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Sabotage complete. Go me.
Sep. 3rd, 2003 08:02 pmI've just added lemon pepper to the chicken in the oven behind Mater's back.
*sneak, sneak, creep, creep*
It had it coming.
*sneak, sneak, creep, creep*
It had it coming.
Sep. 3rd, 2003
Of course, Mater shot her mouth off about The Plan. But then, she always does that, so I shouldn’t be so surprised. Whatever marital problems my parents happen to have, they still tell each other everything.
But I’m getting ahead of myself here.
Got back from Jersey okay, obviously. Spent a lot of the time talking to James about my life, kind of. From all indications this weekend will have been some kind of turning point/catalyst in my life, but that’s both true and false. It was what I needed to hear, but it just kind of solidified things I’ve been thinking for a long time. If that makes any sense? The point is, I’m ready to get on with it now. Go back to school, do something with myself. I needed the time off from life, but I’m back to normal now (or as normal as I’m ever going to get. Ha hah.)
Anyway. I was talking with James about what I want to do.
Wait, backtrack again. James is my cousin. Specifically, my next-youngest cousin on my mother’s side, and one of my best and oldest friends in the world (we’re only eighteen months apart.) He is also one of the two (occasionally three) people in the world who I will, in fact, listen to when they tell me to do things. Doesn’t matter if everyone and their mother tells me the exact same thing; I’ll listen to him and do what he suggests, most of the time. (Damn. More and more like my father every day.)
So we’re walking around Princeton around eleven, there being nothing else to do. We went through the dorm section, and there were all the freshmen settling in, and I’m thinking to myself, I wouldn’t mind this. I’m more ready for it now than I was before. James and I were talking about options (pick three things, now you can do x, y, and z with that) and at some point, I thought of costume design.
I love Lord of the Rings, not in the least for the costumes. So it’s no big thing to design costumes for Toronto for a Queen of Numenor (me) and Ent (Kelsey) and Varda (Kate). I’ve been doing stuff like that for years, and I love bridal magazines not because I’m interested in getting married but for the beautiful dresses that are in there. I’m into weaving, and tapestries, and I love embroidery when I get the chance to sit down and actually work on it uninterrupted. So why couldn’t I make a career out of it? I’d get to travel all over the world, too, and work in movies like I’d like to. Which isn’t to say that I can’t write stories or act in my spare time, or whatever.
So I’ve devised The Plan. The Plan is as follows:
Fall/Winter 2003
~ work full time (get new job)
~ take classes at BOCES (Italian, French, belly dancing, whatever)
~ do other [normal] things
~ apply for FIT
Spring 2004
~ take classes at OCC
~ keep working
Summer 2004
~ work my arse off
Fall 2004
~ Fashion Institute of Technology (FIT) for Fashion Design
Fall 2005
~ Second year at FIT in Florence, Italy
Spring 2006 + onwards…
~ Graduate w/ associates in fashion design
~ bachelors in fashion design
~ go on to get degree in Restoration?
~ or film work
~ museum work?
~Unicorn Tapestries in the Cloisters, etc.
Coda
Of course, Mater shot her mouth off about The Plan. But then, she always does that, so I shouldn’t be so surprised. Whatever marital problems my parents happen to have, they still tell each other everything.
Dad is… less than thrilled? Pissed off as hell? A totalitarian bastard who just doesn’t get that I don’t give a fuck in hell about phones and the business of managing them? Or about business in particular?
He’s always like, “Oh, if someone had told me at twenty what I know now, I’d be filthy rich. If someone had helped me to start my own business at twenty, I’d be filthy rich.”
Hello. I read the books about business that he told me to read (i.e., starting your own small business) and NO THANK YOU. Not interested in spending twelve to sixteen hour days doing things that I hate, in a place that I hate, with no weekends or holidays for like, ten years. And it’s only a 50/50 chance that it’ll take off. Forget that shit. Of course, no mention of this when I put my name on the paper, but maybe that’s my own fault.
I’m one of those creative people. That’s not my fault. It’s also not my fault that when I look at numbers I get panic attacks and start to cry cause I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing. It’s not my fault that I’m like him in so many ways, but not in the ways he wants me to be. I’m my mother’s daughter, too. However, I don’t want to wind up like either of them, stuck in the sticks with no way out.
Oh, whatever. That’s The Plan, Dad doesn’t like it, I don’t care, and I’m going ahead with it anyway. I just seem to be making lots of waves nowadays. What’s a few more. I’m trying to be selfish with everything; sometimes I just can’t help it. Goddamit.
Other news flashes from this weekend:
~ Although I do have a little thing for M.R., no, I am not a lesbian. People seem to think that a lot for some reason. I’m not quite sure why; James was talking about with Virginia on the Vineyard and he asked me. Then Uncle Kevin’s like, you’ll meet more boys if you go to college, and blah blah. So I wondered if they wondered, and Aunt Sean was like, “Well, no, I know you’re straight,” or words to that effect. Anyway. I like boys. Even if they’re pretty (read: Legolas.)
~ I am also not a whore, although I suppose I could be. Not a ho, mind you, or some kind of streetwalking prostitute, but a mistress or something. Girl with Sugar Daddy. Har har. Then mom told me all the sugar daddy stories. Like the guy she almost married- and Iranian prince that she met in London.
So yes, I almost was a princess. For real.
DAMMIT!
But I’m getting ahead of myself here.
Got back from Jersey okay, obviously. Spent a lot of the time talking to James about my life, kind of. From all indications this weekend will have been some kind of turning point/catalyst in my life, but that’s both true and false. It was what I needed to hear, but it just kind of solidified things I’ve been thinking for a long time. If that makes any sense? The point is, I’m ready to get on with it now. Go back to school, do something with myself. I needed the time off from life, but I’m back to normal now (or as normal as I’m ever going to get. Ha hah.)
Anyway. I was talking with James about what I want to do.
Wait, backtrack again. James is my cousin. Specifically, my next-youngest cousin on my mother’s side, and one of my best and oldest friends in the world (we’re only eighteen months apart.) He is also one of the two (occasionally three) people in the world who I will, in fact, listen to when they tell me to do things. Doesn’t matter if everyone and their mother tells me the exact same thing; I’ll listen to him and do what he suggests, most of the time. (Damn. More and more like my father every day.)
So we’re walking around Princeton around eleven, there being nothing else to do. We went through the dorm section, and there were all the freshmen settling in, and I’m thinking to myself, I wouldn’t mind this. I’m more ready for it now than I was before. James and I were talking about options (pick three things, now you can do x, y, and z with that) and at some point, I thought of costume design.
I love Lord of the Rings, not in the least for the costumes. So it’s no big thing to design costumes for Toronto for a Queen of Numenor (me) and Ent (Kelsey) and Varda (Kate). I’ve been doing stuff like that for years, and I love bridal magazines not because I’m interested in getting married but for the beautiful dresses that are in there. I’m into weaving, and tapestries, and I love embroidery when I get the chance to sit down and actually work on it uninterrupted. So why couldn’t I make a career out of it? I’d get to travel all over the world, too, and work in movies like I’d like to. Which isn’t to say that I can’t write stories or act in my spare time, or whatever.
So I’ve devised The Plan. The Plan is as follows:
Fall/Winter 2003
~ work full time (get new job)
~ take classes at BOCES (Italian, French, belly dancing, whatever)
~ do other [normal] things
~ apply for FIT
Spring 2004
~ take classes at OCC
~ keep working
Summer 2004
~ work my arse off
Fall 2004
~ Fashion Institute of Technology (FIT) for Fashion Design
Fall 2005
~ Second year at FIT in Florence, Italy
Spring 2006 + onwards…
~ Graduate w/ associates in fashion design
~ bachelors in fashion design
~ go on to get degree in Restoration?
~ or film work
~ museum work?
~Unicorn Tapestries in the Cloisters, etc.
Coda
Of course, Mater shot her mouth off about The Plan. But then, she always does that, so I shouldn’t be so surprised. Whatever marital problems my parents happen to have, they still tell each other everything.
Dad is… less than thrilled? Pissed off as hell? A totalitarian bastard who just doesn’t get that I don’t give a fuck in hell about phones and the business of managing them? Or about business in particular?
He’s always like, “Oh, if someone had told me at twenty what I know now, I’d be filthy rich. If someone had helped me to start my own business at twenty, I’d be filthy rich.”
Hello. I read the books about business that he told me to read (i.e., starting your own small business) and NO THANK YOU. Not interested in spending twelve to sixteen hour days doing things that I hate, in a place that I hate, with no weekends or holidays for like, ten years. And it’s only a 50/50 chance that it’ll take off. Forget that shit. Of course, no mention of this when I put my name on the paper, but maybe that’s my own fault.
I’m one of those creative people. That’s not my fault. It’s also not my fault that when I look at numbers I get panic attacks and start to cry cause I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing. It’s not my fault that I’m like him in so many ways, but not in the ways he wants me to be. I’m my mother’s daughter, too. However, I don’t want to wind up like either of them, stuck in the sticks with no way out.
Oh, whatever. That’s The Plan, Dad doesn’t like it, I don’t care, and I’m going ahead with it anyway. I just seem to be making lots of waves nowadays. What’s a few more. I’m trying to be selfish with everything; sometimes I just can’t help it. Goddamit.
Other news flashes from this weekend:
~ Although I do have a little thing for M.R., no, I am not a lesbian. People seem to think that a lot for some reason. I’m not quite sure why; James was talking about with Virginia on the Vineyard and he asked me. Then Uncle Kevin’s like, you’ll meet more boys if you go to college, and blah blah. So I wondered if they wondered, and Aunt Sean was like, “Well, no, I know you’re straight,” or words to that effect. Anyway. I like boys. Even if they’re pretty (read: Legolas.)
~ I am also not a whore, although I suppose I could be. Not a ho, mind you, or some kind of streetwalking prostitute, but a mistress or something. Girl with Sugar Daddy. Har har. Then mom told me all the sugar daddy stories. Like the guy she almost married- and Iranian prince that she met in London.
So yes, I almost was a princess. For real.
DAMMIT!
