August’s lovely paper dolls…
August’s lovely paper dolls…
Pattern on pattern on pattern with texture. Playing to win on this day.
Collar: an antique that was Luray’s, so I know nothing about it.
Tee Shirt: yes, it is a tee shirt. Bought at a boutique in Old Town, Albuquerque, the label has left this earthly plane
Skirt: Me Jane, discovered NWT at La Tienda de Jardin
Short listed for the Man Booker, The Vegetarian is post-modern. In short, that means it’s painful to read, uncomfortable to contemplate, and there’s no clear resolution beyond a sense that the world is shit. It is my first experience reading anything Post Modern, so I went into it blindly, and for once was really grateful that I’d paid $11.99 for less than 200 pages. I have read that the story is allegorical of the history of South Korea, and it may well be, but I am not a scholar of said history so that aspect escaped me.
I initially read some quotes that suggested that it was a strongly feminist work, in that a woman stops eating meat and it is symbolic of her claiming her own body and life for herself in a world where there is no such thing as a woman having full autonomy. Yet, as the book progresses, my sense is that it is a bleak tale about how no woman, no matter what, can escape objectification by men, women and society. Her body, emaciated and unhealthy, still stirs men to want sex with her—not out of any sense of her as a person (and unlinked to any desire on her part), but I think out of both a desire to remind that she cannot have autonomy and because she has now become exotic in her rebellion—still an object as long as she draws breath—but interesting to men who have not witnessed this sort of behavior before.
Separated into three parts, the final part involves the woman’s sister becoming involved in this refusal, now, to seemingly eat anything. In an eerie replay of the previous sections wherein men forced themselves upon her to penetrate her sexually, we see the sister prying her lips open to force in grains of food—the reference is unmistakable, and extremely disturbing. I can’t rate this in terms of like/dislike, but I recognize that it is well written, and it caused very strong responses in me that are important. It just wasn’t any fun. 4 stars.
This was the next to last day of the Spring semester, y’all! So I’m crazy layered.
Blouse: Chicos, but I got it at an estae sale. I normally refuse to buy Chicos new or secondhand because when we got one here, a friend of mine went in to check it out, and the clerk pounced on her and took it upon herself to tell my friend that “your size” would not be found there. So, I apologize to the gods that I like this. Maybe I can cut the tags out…..
Purple thing: That is a sheer silk tunic made by some local idiot who claims to be able to sew but is a damn liar. It’s total crap, but I needed a layer.
Tank top: White House/Black Market, it was Luray’s, it, too, is falling apart.
The cheap as black skirt.
I’m famous! The links are wrong, but I’m still famous-ish.
I Hate Sundays….I’m not ready, the dog is sniffing the cat’s butt…we’ll need another take……as my dad used to shout when taking group photos, “Get the cat! Get the dog! Get the cat off the dog!”
My PCP and I had agreed, some time ago, that once the heart madness settled down, we would pursue finding a drug that would potentially work on generalized anxiety, the gut issues and migraines. The theory was that since the gut and the heart are very dependent on one another, medication that soothed the other issues would also benefit my heart. It was solid reasoning.
We already know that Cymbalta is not our friend (serotonin syndrome, up for two days clenching my teeth and wildly anxious). We know that Effexor is an enemy (19 day period, folks, NINETEEN DAYS). So, we tried Lyrica. After about 2-3 days at 50 mg a night, I was having migraines that were back to easily aborted with Fioricet. So we went up to 75 mg at night, while still carefully weaning off the Xanax–and I haven’t had a migraine since.
The first issue were the dreams. They are nearly hallucinatory in nature, and they go on all night long. I wake up, I am mostly aware that I was dreaming, I go back to sleep and it picks right back up. Sometimes I would think that a conversation that happened in a dream had actually happened, and have to then try to figure out what was real and what wasn’t. As usual, I wanted to be a good patient and not quit too soon. I could handle weird dreams, told myself, even if they were more than just dreams and disrupted my sleep and emotions and I was starting to fear them.
Last week, I noticed that I was having small, random thoughts of suicide. They didn’t even seem to be my own thoughts, they were just there, briefly intrusive, then gone. I texted this to my PCP but he was on his way out of town and trying to finish my FMLA paperwork and I think he didn’t see it. So I mentioned it to my spouse (who is sometimes not so well equipped to respond to these things emotionally and immediately asked if I was saying I wanted to quit my job–the thing is, when people say they aren’t sure they are thinking rationally, it doesn’t help to ask questions that demand rational answers).
A few more days of monitoring my intrusive thoughts (“you could just take the whole bottle of Xanax”) and I texted my PCP that Lyrica is, along with so many others, not the option for me. Backing down to 50 mg last night the dreams were so hallucinatory and weird that I really feel I didn’t sleep at all. I’ve advised the spouse that in a week, he may need to be in charge of dispensing Xanax if I begin to crash and my brain is not my own for awhile. And, of course, that means the migraines may very well return.
Back, as always, to the damn drawing board. I hate the drawing board.
If all is going as planned (it’s interesting writing posts for the future, seriously) Artful Blasphemy returns to work this Monday, and going back to work always puts me in the mind for new tights. I have nicely shaped legs, but the consistency is lacking. Like pudding–I mean, that’s kind of their consistency. Plus there are lots of spider veins and the like, so, TIGHTS!
First, upper Left corner, OH MAH GAWD. Etsy seller Tinkercast makes these by special order /commission. Are they durable? No clue. Are they the greatest thing ever? YES. They are mermaid tights with silicone scales. I’m dying. They are too much.
Just below that, while I hope my feelings for work will not decline too rapidly, there is a moment during every tech week where I think I would decide to wear these. I’d probably wear a long skirt and they’d be (mostly) my secret, but you never know. From ETsy seller Emteesee, whom I’ve featured here before.
Fall always means a big order from Sock Dreams, and last year I got a Red Riding Hood-themed pair by the artist who created these lovely Princess and the Pea tights. The detail work is astounding. Skipping the middle for a moment, Sock Dreams also has a few more of these lovely, lovely floral tights that are woven, not printed.