I’m really not sure where I’m going with this blog. I was hoping it would become obvious as I created… but, obviously, that involves a fair amount of creation.
I can look at the blogs of those I admire, and the particular types of posts I enjoy. Overwhelmingly, these are the personal aspects… the pieces of life that give an image of being that other person. Obviously, if I’m imitating what I value, personal posts are appropriate, and I shouldn’t worry to post them.
On the other hand, personal posts are rarely the reason I seek anyone out. After all, the reason I care about the personal… tends to be because I value something else they’ve made. A piece of art, an opinion, something that made them stand out and be notable.
Moreover, I tend to be overwhelmingly boring in my expression of the personal.
However… I’ve been a bit stalled in the creation of things I like (the reason I keep posting old works or quick pieces). So maybe it’s time to stop being afraid of posting the personal, for all it’s been less than a week since launch.
The art will come back. (I’ve got several half-finished pieces already.) And if I have something up every day… well, obviously, I’ll get better at everything.
So be it.
I hate clothes shopping.
I absolutely detest it. And not even for the reasons I most tend to hear. It’s not that nothing fits me (a great deal does), nor that I can’t find anything that suits my style. It’s that clothing, fashion, and personal appearance are, in general, an exercise in trying to speak a language without knowing more than a few letters.
I’m not completely helpless. I figured out makeup, after all. (It turns out you go to the department store, have them show you how to apply what’s probably going to be their most expensive line, and buy it. Then apply it exactly the same way every time you need to use makeup. It’s a big lump sum, but it’s amortized well.)
But it’s not natural to me, and I’ll be deathly honest when I say I don’t understand what works or what doesn’t at all. Which leads me to employ sort of a shotgun method–I’ll have Bill pick out every inoffensive [x] of a certain brand and size that has worked in the past (the thift shops tend to get the same sorts of clothes in over and over), put each of them on in sequence, and buy whatever of them felt like they hung right.
Lately, however, I’ve been interviewing. While I have a number of hand-me-down suits from various sources, none of them fit me very well, and thus Bill didn’t think they were sufficient to the task. And so today (Wednesday) I arranged with one of my friends who’s better at fashionability than I am and went to hit the thrift shops.
It went remarkably well. It only took a few hours, and with Rachel continually insisting “No, that works, it’ll stitch back together no problem!” or “A little bit of bleach will have that out in no time,” I was actually able to find a number of promising items. (I also need to meet with her for a follow-up, as I know precious little about either sewing or stain treatment.)
Unfortunately, they were all the wrong thing.
They will be fine for daily office wear, even professional office wear. Would likely be appropriate interview wear for Rachel, whose resume tends toward direct-care for individuals with disabilities and food service. But (according to Bill, whom I presume would know) apparently interviewing at stodgy law offices requires… well, a suit. A suit that’s not pieced together from different fabrics, a suit where both the blazer and the skirt suit the wearer, if not as though they were made for her, at least that she selected it above all other comers.
Bill doesn’t think it’s a big deal. I also needed more professional clothes suited to me, rather than almost-works hand-me-downs, and this has improved my supply of those immeasurably. The fact is that, when I feared that I was ignoring invisible variables in my expedition today, I was right–but nobody ever expected me to see them.
But I do hate… just hate… running across these items. I’ve done a fairly good job at patching up various of the holes in my human disguise–and it’s always distressing to find another set of holes, noticeable now only that I’ve closed the larger ones, or possibly only relevant in certain contexts.
I try to remember that everybody has holes in their human-suit. And everyone does, and there’s really no getting around it, and no use stressing.
Nonetheless… it all does inform, I feel, my disdain for certain areas of human endeavor.
I hate clothes shopping.
EDIT: I must say, having attended the karaoke night at my local bar in order to raise my spirits (I consider myself a decent singer), I do have to realize that sometimes I may compare myself unfairly to others.
While I may have trouble donning my human suit from time to time, I don’t believe I have ever been forcefully asked to leave a bar. Which also means I have never been forcibly removed by the police for refusing to leave when the bartenders told me to.
Yes, that’s only happened once at that bar I’m aware of. But still. I’ve never done that.
(Another thing I’ve never done: Had half the bar cheer at my exit. Yeah, definitely not doing as poorly as I could be.)