With a father who spent 14 years of young adulthood in Boston, you could easily assume that 'Sunday Football' was a part of the weekly ritual. Now, being daddy's very little girl I couldn't help hitching under his arm watching a bunch of giants fighting over a ball. Even as a baby, he'd hold me in his arms while using his cheek to feed me a bottle so he could use the remote during a game. I guess it soon became inevitable that I'd become a die hard Patriots fan, and by die hard I mean crying at seeing them lose the SuperBowl last Sunday. I spent the night with two of my girlfriends, and enjoyed it, besides the fact that my team lost... We opened the night with wine and wings, but ended it with tears - or at least I did.
This really is a pointless post, but I felt I owed it to the Patriots, despite their loss.
Of late, I've realized that I haven't quite been dressing the way I'd really like to. I wish I could say I didn't know the reason, but unfortunately, it seems that I've succumbed to worrying about what other people think about me, or what they think about what I'd like to wear. Living on an island with only about 2 million people, and in a very small area at that, it's not hard at all for word to get around. However, it's not quite what people say about me, that really matters, it's more the idea of being totally different from almost everyone around me. Of course, if I lived somewhere else like New York City, or almost any other large enough town/city in so many other countries, I wouldn't really have a problem, because while looking different, everyone else wouldn't look like they were wearing uniforms - in want for better words. Ok, by that I mean that almost everyone would have some form of twist to their outfits that match their own style, but here, it seems like people just take an outfit from a brand-name mannequin, and throw it on themselves - if I'm lucky. Or they wear a t-shirt and shorts, tanktop and shorts, jeans and a semi crop top, gladiator sandals/Bridget's everywhere, and bodycon dresses of the same basic style - always.
So, what I'm trying to say, is because of everyone else, I've sort of stopped myself from dressing the way I'd really like to. However, I've decided that I really am going to stop doing that from now on, and wear whatever I want to. Heaven knows how many clothes in my closet still have the tages on them, because I claim that I don't have anywhere to wear them. I'm now realising that I do indeed have ample places to wear all of these clothes, and I refuse to allow my clothes to go unworn all because of feeling self-conscious. It's really not my fault that majority of the people I'm around don't really enjoy dressing up like I do, and it really bothers me when my friends chastize me for wearing heels to a get together. But, it is my fault that I've become vulnerable to their words. I've always been taught by my mother that there's nothing wrong with overdressing, so long as it's not overly done - and although I usually do exactly that, I feel as though I could push the boundaries loads more. So, from now on, I solemnly swear that I'll wear whatever I'd like to, to whatever occasion, and not be bothered by other people's opinions.
Well, it's safe to say that I've been planning to do this for the longest time now. In fact, clearing out all of my older posts on this blog, and starting over, to make it a bit more personal, and author-involved (if that's possible) has been on my New Years Resolution list since, well, New Year's Eve. But, I'm an IB student, thinking about college and what not, and it turns out that no matter how much planning you do, things just won't go exactly how you planned them to.
However, I must admit that besides my plain inability to find time several times to ever start this blog over, I didn't begin due to a sheer lack of inspiration. I definitely found myself sitting in front of the laptop with homework thrown to the side, without one iota of inspiration or idea on how to start this "new" blog. Actually, let's use the word revamped, I prefer that... So, it wasn't until now, that I was able to start typing something, and what is it that allowed me to start, you may ask? A who is actually the reason for my inspiration, and that who may be no other than the amazing, stunning, musically adept, Lana Del Rey. I came across her only late in the last year on Chelsea Bell's Vogue Weekend, but fell in love with her immediately. I've been anticipating her new album for days now, and finally my ears are at rest, and as you can see, so is my mind, and I can finally put words together to form my first post on my revamped blog - no matter how lame it may be. So, props to you Lana Del Rey - couldn't do it without ya!
Oh, maybe a picture of your author just may be a good idea: