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leafyscents
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Name: Johanna
Birthday: 7/20/1986
Interests: Tea, photos, fresh herb gardens, bike rides, music, ginger ale, people, classic and good literature, writing, performing, dark chocolate(german or dutch), being full of faith, ethnic cuisine, days on the beach, dreadlocks, world traveling, skateboards, motocross spectating, prayer, sewing, cleaning, cooking, breathing, and hip hop.
Expertise: Laughing.
Message: message meEmail: email me
AIM:  HerMimeness
Member Since:
6/28/2005
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| So Saturday has become my day to self inspire and motivate. I quit Wegmans so that I could have the time to work for myself and make the designs that are continually running me off the road while I'm driving. Yeah I'm a dreamer...I like to design clothing in my mind, and I like to play the devil's advocate with myself.
"Um that's a really pretty dress, but uh...isn't fashion a bit shallow, superficial and based on everything your grain goes against?"
"Well, the fashion industry is yes. If I were to design and sell though, it'd be used for the sole expression of people's individuality, not to conform them to the anorexic california blonde status. I want to design for the body, for the meek and humble, so that when they wear a certain color, or print, a part of them is expressed without them ever having to open their mouths...and I want to have a shop, where the guys section is larger and more interesting than the girls."
And I continue fighting with myself...hardly ever admitting to others what I think. Yesterday my parents called me and told me that they deposited money into my paypal account to go shopping with. To buy myself an Easter dress and bonnet with really...I got to spend 50 whole dollars on an outfit for myself. I experienced an odd mix of excitement, inspiration and guilt as I bought my dress. Before I went out looking, I made myself picture what I'd like to look like on Easter morning, and told myself not to settle for a jersey knit dress from Target. Images of white and cherry red blurred in floral patterns passed through my head, and I saw red heels. I set out, wondering why in the heck Jesus cared that I look pretty on the day I should thinking about the depth of his sacrifice for me. "Why does this matter to me, and to you?" I kept asking. The only impression I got in return was that it would help put me in a celebratory mood, and that I often express what I'm feeling through the way I dress myself, when given the time. An answer that still seemed somewhat shallow, and contained an essence of "selfish".
I walked into this local shop called Thread, I wanted to support another designer...the shop is so small and usually has great tops and jeans, but yesterday they had this new rosebud dress...the one I had pictured in my mind...before I got too excited, I tried it on to make sure it fit my body shape. Holy cow, I was smiling the whole time like a vain peacock or something when I saw it on in the mirror.
I even babbled to the guy who owns the shop about it. I never do that. He was like, " It is a perfect Easter dress, and it just got here yesterday. I hope it doesn't snow so you can wear it." .
I felt confirmed yesterday...that my dreams aren't crazy, and that my designs may somehow be an enrichment to other people. I guess I have to get the whole guilt of money being spent on self image, when others are struggling to eat and stay healthy...I have a plan to incorporate giving to causes through my little business...hopefully more than the Gap gives by selling their product (red) line. But I leave them alone for now.
Now it's time to create. I just felt the need to write a happy blog. I feel pretty happy right now...so hopefully it sounds like I am. I'm also on a sugar rush, part of my new Saturday routine is that I get up early and go for my groceries at the public market. It's awesome I spend anywhere from $10 to $20, depending on my allowance for the week, and walk away with my breakfast and lunches for the entire week. I get to watch people and write about them too...and I buy myself a cinnamon roll for fitty cent. :) (oh and by the way, my job feeds me dinner every week night, that's why I don't need to walk away with dinner too)
For some reason my impractical dreams are respected. I won't fight with that, and I'll try not to feel guilty about it.
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| I went with my little friend Christina to see the movie Penelope last night. I love Christina Ricci, and wish that James MacAvoy could be married to me over his tall slender Ann Marie Duff. I mean...Lord bless them, and their marriage. Forgive me for having a celebrity crush. He seems to be too much like me anyway. We’d wander parks together, when we had days off, and never get anything done. Though he has money, whereas I’m still working on that part of my life. Why does being 21 have to feel so difficult? Golly.
Apparently having a boyfriend is supposed to make it easier...but unless I find a Clark Kent, I’m not seeing how it would make my load lighter. Even if I did, and he could, I wouldn’t like knowing he could peer over the tops of his glasses and see through me. Maybe I’m difficult, but Penelope taught me to like myself the way I am. And even in my darkest moments, I believe that I’ll find a cheerful man that is everything I’m not, who will also like me that way. I’ve seen enough people find "it" to still have hope. Some have to to search longer than others...and I have this theory, that being a girl means I don’t have to do much searching, just waiting...that’s what I think.
I had my 2nd year review with my Darren this week. I had to pause when I wrote that...I’ve been pumping thoughts like blood through my vessels, and I can’t believe it hasn’t even been a full week since I met with him.
I’ve never been one to think you have to learn the hard way...you know, through experience and everything. I always assumed that if you’re a good listener, and observant you can learn through other people experiencing things. There’s always going to be someone older and wiser, and if you can just learn from them, it will save you some wasted time and pain. I guess I wanted to live a sterile life of study only. It’s annoying to think that I can only retain so much information this way...and that always someone can look at me and see what I’m doing wrong or immaturely. I hate when I try to relate to someone in a different area of life...and they say I can’t until I experience it myself. I guess I need to just be sympathetic, and forget the relational/relevancy movement. It still makes me angry...like when Niah and I used to get into fights over the fact that I didn’t know what it felt like to be in love, without ever having a boyfriend to kiss. I still will be stubborn on this subject...I think with emotional genetics like mine, you don’t need to be physical to feel the deep obliteration of love not being returned.
It looks like my involvement with PUSH may be continuing into the fall, with a summer breaking. I’ve been told I’ve handled myself in a professional manner, and that my skills in costume/clothing design would be used on several occasions. That I’ll get payed to design, and we’ll contract a seamstress to assist me.
This totally switches my gears, I had been making plans to work and go to school full time next fall...you know get a piece of paper that says I know something. Get a job, get a hobby...instead of making all my hobbies mean something. Now I question my motives...am I being practical for the sake of popular culture? Perhaps God isn’t so practical as much as he is wise.
I need prayer. I feel fickleness coming on...and I’m afraid my poor old luxury car is not going to survive the winter. Anyone who wants to call and intiate converstation with me, would be forever and deeply appreciated. | | |
| I like Rochester.
I enjoy ordering turkish coffee at Java's. The presentation makes me feel wise, and like I know something about drinking coffee. Not that I don't, it's just not a habit for me to have it...thus the extra special feeling.
I like seeing my almost married friend wearing candy jewelry and dancing next to me under the sparkling disco ovoid. I like to watch her flash her ring at a sloshed guy asking her to shoot a game of pool with him. I find it humorous and heartbreaking all at once...that guy didn't even realize that he was too old for her.
I like crazy, sweaty young men that feel music in spastic fits, reminding me of people I know and miss.
I move in the middle of this dance floor, wildly, and I pray for wild things.
Rochester, there is something moving in my heart for you; hope on the skyline.
I've decided that I'm done trying to find my purpose. The realization that I'm a part of a purpose being here, has struck me, and I think I'm going to enjoy playing my part without being wholly aware of my giftings. God has given me gifts, and He has given my friends gifts...but I think, (I'm sure someone has probably already told me this and it's just now sinking in) that God wants my innards turned towards Him. Fixing myself on Him, rather than pain in the wake of other people, and my own possibilities in overcoming this life, is a much more satisfying thought. I might actually get somewhere, and stop pulling my hair out about what is coming...and live a little now, acting instinctually upon said giftings, maybe even insync with the rest of the body that's mentioned in the bible. Not because I'm figuring it out with my head how to take a step, but because I'm walking as it comes naturally to do so. I think God will complete His purpose without me, but I'd sure like to be included...so I'll just live in Him, and love it.
It might be easier to see things like forgiveness and grace if I do. Just as an extra perk or whatever. | | |
| My brain is sprawled out...every which way...I pick up part of it, and the rest of it presses down, stretching all the other relaxed parts until all it's limbs are able to reach their full splitting capacity.
Inspiration many times feels like insanity to me. It comes in a rush of lessons learned, and presented opportunities to make money within my artistic method, and the realization that I forgot to send my mom her birthday card because of it all. Crap.
I love my mom very much, and am better at expressing that sometimes, but not when I'm inspired. I also think that I might be able to read, if I write more...otherwise I get stuck running around changing my room, and schedule at work, and making meals for people I love...and taking class, and never thinking until I try to further my capacity level by reading. I end up reading the same paragraph twelve times, because whenever I near it's end, I become aware of the fact that I haven't really retained any meaning or education. Or I just fall asleep.
And yet...this verse keeps returning to me. "My yoke is easy." So I relax...and am thankful to be operating under a work load that has been monitored and essentially carried by someone a lot more experienced than I; this Ox is telling me I have the easy part, and must learn to be efficient in spending my energy. Wise Ox, He is. | | |
| This morning I rose at 6:30 am, and Topher asked me if I would like a guitar lesson. I told him that I did, on the condition that he'd make me a strong cup of tea.
So we sat at a quarter to seven in the basement of this crazy house, and tuned our instruments...read a bit of scripture and went on with my first session of musical improvisation.
I found the experience to be mostly frustrating; I wanted to be perfect, and play more than three sequential notes at a time...but it ended up being okay, as Topher carried the rythm and I found my breath in the process of peace. When we were finished we talked briefly about how I thought it went...emotions I discovered and what not. I told him I found myself at a lack for emotions and in the midst of rushing frustration. I then went on to mention how the same apathy I felt while playing guitar, is what I've been finding whenever I show up for class or performances. In some senses I think it's healthy for me not to feel super emotional about everything I do...but such novelties are missed when they are needed to convey physically, a message or an idea...like we do in PUSH.
Topher smiled, and said it was good for me to go through that...then proceeded to clue me in on how he gets through such times. He said not to let go of emotional memories that may relate to pieces we perform. He also said that if this didn't work, I could always resort to thinking of my favorite childhood toy...the one that inspired me most to use my imagination, and held beneath it's sturdy material, a sort of magic.
I nodded and thought about this for awhile...trying to recall just exactly what that was for me as a girl.
Finally it came to me, and I blurted it out.
"I guess that would have been my anatomically correct baby doll."
We shared a good laugh about that one. I mean not to toot my own horn or anything, but it's hard sometimes not to laugh at your own jokes.
I needed to hear that it was alright for me to be a Doubting Thomas in this stage of my life...to question the durability of dreams transitioning into reality. I needed to feel playful about it; less heaviness. I also wanted encouragement to get through it. I'm glad I did, and am thankful for that matter too. If nothing else, I'm here learning about God, and people, and how to live together...establishing boundaries, and confidence, and consistency. It's good for me to miss home too. | | |
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