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Monthly Archives: March 2011

variations on a trench coat: one small bite is enough to fill the stomach of a full grown man

Okay, so I’m sweating small animals right now, but this outfit was from weeks ago, when it rained for a week straight and I wore my trench coat for a week straight. That is… variations on a trench coat,

Variation II: Lembas Bread

…I was/am a Lord of the Rings movie geek. Hence the Elven Brooch.

The one where I didn’t feel like smiling, but instead pulled a facial expression so wildly unsmiling that I look like I poked myself in the eye.

Trench coat: mother’s, FoxRun. Fingerless gloves: Bancroft Clothing Store. Jeans: Forever21. Plaid shoes: Keds. Elven Brooch: Noble Collection, gift.

BY THE BY, Script Frenzy starts tomorrow. I am most anxious.

hair envy: deux

It’s been nearly a year since I last expressed my hair envy, but even though my hair’s twice as long as it was then, I definitely still feel like I’m lacking something. (Interest. My hair lacks any point of interest.) Here are a bunch of hair pictures I’ve been gathering just to rub it in.

Beginning with natural-looking hair that could be achieved by someone with a hair texture different from mine. This is Joanna Bernacka, here to make your hair feel inadequate.
The mussed-up volume! The soft waves! The lived-in-ness!

Rumi’s head in double braids (how is this even possible?), because there’s something appealingly alien about really tight braids, especially in unexpected places.

Feather hair extensions. Not my style, but I’d be lying if I said that seeing it on other people didn’t inspire major hair envy in me. Now, before we move into unnatural hair color territory, I’d just like to take a moment (or thirty) to let my hair envy bubble and splutter at the injustice of NOT HAVING HAIR LIKE THESE LADIES:

Have I mentioned that I have major redhead envy? Because my name is Samantha, and I have major redhead envy.

Not sure what era this hair would fall under (1920s judging by the length and perhaps finger waves?), but this is perfect in at least 47 ways.

Life is not fair.

NOT FAIR. If I wore a giant fur coat in the same color family as my hair, I would just look like any all-black-wearing fashion editor, not a quirky ass-kicking artist.

This is Vanessa from My heart blogged. WHAT IS HER HAIR EVEN. LOOK AT THAT IMPOSSIBLE TEXTURE.

This is Amber from Forever Amber. She is 13 shades of redhead PERFECT.

Jane, from Sea of Shoes, of course, because her hair is (or at least should be) legendary. It should be celebrated or described in a non-historical or unverifiable story handed down by tradition from earlier times and popularly accepted as historical. [source, source]

Stop it. Just stop it. This color is unreal. Jane Aldridge is not a real person. She is a hair goddess sent to live on earth among us mortals.

I can feel my hair’s self-esteem stumbling into the gutter in a haze of hairspray-ethyl-alcohol, gambling, and loose women.

Flawless hair is flawless. When you are done weeping over your inadequate hair, pick yourself up and dust yourself off, because there is hope, and its name is UNNATURAL COLORING:

This is Chanelle from Not So Naked. I know it’s kind of late for dip dye hair, but I want it. In shades of violet, dark blue, and sea green, so that I can feel like a Creature of the Deep is swimming around my head.

Augh. Her color even fades well.

Then again, if I dyed my hair like this, it wouldn’t look the same anyway. The texture would be much more Severus Snape Dipped In Oil Meets Ceramic Flat Iron than Careless, Carefree, Calculated Nonchalance.

The photo that started my fishtail braid curiosity.

And of course, peacock-colored hair. With little plastic hairclips that I probably wore without irony when I was four.

I don’t think I could ever go this light without looking sickly, but be still, my beating heart! This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you.

indescribable (& It Needs A Little Work/The Unfinished Play)

Spring Break Leisure Reading Progress Report:

I saved Fight Club for last, because I know it’s probably going to make me angry.

Here’s an outfit so nondescript that I’m glad I can attach it to something of (arguably) more substance.

Sweater: uncle’s. Polo shirt you can barely see: American Eagle, brother’s. Tights: generic. Boots: Steven by Steve Madden. Ring: Rapunzelsgold. Shorts: secondhand from Christine.

Since it’s Saturday, a script.

I wrote this when I was 16. It was performed , and I was the director (and it looked pretty cool, if I do say so myself, even though the play dragged on and on and on and on during the actual performance).

This is really tiring to read, and I can’t believe my theater group let me keep the title for this, even in the press releases.

I write stuff after the jump.

variations on a trench coat: ass-kicking edition

Because it rained for (I think) a week straight, my ratio of trench-coated vs. trench-coatless outfits is a little skewed right now, which is why I’m posting these trench coat outfits out of chronological order.

I was reading “Variations on the Death of Trotsky” by David Ives at the mall the other day, and I burst out laughing. In public. Alone. So since I have quite a few variations on this trench coat, here is

Variation I: The Ass-Kicking Edition

(No mountain-climbers’ axes, ice picks, or Spanish gardeners were involved in the making of this post, although I did feel like I could kick someone’s axe ass while wearing this.)

Hoodie: Nomis, gift. Trench: FoxRun, mother’s. Fingerless gloves: Bancroft Clothing Store. Jeans: Forever21. Rain boots: Hunter.

notes, or I make no claims about this being a fashion/style blog.

On Sky Ferreira's "American Dream"
I came across it through Bella's tumblr. You ought to give it a listen.

On responses to "How are things?"
If neither you nor your fellow interlocutor is British, regardless of how you actually feel, "smashing" is generally an appropriate and unexpected response.

On staving off despair
It is unwise to time your media consumption so that you finish reading Never Let Me Go the same day you finish watching The Thin Red Line.

On Script Frenzy
I am going to try not to fail.*

*Since I am pledging to participate in Script Frenzy, (which, if you haven't heard of it and can't be bothered to click through, is like NaNoWriMo, but for scripts, screenplays, and graphic novels, instead of novels, and set in April, instead of** November), I'm not sure what's going to happen to the script I promised myself I would finish. I'll probably end up adding any new advances on it to my total page count, but I make no promises about posting any of it. Not that many of you will be bothered by that.

**(HOLY MOTHER FUCK, I JUST GOT SHOCKED BY MY LAPTOP. WAS NOT EXPECTING.)

On reading about celebrities
I have resolved to stop reading and watching interviews of actors I like. They are just people, and I would rather just view their work, free from my judgment about what kind of people they are, than miss out on something great because I think Joseph Gordon-Levitt sounds pretentious in his interviews. (Which, okay, I think he does. But he was so terrible in Inception and so good in Brick and Mysterious Skin. I am conflicted.)

On my class notes from lecture
Sometimes I write enigmatic things like "Can a snowman be set on fire?" and "Can gasoline be frozen?" and "Cabbage. I hear that's what English boarding school smells like." Sometimes I feel sad that I haven't photographed my class notes in ages, so I do, because this blog is for me, and then I get happy again.

For clarification, I drew Harry Potter, Steven drew the robot thing's head, and I added clothes and a hairy hook-arm. And the handwriting is Steven's, because he usurped my notebook to "take notes for me" because I barely take notes in that particular class anyway. I am pretty sure that if Steven ever took notes in class, they would look like Mark Zuckerberg's deposition scene notes.

Steven's doing. It is amazing how confusing one's notes can be when one goes back to study them for a midterm.

Also Steven's. I think maybe this was his rendition of Leibniz. I tweeted mine.

I DON'T KNOW.

Steven insists on drawing little hats on everything. Even on the hats.

…I don't know.

I was drawing a unicorn, then Steven drew this, and it looked sad and unhorselike, so I added sparkles and dramatic lines.

I just want to clarify that I didn't draw that girl on the side, and this blog is not a Steven appreciation blog, but this post kind of is a Steven appreciation post, because THIS IS OUR LOVECHILD. It is the most glorious doodle that has ever been doodled in glory. The day it came into existence was the Best Day Ever. Evidently, we were also learning about Turing's halting problem that day, but that was clearly a secondary consideration, in light of our mythical creation.