because he only perceives others as objects.
Two weeks later when he did return a text he lied by texting.
Welcome to modern technology.
None of them know there’s a train wreck waiting to happen. Moving on. I don’t care enough to care anymore about people who are dumb or cowards or social users or manipulators or social climbers. Why would I?
I wouldn’t, unless… then don’t fuck with our people or our peeps will economically decimate entire cities, villages and towns,
Mostly the Arts High School in Golden Valley and its acquaintances do produce adult trash with nothing worth bartering.
There’s nothing more lowbrow than a Minneapolis fair weather friend who only wants to talk when they run into you at grocery stores or hardware stores but like hell if they’ll be seen with you anywhere else because they think you’re not cool enough for their juvenile minds yet they’re the ones who gave up on their dreams early on to become insurance collectors or university desk clerks.
This particular individual person wanted connections to money and power but didn’t even have the courtesy to return texts or phone calls. (No. No. No.)
Mostly the Arts High School in Golden Valley and its acquaintances do produce adult trash with nothing worth bartering.
There’s nothing more lowbrow than a Minneapolis fair weather friend who’ll only text to hang out while they babysit. How convenient for them. I don’t ever visit with others when it’s obvious I’m an afterthought. What do I look like a seventeen year old? I don’t think so.
I haven’t been seventeen in eighteen years.
Yes, goodbye seventeen.
She executes this type of behavior because like an alcoholic she’s in search of her next big social high.
Something better is always bound to come along and amuse her especially if she can…thus she only calls when she’s bored and saves her Saturday nights for people who are willing to…
Mostly the Arts High School in Golden Valley does produce adult trash with nothing worth bartering.
These shallow type of Minnesotans desire connections-to-money and status yet they don’t so much as return simple texts after they’ve gotten what they’ve wanted or received one’s permission to cross over the class divide which isn’t for me to give a holy grace about yet know this: if I’m crossed just once then the wrath of the Gods is more powerful than my own silence.
No, I’m not ‘keeping score’ per se yet Karma does and so do the Gods.
I refuse to get used for status or connections-to-money especially when others think they know ‘who’ certain people are because I’ve got a great deal of respect and agape love for many people with and without connections to money.
All I have to say is the word: About others’ misbehavior and how they’re no good and the worst thing which will happen is users will get used.
The elite already know how to play the best hand and always come out ahead and winning.
When one’s brought-in to do business with people of a higher social status such interaction doesn’t grant anybody status at all.
When others pay for any goods or services then one will always be a subordinate and nothing more.
No matter how close one thinks they might get to their master: they’re still master and servant.
Unlike most: I’ve neither lowered myself nor begged to my peers for money towards any of my artistic endeavors and business ventures since I’m social elite by-and-by.
Yes, I’m an equal to global power and not any subordinate.
No, I’ve not once been a subordinate:
At this point I’m well on my way to freedom.
No, I’ve not gone and begged my peers for one single pence:
Much less did I beg my equals to lend me money.
No, I’ve not taken a penny from anybody not even when I was face down in the snow clutching my stomach from hunger pangs because my enemies wanted me broken thus at this point how about I throw pennies at your feet? Sure, why not? I made it out alive.
Socially I’ve got most licked.
Many think they can use me yet what they don’t seem to understand is this is a high stakes social game.
I hold “the” social trump card.
Although I don’t use it because I’m, too, busy living life.
Friends in high places are ‘nice’
but friends at the highest of places are even kinder.
My friends are your bosses’ bosses’ bosses’ bosses’…
Yes, my friends are preppy and modern fashionable.
They didn’t get stuck in the year 1992.
They’ve kept up with the fashions.
Do you know what any contemporary adult preppy looks like?
High class elite with a genuine smile.
Others have no idea whom we know and they won’t ever tell.
Even when we see each other in public we pretend like we don’t know each other especially people whom we love and hate most.
Once one has been handed money from any peer to be applied towards one’s endeavor then one shall forever become the other’s subordinate to do as they wish for the other to do hence social debt works in such a fragile manner unlike monetary debt.
Social debt is ten times more dangerous than monetary debt.
No, one won’t have the chance to become any type of peer ever again much less an equal once one befalls into monetary debt to one’s peers.
If I’ve ever given others money towards their cause then they’re now my subordinates and they’ll live and die as such.
My peers and equals aren’t here to bankroll frivolous pseudo-artistic playgrounds which won’t go anywhere because such projects don’t have legs to stand on.
If my peers do bankroll anything then ultimately it’ll cost more than money because there’re always strings attached so one might as well go out into the world and make it the hardworking way as I did unless it’s a monetary gift with no strings attached.
Go make one’s fortune the old fashion way of goods and services in exchange for currency from private funds (bank loans) or public profits.
We weren’t born yesterday.
Mostly the Arts High School in Golden Valley and Central High School in Duluth does produce adult trash with nothing worth bartering.
There’s no greater turn off other than to have users believe they can socially climb others by way of making connections to others’ peers because users don’t seem to be able to make genuine connections on their own since “everybody” else already knows perfectly well what they are.
It won’t help users to social-climb because they’ll get mocked through whispers, they always do. Actually, it sets them back…
Why should people bankroll social users?
Social users aren’t of the same caliber or stature.
A user will neither become an equal nor a peer for as long as they live and the greatest ‘consolation prize’ even if in their delusional minds they think they’re peers is users get used by everyone they use.
Not even an Ivy League education can change one’s distinct class deferential.
If one’s middle class with an Ivy League education then that’s exactly what they are: middle class with an Ivy League education.
One will not be considered elite by the elite who attend schools with any “common man” since they’re middle class and it must seem like another dagger shoved right through the heart anyway one looks at it. To climb yet another pinnacle just off reach for no other purpose than further debt and servitude to the rich.
(Somebody had to burst the Ivy League bubble.)
Word quickly spreads when braggers brag.
Keep an eye pealed to the skies:
watch this: as I mock one’s distorted ego
I’ve taken the lead
I’ve pulled away from the pack
You can catch up, however…
The tortoise wins without cheating
A Rumi prayer to the Ages
I can feel the mastery of Rumi washing over me like a stronghold tidal wave rolling me around in a cradle of surf and water.
As difficult as I might be to get to know I’m a complex human even though I don’t come across as though.
A dichotomy of extremely relaxed and extremely strict characteristics.
For once I’d like to meet male friends who are sophisticated yet they’re real men’s men.
For another I’d like to meet men who know who they are since I’m a woman and I know who I am.
Wouldn’t it be nice to hold platonic friendships without men trying to get into one’s head or underwear?
I loathe fake charmers.
I respect loyalty.
I’m loyal to the end
unless I’m betrayed
then let’s say our goodbyes.
Silent goodbyes and no melodramas.
I’ll carry my friends across battlefields on my back
If one knows anything about Rottweilers then it’s they’re trained to be highly controlled and deadly smart.
Rottweilers are as they are because they were bred to herd elephants across the Alps. They’re the nicest dogs one will ever encounter yet they sure are intimidating and one ought to be intimidated when the breed doesn’t know one personally.
I’m an extremely lucky and fortunate person.
When I ask for something:
Then life provides in abundance.
Although: I must be extremely precise.
‘I’m standing my ‘philosophical’ ground hence not just anybody will do anymore.
Not even so much as a glimpse, do I want to so much as to look upon some of the same scoundrels I met since 1994. I can’t stand their begging or lies and manipulation.
Don’t worry: I’ll clear the room.
Thank you very much.
You won’t see or hear from me ever again.
For now I’m traveling like a solo panther does yet it doesn’t mean I’m alone in the world.
No, I’m not afraid of the panthers which come to me in my dreams hence they’re my equals.
The dream panthers and I have absolutely no fear of each other.
Nevertheless, we sure do hold mutual respect for the other because between a panther and a potential human maiming sudden inspiration can take shape or form.
The dream panthers and I are equals yet we’re not the same.
We don’t lie to each other about our differences and in our communication there’s true and real respect between us.
One can tell a lot about people and their social disgraces when one attends parties outside of one’s social status.
Yes, I’m quite modern even though I ought to have been born in the 1800’s as an elite Caucasian woman. (No, I’m not Scarlet O’Hara. Not even close.)
It’s the intellectual capacity not to lie to people which draws them close unless I feel people are mindlessly competing or emotionally terrorizing or destroying or lying or disrupting the natural order of events then I can be ruthless without batting an eyelash and they’ll confuse it for kind aptitude.
Since summer 2009 my favorite test for the past four years used to be to play-the-fool or pretend to be the village idiot and watch people react.
When people react with cruelty then they must prepare to verbally spar since it means I bite my thumb at thou since one's about to be turned into ‘donkey’s arse’ without ever realizing it…
And by the time I’m gone: I’m ‘gone with the wind’.
One’s success doesn’t mean they’re part of an elite pack of wolves.
Yes, I’m “overly educated” and Costa Rican humble.
Yes, I’m a complex dual enigma.
The reason why I have to be quite careful about attracting the right sorts of people into my life at thirty-five is because I attract people like bees with honey.
Now I’ve become older and wiser and confident about my future I know how this is going down.
No, I’m not for sale.
No, I’m not a product.
No, I’m not an object.
No, I’m not a commodity.
No, I’m not to be exploited.
No, I’m not to be blackmailed.
No, I’m not to be harassed or assaulted or molested.
No, I’m not my ego as others pretend to be theirs.
If I’m out on any public dance floor then others may not
rub their genitals up against me.
No, I’m not an inflatable doll.
The 1990’s came-and-went!
Get over it!
Remember, I’m the ‘ugly duckling’ turned swan
Swans mate for life
There’s nothing more perfect than
the imperfect which blossoms next to…
People tell me I’m a good person at heart.
I like being a good person at heart.
I like to laugh yet I do uphold to strict social boundaries.
I don’t like to take advantage of people.
I don’t like to be taken advantage of.
Even in the middle of chaos,
I like to keep my propriety about myself
unless I’m deathly ill and suffering to the brink of extinction.
I like to make distinctions between multiple variables.
I love knowing from the ashes of ugliness, beauty will rise.
Finally, I get to lay my head and relax since I hold the trump card.
Poetry wants to jump out of my lap like a little Bichon Frisé.
What does any of this have to do with self portraits?
Yes, I’m who I say I am.
Yes, I’m my name.
Yes, I’m my actions.
Yes, I’m my soul-breath of life.
While others pretend to be otherwise…
“Beauty will be restored.” (According to Ojibwa teachings.)