2011
*sigh
These past few days, I’ve been feeling so weak, mentally. I haven’t been able to work hard on making clothes, partially because I’m bored of drafting and I need a sewing mannequin so badly so that I can drape the clothes instead. Also, I am so frustrated with myself because I feel like I have lost my skills, and I feel like I can’t do anything. I feel like I don’t want to do anything. I don’t want to go to Melbourne. I don’t want to work. I just, want to do what I love to do. Like, painting and making clothes. and then, there’s self conflicts. But no point going there, I don’t want to be judged or anything.
I thought about deferring my degree to Sept intake but my husband said I should just go for March intake and then I’ll be done by December. But.. I don’t know. I feel like I should be ready for it.
Gosh. I’m so complicated I can’t even make sense out of this. Maybe it’s just one of those days. I hope it’ll pass very soon.
2011
that night, there was a spider.
I was digging through the piles of boxes, looking for a box to put my studio materials. The store area under the stairs where dark and full of spider webs. Small ones big ones, ugly ones, naah. Then I saw just the perfect box. I tried to reach it with my hands but I couldnt. So I stretched my left leg and tried to take it out using my feet.
Then I felt a tiny mass crawling on my ankle and down to my foot. It’s a spider, I can feel it. A pretty big one. I was so stunned I was afraid to even move. And then, the spider slowly, injected its venom into my foot. I panicked but still couldn’t dare to move my left foot. I was raging, my right leg already kicking. I wanted to get out of here.
“B, there’s a spider! There’s a spider!” I screamed and cried while tapping the floor with my hands and kicking my right leg. My left foot remained still. I could still feel the spider. Eddie came to me and asked what wrong. “There’s a spider, there! My foot! spider, foot!” I pointed. I was crying out of panic. I thought the spider was going to kill me. and then, he said, “Honey, there’s no spider under the blanket,”
I couldn’t believe what he said and started crying louder. He got up to my legs, and swept everything off my legs. “It’s my foot! Left foot!” I screamed.
“Honey, there’s no spider. See, it’s nothing. No spider. Don’t cry, okay?” I opened my eyes and saw that he pushed the blanket to the floor and no spider. I moved my left leg and I felt nothing. Immediately, I stopped crying as I realized it was just a dream. He then pulled the blanket back up, hugged me and we both went back to sleep.
2011
unbreakable bond
The one on the left, [crying] is Arina.
The one on the right is her older sister.
Arina was crying her heart out, obviously duhh.
Notice her sister’s smile.
.
.
.
.
and yes, the sister is ME.
he he he…
We used to fight a lot, my sister and I, ever since she was born. We fought over everything. and I mean, EVERYLITTLETHINGYOUCOULDPOSSIBLYTHINKOF. But when we reached mid teenager, we fought gradually less and became really close.
Oh, I guess I’m missing her right now. Haven’t had quality time with her for quite a while. We’re both been busy. Well, especially her.
Miss you lah daketokna. Later I belanja you something k? If I have extra money laa hahaha
2010
Damn, lesson learned.
The Internet’s been so bonkers. One minute it’s fine, (and really fast) but the next, it’s gone. It’s like when someone gives you your favourite candy and in the midst of enjoying the rich cherry flavour, that person snatches it back before you even get to the bubble gum in the center.
As some of you might already aware of, I like to create things. Though I know I’m not as great as many other hobbyists, I know I’m good to a certain extend. I know that I have taste, but I have yet to express it. I won’t call myself a fashion designer even though I design my own patterns now because I’m not even sure if I’m making clothes or fashion. Fashion are not clothes and vice versa. Fashion is more than just clothes. There’s something about it that makes people very nervous about. Clothes are just something that people wear. There are cute clothes and ugly clothes. And there’s fashion.
Anyway, the thing is, I get demotivated really easily, especially when that criticism comes from people whom I care about, like my mum. I think she doesn’t really know the art of criticism that what she says can be harsh and insulting. Lets say when I try to pitch her my ideas about my projects, she goes to saying something rather negative directly, often short without any explanation. Sure, it does make me take a step back and rethink but mostly, it stirs the impression that maybe I’m just not good enough. I’m already hearing criticism or comments from other people and all I want to hear is a bit of confident boost so that I’ll make something better in that direction.Despite all that, in the end, I still manage to find strength to work my way through it, and kick ass.
Telling my mum about my next garment making project isn’t going to do me any good as she doesn’t see my point of view. I regret the fact that I consulted her and well, it influenced my direction and I was mislead. In the end, I hated the result, thinking I should’ve made it what I wanted it to be in the first place. Sometimes I know what she says is true but I was in denial. I learn things on my own, a self-taught and along the way, sometimes I make mistakes and stumble. But that’s okay, I should allow myself to make mistakes.
So, in short, the lesson learned is:
a) When in doubt, keep it simple.
b) When something doesn’t feel right, it doesnt. Follow your guts. Learn to trust your instincts.
c) Plan ahead, and go for it.
And I think, these three lessons are applicable for many cases.
The reason why I’m writing this is because I made a few clothes over the weeks and I have one that’s unfinished because I really hate it and do not even wish to continue working on it cause I feel like it’s not worth it, (there goes 30 bucks of fabric). One, which I’m not too sure of, I think it looks too androgynous but the fit is great. Another one that I can’t decide whether to hate it or love it because I screwed up the fit and it went off a lil’ bit and I’m just a goddamn perfectionist.
On the bright side, I’ve lost a few kilos (and a bit of boobies) so I enjoy looking at my stripped bod in front of the mirror right now, (except after I had lunch) imagining myself having those hate-it-or-love-it stick figure bods we see on the runway. I know I sound vain, but deep down, aren’t we all? We just hate to admit it.
p.s, I want to fly to US , buy a whole lot of Aldo shoes and live with them.