The Triumphant Come-back

There are not very many occasions where I have triumphed over my older brother. He has always been the one to finish on top. Whether it was an argument, a sparring match, or just a funny joke, he has almost always been the one to win. There is one special occasion, however, where this was not the case.

My dear brother has always loved to push my buttons. He will make fun of me, do things that he knows will annoy me, and try to start fights just for the fun of it. One day he decided to try a new way of being an obnoxious older brother. There I was, minding my own business, when all of a sudden my brother comes charging through the house. As he comes up to me he lets out a loud, shrill shriek. It was the kind of noise that sends you jumping out of your skin in surprise. After that, he stops and looks at me with a huge cheesy grin on his face. He says to me, “Wasn't that the most annoying sound you've ever heard?”

Now, unlike my brother, I do not enjoy poking people's buttons, I do however enjoy being able to take him down a notch every once in a while. I waited for a moment, watching my brother stand there looking incredibly pleased with himself. I relished seeing him so proud before I spoke, knowing that what I was going to say to him would send him reeling. Casually, I responded. “No, the one you made after was way worse.”

As soon as I spoke we both knew that I had won this battle. He was speechless at first. I watched as shock, awe, and finally glee crossed his face. After he was able to compose himself again he chuckled and proclaimed it the best come-back ever. He went on to tell every person we saw that day about the events that had occurred and every time he retold the story he did so with a hint of pride in his voice for his baby sister.

My brother may be an annoyance some of the time, but he does the things he does out of love. Usually when he is teasing me or poking my buttons he is just trying to get me to smile and sometimes, if I'm lucky, I get the chance to return the favor.

I Fold My Underwear

I love how, after doing all your laundry, everything is folded or hung up and it's all tucked away into its own special little place. Sometimes I am super good about putting my clothes away. I will make sure everything is perfectly neat and where it belongs. My shirts will be hung up and organized by style and color, my pants put away and in proper order, my underwear folded neatly and placed in little piles in a drawer.

Unfortunately, this order usually only lasts for a short time. All it takes is one hectic week for it to turn to chaos. If I'm lucky the clothes make it into the closet, some hung up, some folded, and others simply tossed in a pile. Often times though the clothes will be tossed in a corner for me to rifle through as needed. The dirty clothes, of course, get discarded on my bathroom floor to be forgotten.

The worst part of this chaos is what happens to my underwear. Instead of being neatly tucked away in cute little piles, they get strewn about in a jumble of colors and lace. Period panties mixed in with the sexy things. Bikinis, hiphuggers, and thongs swimming around together in total disarray. Soon even the socks start to become involved. At that point it is only a matter of time...

The socks are similar to prophets. Soon after their arrival in the chaos, I receive an epiphany. It is time, I think. I force myself to remain calm, and take a deep breath as I tackle the daunting task that lies ahead. First the dirty laundry gets scooped up and put through the wash. Then on to hanging up all the shirts, making sure they go in their proper order. Pants, dresses, pajamas, and workout clothes follow behind. Everything is put back where it belongs. Lastly the underwear drawer gets completely emptied. All the panties tumble out and lie in a heap on the floor. One by one the pairs get folded and put into piles. After the tiny piles are put away I can't help but be satisfied. Once again there is order.

We Don't Dress for the Men

I am constantly amazed at some of the crazy shit girls wear at FIDM. The constant parade of high heels, mini skirts, crazy makeup, crazier hair, weird styles, and totally over the top accessories is mind boggling. There are the punk girls, 80's girls, “High Fashion” girls, and much much more. It's amazing some of these young women ever get any homework done after spending so much time shopping, getting their nails done, tanning, perfecting their makeup, and of course doing their hair.

In the beginning I was confused by all the vanity. There are about five straight guys in all of FIDM so why should these girls be spending so much damn time fussing and primping and going all out day after day? I could not understand it.

Then I had an “oh duh!” moment and I was finally able to make sense of it all. Obviously these girls are not dressing for the men. They are dressing for the other women. It's in no way about attracting guys, or impressing them. It's all a girly game of status and the other students are the competition.

The problem with dressing for women is that it's much harder than dressing for men. Dressing for men takes very little effort and you can get away with much more. Women however will notice every little detail. They will scrutinize and inspect you until they have seen everything you may have been trying to hide. Then they will judge you on it and share their findings with the nearest ally.

I myself will occasionally get sucked into dressing for women as well, although I try to avoid it as much as possible. It's harder here in LA than in other places though, especially since I am constantly surrounded by people who take fashion so seriously. I have never been the type of girl who likes to dress for others. I always try to just dress for myself. If what I'm wearing makes me happy? That's good enough.

The thing I have been procrastinating on is now helping me procrastinate further

There is an abundance of procrastination in my life. At the moment I am procrastinating on my homework, which is of course due tomorrow. I always manage to get everything done in time but I don't make it easy on myself. There is always at least one class that gets my procrastination powers going in overdrive. This quarter it looks like it's going to be my Business of Fashion class. I simply have a hard time making myself interested in the homework that I have been assigned.

With all of my other classes I am simply ecstatic to get started on my homework, this of course drives my roommate bonkers. The enthusiasm that I had towards taping various fabric swatches into a giant book for my Textile Science class was met with much eye rolling. I can't help myself though! The fact that the assignment allowed me to sit down and not only feel all these different fabrics in all their different fiber contents all weaved in different ways but also take a little magnifying glass and look at them up close was just too fun. Of course if I had to listen to someone squeal "This is soooo cool!" every couple of minutes I probably would have been rolling my eyes too.

Even now I am still unable to concentrate on my Business of Fashion homework. My intention was to sit down and write something, who knows what, about the class, or the work, or something! Instead I get all carried away just thinking about all my tiny fibers and threads and knits and silks and linens and filaments and textures and naps and velvets and prints and lace and satins and and and...