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.)

Hyperventilation is expected.

         Have you ever encountered that wild feeling that comes with finding something you know is absolutely perfect for you? Like a love-at-first-sight type of euphoria, except less cheesy because it's just such an awesome little thing. Some might say getting excited over clothes and the like to be a bit materialistic, but I NEED THIS MATERIAL IN MY LIFE. 

Sure, a different color would be fantastic, but, I like love them so much that their angel color would suffice.* 

        
       Alas, this Jeremy Scott for Adidas beauty is no longer. Sold out, or something. I'll probably go sit under my desk now, but no worries. It's not like my dreams of being Hermes for a day were crushed or anything. Nothing major. But you know what this brutal kick to my dreams means? DIY-ification to cure the soul.

I am not sure where this is from, but if you know, help,? Please?

         Do these colors amaze or do they amaze? I bet wearing them are equally exciting as having squids partying on your feet, which is completely the case. Gold glitter bounceas at your every step, leaving a trail of glitter crumbs for fellow partying-squid-shoes wearers to follow. Why am I wasting my days on the internets and not pursuing my aspiration to become a shoemaker (cobbler? cordwainer?)?


*My family believes the Hermes shoes to be quite ugly. I mean if they were black or cream or pale pink or some other color watching my limited wardrobe, they would be even godlier than they already are.

Cue the soundtrack music and hit play.

Perhaps the geekiest poster in my room. Apart from the Harry Potter ones... and my "school achievement" garb.

Hai, Dirty Room.

Hai, Harrison.

Shirt: Own

Sailor Skirt: F21

Tailored "Beetlejuice" Jacket: Downtown L.A.

Glitter Flats: Target Sale

Ribbon Thingie: er, Walmart?

Flower Purse: DIY ☺

                        Perhaps I've never mentioned it before, but, I am quite the rebel around here. My badass qualities are too numerous include in a single blog post, but among the shenanigans I'm up to as of current include: spray painting (purse and shoes), sleeping at 4 am (reading books), and watching horror films (read: sleeping through Hannibal). You should be terrified of me, or you run the risk of being glittered down to the floor by my ultraviolet eyes (I need glasses). Okay, so I might be more of a DIY geek than a "Rebel Without A Cause", but it doesn't matter 'cause I DID SOMETHING TOTALLY PRODUCTIVE AND NON-SLOTH-LIKE. The pain of the summer that hasn't even started was quickly transforming me into some sort of tan puddle of pure boredom, so I pleaded my mother for some cans of paint to put me out of the forsaken misery. Long story short, I found an old, ripping, flower-shaped jewelry box and sprayed the color out of that thing, thus providing me with the accessory I am now sure I can't live without. I mean, it's black and flower shaped!

                        I will carry on the will to DIY, for I have fond many things in the intra webs I am diying to try (see what I did thurrr?). Like painting my very own fake Docs'cause I have absolutely no cash to invest in an original pair. Or making a beautiful heart bag out of latex and wire, like the one I've drooled over in the Nanny.

Zzzzz...

Black Dress & Lace Socks: F21

Uneven Chiffon Skirt: Self-Made

Black "Sash": Just Fabric

Clunky Shoes & Magnifying Necklace: Yard Sale

"Ballerina" Thingie On My Leg: Just Ribbon

            On a galaxy far, far away, there lived a girl who dreamed of black seas and walked to the rhythm of Queen. The girl, a gloomy one, knew not a way to celebrate her freedom, so she embarked, yet again, in an obscure and perilous adventure. She would dress up as a grandmoter-ly Dementor, it was decided, and she would photograph the experience like the fool she knew she was. The sad, little fellow lived in a dimension where ancient Greek goddesses would trade their pristine, white dresses to embody darkened robes of desolation. That little girl, who was quite not so little, followed Mary Mack's footsteps by dressing in black. She believed in all colors, but all other clothes were in the wash.

Gah, all year long, I waited for this vacation, and, now that it has arrived, I have no idea what to do. Starting Today, I will try to fill my lengthy days with the wonders of glitter, spray paint, and DIY.

Your hair is sexy.

 

Is it nanananana or nananananananananana?

Pleather Shorts: F21

"Conversation Satrter" Clock Bag: Stupidiotic

Shirt: Krystel-made

Dotted Tights: Swap Meet

Wannabe Ballet Shoes: H&M(I did the ribbon thing)

         WARNING: Includes the mention of school, which is known to cause various diseases in the state of California. Consult Doctor before reading.

        

              I am terribly glad to say that in about 2 days my middle school career will become a thing of the past,and will only be acknowledged in the cases I seek to embarrass myself. Meagan is beyond being right on the following: we, the students who've spent plenty of their years smelling decomposing socks in P.E.locker rooms infested with teenage bodies, are not given the entertainment movies and Hollywood promised us. Due to budget cuts, my 8th grade "graduation" was held in the overflowing, sweltering gym, resulting in many of the invited parents to sorta chill at the outsides of the gym cause they couldn't fit. Gym temperatures aside, it was quite lovely, for it was not the ceremony place that gave this graduation business a meaning. It was the fact that we'd accomplished something: getting the hell out. Joking with you guys.... It might have not been this fancy thing, but the fact that our teachers cared for us to give us the ceremony our three years of hard work deserved is thoroughly appreciated. I really like my teachers because (I have no idea how they do this), but they manage to talk about things like atoms, the Constitution, and careers in a way that we can truly relate to and take interest in. It's not the good ol' open up to page 342 and answer the questions. It's interacting with one another in ways that will make sure you remember the shit by the final tests. Saying this with great sincerity, I enjoy the pleasure knowledge and learning offers. Call me a nerd, but I truly do.

         

          Anywho, as our trip, we went to Knotts Berry Farm, and had loads of throat-killing screaming fun. I even made a batman shirt in honor of the experience. Ahem, Not really. I wore this precious garment because my best friend is one of the victims of the Batman Bug, and it was decided that we would parade through the Knotts park in all our Batman glory. I am not much a Bat-lady, seeing as how I am one to choose busting moves to the Doctor Who theme song over the heroes, but I safety-pinned the logo onto a shirt I'd sewn in the wee hours of the morn 'cause I love my best friend. AND THE LOGO GLOWED IN THE DARK!!!

Let us never sleep.

Having spent so many hours trapped in the consuming abilities of projects, it is only expected for me to get inspired by what I believe where my best efforts in art class this year. The bead-thing (crappy recreation of Larry Fuente's original work) above is actually just a shot of an entire bow bedazzled with hundreds of beads my gnarled, quivering hands struggled to hot glue in place. In my case, I am always either black and white or some sort of light pink color, and i have gotten to the stage where I cannot take any more black clothing in my body. Krystel needs color. The beast within her craves it like a dragon craves its freedom. She must unleash the ecstatic color explosion going off inside her and create some majestic rainbow creation. No more hiding behind minimalist colors, she screams, fury tinging her shrill cords. Color is to be sought and searched throughout every corner of the kingdom, she demands. FOR NARNIAAAAA!

(oh bejeebis, just ignore that lame bit up there, please? I'm running on this fuel I call "I-Haven't-Gone-To-sleep-In-Two-Days X1233NJ")

Forget my frizzin' side fro of a hairstyle, let's admire my chipping nail polish. It lasted a total of 2 days without a single chip; I am deeply proud of this accomplishment.

Behold the bag that erupted the Color flame deep within me.

        One lonely school day, I almost tripped and fell flat on my ass while walking to class, like any other day on my routine weeks of school-going. Tripping and making a fool of myself wasn't anything out of the ordinary, but what I found because of it was. I. Found. A. Dirt-Encrusted. Smiley. Pin. From that discovery, my day had been predicted by the Smiling Gods of Smiley Land to soar and bring smiles upon the smile-less me. Yeah, the pin looked more like a battered button than those nice shiny pins I imagine the the hippest of Hippies sporting, but, hey, it was free. Ever since that exceptional encounter with the pin, I've set my eyes upon on everything that contains smiles. Searching through clothing and images with smiling people sortagives me the creeps, I have no idea why, so I channeled (hate the fugging* word) this, er, whatchamacallit, happy vibe-y energy into the colors I only seem to wear in my head. But that will stop from now on, for I have vowed to follow the colorful path of daisies into the Unicorn meadows of --- Shit, I'll stop this now cause I sound like those "Don't Be Depressed" posters with the images of creepy smiling families. Just to make it clear, I just want a smiley bag, not a "Do Your Work and Succceed" campaign in teacher's rooms.

*An Abundance of Katherines, anyone?

I Love Lucius.

 I can't believe it's pudding!

La Bianca Jumpsuit: Magpie

Red Lipstick: Mac (So I might have stolen it from mother...)

Red Foam Platforms: $5 L.A. Shoe Store

Red Head Thing: Belt From A Coat

               I think I might have mentioned once or twice my tendency to fall flat on my ass multiple times in a day, so when I decided to challenge myself and wear the beautiful platforms that were collecting dust in my room, I knew it would be no easy task. I wasn't even going anywhere remotely fancy, just Wal-Mart and El Pollo Loco, and that's as fancy as it got. According to my mom, with heels, I walk with terrible posture, so until I teach myself how not to walk like Bambi, I will only attempt it in the safety of my home. Mind you, this was, like, my first time ever wearing such high shoes, and it could have definitely gone worse. I only tripped and stumbled into the wrong aisle a couple of time, but I'll live.

                While waiting on line at El Pollo Loco, a creepy man croaked out that I looked like Lucy. Now, I know what Lucy he referred to, but it was such an overall creepy experience I just stood there politely and waited for the lady to hurry up and hand me the food. It wasn't that the man was creepy, cause he was, but he said it in such a low voice that succeeded in sending shivers down my spine. I sound like  paranoid freak, but at least another person that wasn't me got the whole vibe I was trying to take on today. Not necessarily Lucy, but more "50s Daughter Takes On Pudding Shopping While Tripping On Her Dangerously-High Shoes".

*I sorta think I killed my camera cause the lens is all crappy and doesn't shut the shutters completely and I am freaking out cause I don't have money to buy a new one. : / But I like how it looks, so I just contradict myself like crazy.

You know your sister loves you when

               

In the ruins of Pompei

You see, I take history very serious. Seriously.

My sister has been blessed with this awesome function her camera has, the only thing mine does, is getting broken, repeatedly.

 

Shorts: Three-Way Thrift

Tiny Flower Tights: Target

Fake Doc Martens: Wal-Mart

Pink Shirt & Polka Dot Cardigan: L.A

                   Hey, remember a couple of days back I was MIA (as usual), well this time, i have a valid reason to be an excuse for my absence: I went to visit my awesome sister. In Italy. I missed her like a , um, sister misses her other sister. Gee, how many brain cells did I burst coming up with that one? Forgetting my lack of wit, it was a place where I felt I became one with art because everything from the streets to the churches covering them blend together, erasing the lines between art and reality. Churches line up the streets and incorporate its ancient beauty with the modern world, transporting you into a dimension where you become the paint in a portrait. It was walking on territory I only thought I could visit in the middle of the night while lost in some crazy dream. Sure, I dreamt of going to Europe (don't we all?) but the actual thought of setting foot there never crossed my mind as an actual thing that could actually happen, ya know, in real life. 

                   But its not all beauty, we got followed by a pervert in Venice. Really the man could have had the consideration to let us tourist walk in peace with our gelato. It was fucking scary, actually. 

                 

        

                     Oh, that picture where I lie motionless on the ground with a bike next to me? It's nothing really, just a  picture my loving sister took of me after I flew out of the bike and into the dirt. She said all she heard was a loud shrieky "Aaaaaah" from me and then I was laughing on the floor. We took bikes around Popei, and because I can't go a day without kissing the floor, I,um, tripped while riding a bike. Ugh, serves me right for trying to photograph and ride.