i typed up girl,interrupted...and this is what came up.DAMN YOU GOOGLE!
Ever had one of those moments in which you look back on and think..."gee, i wish that kind of wish it didn't happen now that I think about it..." or "god, why won't the earth just fucking swallow me whole right now"...
yeah.
one of those, actually several times-has happened to me this week. So many people from work has either seen/or own my fave leather buckle boots that I bought 2 years ago from Bakers. It was the first time I spent such a grand amount of money on shoes...ever! They are leather, knee-length, slightly bigger than my calf width, come with buckle straps and frankly just amazing. I love them. They have become faded over the years past and with a big dark blot on my left boot's side from rain- that just makes them all the more unique. In fact, I take pride in having eccentricity when it comes to clothes. One year I might be obsessed with cowboy boots or brogues, next year I'm obsessed with asymmetrical draped jackets and pants. Anything odd or different appeals to me- I cannot help it...it's who I am.
But when brought to the attention of how much my style is similar to that of peers, it kills me. yes, it also compliments me, but it's saddening to think I am not special. No one is special.
Those stupid star stickers that your kindergarten teacher gives you when you tried really hard= total bullshit.because you still suck.
Suddenly I lose all self-worth, grow impatient and begin to feel like I'm dying or somethin. Terrible, right? That is when I usually go to my two fave men in the world, the two guys that always make me feel better, they tell me things will certainly look up for me and eventually...soon enough...I'll get a piece of the pie and be able to look down on all the people that have either wronged me or never believed in me. (ie. parents,siblings, retarded relatives, ignorant foes of high schools past)
I digress.
I remember talking about exclusivity with my fashion illustration teacher, I did a project that was a wise-crack at Andy Warhola and his whole ideals on originality, and how I viewed Warhola as a hack & a hot mess. (I'm too judgmental, I know. Blame my parents). On the poster board, I wrote a quote, something I came up with while I was eating chicken tenders naked (again, don't judge me) and it was perfect, everyone asked who was it from. Which is endearing that they think it's so perfect, it must be from out of a novel or fantastic film -but at the same time I was insulted that none of my colleagues would think it was fucking possible for me to create a quote all on my own that had artistic merit & value. Til this day no one believes it was my quote except my boyfriend (and probably my roommate, I think she was drawing at the time at her desk), he was playing mega man on my laptop at the time whilst I was splattering black ink on my poster. I remember my teacher reading it, and interpreting it in a way that I couldn't of possibly imagined, saying as an artist himself-he has gone through scrutiny of being original, through self pang and demeaning oneself into believing there is no hope for art or fashion or music, because the same damn stroke of paint, the same style, the same song gets played over and over every decade. Nothing is new nor the same.
He pointed out that in the course of his lifetime, he tried so hard to be different, when all he needed was to be his own self, because no one in the world could possibly take that away from his work. No one has his painting, spec by spec, pigment for pigment. He was the only artist in the world to do and think exactly the way he did. The same went for us, the students. We might draw the same naked model, but we see her differently, our perceptions will range from different perspectives on what is truly there and what should be there.
What makes me special? what makes my style unique?
the answer: me.
and that's all there is to it.
AND BENECIO DEL TORO'S VOICE DOESN'T MATCH WITH THAT DAMNED WEREWOLF MOVIE'S ERA!!!
