It’s a Tie! Writing vs. Fashion vs. Food
So, the different aspects of my identity are always contending with each other for top dog.
So who am I?
Fashion Queen? No…
**
Am I a runner? Quasi. Am I a writer? Well… I haven’t written anything serious in close to a year. Am I a fashion maven? Well, no, I’m on a budget, and I hate label whoring (though I slightly tend to in my “Outfit Architecture” descriptions). Am I a cook? No training, but I often feel most comfortable in the kitchen. Am I Green Activist? I try, but I don’t go out there and lobby, or walk the streets, preaching the gospel of Green.
A cook? No…
Hoisin/Teriyaki “chick’n” chard stir-fry, with Isreali Couscous with lemon, and steamed garlic broccoli. Contact me for recipe if you want it.
No longer a perpetual student, I find myself constantly trying to define who I am and in what little hole in the world I fit. This is the kind of identity crisis that kids post college face: “Who Am I? Where Am I Going? What Am I Doing?” And yet, here I am, completing my 28th year, and still vacillating.
Do I have to define myself in distinct, certain terms and qualities in order to really know who I am?
That question gives me pause. I don’t know if I have to really set down in stone, like some Biblical Tablet that outlines the parameters of what makes Mae who she is. Commandments of the Mae Character, if you will. I know my preferences, tastes and comfort levels. I know my own vocabulary, I know good grammar. Distastes, hates and discomforts are not unknown to me.
But if there is a “This is Mae” sort of idea floating about in the cloudy ether that is my brain, I haven’t felt/seen/heard of it yet.
I’m okay.
So am I a writer? A clothes horse? A Runner? An Eco-Nazi? A cook? Yes. And No. And yes again. I am all these things and none of them. They’re tied. And they’re all woven into the prickly textured fabric of my humanity. It doesn’t matter. I don’t have to define who I am as a person in order to know I have an impact on the planet and the people whose lives touch mine. I’m okay with that.
Outfit architecture: Skirt, shirt, Club Monaco; sweater stockings, Tarzhay; boots, Aldo; Belt, vintage; batwing cardi, Norma Kamali.
I Need To Hide the Real Me Like I Need a Punch In the Face: The ‘Fit photos
The ‘Fit: Monday. (NaBloPoMo day 2)
Can’t get off the “Punch in the Face” topic. Feels like there are a lot of things that can tie well into not needing something. Or needing something as badly as needing a sock to the eye…
Like feeling inferior. We never need to feel inferior to anything or anyone. AND YET…
I find myself feeling inferior to a lot of people, and most of all, to that ideal that I once held for myself and who I should be at this age (28 years almost complete).
Oufit Architecture: watch, belt, turtleneck, Target; pants, Moda Int’l (VS); Striped top, F21; Architectural Ring, Modcloth; shoe/booties, Anthro; scarf, vintage.
Taken in my bathroom (mind ye not the hanger in the background!) on my iPhone camera genius app with a timer. That app really is pure genius!
Cooked me some pasta after a 3.5 mi run at the gym.
Garlicky spinach whole wheat pasta with chick’n. YUM. If you want recipes, just email me (under CONTACT page)
Was asked by a Twitter friend and blogger compatriot if we ever felt like we were more comfortable in a mask in some form other other, than in our natural face. I answered yes. That my made up face is a type of mask which hides the inferior self and shows the world my more confident side. My “au naturale” appearance felt less “me” than anything else. If I venture forth into the world without being masked by what I feel makes me look most myself (make up), I hide behind my giant glasses.
THIS
is not greater than or equal to
THIS
And when in doubt, employ diversion tactics!
All of us hide something about ourselves that we don’t need to. Because hiding is tantamount to lying, denying others the immense delight of knowing our Truest Selves. We need to hide the real “us” like a punch to the face.
Maeko Loves #3: Family
Family.
You don’t always love them. In fact, you can sometimes hate them. Only in these people can you feel love and hatred in both equal measure. They are able to get under your skin in more ways than even your most unparalleled enemy could ever dream. They elevate your happiness to the highest heights, where you soar amongst regal eagles, borne on the undaunted currents of contentment. And at the same time, they can plunge you into the depths of the deepest hidden chasms of the oceans of despair and desperation. Only those whom we love most, can we at times detest most. Yet in the end we cannot sever the bond that links us so indelibly: blood. Written into the very fabric of our being, our cells, our delicate, ribbon-like DNA, we are chemically bound to our family, a genetic binding that although in essence only scientific, still goes beyond our ability to see, explore, imperially prove.
This is what “family” looks like to me.
My husband, N.
My “son”, Max (also known as “Bear”, since he looks like a fluffy little bear).
My sister (in law), T.
My brother, L.
My mum and dad, M & H.
My grandmothers, C and C.
It was for my grandmothers that N and I married in Victoria, British Columbia. And it was also for them that we spent our Christmas holiday back there.
I don’t usually wax sentimental about most people other than my husband, but I thought it was time to dedicate some love to my own family, some the most important people in my life.
I’ve always placed a lot more value in my best friends than in my family members, sad to admit. But lots of social/extroverted often find that they forge stronger connections with external parties than with internal. I always felt that my beat friends would always accept me as I am, love without agency, without trying to change me. Would always know me best. My best friends become my family. The proverbial friends that stick closer than brothers.
But Lately, I’ve been learning that my own blood can be these types of people–beyond a label of “family” or “friend”–unconditional love that transcends all definition. And there are friends that do stick closer than brothers, but there are also friends who come and go. And you can hardly ever leave your family.
My grandmother C (the one in the Senior Home photo) is 96 years old. She spent Christmas day in the ICU and then the rest of the time we were in Victoria, committed to a hospital room.
Throughout my childhood, I ignored her, or rebuffed her overly nurturing attempts at showering me with affection as insanely over-bearing. I found her grandfathering MO too involved, too in-your-face, too babying, too soft, too intense, smothering. And because of my hands-off approach to our relationship, I didn’t spend as much time as I should have getting to know her as a person. She was always my Gram. I loved and I love her, of course, but as a defiant child growing up with two battling cultures–a Western culture of California, and raised in a home with the stifling, strict culture of my heritage–I found my Gram’s often-needling, smothering presence in my life oppressive.
Anyway, long story short: I feel now that I neglected her, and that I should know her better for who she is. Lately, she has had too many “close calls”, and we’re not sure how much longer she has.
Lesson: do not neglect your family. You may feel they are annoying, prying, nosy, but except for certain situations, you cannot divorce your family. Don’t make the same mistake I did.
Is there someone in your life you feel you have neglected to treat like “family”, because of your selfish interpretation of their affection?
No Really, Put Your Sneakers On & Party ALL the Time!
Despite wearing heels every day for work, and loving how they work with my outfits… I’m more of a flats and kicky sneakers kind of girl.
Loving Dream Echo’s piece on the Vena Cava X Converse Collab!
Everyone I know who loves clubs goes in heels.
I have not gone clubbing in quite awhile. But when I go, I’d rather wear flats or sneakers if they let me, because that’s when you know you can get DOWN, and your FEET won’t let YOU down by the end of the night.
I haven’t gone clubbing/dancing regularly since I moved to Detroit. For a few reasons. All the clubs here are full of urban, mainstream hip hop music. I’m more of a House Music girl–it’s more groovy, more disco, more vocal and danceable. I find mainstream hip hop trashy and unintelligent with recycled, uninventive beats or tracks. Old classic hip hop is different, more melodic, more message-filled.
I do enjoy dancing, though, and when I was younger, I went out three nights a week to the House clubs to get my dance on! I haven’t gone out seriously since then (my early twenties) because over the last five years I’ve been diagnosed with a moderate case of lupus (in case you didn’t know), an auto-immune disease that prohibits me–on account of my health–from going out and getting too crazy. Plus everyone smokes indoors in Detroit, so in addition to smelling of tar and carcinogens, the next day I can’t walk or do anything without pain enveloping my body.
The last REALLY fun time I went out dancing since I moved to Detroit was for Halloween 2007. Me and my girls are very very serious about our dancing. We were 3 of about 7-8 on the dance floor while everyone else was drinking… it’s a huge warehouse 3 stories tall with spotlights blasting in our faces and the music pumping… it was great.
Then this guy starts moving onto the dance floor, he looks like he’s getting a seizure except his face is very focused on getting across the dance floor to us!
He flops and wiggles and seizures over to us and then tries to “holler” at my girl friend, dancing in her face like a sapling tree branch caught in a hurricane wind, and while she’s finding it funny… she’s got a boyfriend, and I’m offended by his so-called dancing. I just want him to go away! He smells like smoke and body odor, he has crusty teeth! So I start a dance off with him, and while I’m in the middle of my crumping phase, I tell him to back off:
“My girl friend doesn’t like bad dancers, and you’re something else altogether.”
He kept dancing.
“No, I’m serious. You’re going to ruin our rep. Can you please leave?”
My friend laughs it off, and he skulks to the corner, where he sits for a few minutes before heading off to the bar.
I know I was so mean, but whew! if it ever happened to me again, I’d do it the exact same way in a heartbeat! He SMELLED BAD! And his dancing assailed my eyes.
Happy Halloween to us.
The end.
Loving Michelle @ Chic Clinic’s CDG X Converse sneaks!
Was there ever a time where you had to resort to extreme measures to get someone to leave you alone, who wouldn’t leave otherwise?
Tell me about it!
Img Cred: DreamEcho, Michelle @ Chic Clinic.
Post Inspired by Notes from the Toothfairy.
Maeko Loves News #1
Ain’t no big thing, being Green!
I’m a self-professed Eco-Nazi… obsessive and addicted, but without that whole oppression/genocide thing. Like that soup Nazi from Seinfeld, but with eco-activism.
Maybe it’s no secret. If you work with me, you’ve seen me rooting through the trash, picking out Styrofoam computer packaging, cardboard lunch containers, plastic bottles and soda cans, etc, and packing it in her car to take to the recycling center on the way home… all with the occasional freak out if an errant drip of food or old syrupy beverage makes its way onto her work clothes or beloved shoes. Yes, I will admit it, I am that girl. But I can’t help it!
It’s a sickness to try to change everything I can around me for the greater ecological good of the planet. I try to be my best. (**Extra points for anyone who knows where that quote is from!) I try to reduce packaging when I have to buy new, and I try to buy products with as much post-consumer recycled content, I reuse as much as I can. I’ve banned almost all the paper towel usage in our house, I mix my own cleaning supplies (if you need a recipe or six, just ask me… I have tons!), eat organic and local as much as possible, reduce my daily trash output, recycle about 90% of what I throw away, even though our condo complex has no curbside recycling program, I try to cook meals at home and take lunch to reduce carbon emissions by driving to and from restaurants for take out. We even recycle our old small appliances instead of throwing them out (e-waste!). If I do something wasteful, I am wracked with eco-guilt nightmares for a few days… it’s a sickness.
But admittedly, I wouldn’t change myself at all. If anyone else adopted this sickness, imagine how much greater our local environments would be!
Anyway, that said, there is recent local and global GREENish news that tickles and prickles me:
#1.) Tickled. Michigan Clears the Air.
Come May 1st, Michigan will be the 38th state to go Smoke Free in public. Finally, after a more than decade long fight to clear the air, the bill passed through the stalemated Michigan legislature, with a promise from Governor Jennifer Granholm (D) to sign the bill into law last Thursday.
The ban affects restaurants, hotels, bars and clubs, but exempts smoking/cigar bars and non-American Indian owned casino game floors. First time offenders will be fined $100, and then $500 for subsequent violations.
Img. Susan Tusa via Detroit Free Press
Though this makes a lot of people (like me!) elated, there are a number of opponents who have helped block this legislation for years, and are extremely unhappy the resolution passed. Small business owners believe this will kill their business. And sports fans and smokers balk at the ban. Others oppose the ban because they think of it as government meddling in people’s personal lifestyles.
While business owners may see a downturn in their revenue, we have to keep in mind that 1.) The majority of Michiganians oppose smoking in public places, 2.) they will begin to come out to support businesses they did not frequent due to indoor smoke, 3.) other cities like Chicago, New York and Columbus did initially lose a percentage of their revenue after a smoking ban, yet bounced back much stronger after a small amount of time.
My own personal reaction to this is: GET OVER IT.
Smokers always feel entitled to a sense of freedom, while they do not consider the entitlement of non-smokers who have their own right to breathe clean air! “I have an American right to do whatever I want, smoke where I want, so fuck off,” is the attitude I often come across. I guess I could rebuttle that I have a right to breathe oxygen untainted from nicotine, tar and other carcinogens. “I have a lung condition” I should say! My lungs are currently in perfect condition, and I want to keep them that way!
In addition, people who have auto-immune diseases and other health problems like cancer have a compromised immune system, and second hand smoke further weakens their immune systems making them prone to infection, sickness and in some cases, serious illness which could lead to death. In my case, second hand smoke in clubs has often caused me to lose the ability to walk, or searing pain in all my joints for days at a time.
While I believe in your right to smoke almost anywhere, I do not believe in that right when it compromises essential functions for many people to live a normal, healthy life–
You love your smoking, right? Like devotion and love for anything else, you will do whatever you need to do in order to carry on the habit/addiction/love. Businesses that want you around have and will invest in things that will allow you to frequent their establishment while still accomodating your… devotion. Like that club in Dearborn that cleared part of their parking lot, installed insulated tents with couches, heaters and an outdoor hooka lounge/bar. If you love smoking, you will make it work. You smoke outside your office despite snow and freezing weather, and you smoke out of a cracked window in your car during a rain storm, why should restaurants or bars be any different? Isn’t it only fair that while you get to take 15 minute breaks every hour and hog up all the great restaurants, that people like me who love food but literally can’t take smoke finally get our time to breathe while we eat and dance?
And on the Beauty Note: cigarette smoke, being a pollutant, actually contains free radicals in the tar, and also in the the smoke in the form of gas. These free radicals are those pesky atoms that lose an electron, and frantically search around for a free floating electron to become a stable molecule… Free radicals form when external factors disrupt the stability of a molecule. Free radical production is what causes aging.
Here is the basic summary: pollutants = free radicals = aging. No smoke in public places = less free radicals = less aging.
This is good news for Michiganians who care about their skin. This also means we can save money on those expensive anti-aging tonics and serums. Seriously, how is this not good news?
I believe this spring will be a happy spring in Michgan indeed!
The Dream
Twins: Non-Smoker vs Sun-loving, pack & a half a day Smoker
Why does the fashion industry glamourize smoking? It sure makes for great photography, but there is nothing glamourous at all in getting older faster, vomit-breath, and dirty, stained teeth! Fashion + smoking sends a message that smoking gives you an instant chicness, while omitting the disgusting, truthful deets: there are dire health and beauty consequences for sustaining a smoker’s lifestyle. /end rant.
Original Article here:Freep.com
Img Cred: ~tale-like-me @ DeviantArt, Style by Me, Dan Martensen via Refinery29,Shizuka NY, Susan Tusa via Detroit Free Press.
#2.) Prickly, Tenuous Tickle: Hopin’ in Copenhagen.
Deforestation aids drought & Global Climate Change, study finds (via All Voices.com)
NY Times reports that negotiators at the World Climate Summit in Copenhagen, Denmark are close to completing an agreement that compensates contries for preserving natural landscapes, like forest, swamps and fields, which help to curb climate change.
…forests are efficient absorbers of carbon dioxide, the primary heat-trapping gas linked to global warming. Rain forest destruction, which releases the carbon dioxide stored in trees, is estimated to account for 20 percent of greenhouse gas emissions globally.
The agreement for the program [called REDD, or "Reducing Emissions from Deforestation and Forest Degredation"], if signed as expected, may turn out to be the most significant achievement to come out of the Copenhagen climate talks, providing a system through which countries can be paid for conserving disappearing natural assets based on their contribution to reducing emissions.
The final draft of Redd was to be given yesterday to the Climate ministers of almost 200 countries. However, final agreement could be compromised in part because little progress has been made on many other issues at the summit… and recently, the UN Climate Summit President Connie Hedegaard resigned, amid rumours of a negotiating text drafted by the richer nations to be pushed through talks under Danish Prime Minister Lars Løkke Rasmussen…
While this potential program would be a huge leap forward in the fight against climate change… it seems shaky at best. Going to have to keep watching to see if this REDD program gets through all the beaurocracy!
Original Articles Here: NY Times.com, & UK Guardian.
Img. cred: All Voices.com.
**Line from Dollhouse, uttered by Dolls, in their Doll-state, when the memory and brain map of engagements have been wiped clean, in response to reason for living.
Friday Confessional: I have a new girlfriend (Steez Post)
I think it’s no secret that I’m a geek… nerd…
You know… someone who enjoys comics, animé, sci-fi, videogames, graphic novels and action figures and what not. Revels in the joy that is technology. Pulsates with thrill whenever she gets a new electronic gadget, listens to the reviews of CES every year…
I felt slightly empty when Battlestar Galactica aired it’s final episode. Fearing there was nothing else worthwhile watching, I frantically looked for another show to immerse myself in… (and only realised later, that Hello! LOST is still around for another year)…
And I found Firefly on DVD, and then Dollhouse.
I’m a bi-polar obsessive (heavy, heavy, but in spurts) when it comes to Joss Whedon TV shows.
First there was Buffy, the ass-kicking dramady series that delighted feminists and comic book geeks the world round, of which I was a devotee from Episode 1… Any show that combined fashion and a girl all of 5′2″ kicking monster ass, well, it was high up on my book. Esp because it had such great writing… Most of my slang-age is ripped somewhere or another from some Buffy episode. Yes, I know. I’m so not original.
Well… Dollhouse has been on since Jan on Fox as a mid-season replacement show. Leave it to Fox to fuck with Joss Whedon’s genius by putting such a great TV show on a Friday night when all the cool people who make TV ratings soar are probably out enjoying a social life. Seriously, TV-Suits? If you want the demographic you are aiming for to watch your fucking shows, don’t air the shows on a night they are likely to be out gallivanting around town and enjoying their youth. Air them on a night when there are no free-drinks or ladies night specials and they are likely to be ready to zone out in front of the boob tube before the next day of work. Like, Tuesday at 9…!
So… Again, another nightmare threatens yet another brilliant Whedon show. Imagine my horror when I found out about it on Twitter. The leagues of Whedon fans need to join together yet again to support the great cause of saving Dollhouse!
Here’s how:
1. Visit: Save Dollhouse, create an account, and leave a comment about exactly what it is that you love about Dollhouse. BuddyTV will consolidate and send it as a “petition” to the Suits at Fox to let them know it is a well-loved show and why they’d be fucktards to pull it.
Here’s what I love about it:
One of the most intelligently written, and intricate shows on TV right now. Since other Whedon shows left TV, there’s been a hole for good, well-written shows with good action, razor-sharp wit, and great production value. Dollhouse fills that void. If it’s taken off the air, seriously clever, brilliant viewers will be aching for another intelligent show. There’s nothing else really worth watching lately with all the drivel people have been writing for TV (with the exception of LOST). This show is imperative to smart people’s entertainment pleasure. If Fox pulls it, it will prove yet again that the network is run by a bunch of stupid douchebag Suits who have no respect for clever people or their viewers, or an inkling of what makes a great TV show.
(oh, and Tamoh Penikett who played Lt. Karl “Helo” Agathon on Battlestar Galactica is one of the main characters, too….)
2.Spread the word ON TWITTER and on BLOGS NEAR YOU. Log on to your twitter account and tweet out this message (exactly as it appears):
Support Joss: Save Dollhouse. Fans get their voices heard @BuddyTV http://tinyurl.com/SaveDollhouse Please ReTweet and join the cause.
3. Add BuddyTV on Twitter and follow the progress of the campaign to save the show.
Oh, I forgot to mention…
In the style of the Steel Closet Crew’s “My New Girlfriend” article series: Eliza Dushku is my new-old girlfriend. We’ve got a rekindled flame here. (Who did not seriously love her as the rogue Slayer in Season 3 of Buffy?) She’s the show’s producer and main star. And as Echo, she is brutally hot… And versatile. Playing a different character (or two) in each episode not only showcases her talent, but her understanding of the demands of different roles, and her own willingness to delve into various souls and spheres in order to perform those roles. She’s incredible.
And did I mention how hot she is? Yeah, I know. Yeah.
5/8/09 – Friday Confessional: Sensuality & Disappointment & Shame
Sensuality
I have none. I’m like a dude. I’m all angles and pointy arms and legs.
If someone told me to be sexy, I’d run away screaming. I’m a nerd. I don’t do sexy.
Also would rather read a book or write a story or cook a kick ass meal than make love. Does that make me a bad wife, or just actually married?
If I were aim to be the epitome of a sexy femme, fully aware of her own beautiful, awakened sensuality… I would strive to be like Z, who I think is the quintessence of a brilliant, clever, insanely sexy woman.
—
Disappointment
Yesterday was the biggest day of my life: A nine year career in University finished at last! I warned my sales reps with and for whom I’ve toiled and sacrificed over two years of my life, that I would be out to celebrate my birthday and graduation… when I came back no one said one word to me except for my favourite sales rep… no card of congratulations, no shouts of happy birthday. In the past they’ve given me flowers and gift cards and hugs and kisses. I hate to be so superficial, but it kind of sucked. It was for once, MY DAY, and it was like save for one person, no one gave a fucking damn.
N says I shouldn’t take it so personally–we’re in a recession, and I’m leaving to go to another sales team in a few. But fuck all that-I know what salaries they make, and I’ve known them for 2.5 years… Can’t I have this one? I was very disappointed and hurt… am I wrong?
—
Shame
I’m a terrible granddaughter. I never call either of my grandmothers on Mother’s day.
I call my mum and my future step-mother-in-law instead, and spend the day with my future mother-in-law cooking a brunch that takes so long to finish, it becomes a late afternoon lunch.
The satisfaction I get from speaking with my mothers and spending time with my mothers is counterpoint to the embarrassment and anxiety I face with the idea of having to spend a few awkward minutes miscommunicating with my dad’s deaf and senile mother, whom I love dearly, or my mum’s cantankerous mother, whose English freakily resembles a crunchy Filipino dialect. The fear of having to spend those minutes trying to speak in broken English or constant yelled repetition… I would rather spend hours in the night writing them a letter to profess my love for them, than talk to them for a few strained minutes in which neither party is able to communicate their true feelings, for the wall of language erected between them is too impenetrable.
Yes. I’m a terrible granddaughter. I hardly talk to either of my grandmothers ever.
