American Idol

Over the last few years I have become somewhat disenchanted with American Idol. I use to avidly follow it, being it was my most direct connection to American culture when I had no other. I would wait so impatiently for each season to come around, and clear my entire life for the finales. I felt so connected to something I had left behind, and could be truly happy in those moments. Yet over the years my love waned…and I forgot something important.
As I was sitting on my couch today, I was flipping through the channels and saw that the American Idol finale was on, and figured I would watch a few minutes. I turned it on just as the tribute to Simon Cowell was starting. Giant glowing doors parted and Kelly Clarkson emerged, followed by Rueben Studdard, Jordin Sparks, Carey Underwood, and the subsequent idol winners. Behind them followed runner ups and other favorites. As I watched all those people on stage, roughly 50, I was reminded of something. Before Idol these people were just normal, they were as plain as you and me, but over time they became some of the most known names in music today. Their entire lives changed at the turn of a hat…because of this show. People were given a chance and found their dreams in the sitting in the palm of their hands.
I am not certain there is a greater symbol of the freedom Americans enjoy. We are known as the land of opportunity, now that doesn’t mean that fame and fortune falls into your lap the minute you come here. What it does mean is that you have a chance, you have a chance to be the a girl working on a farm in the middle of nowhere and a year later you could be named female country singer of the year. You could come from poor urban upbringing and 2 years later act alongside Beyonce in an Oscar winning film and then win an academy award for best supporting actress.
That’s what Idol is about, giving people that chance, that chance to truly embrace what it is to be an American. That given the hard work ethic, the talent, and a shimmer of luck, we can be who we wish. We are reminded that we live the land where “dreams really do come true.”
So call me a follower America, and next season I’ll be tuning in..and maybe tearing up.

Dont be the Dick.

Sometimes nice guys really do finish last, and at these moments they fell the urge to retaliate. I've seen this scenario more times than I can count, they mope around a sputter off something about "becoming asshole so a girl may actually talk to me." My roommate feel into this same rut last night. He is the definition of a "nice guy" and like so many others, has had his heart trampled on like the antelope got Mufasa and he turned to me and uttered those fateful words. His plan: I meet this girl, shes nice, but I have no interest in dating her, so I think I'm just going to sleep with her for a little while, and then tell her "its not working." I had the urge to slap him, sit him down on a chair like a child and lecture him for hours, but I understood his dilemma, and approached the whole idea with a sense of empathy. I turned to him and warned him of the phrase "hell hath no fury like a woman scorned." Men when a woman screws you over, you call us names and go have a beer with your buddies....woman are what you would call a little more; devious. We too will call you names, tell our girl friends terrible secrets about you and as we storm out of your house tell you your penis is small and loudly proclaim we faked it. Unfortunately for you, it does not end there. That just isnt enough for us. Now some of you will say, "nah she wouldn't do anything like that, shes too nice" which you may be right about. What you dont think about is her girlfriends, if shes not spiteful, she has a devious girlfriend who is. One who will tell her the best way to get this anger off her chest, which is some scenarios involves carving a penis into the side of your shiny new truck or mustang.
So boys, the next time you choose to tell us were "really cool" or you "really like us" and then don't call...you've been warned.

105 and sunny

Hell has nothing on a Florida summer. Between the heat ( it was 105 degrees in my roommates car yesterday) and the humidity, simply breathing is a chore. Despite the fact that I have lived in Tallahassee for almost 2 years, I have never experienced a true Florida summer. I am tan(and sunburned) trying with every ounce of will I have NOT to turn on the AC. All the while trying to elicit a creative ability to stay cool in any way where I don't touch my wallet. It's not an easy feat, I feel like I should be granted an Olympic medal for such skills. Only the love bugs enjoy this weather, a fact made apparent by their ability to so avidly fly straight onto my body only to become stuck and meet an imminent death by drown themselves in tanning oil. Survival of the fittest :)
Despite my disdain for sweltering heat, I know a part of me will miss it. When I'm two shades away from matching computer paper, and my nose is red from blistering NYC winds, I will think back on these days. Despite my short path through Tallahassee, I appreciate what you have done for me. So Tallahassee, stay classy, and one day I'll be back, sitting by the pool, and flicking bugs off my body.

A question in life.

My whole life I have been dedicated to pursuing my career. I said I would leave everything behind, jump over every obstacle, and run towards my dreams..and I did. I left a lot of people and opportunities behind.. a lot of friends, family, and relationships. I never thought about it before, because like I said, it was a price I was willing to pay. I always thought it for my betterment and that I would be happy in the end.
Then the straw came that broke the camels back. And for the first time in my life I questioned what I was doing, and questioned what I gave up and how much more I could. I never thought this day would come, but when I thought about it, I realized that the road to success can be lonely when traveled alone. My worst fear use to be failure..but as my life has gone on I realize there are worse things to be afraid of..like a life of riches with no one to share it with. I don't want fame and success if the price I pay is everyone I love. It's something I have been mulling in my head for a couple days now...and it scares the shit out of me. It scares me that something could actually make me question what I have been so driven for for so long, and that if I keep this drive, if I keep traveling like a horse with blinders on...my life may take a direction I wanted, but at a cost greater than the end prize.
I am not yet willing to give up my dreams, and I am going to pursue this...I just pray I making the right decision.

Dreams on a peice of paper

My father is an expert at persuasion, being a criminal investigator and a former Cop I should hope so.
I use to be a idealist, I saw my dreams and knew I was going to jump without thinking the first time an opportunity came my way. My father on the other hand is a pragmatic person, always thinking 10 steps ahead, always making practical decisions, and through his effortless talent, I became the same way. Now I wont say it was all bad, it helped me to make some very wise decisions about my life, and taught me how to really prepare for the next step and not just hope things were going to work out. Yet the time has come where I said I would jump in...I have had practical views on it that have told me "stay put, save money, think of the future" but in my heart everything changes. The idealist inside me is screaming "JUMP YOU FOOL! This is everything you have ever wanted and worked for!" So which shoulder angel so I listen to? Do I stay in a place with an Ok school, save tons of money, but go along thinking..."what if I had gone to FIT? Was this the right decision?" Will I ponder this 20 years down the road and see that I was wrong to turn away? Will I do exactly as my father did when he was put into this situation? It's a decision he still contemplates today...how will I feel if I don't end up where I wanted to, and think back on how my dreams were given to me and I turned my back?
In many ways the Pro's out weigh the cons...yes this is going to be the biggest decision I have made to date.

Yet all roads point to jump..so here I come NYC.

FIT

When I was 12 years old I decided that I wanted to be a fashion designer. Fast forward 8 years and I was still waiting on that dream wondering if it was just out of my reach. Until this morning. This morning when I was sitting on the porch with my wonderful man (whom I'm so glad was there with me) I received a package I was not sure would ever come. My acceptance letter to FIT. FIT has been a dream of mine that I never really thought could come true. The likes of Micheal Kors, Nina Garcia, and Calvin Klein graduated from here. This school is fashion Ivy league people, and the only reason I can thinkn of that I would get in is right here. I have no connections, I am getting an AA from a community college, and I am just learning how to sew. While all this is true, I have a passion that is undying, and the essay that I sent perfectly illistrates that. SO here it is folks, my heart and soul for all you to see. Enjoy.

I push open the door and walk doe eyed, into the store. As my heart rate quickens, I can feel the plush carpet beneath my feet, smell the perfumes pumped into the air, and catch the glimpses of the Swarovski crystals as they refract the light. I stare in awe at a blonde woman in the back of the store, slipping on that breathtaking Caroline Herrera ball gown. My eyes wander to the hangers and my finger runs along the fabrics, smooth silk, rough tulle, soft feathers…and suddenly I stop breathing because of what I see. There, a meager six inches from my own foot, is a pair of Manolo Blahniks. Manolo’s, the shoe of choice for Galliano runway shows, the shoe said to “lengthen the leg from the hip all the way down to the toe cleavage”, the Mona Lisa of shoes, and I am staring at it.

It is in these moments that I am able to float in and out of high end boutiques that my smile reaches from Paris to New York. These moments when I stop talking and just relax, taking everything in, from the ceiling to the floor shelves, hangers and boxes filled with the most beautiful things I have ever seen. I have a hard time determining what is more artistically influential for me, my trip to the Louvre or my time in this mall filled with everything I aspire to be. When staring at the red oversized quilted Chanel clutch, I have to muster up the ability to hold back tears. I realize that the sales clerks see me gawking at the beautiful purses knowing that the girl in the Old Navy cardigan and American Eagle shorts could not possibly purchase anything, or appreciate what surrounds her. Well, she has one thing right. The majority of the items in the boutique could have paid for my associate’s degree at community college, but she is wrong too. If there is one thing I can appreciate, one thing I know, one thing I love, it is fashion.

Like every “wanna be” designer, I cut up fabrics as a kid and pasted them on paper making my own designs, not realizing this would be a skill I would try to perfect 10 years down the road. I knew Vogue was the Bible; bookmarked Style.com on my computer, and watched every fashion show that ever aired on television. I knew I loved it and I wanted the lifestyle. But, I knew there were obstacles. When I was 15 years old, I went to the occupational outlook handbook online and nearly cried when I saw a one percent projected growth within the industry over the next 10 years. One percent. I knew I needed an edge. So that’s precisely what I did. I worked for that edge.

Whenever I had extra money in the United States, I would drive myself to the nearest bookstore (Borders can thank me for half of its revenue within the past five years) and burry my nose in the fashion and art books, and meticulously decide which one to walk home with. I begged my Dad to buy me Vogues from all the countries he traveled to so I could pour over each one. I studied each page of Phaidon’s “The fashion Book” trying to fit in every anecdote from every designer into my head, “How did they start out?” “What is their atheistic?” “What set them apart?” I bought fine art books to try and teach myself how to draw the models I saw in magazines, I learned to paint so I could learn how colors compliment each other; I made jewelry so I could understand how accessories pair with clothes. I put on my favorite Jazz vinyl at the end of the day and drew until my eyes couldn’t focus anymore. I learned Terri Hatcher gives the best fashion insider advice, to always listen to the stories and advice of successful designers, and that if my dreams were to come true, and my hard work to pay off, I needed a fashion education. I needed a mentor to tell me not just how to draw a pretty model, but a mentor to tell me how exactly to manage my career, how to work in retail, how to market myself more successfully and therein lies my need for an education from FIT.

Every designer has a fashion love story, ambition, and desire, but not everyone has the business savvy, and the education. With a degree in Merchandising, my gasps of breath will not only be reserved for Manolo Blahniks work, but for myself as well. For that day I can walk into a store, have my heart rate quicken, smell the perfume, and let a lone tear fill up in my eye as I step foot into my own store and finally say to myself “I told you you could do it.”

I never stop thinking. When your brain is dripping out your ears in front of the boob tube, my brain is firing neurons like Kirsty Alley shovels down doughnuts. I by no means feel its some claim to superiority, I just never seem to let it all go. A friend of mine once told me that he was certain the scariest place in the world was inside my head....I fear he may be right. Which is part of the reason for my starting this, sometimes I just like to write. Usually no one cares or reads it, which honestly I'm fine with. I realize I'm just a nobody, just a college student handing out resumes to people I am not qualified to work for. Hopefully one day that will change.

I have a lot to say though, whether it be important or not is relative, no I will not change the world, or save anyone, but maybe one day I will put a smile on your face, maybe I'll make you think and make you crazy like me. Maybe it wont have any effect at all, but its all a maybe. If nothing else I get shred of pleasure of letting out one smidgen of my thoughts. Call me self absorbed, or maybe just a person with something to say. There is a a lot going on in this world. A haphazard world as I like to refer to it. One in which we all have a place...and hopefully one in which we find a meaning and all have a say in.

This is a picture I took of my cousin, photography is always a good outlet for me, its my means of expression when my fingers are not trained to show what I feel.