Accept My Technicolor Candy, After All, I'm But A Stranger

Blue, Darling Blue, How I miss thy greenish tone in my ever-shortening hair. Why did I dye it pink again? Oh, yeah, I thought it seemed like a "good idea". Note: Don't Trust Self On Rash Decisions

"Maintenance Department, we have an accesory overload on Aisle 3. Immediate actions must be aken. Repeat, immediate action."

Pink HeadFlower & Orange Watch: F21

Owl Necklace: Birthday Gift

"Pearl" & Caged Bird Necklace: Self-made (Okay, I just put the string in it)

Bracelet Band: Gift From Sister (Hippie Park)

Mustard Cardigan: Downtown L.A.

Pink Socks: H&M

Hostess & Co. Pins: Hollywood Shop

Other Pins: Hippie Park

Spoon (Red) Pin: Handmade!

Plated Polka Dot Skirt & Aqua Blazer: Thrifted

Shirt: Mummie's Hand-Me-Down

Boots: Wal-Mart

          Most of my days, my head is obstructed by a wide-brimmed dark hat, unabling to see any outfit choice outside the Dark and Brooding color spectrum, but once I do surface and open my eyes to the Rainbow Syndrome of Everything That Is Bright and Radiating, I make sure to come out with goodie bags. In the beginning of middle school, I used to integrate every color ever though of in on single outit, along with prints, layers, juicebag bows, and lollipop accesories. God forbid, I walked out of the house without me wearing different-colored shoes or pairing my red plaid shir with my blue corduroy skirt and orange thights, cause we all know that combination is the shit, here and on the other planets. In the midsts of the Twilight craze, I strutted into school with my floral cape emblazoned with felt letters "Team Neville" and a small puff-paint drawing on what I hoped looked like a toad, DIY-ed Bellatrix Lestrange Shirt (controversial, eh?), and the ever-present spoons in my hair. I miss those days. I sincerely didn't care whether people laughed at me or made snide remarks about my style of choice. I was happy lost in my world of Crayola Boxes, Beatle Adorations, and unusual spurts of creativity. I shall honor those days of glee and I-don't-give-a-fack-ness with no more thoughts on those who wish to put others down in favor of squashing what is unique and dear to us.

         (Picture of Me From Over A Year Ago).... WHY DID I CUT MY HAIR?! Was I too much of a stubborn nincompoop to not fully comprehend that it looked fine and curly by itself? Apparently since here I stand, freezind my unprotected ears off. Note To Self: Smack Self.

         You can't really seet it, but the bow I'm wearing was constructed out of a Cayola Box by my black-nailed fingers.