Social Retard

This is my fourth week of being jobless and it's probably the best thing ever. Going to be at 4 A.M. in the morning and waking up in the afternoon, I'm starting to feel like a teenager again but without the self-esteem issues, suicidal tendencies and of course, parental tyranny.

The only downside to my unemployment is that I don't have as much money to spend on shit I like. I've pretty much stopped shopping for clothes and have even made strict rules about how often I should be going out. So there's been a lot of staying at home and cooking for myself, looking after the cats and waiting for school to start. Life is good and mellow.

 Obviously this can get boring very fast so I'm already planning on starting a few arts and craft projects. First thing on the docket is an oldie but a goodie - tye-dyed products.

Also, remember when I said I got rid of the long wispy bangs. Here some new short-ass baby bangs for the summer. They are pretty awesome but hard to maintain especially when I have to trim it myself without proper scissors every two weeks or so.

Lastly, here's my recent favourite local band. They are called B-lines and they are excellent.

Zebras and New Hair

Happy Sunday!

New Hair!

In the process of applying for grad school. Wish me luck!

The Breasts of a Feminist

Ok, so my friend posted a picture of me on Facebook. In it, my right breast is very discernibly droopy. I am a young woman and so far, I’m losing the war against gravity. I comment on the photo and also thinking the same thing: “oh man, I really need to start wearing bras.” 

The truth is, I haven’t worn a proper bra with paddings and underwires in almost five years. Ever since second year university, when my feminist values started to root and flourish within me, I’ve began to detest putting my breasts in those things. Everyday, I would put on the bra that I’ve been wearing since high school and feel its underwires digging into my ribcage and the elastic straps sinking into my flesh. “Have I gained weight?” “Are my breasts getting bigger?” I used to think to myself but I knew that I’ve been the same size ever since I stopped developing at age 17. Every time I got dressed in the morning, I became more and more aware of the suffocating and stifling feeling of wearing a bra. 

I eventually started to go without one because I didn’t think it was normal or even necessary to cram something so irregular such as the human upper torso into something that was pre-made and obviously not suited for living comfortably. So, what is my lesson from seeing my sagging breast in the picture?

Yeah, I should wear a bra. I also should have listen to my father and married rich.  Shouldn’t have bothered with trying to get into graduate school because smart women are not as desirable because they’re too opinionated. While I’m at it, I should also laugh at sexists jokes or lewd one-liners about rape because girls with a sense of humour do so much better in social situations.  I should always feel sexy and validated as a woman when men hit on me or grab my ass and feel guilty and apologetic immediately afterwards when they get furious and call me “fucking dyke” when I don’t respond in a positive way. Really, I should be what a “woman” ought to be and I could if right now, I give up everything that is ever important to me as a female, as a woman but importantly as a human being. Frankly, I don’t think that sounds fair.

Hey look, I have short hair now.

Art Nouveau

After months of waiting; I'm back to revive this blog. During my absence, I fought The Man, wrote about strange psychological disorders and almost struck a child in the face. It was quite the exciting stretch of time indeed. Now I'm back with a new haircut, which makes me very aware of my eye brows, and armed to shit-kick fashion, art and politics in the faces with snappy blog posts.

"Feels like I'm wearing nothing at all. Nothing at all. Nothing at all..."

This jacket came with a removable inner layer which can be added or subtracted as needed (super handy). I speculate that it is actually a Canadian army jacket because the disclaimer message sewed inside of it told me that the side pockets are especially designed for magazine rounds and the chest ones for grenades. Cool eh?