Surgery scares?

Ominous.

My mother and I had a scheduled consultation with the head surgeon at a Houstonian medispa this morning and I walked out with impending dread. In the two hours my mother spent explaining the condition of how my eyes are uneven and haggling a pricetag, the surgeon and assistant bombarded me with suggestions for a nose job and laser resurfacing, as if this were a car dealership situation where you tacked on offers to sell. 
Well, it's not like that, and my nose is FINE.
I'm going to permanently look this way for the rest of my life. I'm going to have to psychologically adjust to my physiological changes: take a look in the mirror, see the post-procedure girl and accept that it's me. This isn't a trendy shirt I can slip on and toss off with the flick of a wrist, and very few people seem to have the notion that this is momentous. (There is LITERALLY a guy making stereotypical "$5 love you long time!" jokes on my Facebook status updates regarding the consultation, and I don't think when I said "that's distasteful"--I don't think he got the message that I was referring to HIM.)

A cloud of too-perfect, overly worked-on wannabe Vietnamese singers floated in and out of the office. It made me squirm a little more in my seat. I'm not an avid fan of Barbie doll levels of plastic surgery, and this upcoming surgery compromises a few of my beliefs... yet I know this is something I've always wanted. 

Everything I feel about plastic surgery (and having children) all in one photo.Let's say their children will hate the ever-loving guts out of their parents.

So why blepharoplasty? At some point in life as an Asian (not even just an Asian-American), the question of  "double eyelid surgery" props up. It's a sort of beautifying rite of passage, where we strip a physical feature of our "Asianness" (monolids) and become knighted into a Eurocentric, white-washed society. Girls like me don't embrace their monolids, and in fact, a quick search on Google with "korean surgeries" in the queue will show that plastic surgery for cosmetic reasons has been on the rise. These people are unfathomably, mind-boggling, and dramatically changed. A strong majority of before-after photos of patients who've elected blepharoplasty are indeed, Asian. This idea of surgery for visual appeal in the ways our eyes look is embedded in the culture. Outsiders find it shocking, we call it reality.

My reasons are slightly tweaked. 

First photo: my left eye. It has a crease or what we call a "double eyelid".
Second photo: my right eye. It's a droopy monolid.
Third photo: My epithelium (where the skin attaches near the tearducts) turn my bottom lids upwards and inwards.

It's mostly corrective: I have one double eyelid, and one monolid. It's a great source of self-loathing and self-consciousness, and has been since birth. Some classmates who pointed it out back in high school made me feel hella ugly, but I've been remedying it with specialized "eyelid tape" and glue to make both my eyes appear even. I inherited these eyes from my father, but you wouldn't know because he too, went under the knife. 
(Ever wonder why I wear my eyeliner so thick? which some people have also teased me for.) It's because my eyes are shaped differently. In the mornings I jab my right eye with a eyelid tool and hope to get it right, submitting it to pain and irritation and ptosis. I kinda don't want to have to live the rest of my life buying WonderTape online and overseas because my eyes are wonky.

My tools of impermanent eyelid decimation. These aren't cheap, either.

My epithelium also has my bottom eyelashes inverted INTO MY EYE (INTO MY EYE, YOU GUYS) and it's been damaging my cornea--especially in my left eye. Eyelashes can scratch up your eyes if they're inverted, which is exactly what mine are doing to me. Some people think it's cool, I think it's bothersome. I'm surprised my vision hasn't gotten so bad that I need glasses.

This has been more of a rant than anything else, with my personal experience overshadowing my dislike for vain, cosmetic procedures (I'm still ragging on that surgeon for throwing in a need for a RHINOPLASTY because nopenopenopenope I don't need one), treating bodies like commodities, and the history of plastic surgery being so commonplace in my culture (a lot of which I edited out). Michelle Phan has a video showing how my mornings work out to a T (jabbing yourself in the eye with a tool meant for double eyelids)--she also features the same brand of tape that I use.

Unfortunately, my situation isn't curable with adhesives. It's going down tomorrow, at 11:00 AM. Two hours of surgery with a downtime of five days of puffy, blood-dried eyes and stitches. Wish me luck, because I honestly don't know how to prepare myself. *sigh*

xoxo

Getting some R&R, with a treat!

Is it me, or does everyone else have Cath Kidston-esque floral print as their blog background, too? Did I just hop unknowingly unto this blogger trend or did I get a headstart?

In any such case, for the last month or so I've hitched onto the life of a hermit. A turtle. I stick my head out in public every so often ever so gingerly. The fast-lane life of ambition and career climbing will has left me, at least momentarily. This isn't so much a blunder or "slump", I just burst through with liveliness periodically and then fizzle out like a Roman candle. Someone light me up again!

I've just become an avid thrill-seeker (I'm really bored with how predictable approaching-adulthood can be, okay???) and people are mistaking it as being some pervert weirdo (yes, I DO think seeing my guy friends in coconut bras and grass hula skirts would be HIL-ARIOUS). I just don't want to fall into the trap of a 9-to-5 and then drinks with coworkers after and dancing dirty and sweaty in unappetizing clubs - I'm sure most would agree.

Since summer started nearly a week ago (BUH BYE AND SO LONG, FINALS!) I've been catching up on shows without mercy. The world is involved with a strangely acceptable polyamorous relationship with Netflix, I'm sure. The first show was Season 3 of FOX's New Girl (IT'S THAT CHICK FROM 'FREAKS AND GEEKS'!) and I'm left wondering who to drop this jewel of a line: "God, you frost my cookies" on. If you don't love or appreciate the sprinkling of fantastic one-liners in New Girl--sorry, we can't be friends. It's harsh reality. And if you're too busy criticizing how "stupid" it is, well, reality check: it's not supposed to be hyper-intelligent either. It's entertainment, don't overthink it.

Zooey is such a PYT, so for you beauty mavens out there here's a look into the set make-up Zooey has on as she plays Jess in New Girl: 

This is the photo Makeup411 uses, credit of Fox Entertainment. Link here!

The article mentions French director Jean-Luc Godard (Une Femme est Une Femme, Breathless, Vivre La Vie) as inspiration--and I do see the non-fussy, innocent-but-seductive elements from Anna Karina's character in Une Femme est Une Femme! Very reminiscent of Nabokov's "Lolita" intrigue.

Film/television is very inspirational to me when it comes to beauty (one of the last films I've seen in cinema was American Hustle, and the fashions, character designs, character story arcs were utterly breath-taking) so I'd thought I'd share a bit of my interest with my readers. c:
Except, y'know, I think everyone's overtly obsessed with Solange manhandling Jay-Z with Beyonce standing aside like a onlooking statue in an elevator. Something like that.

xoxo

Sorry for the hiatus!

With the heavy-and-hot days of Houston summer in tow (except, you know, it's May and I believe we still should have crisp spring weather), high school prom memory-making, and graduating commencement ceremonies all coming up at the bend of next week, I've been mentally sluggish.
Sluggish, like a melting (withering) frozen yogurt ice cream bar on the Santa Monica boardwalk. And it's not pretty - nor does it feel great. 

To put how I feel in a visual, the first 20 seconds of Fitz and the Tantrums' "The Walker" music video impeccably illustrates how oppressively hellfire hot and foreboding summers in Houston can get (keep yourself hydrated folks! Stay clear of heat strokes!). 

(This video also secretly pleases my fantasy of one day breaking out into a real-life and exceptionally cheesy musical number. But in reality, we call those flash mobs which takes months upon months of planning and integration. Speaking of which... ) 

Today, Monday, starts finals week. I only have one more final exam (which is a reflection essay?) and marketing project due by Thursday, otherwise I've made a 92 on my third test for my Sales & Promotion class, which counts as the final (grr, I wish I scored a 98 or something!). No, please don't excuse my desire for over-achievement.So with the exception of everyone else, my finals' week is a piece of cake, with a dash of easy peasy, lemon squeezy. Skipping out on the humble pie here, folks. 

Speaking of sweets and desserts, would any of you purchase any goods from my very fictional business/charity "The Candy Kennel"? Here's a quick doodle I did on MS Paint (yes, MS Paint) for the logo:

My classmates think it's cute and well-done, but since it was literally a scribble on Paint it bears little pride on my back. The perfectionist side of me also strongly believes that I could do so much better on a program like Abode Illustrator or Photoshop.

The Candy Kennel is something you'd expect of a Etsy store: quality handmade goods sold at a premium, but the pleasantly surprising twist is that there's a program instilled to donate a toy to a local shelter of your choosing with each purchase. This isn't the real manifestation of the Etsy store I was planning on creating, this is just a made-up business for a class.

Creating an entire arsenal of print ads, radio bites, website banners, product placements, magazine features, etc. is part of my final campaign project ... and I realize I want to be a better graphic designer. Just one look at this and I think "Man, I should've bought a [drawing] tablet years ago." I had an account on dA (deviantArt) when I was 12-14 but I mostly uploaded scanned versions of my sketches, and anyone who knows me knows I'm not tech savvy. At all. 

Hopefully though, when I get finals and this IMC marketing campaign project out of the way, I can muster teaching myself how to illustrate on a digital medium (yay!) during the lazier days of the season. One of my friends is also learning C++ for audio plug-ins to elevate his music production level, so if I can draw motivation and inspiration from fellow self-taught students and of course my own free will, I should be on my way to conquering a new frontier to showcase my art. :3

xoxo

A day in the life: Poetry tit-for-tat

Five days ago I was on Chegg writing short-essay-form answers to scholarship questions and free-typing some poetry. By now we should all know that I go on artistic tangents and put the least amount of thought before venturing into a medium. I've got a basic foundation to lay but the rest is history and free-flow, and minimal editing. (To illustrate example, in the post before this: An ode to coffee, the drawing had only one, single line erased on the right (the drawing's right) cheek.)

Since it's inherently my intellectual property, I'm going to post it here as well: 

{to be read aloud, in spoken word form}

A mass-televised world that isn't real

Where journalism is meant to hide and conceal

I stick with my roots to get me through

Because what I know to be true

Is few.

Fashion design opened my eyes to ugly

That it's not all glamour, fame, and beauty.

And I wish I could see

All the girls like me

Killing themselves

Slowly

Ever so slowly

Just to express themselves freely.

By the time I was old enough to know

By the time I had enough time to grow

It's really who you know

Not what you know.

A year or two passed "Undecided"

because it wasn't by my own gut

Sweat

Intuition

Heart

that I abided,

A year or two passed before I knew

I knew just what it was I wanted to do.

Though my major isn't Public Relations,

I knew I had to give into communciations.

And I'll tell you why:

I live my full life as an underrepresented minority,

APIs stereotyped on media as the media

Goes scot-free.

But I also grew up in that same tradition

Where feminism wasn't in full bloom

Where I felt the sting of male privilege

Because I was born of the other gender

And I had to plant the seeds of knowing

Knowing

Always knowing

I had to rise as a leader.

Even if I didn't want to be.

Dubious means that promise quick drops,

Getting labeled cool and "hip hop",

The competitors will feign their plastic

"Thirsty", "salty", "illest", "ratchet",

But you know they vie for the attention

That not even their brand can mention.

I can't be like them,

Drawing myself to meet the same ends

That see the ends of civilizations

And wilt away with their faces.

Those trends that negate progression

Are the lessons behind my transgressions.

My passion is in my infliction, 

Because I know one day

One day

And that one day will be swift

And soon

I, and everyone

Will challenge the social dichotomies

To end the universal tyranny.

My brand is myself,

And I protect that with the full force

Of myself.

I represent no one

But me.

Me and my comrades

In the struggle.

I am no one's everyday man.

I am no one's quickdraw marketing scheme.

I am no one's pitching tool.

I am made from my own dreams

My own ideals, my own realities,

Molded and haunted by a life

That only bore me strife

And suffering. 

Of humanity and principality, 

Of want and need,

Of oppression and progression,

Of matriarchal feminity,

Of compassion and empathy,

And knowing fully well,

Fully well

That the necessity of the human condition

Is beyond my physical being.

It's written in verse, not prose, and follows the same read-it-aloud style that combines modern spoken word and most contemporary poetry (I don't think you're supposed to read poetry quietly) so it's also a performance piece. Iambic pentameter, haiku, ABBA/ABAB rhyme scheme whatever, I don't really like structured poetry when I'm the poet. Something to do with boundaries and limitations and being a free spirit and hating being tied down. 

To explain the background of certain stanzas and topics I brought up: 

Stanza 1 (A mass-televised world that isn't real):
What we know as advanced citizens (because we're able to self-educate and search different outlets and perspectives to uncover any sort of truth that helps shape our opinion and knowledge, that's what an advanced citizen can do) is mostly filtered by what we can access. Yet, even with the help of powerful search engines, social media, and accessibility to international browsers/servers sometimes we just don't even try. We don't. We're okay with being ignorant but it's not okay to assume what we know is what's actually happening. It's like how everyone's distracted by the Flight 370 disappearance while Crimea/Ukraine is pretty much getting screwed over by Mother Russia and the revolutionaries in Venezuela are not getting anything out because of restricted news outlets. That's happening now, and all we care about is what Iggy Azalea is wearing to the MTV Awards, okay. (Iggy Azalea is a wonderfully-spoken and articulate woman and artist, but I meant to say is that we're really freakin' trivial when it comes to mind over matter.) Rumor and press control is also something that PR handles, which is what I'm getting into (thus the title, PR: Positive Renovation).

Stanza 2 (Fashion design opened my eyes to ugly):
Taking notes from my "get to know the girl" post, I am Danny Nguyen's sometimes assistant, and ex-intern. Most of his interns and apprentices were "fired" by the guy himself, but I had the luxury of just quitting (and quitting again and again, but I know this guy needs my help sometimes). This is also noted on my Tumblr. A lot of girls filled my inbox (on Tumblr) asking me what it's like to be a fashion designer's assistant, while feigning some sort of professional and well-worded bite of interest. I do say this bitingly, because though I am involved in the circle of artists in Houston, I've met and heard a lot of crooked things and it broke my heart. I say this with a heavy burden: If you've read Kelly Cutrone's "If You Need To Cry, Go Outside" and don't really "get it", when you join the ranks of failed interns or wannabe apprentices and sky-high model management you will know. It was when I was interning with another girl on Danny's SS2013 campaign just three seasons ago and I was just fed up. Fed up maybe, because I took fashion, art, composition, detail, and all those other elements - too seriously. And everyone, including myself, just wanted some idea of what this "fashionable crowd" really was.

Abeer (the other intern) and I. Flapper '20s meets '80s design pop. 

I pop into the video only for a few seconds (0:18-0:20, in the faaaaaaaar right strutting towards the guy in the red shirt), but even though my short-lived internship gave me a winding disgust for the fashion industry, I came back to help Danny with his FW2013 campaign as well.

We're not going to talk about my fluorescent bra. Never. Never ever never. Middle guy's Danny, the designer, heads up.

The next 4 stanzas (By the time I was old enough to know/Even though I didn't want to be):
Korean Asians are the only Asians getting on-screen attention compared to the rest of the APIs (Asian/Pacific Islanders) especially with the peak of K-pop as a trend in North American (Oppa Gangnam Style, let's face it, it's catchy, but none of us know Korean so Psy's parody of society goes mostly unappreciated) but they still play the weirdo or the awkward geek. Except in The Walking Dead, - thanks, Glen. Being Asian, Chinese/Franco-Vietnamese exactly, I either had to be in law, engineering, or medical. I was the medical kid. My parents have been "lovingly" trying to suppress me into dentistry or surgeon practice so they can pretty much bum off their doctor daughter. Literally, I have four years of medical training (in and outside of a medical program offered by my alma mater, Hightower High School, by the way) and they don't listen to my sound advice so what's going to convince them to listen when I have a PhD? The PhD? Naw. I'm their subservient daughter, I'm stupid and supposed to be quiet and to myself and a be wallflower and generate grandchildren like a freaking baby factory. Hence the mention of feminism in one of the stanzas. I'm not condemning housewife-ry, but I sure as hell have been oppressed by the only, not-so-much consoling idea and traditional role that that's what I "must" and "should" do, or be doing. What I do condemn is the idea of "should" - because no one really ever has to do anything. 
Take kindly to the example of knowing what you want to earn a degree in to settle for a career field that you may or may not want to commit suicide at the end of your career life because your unwitting 18-year old self did not YET enjoy the full extent of the world. It's like Russian roulette. The education system needs a huge turnover much less REFORMATION, because at this point in society, education is like a prison system with allusions to the meat industry (cows to the slaughterhouse). It took me two years to be comfortable enough to say I wanted a degree in Social Psychology, Cultural Anthropology, and Marketing. Funny, because I want to do PR. Funnier yet, I know a degree in PR won't actually get me a place in PR. 

The next 2 stanzas (Dubious means that promise quick drops/And wilt away with their faces):
I'm actually referring to Twitter and Instagram culture. People put themselves on blast in hopes to be famous but they burn out like comets, like fads that die out in a few days and have no lasting power. The poem has a lot of free flow like I mentioned, but I'm surprised I rhymed "plastic" with "ratchet" phonetically. Others might disagree, but I'm not a hipster: I don't have a particular fondness for what's "in" - like certain slang words (coughswagcough) or other distastefully short-lived things (sending each other nudes through direct tweets). 

The last 2 stanzas (Those trends that negate progression/Are beyond my physical being):
Pretty much my war cry.

Before we forget, this poem was typed up in not even 20, 30 minutes. Even after some editing. And it's for a scholarship about a dream job (which went haywire and ended up being a social diss on matters). Ha. Oh, me. I am ridiculous.

xoxo

Edit: P.S., can we appreciate the unintended microcosmic poetry scheme in the beginning and ends of those stanza groups (By the time I was old enough to know/Even though I didn't want to be & Those trends that negate progression/Are beyond my physical being)??? They're really... wow. Even though this is war cry-esque and very much improvised, those two pairs of lines combined break down the confidence and momentum of the entire thing.. 

A day in the life: An ode to coffee

Just the right mixture of French-dripped coffee with chicory and amaretto-flavored creamer and suddenly my anxiety is anti-climatically gone. Poof. Buh-bye. Don't come back. Jerk.

I thought I had to get caught up in a swirling maelstrom of ambiguity and slowly crescendo-ing hysteria having to metaphorically "die" to be "reborn" again to get out of my depressive funk episode. (Which is usually what happens by the way, especially in October and April of every single YEAR UGH.) It's very melodramatic if you're not the one having to be stuck in a rut of impending doom and suicidal ideation. Very,very bittersweet. But THANK YOU, COFFEE, for relaxing my liver and other physiological aspects into a more relaxed, happy state. Basically, I think coffee is how I should self-medicate.

Taking the advice of a certain NOLA-based artist I met this Spring Break, Lionel Milton, and another certain cool kid friend-from-high-school who's also an up-and-coming painter, Sebastian Tristan: "do whatever you want" and "do you".
Lionel actually was answering a question I asked him while in his attic-studio: What kind of style were his paintings? And he really said more something along the lines of "whatever" and a mix of "it's whatever I like/whatever I want it to be". But really, do whatever you want, because we're in that post-modern age away from the "-isms".

I don't sketch daily, only when the feeling moves me, and I think they turn out phenomenal when they're inspired yet not-really-where-you're-starting-out because to be frank I didn't know what I had in mind to draw. I just kept going, and ended up with this:

Not sure why I sketched this image though: Maybe because I miss my long hair and running my fingers and palm to get that edgy, indie-grungy, sideswept look? 

As an artist... to be very technical, my illustrations are very manga-inspired (old-school CLAMP, specifically) with some influences from Alphonse Mucha and tid-bits from here and there from other contemporary artists. As of late though I've been doing more "cameo" work where it's just the head and upper bust. I like it as is, though. It looks very earthy, very pretty (I'm very aesthetically inclined to an almost perfectionist level, which is why I went totes anal on my angled bob and choppy nasty bangs). My art's never consistent because of the third/fourth/fifth ever-changing influence so asking me if I sketched one illustration because another doesn't look quite the same compared to another, is a huge, HUGEHUGEHUGEHUMUNGO DISS.

Someone accused me of that when I was 14 - when in reality that's just how I draw. Never forget. 

Detailing, detailing, detailing.

The doodle above that I did tonight and this doodle (done several weeks ago) aren't very alike. The only thing consistent I've ever kept with me is clean lines. Edited to bright with contrast because this was lightly done.

Self-medicating and doodling aside (which by the way, explains my nickname, "Doodles"), color is reviving itself in my life. Fluctuating moods galore: I've opted to wear a lot of grayscale and monochrome the last few weeks, even if I did spend a small fortune on a wardrobe of salmon pinks, floral prints, royal blues, soft turquoises, peachy oranges, and sheer numbers. Now I'm slowly getting back into the color spectrum. Slowly. Like a turtle. An awkward turtle.
But probably like a cute awkward turtle, like something chibird would draw.

Drizzling Sunday afternoon, I donned a pullover and headed towards a Whole Foods because I'm in the market for lotion moisturizers with SPF now. I was just a passerby, appreciating the colors in bloom in the floral section and packaged fruits in the grocery aisle.

Oh, and this is my new tea-only mug. The style reminds me of Lilly Pulitzer which caught my eye, but the clever (because it has some truth to it) quote on the side: "Sooner or later we all quote our mothers". I'm not sure if I want to quote my mother but sure, yeah, maybe I'll have the same technique. My mom uses a lot of imagery metaphors, by the way... which I already d--crap.

My Sundays usually suck eggs but today was pretty chill, laid-back, and not really as introspective and maddening as those other days where I wanted to run someone through Velvetine. Oh, what was yesterday? That was yesterday. Yup. *sharp inhale*

We'll see how the rest of the week goes before I make a concrete decision on whether this is a good or bad thing.

xoxo

A day in the life: 4/12/14

I feel like someone pushed me down one of San Francisco's rolling, steep hills and once I got to the bottom, I just stayed in whatever mangled position I landed in. 
Blank. Expressionless. Not dead, but a little dead inside. And life goes on: the streets remain in their bustle and form. University students bike on by. The BA/bart can be heard rolling from a distance. 

Upsetting isn't exactly the right word to frame the last couple of days that I haven't been posting. Introspective? Introverted? Idiosyncratic? Another word that starts with an "i"? It was just two days ago that I chopped 14-16 inches off my lion's mane in a fit of anger and passion and being in desperate need of a haircut, a change of context. It didn't really work out. I think I look like a boy, and unfortunately, people on Facebook (though I know they're joking) don't take me seriously enough to get the drift that I really hate this haircut. Edgy my butt (but we all know Miley Cyrus has the edgy-ist butt of them all, seeming as how she doesn't actually have one). Seething and loathing don't even begin to spark the amount of spurn-y maliciousness in the black hole that is my heart. But yeah. I could go on for hours mathematically explaining how this haircut or the bangs don't frame my face right or they chop my forehead off and shorten my face and broaden my cheeks and make me look horizontally chub-tastic but, sigh. SIGH. LE SIGH.

Chop chop chop. How do I even begin explaining everything that's wrong with this photo? Answer: I don't but probably will, somehow.

None of my smiles have been natural-looking as of late. Nor do they feel natural. It's been bothering me, yeah, but it's really not so much about the haircut as it is with just about everything. Blah. I feel blah, and I just want to wrap myself in ugly, loose-fitting T-shirts and yoga pants and pullover hoodies WHEN IT IS LIKE 90 DEGREES HERE IN HOUSTON I AM GOING TO DIE OF DEHYDRATION.

Asides from alluding to a situation faced by a bunch of bloggers (I am specifically referring to Hyperbole and a Half's Adventures in Depression) and normal people (not saying bloggers aren't normal people, but we can be extraordinary yeah), I am suffering the unkindness of being a woman. Periods. Bloating. Crying. Cramps. Wanting chocolate but eating it makes me break out in oily T-zone zits. But I'm not merely PMS-ing, which unfortunately, a whole lot of ignorant, insensitive, uneducated men/women/children/people would jump to the conclusion of. Insert generic statement about how women shouldn't be barred from political offices because of stupid red-neck Congressmen blaming women for biological occurrences and deeming them inferior. Someone restore my faith in humanity, because this Georgian congressmen sure as hell isn't.

Seriously though if ripping out my uterus was a viable option at the age of 20 I'd do it without blinking - even under anesthesia I wouldn't blink just "yup get it over with bye bye uterus". I just want to keel over and lay on my side for a good 6 months. Or be a bear. Hibernate during the winter and roam free the wilderness and maul people who stand in my way and live in that one Yellowstone bear refuge-sanctuary and be cared for for FOREVER. 
Yes. Be the bear. 

I need cuddles. But we've all established that no one loves me, I think.

in need of xoxo

P.S. I've been spending a lot of time mulling over how to answer the last "get to know the girl" question which deals with what lesson in my lifetime would I pass on to a generation... And I'm trying to answer it with a lot of grit and enough grains of salt where I could figuratively (and possibly literally???) start up the modern version of the lucrative salt trade of Africa back in the 1200s-1400s. I'm also trying to dedicate it to a fellow blogger who suffers from the same emotional issues I contend with, so trying to wrap it up into a neatly-tied package is difficult as it is. It carries a lot of ballast, which is probably why my metaphorical hot air balloon's hanging pretty close to the ground. Neither soaring nor grounded. Just sorta... floating aimlessly.

A day in the life: 4/08/14

Two or three days I've gone without blogging (and I've done a great job of at least posting up one feature a day if I do say so myself) and I've got to apologize. Quizzically enough I'm typing this in a estuary British accent so if you're reading this in an estuary British accent I salute you with the greatest decorations. 

This might be due to the recent fact that I've been staying back at my college during the after-hours Les Miserables rehearsals so epic-ly vicious French rebel characters accompanied by strange Cockney accents (the 2012 major motion film blowover's Gavroche) are running through my brain. So strange. So if you hear me singing "DEAR COSETTE!" or "LOOK DOWN, LOOK DOWN, LOOK DOWN UPON THEIR SOULS!" or if I bother to ask if you hear the people sing - just know. Just. Know.

I remember reading commentary about someone asking the director of the 2012 Les Miserables what made it so phenomenal and passionate and heart-gripping and wondrously ambrosial and the director replied "face close-ups" and to that I say nay. Sorry, zooming into Hugh Jackman's/Anne Hathaway's/whomever's face for a good 10 minutes during their solo is a no-no no-go. 

Am I in the musical? No. I'm not. But I know a good part of the score so I should be. I do know I would like to be Samantha Barker because Samantha Barker.

Now here's a great article about Marie Claire getting burned by an unfortunately stigmatized but very empowered minority about Kendall Jenner's side braids that mimics the look of an undercut. But, anyone who's been on the Internet too, too long knows J. Lo was rocking this style years and years before (celebrity-wise), and possibly someone before J. Lo and this is where the technicalities grow far too large.

xoxo

Promo: An evening of Sombre Cabaret at Avant Garden! - $5 donation at the door, all proceeds benefit the AIDS Foundation of Houston!

As written by Doomstress Alexis:

"Just a reminder-tomorrow (FRIDAY) at Avant Garden on Westheimer: An Evening of Sombre Cabaret-$5 all goes to AIDS Foundation Houston! Featuring-Emily Snow and the Doomstress in the Erotic Cabaret fashion show, plus I will be body painted by Rudy Campos of RCC Creations and Sarah Powell, Madeline Kiley & Caitlin Caselli will all be dancers for my industrial band Vendetta Diabolique. Show starts @ 8:00
Fashion Show@9:30
Vendetta Diabolique@10:00
Plus tons more!Fashion Show@9:30Vendetta Diabolique@10:00Plus tons more!"

I will be in attendance to support my friends and the AIDS Foundation of Houston tomorrow night - come, and we'll all have a blast!

xoxo

A day in the life of: Otenki

Hi lovelies! The question I'll be answering from my "get to know the girl" questionnaire today is:

What was your favorite thing during the "KINETIC" shoot?

This needed its own feature post because it's one heckle of a story-line explanation to how I'm going to answer this. Gather around, children, for I shall weave visions in your young, bright minds.

I "bumped" into German Alexander (his stage persona, his real name is German Hernandez), the lead singer of the local Houston band Otenki while basking in the melodic alternative-rock symphonies of Minus the Bear - whom I have been an avid fan of (mainly because Dave Knudson is my homedog skillet biscuit main squeeze massive-delay-pedal-usin' guitarist and you will never know true fandom girlishness until you hear me go on raving tangents about how I adore this fellow) since their peak of popularity in 2006/2007. German works at House of Blues downtown, and so does my friend Garrett Turney, who's also in the local Houston band Color Chemistry (they did a show together). Stupid me wore high-heel platform boots to the HOB Minus the Bear concert back in September and so I constantly accessed the elevator to wander the first and balcony floors to catch some R&R during set changes and intermissions. This is how I got to know German - he ran the elevator. And naturally, we're both chatty and personable so push comes to shove: a month later Otenki altogether attended an Altantic City showcase and they got signed for a re-release of their KINETIC single and "The War Outside" album, with full PR on-board too! Friends and family were called upon to play extras in scenes of their music video throughout November and December (I acted out in their second and final locations). This is their pre-recording announcement video:

Fun fact: Danny, the one I play fashion designer assistant for, has a twin brother, David, who's a virtuoso in editorial and bridal photography, and also making videos. David was on-board to make Otenki's first music video "GHOSTS" a while back, in 2011 I believe. My networking in Houston reached one of its first "full circle" events (I mean that in a way that I work with these two separately but once I realize they know each other and it "completes" the circle). Through working with all the fans and friends and the band members, I got to meet and befriend Darren Thompkins, the creator of The Houston Zombie Walk, Fausto (lead guitarist of Otenki), and Enoma (rhythm guitarist of Otenki) and Robert Gouner ("Goon" or as I call him: "Goonie") - who I've actually been Facebook friends with for some time as he's supposed to be my photographer on favor of my other photographer, Tobias. This was just the first time we've met face-to-face.

Otenki's "KINETIC", originally planned to release January 14, was pushed back for a January 23 premiere: you can watch it by clicking this this link. They're on VEVO now! The video is edited and produced by OC Productions with Orlando Briones as the director, and Cristopher Rodriguez co-directing (friendly guys, these guys!). In February, Otenki was also featured in Houston's very own Houston Press under the article title "Big screen dreams" - the music video was projected onto a 22 foot screen at Winston's at Washington Street (reservations provided by Darren Thompkins). Fun all around!

Of course I'd be in an alternative rock music video, am I right? Right? Yeah. 

They're great people, and everyone on set are great people. People would take into account the "WOW!" factor of being in a music video and rubbing elbows with cool folks, but I find happiness in just being in the presence of people coming together to work on something supportive of the artistic community...which in Houston, is really lacking (but coming to the fore as of late, especially with the rising popularity of The Houston Zombie Walk!). 

"Ghosts"

"KINETIC (The War Outside)"

So to finally answer the question after painting the history and timeline of my adventures with Otenki as a band, 

my favorite part of the recordings was being part of something bigger than me. That, and all the private jokes involved with this select group of members: how I look like Michaela Conlin without makeup, how Ricky Ortiz is BASICALLY the Mexican Wolverine/Hugh Jackman, and how Adam Elara of Southerland Nights looks like Vic Fuentes. When we started singing Disney musical numbers as it started getting dark out - led by Dustin and Ricky. How whenever any of us needed to use the restroom at the local gas station (who got a lot of business from us!) - Ses, Tayvon, Sarah and I, would tip-toe avoid the hecklers and street bums on our way there. During the "battle scene" - how Darren and I agreed to take each other on (he's taller than 6 foot, you know!)! Oh and, Arrow! THE FRIENDLY ATTACK DOG! 

Here are some extras!

Fausto is the guy in the gas mask shaking me! All gas masks were provided on set, by Robert Gouner (Goonie).

If you don't see the face of a Mexican Hugh Jackman, youse a liah!

Moi, drenched in all black with no makeup on~ The video asked for a rugged revolutionary look so I followed commands. Aye aye!

Danny and I, with him using me as a human mannequin to adjust his menswear F/W 2013 collection - all the while sticking pins and needles into my arm and sleeve.

xoxo