cheers to the days that you squeeze every last drop of wine out of the wine bag, because franzia is all you can afford; to endless porch nights smoking cigarettes until the sun comes up that become one too many nights out of your week; to singing the blues on the bus rides down santa monica blvd; to sneaking into concerts with your lover just because it excites you; cheers to doing lines at 4am just so you can make it to your 6am coffee shop shift; cheers to all the ugly things in life that excite you, that bore you, and make you alive all at the same time

It's funny how things circulate in your twenties. How your perspective of what makes you happy can change in an instant or overall not at all if that makes any sense... To me, thats been a pattern for the past three years. 6 months go by and I trick myself into thinking something will change, come up, be better for me. Overall I look back at my past year of living back in LA and realize not a lot has changed? Do I do what I do best and give up and go back to the start of where it all began in Minneapolis? Have my parents support me and think that will make me feel better in a town that I know does not do anything for me.. or stay in Los Angeles where I know I love here. I love endlessely and fall in love with different places, people and things here. Still there is that something I'm missing when I think about the future. I tell myself im just being over dramatic and that doing lines at 4am and the sleepless nights, working 12 hours a day, and drinking wine after your shifts will end soon. But until that time I will try to be motivated and keep myself busy and keep on starving for more to be content

ages and age

It's been ages since i've gone on this blog, since i've written, and since i've wanted to write or express thoughts. Looking back at old posts I regret that I stopped for whatever reason that was. I like writing best when I'm going through a messy time of my life. Mid-life-crisis mode right now, but I'm totally fine with it. I discuss how Los Angeles makes me feel more alive then I ever feel to the people closest to me. They never get it. You can only get it if you have the same feeling. It's a city where you can get put down every god damn day rather your doing it to yourself, or the people surrounding you are doing it. For me, it's both.
I hate that I judge myself and I hate that I judge others even more. I'm glad at least that I can admit it. I never have so much until I moved here. It's a trait you pick up on so easily and a lot of the times, people don't realize it, usually then it gets ugly. You always crave more in this city, more within a sensation of satisfaction, then it dies out, and it's not fulfilling so you think you need more. I feel it also, but yet get confused and frustrated because I don't know what that "more" is. Or how to get to it. Currently sitting on my couch, a glass of wine deep, feeling great that I have what I have now, and the people I have met and whom I have yet to meet, and the opportunities i've had and also have yet to have, is satisfying enough. For the time being. I've truly realized that thinking you need to have all your shit together in your early twenties is something that will make you the most unhappy, and to let that go.

what inspires you

"what inspires you"

It's a question that comes to me or is on my mind with every thought, decision, and action I do. It is one question that can have so many meanings to it, based on how it's asked, and how its stated. With just starting school last week my teacher for my fashion class asked each of us in the class what inspires us. As I sat there and listened to all of these girls short responses that consisted of "I'm inspired by clothes so I want to be a stylist for a celebrity, I want to simply work with fashion because I've always loved it and want to be a designer in the future." Yes, that mainly is why we are all here signed up in this class to learn in the industry because we like the business. For me, the question has so much more meaning to it. I wanted to respond with an essay, or a short story, something with more personality, background, and experiences that is related to the question. I thought more and more about it throughout the night on my way home. For me, I have been inspired by passion and struggles. Moving to Los Angeles the city where dreams can either come true or fail miserably for my second time within the last 3 years, I'm making it count. But thriving to make what you want happen is the whole process. My schedule on a day to day basis consists of waking up at 6:30am, walking to the organic cafe that I work at off of Santa Monica Blvd, being a barista and making coffee drinks all day. Immediately after my shift, I then walk to the bus station and take a bus for an hour and a half to school, and walk for 20 minutes to get to campus until 10:00 at night, and do the same process to get back to home, repeating that 4-5 days a week. As I take these long bus rides, people seem in shock that I don't mind them. I meet and see the most random and culturally different people of all ages and backgrounds on the bus. I've had some of the most unique conversations with a few people, that to me is inspiring. For me, I'm always the one sitting there in my long mink skirt, my lace dresses, floppy hat, reading fashion magazines or hand sewing pieces for homework in the corner. I wonder to myself if it's pretty clear to others when they see me, if they can tell what I'm inspired by. If only I could of given that response to my teacher when she asked "what/how are you inspired" THAT is how I would respond. 

xo, the girl who dresses like she's going to a fashion show on the local la bus, who is an inspired fashionista who works at the coffee shop, struggling to make something happen in the mean time.

los angeles

Its los angeles

its long and wide and confusing and content.

its busy and dramatic and annoying and calming.

its where wishes wish upon, its where wishes vanish.

dont keep calm, keep distracted.

keep drunk and busy and mad and inspired.

keep your wisdom and sell your soul.

sell your thoughts and your wanders,

sell your style and your brains.

let it all fall apart, but let it put itself back together.

tomorrow and today

you should
wake up
 every morning
 and say
to yourself
"what a ride"
 and what
 a ride tomorrow
 will bring.

pointless shadow

Walking home from the coffee shop that lies on the corner of lyndale and 24th street.

 I'm in the alley behind my home trying to embrace the cold wind thats hitting my face with only the warmness of my coffee keeping my fingers warm.

 Theres light reflecting on the icey cement streets that i see coming from the only lamp post at the end of the road ahead.

every step i take theres a thin layer of melted water covering the ice so i brace myself not to slip.

I notice my shadow that consists of my over sized scarf that wraps around my neck, my long furry pea coat thats dragging behind my feet. and my chunky doc martin boots that in my shadow, seems to look like astronaut boots.

Its to the left of me and it continues to follow me through each garage i pass.

I notice that my shadow is faster than me.

I have to race to keep up with it.

go ahead girl, tell your story

she locked herself in that room with a full view of a full moon.

its where where came to fly, when she wanted to dissapear from whats outside. 

i try not to make it obvious, she doesnt know theres an audience.

the walls are ribbon thin so its not my fault that shes listening. i cant make out every word because she sings loud like trapped bird. 

She looks out at the stores when she writes songs on her guitar.

A secret solo show she gives, sometimes she'll search for a line and i wish i could just give her all of mine.. but it would unravel if she found out i was in the shadows..

Familiar with the voice of the lonely shes lost in the noise of the wind blowing.. so go ahead girl, tell your story.

Cant wait to hear what tomorrow brings

and if you ever get to smile, ill be right here trying to reconcile.

My desire to admire your sadness and your gonna rise from the fire and the ashes. 

And if its the same to you, you ough to let me be the one to help change your tune.

Go ahead girl, tell your story

I love you to pieces.

understood

I thought I understood it, that I could grasp it. But I didn't, not really. Only the smudgeness of it, the pink-slippered, all-containered, semi-precious eagerness of it. I didn't realize it would sometimes be more than whole, that the wholeness was a rather luxurious idea. Because it's the halves that halve you in half. I didn't know, don't know, about the in-between bits, the gory bits of you, and the gory bits of me.

infinite

Sometimes people use thought to not participate in life. We accept the love we think we deserve.

 She said hes my whole world and I said dont ever say that about anyone again. She shut the silence 

out and created noise in her mind in all the wrong places.

She tapped her hand on the steering wheel. He held his hand outside the car and made air waves. And I 

just sat between them. After the song finished, I said something.

“I feel infinite.”

“You see things. You keep quiet about them. And you understand.”