We played a game in theatre the other day where you randomly picked someone to be your worst enemy, and someone else to be your protector. Your protector had to be halfway between you and your enemy at all times.
At first I imagined that everyone would be in the corners with a few people running around, the rest comfortably 'protected'.
What actually happened was a chaotic spiral of people chasing after each other. No one accomplished their goal of having their protector between themselves and their enemy because nobody knew who was who. Your protector had no idea they were your protector, your enemy didn't know what they were to you either.
That game is what's wrong with relying on someone else to shield you from the world.
They may not always bear in mind how you feel. And even if they do, may not know how you feel. Sometimes it can be hard to express emotions with words.
If only we could feel to each other.
But we can. I have felt the amazing unpleasantness around people and the glorious joy around others.
You need your own personal shield. A barrier between you and those who can pollute your joy. Do not block out the good, the glorious, and the shining. Simple put up a screening process, assessing people before you allow their influence to reach your fragile (or not) core.
I for one am very impressionable, easily influenced by others' writing styles and attitudes. If someone around me is complaining, I am more likely to complain.
With every action or reaction on my part, I analyze these to determine their origin, and who is currently contributing to my character.
People are like blank canvases when we are born. Our genetics determine the size and shape of the canvas and the colors of paint we can work with. We, ourselves, and the people we surround ourselves with, create the painting. The first person to start on your canvas does not finish the whole thing, they do a small part while they are in your life.
This is a painting that is never finished.
Who do you want contributing to your painting? Someone who is rude? And sometimes you don't get to choose. They get right in there with a paintbrush whether you like it or not. You need a barrier of ideals and people to guard your painting. Watch who influences you, who shapes who you are, and who gets to paint your canvas.
Four months ago I finally found a community of bloggers who share my spartan spending and lifestyle habits. A few of my favorite blogs on this topic include Mr. Money Mustache, Frugal Granola, and We Got Real. Like all things in life, no blog is cut-and-squared, and some of these bloggers also write about living simply, doing things yourself, natural living, and saving the environment through conserving and re-using resources.
Although I am only 14, I have already compiled a mental list of things I will do to save money and our earth and minimize the amount of toxins I am exposed to when I move out. Hopefully I will be able to gradually introduce these into our family lifestyle when we move (in about a month!) with minimal protest. These include home-made toothpaste and vinegar and baking-soda instead of shampoo and conditioner.
I tried this for a week, and as the author of the article mentioned my hair did get oilier, but I am sure if I would have continued it would have gradually subsided by the second week. To be completely honest my hair did not look all that bad, and it became noticeably easier to brush. But then I was banned from using baking soda and vinegar to wash my hair until school ends. Why? This time last year I went into the bathroom and cut my hair to my ears. I am to be prevented from doing anything radical to my hair this year, according to my mother.
Also, since reading this article about sun-exposure and, frankly, because chemical sunscreens irritate my skin, I've decided to try my hand at home-made sunscreen. Sadly, I will have to leave the convenient spray-on sunscreen in the dust...farewell old friend and nemesis.
Here is a link to the Dirty Dozen, the 12 fruits and vegetables with the most pesticides.
Our collection of salsa, pasta sauce, pickle and ect. jars has been steadily growing. In fact, it now takes up 3 cupboards and half a dining table in the garage. But because our house is ginormous compared to the small amount of space we take up, the collection has been tolerated. Not for long! It seems a bit...odd...to be packing boxes of glass jars to be shipped to the US with us when we can just begin accumulating them once we arrive. I am loath to waste them, though, and have to keep telling myself that there is no way we could use them all, anyway. This morning I did some research on ways to repurpose all those jars, this is the best article I came up with.
And now, after paragraphs of references to other blogs and meandering tips and suggestions, we get to the first part of the title of this article: Ikea. Throughout the years and every move our family has made, one store has always been there to provide the useless crap families think they need when they move: Ikea. Shh...I din't say that...you didn't hear anything. Being Swedish, its a bit sacrilegious to insult Ikea. I appreciate the ease with which it has allowed my parents (or rather my mom) to more us from country to country, but man, we have a lot of crap from Ikea. And I hate crap, especially a lot of it.
I write this sitting in my Ikea rocking chair (which we have three of, in storage) glaring angrily at my tolerably tacky, but very practical, Ikea desk out of the corner of my eye. The Ikea desk-chair eyes me mutinously from across the room.
In the midst of packing our little-used and little-loved possessions into cardboard boxes and endless discussions with my mom about frugality and living with less, my brother buys me some sticks, painted white, from Ikea. Ah!
Now they sit in the foyer, tormenting me for several reasons. #1 I feel guilty about being ungrateful for something my brother bought me (because, he said, he knows I like sticks). #2 I have to get the receipt and return them, throw them away, or take it with me when I move. #3 I haven't done either of those things yet and I hate not getting things done
Tomorrow morning I will do it.
I did not do it this morning.
Sometimes the circumstances convene and I get things done that I have been meaning to. Other times they don't, I shrug my shoulders and focus on finish other things. Rather than stressing about what I haven't done, I ask what needs to be done and congratulate myself on what I have done.
For the past five months or so, I've been waking up an hour and a half earlier than one must. Partially because I love showering in the morning and partially because I always dawdle, even when in a hurry, which is rare. But the main reason is to have a whole hour to myself every morning, no matter how busy I am with school assignments, that one hour in the morning is untouchable.
I cannot over emphasize how wonderful this has been. To wake up, shower, and make myself breakfast as the morning mist slowly rises out of the grass outside. I sit at the kitchen table with a cup of tea and my laptop, watching the sun dispel the gloomy silence of dawn.
It's amazing how much you can get done in an hour.
I am a planner, and I like to think about what I will do the next morning (usually some small project that will neaten the house (like the bobby-pin matchbox above), an article on this blog, Pinterest, working on my book, drawing).
I get up the next morning without the incredible blaaaah that used to accompany my heinously annoying alarm clock (the worst song on the planet for waking up to, but oh so terribly effective 'Frustrated Unnoticed' by Damone). Looking forward to my shower and taking my time to dally around in the kitchen.
However, no good can come of waking up early if you go to bed late. Late as in ten or eleven. As well as waking up before needs be, I go to bed a couple of hours before what is considered a 'socially acceptable' bedtime. Eight o'clock.
When my school mates are dragging themselves from classroom to classroom (I drag myself as well, but thats because of my rock of a back-pack, it seems to get heavier as the day goes on) I am without the need to moan "I'm so tired" every five minutes or so.
I was reading an article by James Altucher on how to become an idea machine when I realized I already do these things, albeit not exactly. I get up in the morning and exercise my idea muscle, and keep exercising it throughout the day.
Waking up early can be an opportunity to have some me-time for those too busy to find it elsewhere. Giving yourself time is as important as working hard, and with an hour every morning to nourish your interests, your soul and sanity will bloom.
This skirt is probably my favorite thing I've sewn so far! And the moodboard I created for it is superb as well! I had a ton of small fabric scraps left over from this project, so I decided to cut and paste a couple of them unto my moodboard. The result was a textured, multi-layered reflection of my sewing process.
Since I would have to do this again (see paneled circle-skirt) I added many details about the mistakes I made and further suggestions for improvement.
The ratio of the waist to the hem is almost exactly 1:4, in case anyone is looking to re-create this skirt. I will post a tutorial later.
