Happy Things · Uncategorized

Fashion Editorial: Sabrina Fair OKC January 2018

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Photography: A very belligerent younger brother who apparently has never taken a smartphone photo in his life, didn’t know how to “focus” a photo, and felt generally uncomfortable standing on a bench in the middle of the road to get the above shot as all the neighbors drove by with stares.

Styled by: Mr. 6th hour of the day. He really puts a “go” in your step when you see (and smell) that the dog pooped by the front door again, but you’re already late for work.

Hair: Careless Leftovers at Tresses by SleptIn. The very best way to get the “effortless waves” is to literally do nothing, but lose your hair brush for five days. It’s large and red. Please let me know if you find it.

Makeup: Eyes: I have a fantastic nude palette of eye shadows, but for no logical reason I used this random sample from bareMinerals that’s got to be at least 4 years old called 5 in 1, Blushing Apricot. I have never found 5 uses for an eye shadow.  Lips: Exposed by tarte. Well, really I should say the “remains” of Exposed by tarte because I wore this quick dry matte lip paint the day before and it’s now the permanent color of my bouche. Blush: It took an hour in Sephora on a Sunday, 30 dollars, a bad decision, and a sob story told to the cashier the next day to finally come home with a color I actually like. Dolce Vita by Nars.

Clothes: A black blazer by Old Navy I bought 3 years ago. I still specifically remember the cashier telling me how much she loved Old Navy’s blazers because they’re comfortable. She wasn’t wrong. I originally bought this piece to wear to a job interview. I didn’t end up wearing it. I got the job. A luxurious linen/cotton sweater that I ordered while living in Vermont, and I had the privilege of chicken guts and cow poop staining my clothes everyday. I did not wear it often.

Jewelry: Random earrings I picked up from the POS display in Hobby Lobby to wear to a  showing of The Hunts that my husband and I had free tickets to. It was a cold winter night, and we accidentally parked on the wrong side of the campus. They match me much better than I originally thought. $6.99.

Model: Your one and only.

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Happy Things · Uncategorized

Here I Am, and Here We Are

On the day I reached the grand and adulty threshold of becoming 25-years-old, I glanced briskly at the calendar and said, “Oh sh–!” to the ceiling–the same exclamation used when I forgot my handouts for a college presentation or broke a heel while driving to a hot date a mere four years ago. As a young and naïve child, when you considered your promising future you did it in increments of 25. At age 25 you expected to be living by yourself in New York city with a view and a corporate job and a collection of heels so expansive that when you got one stuck in the subway grating you could just leave it. At age 50 you planned on drinking pineapple juice out of mangos while lying on a beach…-chair, obviously, because lying in sand is gross.  At age 75…you’d be dead? As it’s hard for a eight-year-old to imagine next Tuesday let alone old age, you didn’t really care what you’d be doing at age 75 because you were confident of one important thing: as an adult you’d be assertive, stylish, intelligent…you’d have it made.

Cut to me at the store knocking 53 boxes of tissue paper down on top of my head as a “true adult.” All I wanted was that one with the cute bird design. Now the aisle is collecting with people helping to pick up boxes, and I’m shamefully uttering my thanks for three minutes straight. (I nonchalantly picked up the bird box from the floor and put it in my basket.) Only a little while later (still at age 25), I found a pre-mature eye wrinkle and went into mourning for three days. I went to write at a coffee shop and tripped over my own shoe in front of all the cool people. I think I’m still wearing 70% of the clothes I had while I was a freshman in college. Basically, what I’m trying to say is don’t believe those PBS cartoons about becoming more responsible as you grow older–that’s a lie. I affiliate more with Curious George now than at any other point in history.

But today I found some life-altering solace as I trucked to the library in search of books on makeup–my mantra being, “well shoot, now that I have passed the point of being young and pretty I might as well learn something about this arcane art.” Near the makeup section was a book roughly titled, 20 Somethings to Know in your 20 Somethings.”  “Well this couldn’t hurt too much,” I thought as I picked up the book. I read the back and then flipped through a few sections. The author was a lady who had found that by her late twenties her life was a mess of deflated expectations and trashed goals. However, she had also found that no one had died because of this (including her), and that despite the fact that her childhood image of herself hadn’t come to fruition, life was still beautiful and okay. And then she wrote a book. And then a good while later on I was standing in a library aisle in the middle of Oklahoma looking for “how-to’s” on makeup and getting distracted by this book.  And what I realized is that I’m not the only girl that feels like I don’t “have it all together.” Maybe we’re all just being too harsh on ourselves. Maybe if we sat down and listed out all the expectations we grew up with and are trying to meet, we’d realize that we’re asking for the impossible. Sure, there was that ONE girl you read about in the newspaper that graduated college when she was 14, and there was that ONE boy who become a virtuoso when he was eight, and there is that ONE attorney you know who always has her nails done and perfectly fills out her fashionable dresses. But right now we’re talking about you and me, not aliens. I would go on to list some wise bullet points from the book and discuss them here, but I didn’t get that far. I definitely put that book back on the shelf and went on to check out, Love, Lashes, and Lipstick. And I have yet to regret it, because my black mascara is on point.

But if, like me, you see yourself getting older, year by year, but feel like you’re further from your dreams for yourself than you’ve ever been, take heart. Find some sunshine and buy a new blush. We’re all in this together. You’re not the only one who’s completely screwed.

 

Happy Things · Uncategorized

A Japanese Poetic retelling

A Japanese poetic retelling from Mischievous Kiss #1, Episode 14 & 15.

 

Go for a walk. Buy a juice at a convenience store. Get in a fight. Do as I like. No one cares what I’m in for. Hug a tree. Cry a lot. Get passed by a white cat. “Ee-ou”– I will. Have fun together.

Forget about life for a while. I like him? Nothing in common is nothing in common. Why does every one keep asking me?! My father’s best friend is not okay. Learn to sing, “I did it my way.” You never know what happens next.

Happy Things

Autumn’s Start

There is a fire starting in the forest. The late sun touches the tallest tips of branches and the golden light spreads down a hundred feet. Ready leaves ignite in a flame of burnt orange, amber, and pastel yellow. Autumn is just starting to appear. I have been in Vermont for a month and a half. I feel that I have learned all that the people I am with can teach me, but the trees and the land have just started to lecture. Which color belongs to which leaf and which leaf belongs to which tree? All the sudden I have to know; I desire to know. Something hidden deep within the earth sprouted and grew up while waiting for me to find it. A tree of silver, a copper bark. These are things of another place calling out to me, trying to teach me something . I am ashamed now to have ever sat and pondered under a tree without knowing its name, without first being properly introduced.

Here, there are hills of great trees as far as the eye can see. Purple has sprouted on the hilltops. Like an army moving toward an invasion, I can see the signs but I stand paralyzed, foolishly unprepared. I do not even know the ground underneath my feet. On this September day I sit in the shade of a Sugar Maple by a weather-stained barn. The grass is dry and soft with hundreds of seedlings around me. Tiny pines, tiny ferns, small clovers all looking up at me saying, “Don’t you know who I am?”

In the field are flowers of yellow, with individual purple clovers spotting the scene. And there is one small flower of golden red. I have never seen it before, and yet, it seems to know its place in this world more confidently than I. One glorious reddened flower enjoying the breeze and the sunshine on an Autumn day.

Happy Things

Flower Seeds

Flower seeds on a wire rack. How does one put them on? How does one take them off? Do they grow there? Flower seeds rotating in space. Digitalis purpurea, myosotis alpestrisBellis annua. Each tiny grain more delicate than the first. Unending is the cycle of growth. It never stops rotating.

Here is a blue petal. Light blue—the thing of clouds. Blue petals drop on the ground by their sisters. Blue gives way to brown; brown gives way to green. This episode travels through the world with a free-pass ticket—no expiration date. Petals fall to the ground and dream their way to a wire rack stand.

Happy Things

The Hair Appointment

“Have a seat right here, dear. Just give me a moment to wash this hair goo off. Ok, now what can I do for you today?—Oh dear lord, baby, your hair is a disaster.”

“I know—turn the mirror away—I can barely even look at it. Last Wednesday a racoon crawled on top of my head and died there. My hair has never been the same since.”

“Well, of course your hair hasn’t been the same; you have a dead raccoon stuck in it.”

“I thought it best to leave to the professionals.”

“Well sure, baby, but you couldn’t come in sooner?”

“Not in planting season. You know, all hands to the fields—every adult, child, or decaying vermin.”

“Don’t you mind. Just put this bib on. I’ll get you right, quick. I’ll go get some gloves.”

“I really can’t thank you enough for taking me on, you know. Will removal be extra?”

“Dead rodent is the same as highlights, I’m afraid.”

“I suppose it’s just as well.”

“But I’ll knock off $5 dollars for you since I’ve had an animal die on me, too, in my past. It can be a terrorizing event.”

“You too? What was it?”

“A horse.”

“A horse?”

” Yes, a horse. I’d taken my ol’ Beauty out for an evening ride on the new country road –Just past the white church, and how’d you like it–right as I told him to turn around, he gave out. Kaput. Fell underneath me. A goner.”

“How strange. Was he very old?”

“Not a day older than twenty-five. When I was twenty-five I was in the prime of my life, way back when. I was up to my waist in mischief–both feet in the very muck of it, I tell you. It made no sense.”

“Perhaps it was on account of your weight?”

“Me? Wait? Well, of course I didn’t wait for a dead horse. That’s nothing doing. If I didn’t walk myself home, I’d be sleeping on the steps of the church to this day. It really was quite traumatic.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. What did you end up doing with it?”

“The horse? –The only practical thing. We bulldozed it over five feet to fill in the hole in the church parking lot. The members had been praying for the means to fill that trap-hole for weeks. God works in mysterious ways, they say. Nothing gave me more joy than to be able to be the answer to their prayers.”

“You must be proud.”

“I was, I was, but stay still now. –There we go. No more dead hairdos. Now let’s start by putting your head in the wash bucket.”

“Oh no, stop! You can’t wash my hair. The egg nest will be ruined!”

“Egg nest?! Now you have a nest in your hair? Girl, I like to refer to myself as county, but what to high heaven is wrong with you?”

“It’s to keep chicken eggs in, obviously. You’ve never done this? Why else did you think a raccoon crawled up there?”

“Can’t say I didn’t wonder. Does that work well?”

“Usually. Until the predators come. They’re smart little buggers. This old raccoon died choking on one of the fake eggs I put in for the snakes.

“Snakes?!” Do they get stuck in your hair then too?”

“From time to time.”

“Yes, well, that looks like all I can do you today, sweetheart. Remember to schedule again in four months. And ask for Lacy. I’ll be busy that day.”

 

 

 

 

Happy Things

Bird Watching

A packed lunch on a sunny day. A pair of binoculars around the neck of a bird enthusiast. Every day is a picnic when you eat at the park. Crispy, stuffed green pepper— tuna I should not have been allowed to season. The bright mallards agree with me in their own way. “Excuse me, sir. You’re in a city park.” I wanted to say to him. “There are no birds, except for the fat, waddling ones. The ducks can hear me, but they don’t mind. Ducks look like they haven’t minded anything for the last one-thousand years. I spy on my bird-watcher. A nearby drake keeps an eye on him too. He puts his binoculars down in a hopeless shrug. “Hey, mister, I’m a bird, quack. I’m right here in front of you, quack. Look at my brilliant green feathers. Don’t know you proper ducks don’t sit in trees, quack?” The drake talks loudly at his feet. Don’t worry, little mallard. I notice your beauty, and your great skill on balancing on one foot without falling over. You impress me. If only more of us could be as peaceful as ducks.