Oh dude....

...its been two months since I blogged. I should mention that I don't intend to keep current on this. Therefore, dear imaginary readers, don't worry when I'm gone. I'll be back eventually.

and here's this because i love it:



and I'm a fan of this here. It's crazy catchy.

See you soon, honeybuns.

Total Eclipse of the Heart

Tonight, Al and I went to see Eclipse. It was Al's choice, and she really gets into the melodrama. Personally, I'd enjoy it more if we could replace Robby Patinson with Seth Rogan or Jason Bateman, the werewolf with Kenneth from Thirty Rock, and Kristen Stewart with the sex doll from Lars and the Real Girl. But thats just me.

Kids today should be being brainwashed by the classics! I know it was the love of Winne and Kevin, Zach and Kelly, and Corey and Topanga that messed with my head when I was 12. Thank god none of those kids ran with a gang of jorts wearers.



no jorts, here, kids!

I know I should just accept the degregation of the standards of our American youth, but damnit! Someone should stand up and cheer for the idea of love that does not include eternal devotion, stalking, and 107 year old virgins.


hey, don't look so pissed.

Maybe, just maybe, the eternal devotion thing is not so bad, but let's be real kids: no one is going to love you like that. The good news: I think actual love, real, gross, annoying, and dangerously volitile love might just be a little better.

In the Twilight series, Ms. Meyers depicts a sick puppy kind of love: its sticky sweet, and all tangled up in the popular notion of the soul mate, the fated love that ends all other loves. Its not that I don't believe that there are very particular people in the world that are meant for one another. Sure. I beleive that. But I am not wed to the idea of the one true soul mate. And I do not believe in fate--there are limited possibilites out there, but we make our own choices and the choices make our fate.



yeah, that's right Preston. it wasn't fate.


For real kids, love is not a magical fairy ship that shows up one day and flies you away to the adult world of awesome (ice cream for breakfast and 90s alternative rock piped into every room!). Being in love does not equate the finding or fulfillment of yourself. Do not believe that it does. It makes it easier to be you, I suppose, but it does not make you. If you're 17, you're still turning into a person...love won't finish the job for you. And, forrealz y'all, you don't have to take it from me, ask your mom. If she's Team Edward, god help you and your dad.

I'd say the best analogy for love is that its like a punch in the stomach that you really really want. It knocks the wind right out of you, yes, but you want it to. And while you're flailing around on the ground, trying to regain your dignity, it will either kick you or set you on your feet. I guess maybe that part is fate, because no one chooses who they love. Either way, you end up ok. If it picks you up, hot dog! You found the needle in the haystack...at least for now.

And if it kicks you, it probably didn't mean to. Love doesn't mean to hurt, so don't get mad or bitter about it. That will get you nowhere. Legit, if he (she) doesn't love you, you'll survive. And while it feels like death, it makes you into who you are. Clearly Ms. Meyers is a fan of the freakout and kill yourself method of dealing with a broken heart. I do not recomend that as your top option. I'd go with sad music and ice cream. And a plan for future romance with smarter, sweeter, handsome-er men. Really, its not as easy as that, but what can you say? You get over when you get over it.

For some people, love will last forever. Those are lucky people...strong willed and loyal people. For others, love will peter out (especially if you're, um, 17!). I don't really think it ever compleatly ends if it was actual, real, knock your guts out love, but it certainly loses relevance in one's life. Its there,yeah, but its burried back there with your Britney lyrics and that weird dream you had when you were 12, where you were a pilot on the Millenium Falcon. Its like the dollar you left in your coat pocket last winter, and found this fall. Its good to remember but its not going to make or break your life.

Anyway, moral of the story: love will kick your ass, but it will also make you into a better person. It won't always love you back, it most certainly will hurt you, it won't always last into eternity, and let's hope to god it doesn't involve excessive virginity (107 years, people!), but its worlds and worlds better than the cheesed up sludge from the movies.

I want...

...to go to there:



and I am next week, so suck it life.

Also, here:



I have some fabulously tacky outfits planned for my disney trip, so watch out for that. I'm going to start doing actual outfit posts at some point in the future. Also, I'm going to post some of my vintage finds for the picking of the few ladies out there that I like. Get it girls.

xoxox- Sarah

Just a Thought...

If I get a paper bag, and scream



into it every twenty minutes or so for the rest of my life, it would get out all the excess



that I have so throughly failed to distribute.

I mean, I would be weird, but I am anyway. Plus I could film it and make an art piece. But it would be a lot of film, assumming I live a few more decades.

Anyway, sapppppyyyyy yes, but I am over-whelm-ed with the desire to declare love today. So I declare it. I love you. And you. And you......etc.

Just Something to Run Your Eyes Over...

Its a George Segal work, and I love it. The piece is in the American Art Museum in DC.

Of Good Shoes and Good Men

Alternative title: The End of the Begining.

There is a principle that rings mostly true to both good shoes and good men: comfort is key.



This is not what I mean. I'm not talking about giving up stiletos and picking from your grandmother's closet. I'm talking about comfort with style...the kind of shoe that makes me feel like a girl...but the kind of girl that can climb mountains and walk 600 miles without a blister (or heel spurs or shin splints or the like)...




There are few places you can't go wearing this sandal. Maybe its not as fabulous as this...



or these Jeffery Campbell's (imagine them in black with a pair of black shorts and a rolled up white button up)



But seriously, can you do anything outdoors in those? No. You can't. You'll break your legs.

Like shoes, pretty men are tempting...pretty, of course, being a highly (highly) subjective term. I mean, this is a pretty man to me...



and I don't mind him one bit....


But I digress. I was going to make a point. Here we go.

On paper, the idea of being comfortable with a guy sounds tops. And in relationships, don't get me wrong at all, it is absolutly KEY (thus, this epigram should be that in shoes and RELATIONSHIPS comfort is key).

But on first dates, it seems, comfort is the last thing one should encounter. Sure, by the third or fourth date, I want the circus going on in my brain to calm down, and the 1,700 tiny ballerinas in my stomach to stop dancing so persistantly. But on first dates, it seems, there should be butterflies or ballets of tiny little ballerinas going on in your stomach. And where the butterflies don't go, I don't suppose I should follow.

Maybe other girls know this. Maybe I am behind. But I thought that if you got it right on paper, then the spark would just be there. I thought that if he was handsome, and kind, and met your criteria, then things would be a go. But alas,as if I were wearing a damn dansko Sally (buy them for me! click here, buy them, and put them away for a Happy Fall gift),I was entierly too comfortable, entierly too at ease.




(one should be feeling like this on a good first date....)

Its incredibly frustrating when one realizes that its the idea that you could make great buddies thats killing the whole "spark" thing. It seems like it should work, but sometimes it just doesn't.

I've been out with some really nice guys lately. Handsome guys. Funny guys. But no spark-inducing ones. It leaves a girl to think that maybe the problem is her own. And for this girl, I feel thats probably the honest truth (g-d knows I'm picky, and my heart is deadly stubborn).

And in response to that notion, I'm taking a break. I'm a busy girl, and a clumsy girl when it comes down to emotions. I am reckless and I can't abide the idea of anyone's heart-happiness being dependant on my own. This isn't to say I'm fickle. There is evidence much to the contrary. I just know that I don't like the idea of being tied to anyone else emotionally. Sure, everyone has their exceptions (...) and if love comes along, the whole world stops (this is scientifically true). But until he does, or until my heart has it's spark-o-meter back up and running, I'm getting out of the game.



(the above is a scienctifically proven spark-o-meter. really.)

Here is what I will be doing with my spare time (you know, all ten minutes of it):



and planing for this



And not worrying about this



(ahem...the heart, not jim dine's artwork).

And to those exceptions, well--- you'll let me know if you need me, right? Because somethings are set in spark-o-meter busting concrete (something about the radio signals, I do suppose), as much as maybe one would like to change that. Remember that, anyway.

Tumblr got all up in my Blogspot blog. Uh-oh.

Good day, Honey-pies.

Today my blog is just a jumble of good things.

Let's go:



I like this like this like this. See it here, my dear.



In a similar vien, so sweet. I can't find the exact link to this drawing, so I feel bad. But it's too lovely not to put up.



When I spotted this, I couldn't help hearing in my head the line in The Princess Bride where Wesley tells Max why he isn't all the way dead, why he should come back, "truuuuuuuuuueeeeee looooooovvvveeeeeee." Oh man, good movie. Thats why I'd come back, I do believe.




I can't help the part of me that loves bunting, especially letter bunting. I adore these because they would be such an easy way to punch up a wall. If I had a wall left, I'd think of something clever and make one.



Of course, Papel Picado is my favorite form of bunting. It fits like a glove into my New Mexico design style...because my philosophy on style is that if it has bright colors or involves wierd religious iconography, its in.



I own the above, and have entierly styled my kitchen around it. I am enamored of the Virgin of Guadalupe and her beautiful iconography. Its pretty fascinating, both visually and theologically....but I digress.

If you were ever wondering where to find anything awesome, check here, senorita.

All of these interests go exceedingly well with my desire to be a border angel. I'm serious, and I may head west post grad-school.



But for now, lets just sit back and wonder who the hell did this?