I am such a cow. *

Pink Floyd Shirt: thifted

Mooo Skirt ( Does my high level of maturity surprise?): Self-made

  

             Hallo, fellow humans and the like. Isn't it a marvelous thing, this goofing around with clothes business? Why must we take clothes so seriously, when it is by far more fun to twirl around, laughing uncontrollably over how ridiculous your skirt looks. Or pants, I fully support the notion of funky pants, too. I am so incredibly used to sticking to my safe side and just wearing dark clothes that today I decided to slowly come a wee bit out of my secure farmhouse and wear one of my favorites skirt in this vast world. Yeah, I know my outfit isn't very revolutionary or anything, but, goddess, does this skirt make me smile. I feel as if I am part of this big hilarious joke in which my skirt is the pun. Like I have no need to take everything, as I usually do, so seriously. I took the bus to visit family today, and some people gave me funny stares, but it was all allright, because I was too busy eating grass to really milk the situation over. I guess not taking clothes and trends and whatnot for granted is what I like about "fashion". You just sort of go with what feels right to you. Whether you chose something because it gives you the giggles or you are channeling some grooving vibes, doesn't matter, you still somewhat mesh a little bit of you with something so simple as fabric.       ( I might have gone too scissor-happy when cutting the skirt,though.)

*Is it a little dorky to admit that I wore that skirt to make cow-related funnies?

Mischief Managed

Shirt: DIY (lots of bleach and  iron-on paper transfers)

Tights: Swap-Meet

Sparkly Black Shoes (not shown): Randon Strip Store

                      Does it seem as if Harry Potter is everywhere nowadays, or is it only me? Harry Potter is, to use Ron's choice of word, "brilliant". In a lone corner in a yardsale, I found a book that would forever make an impact on my young life; it's name was Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. I knew of the movies of course, but had absolutely no idea how much of a thrill this book would bring to my life. It didn't matter that my English wasn't the greatest; the book sucked me right into the middle of perilous adventures one can only imagine of. I befriended the characters, learned from the lessons, hexed the evil, and cried* as the characters I loved were snatched away from me and the "Golden Trio".Book by book, I discovered secrets about the mysteries and myself. Who would I be now if I hadn't solemnly sworn to be up to no good with Gred and Feorge and follow in the (bare) footsteps of a dreamy, raddish-earringed Luna? Ron, Hermione, and Harry are one of my closest friends. It bothers me that people have suddenly gone all "oh, it's the end. This is it, Harry no more", for the stories and adventures will always be there for us, captured in the cracked spines of tear-streaked books and scratched DVDs.

*I actually cried. Fer real, yo. Tonight in the midnight viewing, I did quite the amount of silent crying that my (HARRY POTTER SPECS) 3D glasses got a bit streaky. I hate it when people, fictional or non-fictional, die. Contrary to "popular" (read: tumblr) belief, my tears weren't caused by the so-called "end" of Harry Potter: they were running down my cheeks cause--------------- I won't say why because I loathe it when people go ahead and spoil the movie for others.

What time is it?

 Time to pretend I'm a glittery, poofy fish.

Dress: Mother's F21

Glitter, Glitter Skirt; Handmade Gift  From Nana

                     Hey, everybody, IT'S SUMMER. Just in case you hadn't noticed the tortorous heat or sunburnt bodies, I am here to give you the unofficial official welcome. Okay, so a couple of weeks might have passed since summer really begun, but I've been so deep into my "lazing-around-the-house" mode that I rarely notice when the sun sets because I am barely ressurecting from my slumber by that time. Oh god, I sound like the world's best-performing sloth, but SLEEP IS PRECIOUS, and I don't get enough of it during the school year so it's all cool, pals. 

                     Apart from sleeping and stalking the interwebz, I've been wondering about the meaning of life. No, not really. I've been thinking about bursting through my little bubble of "comfort and giving a care as to what everybody else thinks". So I dressed as a wanna-be mermaid. Or a humanoid fish. Yeah, not my most covincing get-up, but, as a kid, did you ever wanted be a mermaid (or merman) and be able to swim for hours without surfacing for a breath of air? Pretending to be magical creatures was by far one of the best parts of my childhood. That and Disneyland trips and Tamgotchis. Maybe thats why I am so moody as a teenager. I no longer play around with the idea of becoming myself, and instead prefer to play the ever-boring game of "Going With the Flow". I might not who my self really is, but maybe a few more round of funky dress-ups will help define a smaller part of me: my style (or lack of style). Or I could bop from character to character, trying out different versions of myself. After all, why must we define everything?

                  ( For now, I will just be happy with wearing shiny blue skirts. Glittery fabrics and glitter in general are my personal source of happiness. I spent so much of my time prancing around in all black outfits that when I see clashing colors, mesmerizing prints, and spurts of glitter, I go berserk. The ecstatic, jolly type of berserk, not the trigger-happy manic one.)