Cleaning Out My Closet

Remember that getting rid of clothes I never wear project? Here are their last journeys before meeting the inside of a trash bag.

(Old: black/floral shirt dressed up with new booties and skinny jeans.)

(Old: American Eagle striped shirt dressed up with semi-new pumps and cardigan.)

(Also the first time I’ve mixed patterns. Kind of scary at first, but I’m a fan.)

(Old: Leopard blazer dressed up with belt, undershirt, and leggings.)

(Old: Shirt dressed up with my new hair cut. I had about 5 of these basic tops and tossed them all due to lack of quality.)

Half of the pieces slated for re-wear bit the dust before I even gave them another shot, while others were simply too big or too small. As documented in this recent entry, I also gave some of my old spring/summer wardrobe pieces a second chance after finding their accessory soulmate.

As for the couldn’t-part-withs, I have a bag of them set aside for a neat little (future) project at Southern Sheek.

Thanks to this journey, I’ve become more acquainted with the Goodwill bag than ever before, and I’ve said farewell to the “But what if I need it or miss it when it’s gone?!” mindset. See you in another life, old wardrobe.

Gonnas: Submit to the Strangeness

In the middle of this,

I realized I should probably go ahead and mention that I have accepted my overall strangeness. I have tended to it, sheltered it, loved it. I have encouraged its growth as I feel like in the end, it will be what makes me happy. However, it just occurred to me that in the vein of this blog, it is what’s going to make me successful.

That strangeness is what makes (some of) the entries funny. That strangeness is what keeps me laughing on the off days. That strangeness is what births the creativity I wake up with every morning.

That strangeness is what makes my friends nearly piss themselves when funny things just fall out of my mouth. That strangeness is what makes me watch Paranormal State, knowing I’m going to scare the shit out of myself. That strangeness is what makes makes me sit at my kitchen table in a robe, eating chocolate, reading the newspaper, and singing for breakfast (at 2 p.m.)

That strangeness is what makes me unable to do things the way I feel like I should be doing them, but it’s also what helps me find the ways I can do them.

So yesterday, I once again stroked my strangeness (That’s what she said. (Ohmygod,I’mfive.)), and accomplished some gonnas my own weird way. I started off by practicing singing since I’m trying to get back into that whole performing gig. It didn’t go spectacularly, but I did it.

I finished my long forgotten graduation thank-you cards right before dinner, and swept off the army of pollen attacking the entire deck. I added more to my to-do list and planned some upcoming projects, all before settling in for a fabulous night of food and TV with family and L.

With the help of strangeness, a handful of unplanned gonnas were knocked off the never-ending list and “Don’t Stop Believing” was blasted at full volume. Actually, it wasn’t. I lied. But it’s playing riiiiiight… now, and I’m not going to stop myself if I start screaming along with it.

Today, I’m gonna emerge from my Howard Hughes-like hibernation and run some errands that should assist in future gonnas and strangeness.

Donnn’t stooppp believinnn’, hold on to that feeeeeeliiiiinnnn’…

(Sorry to W and the million other people on the planet that cannot stand Journey’s anthem that is empirically karaoke’s greatest song.)