A Prayer from an ENFP

Sadly...mine is pretty accurate. 

What's yours?

Comfort Zones

Pushing myself -- hm, actually it's more like impulsive flinging -- out of comfort zones is not unfamiliar territory for me. While it's true that in some respects, I cling onto the confines of my familiar construct, I also went to college in Chicago without knowing so much as the difference between Midwest and East Coast, let alone a person, and then continued to take my sorry, to-be-bed-bug-bitten tush over to Jerusalem (as in Israel) without knowing hivrit ("Hebrew" in Hebrew -- at least I learned something). I can look at pictures and think fondly of Northwestern and about how I'd like to visit Israel again, but the reality was it was painful and very, very lonely, especially in the beginning.

From Sloane Crosley's How Did You Get This Number?:

While the emotional sum total of my trip would eventually add up to happiness, while I would feel a protective bond with the few objects I acquired in Lisbon — a necklace from a street fair, a piece of cracked tile, a pack of Portuguese cigarettes called "Portuguese" — hidden between the cathedral and castle tours was the truth: I have never felt more alone than I did in Lisbon. A human being can spend only so much time outside her comfort zone before she realizes she is still tethered to it. Like a dog on one of those retractable leashes, I had made it all the way to Europe's curb when I began to feel a slight tug around my neck.

How does she say it so well?! I love writers that can bore into my soul.


And she makes me laugh.

Four Hours to Mason

It was late on the blackened stretch of road that led to his Ohio suburb, and my threshold had clearly been crossed, when he asked me, "But don't you love writing?"

I do. I love it. But let's face it -- my chances at success are...slim. Which is a euphemism. (And whatever chance I had I probably just imploded with that euphemism; real writers don't use euphemisms. So excuse me if I sound a little bleak in the upcoming grafs, because I really don't feel like that on most days. Most days I'm just happy to have a paycheck and a place with a roof to sit in with a magazine and a bowl of cereal.)

"So, what. You would stop writing?"

No. I'd never stop. I wouldn't know how to do anything else, at least not without it, and even if I did something else, it's my way of logic (or whatever twisted semblance of it). Life would make even less sense and I would become an eggplant; tough on the outside, mush on the inside, wholly useless and unappealing. It's a good thing you like eggplants, because at least I'd still have you. And I'd also be a really nice shade of purple.

"Then that's what you should be doing."

How can I keep putting all of my energy into that when there's no chance of success?

"Does that matter?"

I dont know, would you keep doing what you want to do if no one listened? Let's say you were a teacher, but no one showed up to class, ever. Are you teaching? It's the proverbial tree.

This is the truth -- and I'd hope the other writers out there would be honest enough to admit this to some extent -- it's really, really hard to continue to motivate yourself without getting published. Writing is as much about the sharing and the conversation as it is about creation.

"So, what are you going to do?"

I dont know. I'm just hoping my tree falls.


(photo via pinterest)

For the Broke

In my search for headboard alternatives:

I'm not huge on decals (sometimes, a girl just needs dimension), but this would be the one I would get.

How cool are these?! Lots more to look at here.

All About the Desk

 "It's all about the desk. If I find the desk, the writing will come." - Carrie Bradshaw

 Random corner of stuff I haven't figured out what to do with yet.

 I fit this couch into my Honda. That car never ceases to amaze me.

Craigslist find of my life! Why would anyone want to get rid of this?! It's so beautiful, even the chips in the marble seem like they're right.

There's still a lot of work to be done -- art, rugs, a whole room, the ugly TV stand to DIY (somehow). But it's a good start in the right direction. I'll post up a whole list of things I'm thinking about doing soon!

Girl in the Fall

Fall's a-coming. I feel it in my bones. And in my clothes.

Recent purchases from H&M, TopShop, Forever 21, Craigslist and my closet. I completely forgot about that last Rodarte for Target raincoat, and it's become a part of my regular rotation in addition to my HALSTON DRESS. That was the Craigslist steal (of that week :P). AND more exciting news: I fit into my little little black dress. The best part of post-college life -- a regular diet and sleeping schedule.

Black leather panelled pencil and floral chiffon skirts from Forever.

The H&M motorcycle boots at the far right -- it was love at first sight.

I love you, Summer, but when it comes to fashion, Fall is the beginning and end of my year.

P.S. If any of you know where I can get a coat like this one:

Send it my way. Don't you hate it how TopShop doesn't sell 90% of the stuff in their lookbook?

Breakfast at Tiffany's

For some odd reason, I've had these pangs to watch this movie (...for the x time) again, if not for style/interior inspiration (it does have the most iconic dress in Hollywood history), then just for some romantic (is that the right word?) inspiration. You know -- that feel good intrinsic...thing (gosh, I'm being incredibly articulate today) that comes from a story that takes two characters with real-world flaws and gives them unreal love. I just need my new loveseat (which I'm picking up this weekend!) to curl up on and a bottle of white. And time -- that's important, too.

How is it that every shot of this film is a friggin poster? It's ridiculous.

The Twin Cities

Last week, I got to tag along to an event my company was hosting in Minneapolis a.k.a. City of the Strangest Names (Minnehaha) and the Sweetest People on the Planet. Everyone calls you "lovey" or "dovey" or "lovey-dovey," and every time I heard that off-kilter Minnesotan accent, I mean, how can you not smile? Maybe I've just been in Chicago too long.


The point is, we stayed at the W Minneapolis at The Foshay, and it was...kind of incredible. The last time I stayed at the W was at the Times Square, New York with my mother, and from what I remember, it was too much, sleazy, and all wrong. But take a look at this one --

You can't really see it, but there are little welcome letters on the desk. Details, my friends!

Lobby

Foyer -- maybe the sleaze-lessness and charm comes from the building being so old. The Foshay is an art deco building from the 1920s.

I can't get a good photo, but these high back chairs were paired all along the foyer, and they were my favorite part.

Yeah, it was still a little too much, but sometimes more is more.

P.S. I studied for the GREs last night. The things Norman gets me to do...

Leaked

My personal favorites:

Missoni for Target throw blanket (This. Is. Mine.)

Missoni for Target scarves

Missoni for Target ties!! I'm gonna buy one. And I don't wear ties. (Surprise BF!)

Missoni for Target pillows

Yes! Missoni for Target houseware!

And finally...

The bike. With Missoni stripes. And turquoise tires. I don't know how to ride a bike, but for you, I'll learn. Or I could just leave you in my apartment and stare 'cause that's fine, too.

How, how, can they expect me to wait until Sept. 13?! 

(photos via fashionologie)

On Ikea

"IKEA is a retail tower defense game where you are the enemy trying to navigate the maze without losing all your money before the exit." 


(via apartment therapy)