curious little beastie

The reviewers, so far, seem to say that while Angelina Jolie kills it – slices, slaughters, and smears the blood on her lips – the rest of the film hits ukewarm. I’m inclined to agree, but that doesn’t matter overmuch. Less cartoonish scenery and sharper-drawn characters would have served the story well, but as long…

it’s my goddamn birthday

I visited my ancestral stomping grounds for my 20th-birthday dinner. Sponge cake and homemade dumplings, which I’ve requested for the past, oh, twelve birthdays. Spend two hours making fifty dumplings, and they’re gone in twenty minutes. I could weep tears of soy sauce. I wonder how one’s birth date affects one’s life. I grew up…

why should algernon have all the fun?

How much more of a cliche could I possibly be? I suppose that when one defines oneself as being “alternative”, individuality can become as pathological as blending in might be to someone more “mainstream”. Everything I do must be original! No taking enjoyment in the banal! It’s a cage. If I aim to maximize happiness,…

brightness, my old friend

I’ve become a caricature of a style blogger. I’m twirling in grassy fields, using too many exclamation points, and browsing ModCloth at work – and I’m doing it all 100% unironically. I used to look on the unflinchingly twee with disdain. Where’s my old snark? Where’s the wryness that let everyone know exactly how jaded…

in sheep’s clothing

My friend Danica is seven inches shorter than I am, probably thirty pounds lighter, but she could take me down any day of the week. She is a tiny spitfire (and by that I mean she literally spits fire) in heels and pearls. We both revel in such contrasts. As I shot these photos of…

manchvegas

There is, in fact, an establishment by that name. I hate everything. Josh, our dear friend Bridget, and I spent Saturday and Sunday in New Hampshire’s greatest shame, visiting friends and perusing thrift stores for unsettling dolls. Oh, and hey – we ate dinner at a place with almost 20,000 likes on Facebook. Anything to…

for in this world i’m bound to ramble

I have always pledged affinity with magical beings. I love the heights of angelwings and the depths of Beelzebub and co. Merrily suspending disbelief, I hunt for ghosts at twilight and fairies in the morning: who cares if they’re “real”? Even the (probably) nonexistent has its own kind of truth. If you’re into Campbell and…

hollaback

First of all, my HAIR, you guys! My garish, overprocessed, completely me hair! My mom and I got ours professionally done for Mother’s Day. If I didn’t look 100% like a j-pop star before, I sure as hell do now – even though I do not know a single j-pop song and my musical taste…

cruella de bright

How formulaic my outfits have become. How predictable my eccentricity. With my reliance on ModCloth florals and nauseating prints, I’ve almost begun to bore myself. But I can’t stop: this is who I’ve been lately. Things dark and quiet revolt me. I’m in mad love with all things loud and bright, and I can’t resist…

lawnmowers everywhere

I’m a seasonal creature. I’d like to blame the obsessive-compulsive disorder, but I can’t very well pathologize every quirk, every tic. Some things are features, not bugs. I divide my life in four, in twelve, in fifty-two: wherever I can see dichotomy, I milk it. It’s spring. Time to do Spring Things. Which are worlds…