I've started using again...that is, this Blog of course!

opposition

I am compelled to write out of desperation.  It seems with every day that passes, I come to regret ever leaving Europe.  It was by far not a perfect place, but a place that I had the chance to be with my Love, legally and without impedance.  I do not feel like a US citizen anymore, because the values of this land could not be more opposed to mine.  The inalienable rights the founding fathers wrote of are bullshit.  My rights are limited by a stodgy right-wing undercurrent that is so full of double standards, they have forgotten what a pure standard is.

I am going to start working on finding my way back to Europe.  I don't plan on ever coming back.  I had a bad feeling about making this move, but I chose to ignore it.  We'll work it out, I told myself.  I wish it would, but in the end I think it will be just lots of wasted energy for naught.  It is difficult being here after being exposed to how things could be done better, not perfectly, but better.  Getting to know cultures that actually care enough about the future to plan for it, and make the necessary sacrifices for the betterment of generations to come.  Here we just think about ourselves, and who gives a flying F**k about tomorrow?  I am beginning not to care if tomorrow ever comes, in fact, I am near to hoping it doesn't.  That seems better to me.

I feel hopelessly lost at the moment, and so filled with regret that I am choking on my own bitterness.

posteed

I have so many posts that I wrote that I never posted. I usually write my posts in word and then paste them into my blogs. I learned that trick in my early blogging days. I got sick of after working on a post for hours by some strange twist of fate it’s gone. Lost forever. If I had posted all of it, I wouldn’t seem like such a disinterested blogger.

I am feeling abnormally depressed today. In my work email there was a big letdown. I was slated to work on an engineering study that is worth a million euro that appears to have passed me by. I was hoping that we would be getting some new orders so that I could keep working. Everything just looks bleak today. I suppose it could have something to do with me missing my gel for four days in a row. Or, it could be that the economy is in the shitter big time, I’m just about broke due to working only three days a week, and the weather is gray cold and snowy. All I want to do is sleep all the time.

I am thinking that maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to take the fashion blogging too seriously. I should have known it would have been addictive like crack. I got so high from the experience that I am completely obsessed with doing it again, and this time to get paid for it. I think I am good enough, actually better than blogging, but blogging is so super hot at the moment that I can’t pass it up. I have the potential to write at a more advanced level than blogging, so I am hoping that through blogging I can work my way into some real writing. Full feature length articles preferably. I am struggling with how to get the most exposure to generate the most amount of leads for freelance assignments.

I loved the journalism aspect of the Fashion Week coverage. It felt so natural to be discussing the details with the designers. I felt almost like a peer, almost. I was able to at least speak their language and therefore got them to open up to me. I wanted to get inside their heads to get as much content as possible. The problem is condensing it afterward. That is something I need to work on. I take in so much visually that I have trouble with leaving something out, feeling the article incomplete or not telling the whole story.

How did blogs become so popular anyway? I started this one in 2005 and it served it’s purpose for me personally. It is a depository for written accounts of my experiences. With all the supposed visibility that I gained through blogging AIFW, it stands to reason that many people have visited my vault here. I wonder what they think of me now? I am not entirely the polished, confident persona that I displayed at the shows. Or am I? I think deep down inside I am that person, and that is my game face. Everyone needs a game face, especially in fashion.

I experienced almost total professionalism at AIFW. I wasn’t turned away by anyone, except for the official closing party. I wanted to go as a form of closure of the events. They wouldn’t let me past the door and I thought it seemed like the only pretentious situation I had encountered all week. The party seemed more like a Redken courting session from outside, and I don’t think anyone I know actually went. I got to look for a recognizable name on the guest list, but it seemed like there weren’t any discernible names, just the same email address over and over. The greeters were aloof but nice enough, and there was a total thug with really bad energy controlling the door. I went home and got to spend time with my fiancé. That was rewarding. We worked on getting my website organized together.

It does something to me to view a designer’s collection the very first time it is shown, before public consumption. I also see that it is a made up privilege, only to be shown to everyone who cares to look at photos a couple of minutes later. It is definitely different experiencing it live, the first view.  What a rush!

fatigue

I have been writing every day for what seems like weeks.  I need to shut off for a day or two.

I just submitted a cv and my portfolio for a professional blogger position.  I have nothing to lose at this point, so why not try?  I have 8 articles published online so far, with two in editing.  I loved every minute of the fashion week, and the last day was a nice finale.  I met many interesting people that day.  I think it cemented my will to pursue my dream job.

I put together a CV and cover letter this afternoon.  I had a resume already established, but it was geared toward selling my engineering background.  I wrote the CV with the concentration on selling my journalism and writing skills.  I wrote it relatively quickly, but then again I have been tossing all of the information around my brain over the past days.  It was just a question of dumping it out and sorting it.  I like the power that words have.

I have loathed my present job for quite some time, and wished I had some other opportunities.  The manufacturing sector worldwide, except for China, is in the shitter.  I stay home four days and go to work three, and there is not much signs of life on the horizon. I need to get moving on somehow, and I know I want to do something completely different.  Although, the fashion industry does have some parallels to the automotive industry, as with the incremented introduction of new lines and models.  Haute couture thankfully does not involve mass production, but I imagine RTW is probably somewhat similar.

Rest.  That is what I need to let myself enjoy.  I am still high from the experiences of recent times and feel a fire pushing me forward, but I must rest.  Tomorrow will be here soon enough.

on my own

The title has nothing to do with this post. I just need to get some of my own thoughts out without censoring them. I find myself at the end of a tailspin.

Now I am allowed to crash and burn. I have the next four days off. I am on layoff Fridays and Mondays for the whole month of February. I haven't been sleeping much lately, due to the candle burning at both ends that I carry to light my way.

I have fantasies of being like the fashion column writer I read about that writes for the NYT. Spending lots of time in Paris and NYC. Experiencing fashion at it's best. Jetting around the world dedicated to fashion.

I was already obsessed with fashion before all this happened, now I am off my face. It's all I think about now, almost, well a lot. More than I probably should. The nun stops me mid sentence when I start talking about it. I need to be in it, like an addiction. I felt so high after speaking with tom s. at aifw, after I realized who he was. That was a big problem for me, that I don't really know many people involved. I do know more people now, though.

Tom told me that I made a statement with my personal presentation at the shows. I wish I wasn't so hard with him when he first approached me. "Well, you look good." he said. Then I came back without even thinking, like a defense reflex, "It's my business to look good." I honestly don't know where that came from. I normally don't act like that at all. There have been strange fits of over confidence and actually narcissism too that have come out. I find it a bit embarrassing now that I think back on the past three weeks.  I did manage to keep it together while mingling with the guests.

His complement was genuine, he even called me after he read my pieces on the shows. It made me feel somewhat good, not as much as it should have I guess. I felt more excited that I spoke with someone who could possibly use my writing talents. I find that my appearance in normal circumstances like my current job is out of place. I am way over dressed for the office most of the time. But at the shows I felt like my appearance fit in perfectly, the atmosphere felt normal and I felt dressed just right. That was a nice feeling. I guess I have been preparing for something like this to happen without even knowing it. The nun was wondering why I was buying so many shoes.  Now you know.

anxious anxiety

I am feeling a bit anxious about the runway blogging this weekend. I Packed my suitcase last night already, so that after work today I can quickly finish the last bit of packing and then catch my train.

Last weekend I took hand written notes and tried unsuccessfully to snap pictures of the models, and then after I wrote the post. This weekend I don't have much of a choice but to blog from the second row. I will have my format already together so that all I have to do is fill in the blanks. There is more to it than that, but it is essential that I prepare a bit beforehand. I don't want to just start with a clean piece of paper. There is much competition expected and I want to produce the best, fastest posting so far.

I just hope that my wireless card holds up.

shaku and stiring

I have been on a rollercoaster of emotions lately, with the instability mostly attributed to the hours I have been keeping. When I get overtired everything seems so heavy. I think it would help my condition if I try not to take things so seriously. If I am destined to have a writing career, it will happen on its own. Me pushing too hard is not yielding very good results.

I am satisfied with what I have written so far. I have been approaching my writing with a optimistic and positive eye, but I think I need to temper the positivity with a bit of the negative. After all, not everything I see is agreeable. I have been sort of ignoring what I think is completely pretentious and of poor quality.

I am gaining invaluable experience in the fashion industry. I have no one to coach me, and unfortunately I must go about this completely cold. I think that I am doing very well so far, considering the lack of experience. I am trying to meet and talk with as many people as possible.

After AIFW is finished, I plan to continue the journalism on my own. I will have to seek out events to report on, on my own. Doing that I think will be what puts me on the writing globe.

I think also that copywriting would be much less stressful, and I wouldn't have to deal with the flighty people. But the problem with that is: I love fashion! And I noticed that I felt completely comfortable attending the shows. This all happened so quickly. I wished I had time before to make new pieces for myself to wear. I am just making due with my old rags, but at least they are the rags of my own hands. That feels especially good. I am actually at a place where there is a high chance of meeting someone like me in that regard.

I will try to keep an open mind and be as calm and relaxed as possible, and it will work itself out, somehow. I just hope my editor still wants to work with me, the problem child. I had a serious melt down last night that I am not proud of. I only hope I haven't soured any of the fresh relationships that I am trying to forge.

This is niether the beginning nor the end of my writing career. I think it has only yet to begin.

This is all just a warm-up. Stretching the rusty fingers and massaging the matter.

fff #7 - home coming

“Good morning, this is Cheri” I said.

“Cheri, what’s your location?” he said.

“I’m just coming out of the canyon.” I said grimacing, “Hi Jimmy, how are you this morning?”

“Get that look off your face, I can feel that look.” he said.

“You know how much I hate to bother you so early and all, but Sal wants you to go by Louis’ to see if he’s home.” he said. “He didn’t come in last night and Sal’s getting pissed.

“Why can’t someone else go this time?” I questioned, “I’m on the other side of town and I’m late for a nail appointment.”

“You gotta go cause Sal said so!” Jimmy said in that surly voice he uses when he is irritated. “Sal knows that Louis trusts you enough to let you in.” calming a bit, “Sal wants you find out if he’s holding out on him.”

“I’ll only do it if you give me a shadow and a couple of days off.” I said reluctantly as if I had room to negotiate, “this is a two person job, Jimmy.”

As he was hanging up the phone he murmured; “Just get over there, will ya?”

On the ride across town I began to ponder;

“I’m becoming wary of this family life. I only wanted to do a couple of small jobs to get a new car and other objects that I wanted. Didn’t need them, wanted them. That kind of thinking is what got me where I am now. It beats sitting at a desk all day working on a job that takes half a year. These jobs I do now last usually only a couple of minutes. Destroying all in one heartbeat what it has taken them all their lives to create. I would guess all those that met their fate with me probably had it coming. Why else would they send me if that wasn’t the case?”

“apparently I will be going in solo again, those bastards!” I thought as I drove around louis’ driveway. I hiked up my skirt to put my nickel plated friend in the band of my stocking. The new heated mother of pearl grips I bought for her keep her from cooling my thigh. I adjusted my skirt and got out of the car. Louis was waiting for me behind a pillar near the front door.

“Fancy getting a visit from you, Cheri, and so early in the day too.” Louis said with a smirk.

“If I had the choice you would have remained alone this morning.” I said offering him my hand.

We went into the house to the drawing room to continue our conversation.

“Shall I assume Sal sent you to visit me?” he asked; “because when you come for a social visit you usually call ahead.”

“Jimmy asked me for Sal to come visit you and ask if you were clear and when you were coming in.” I explained.

“I decided I wasn’t coming in, last night, and every last night of my life.” He said as if it was a choice.

“Louis don’t you think you should talk to Sal before you go making decisions on your own?” I coaxed; “you know how Sal likes to know what’s going on with his family. You know how he gets when you go out and you don’t come back in.”

“Shit-he’s getting nervous, where’s my shadow? I never should have come in alone” I thought.

Louis just stood there stoically behind his marble desk.

“Why don’t we just take a ride over to see Sal?” I pushed, “we’ll just tell him you were ill.”

Louis pulled a revolver out of his desk drawer and pointed it at me from across the desk.

“I’m not going anywhere” he asserted as the sun’s reflection on the barrel blinded me.

My phone began to ring and he motioned for me to answer it.

“It’s probably Sal.” He said.

Somehow retaining my composure, I put the phone to my ear and the only word the voice on the phone said was:

“Duck.”

I immediately fell to the floor as if my body suddenly had no skeleton. I heard a pane in the window behind me shatter as if it were a hundred miles away. I secured my nickel plated savior out of my stocking and peered out the window to see if I could find my shadow. She gave me the all clear from the roof of the pool house, and I went around the desk to check on Louis.

“I don’t care if I was here when he got it, but I’m glad I didn’t have to do it this time.” I thought; “ugh, and with these nails.”