...living a charmed bohemian life...

From March 1, everything I’ve done has been for the benefit of someone else.    I pride myself on being selfless, but it is important that I remember to be a bit selfish in order to retain my mental health.  I have lost myself in my work for others, and not been able to make time for Monica.  That has to change. 

This tumblr post is my first step.  Meditation is next.  Does anyone have any methods for relieving stress?

I was turning 17 in a few months, and that was one of the first days that my mother let me take the car to school.  I attended a Catholic high school, and that day that I believed was an “out-of-uniform” day turned out to be simply a “wear a different shirt” day.  Instead of receiving a detention for my faux pas (I graduated with only two, both of which I received on my 15th birthday), the secretary allowed me to go home and change without punishment. 

As I was driving down Swope Parkway, a little faster than usual, I heard a police siren.  I immediately looked in my rearview mirror and realized that I was the one they wanted to stop.  I.Was.Scared.  When the police officer asked for my license and registration, I began to cry—hysterically.  Without the officer having said anything about why I was out during the school day, I desperately began to explain.  I covered everything, and even gave him my school’s phone number and the name of the secretary for verification. 

It’s almost eight years later, and I can laugh at that situation knowing that the officer wasn’t going to arrest me.  However at the time, I thought that was precisely what he’d do, and not for speeding either.  I thought I’d be arrested for being truant. 

Maybe I didn’t fully understand truancy laws, or maybe the officer decided to take pity on this young girl who could hardly breathe because she was crying so hard.  Whatever was his reason, the point is that I was afraid of the potential consequences.  After only a week of working in a high-school, I’m noticing that having a sense of accountability is no longer valued.

These kids get away with everything.

Out of those who actually show up to school, about 70% go to class, and out of those who are in their classes, only about half are working diligently, awake, and respectful to the teacher (and any other adult who happens to be in attendance that day).  Why is their behavior so poor?

Personally, I place blame on each and every person who did/does little to nothing to punish students for their poor attendance, bad behavior, and disgusting grades.  When I was in high school (and seeing as I graduated in 2005, it wasn’t that long ago), we knew our actions had consequences and acted accordingly. In this particular school however, if there are any attempts at rectifying students’ mistakes, they are feeble at best.  The students roam the halls when they should be in class because they know they can.  There’s no one making them go to class; there are no truancy officers, if they even still exist, in sight.  Also, administration does very little to come to the aid and defense of the teachers who are constrained by strict rules regarding discipline.  Discipline is something these students are lacking.

Most importantly however are the grades of these students who are being rewarded when they don’t fail.  What?!  What happened to D’s being just as unacceptable as F’s and A’s and B’s being the goal?  Why is being less than mediocre celebrated and encouraged?  We, as the adults, are not holding them to a high enough standard.  The work that these students are given is insulting to anyone beyond grade 7, and the hand holding will do nothing but cripple them when it’s time to face the world as an adult.   I guarantee that if the bar was higher, most, if not all of the students would rise to the challenge.  

Simply put:

Students fail/lack discipline/roam the school halls/don’t come to class/have no respect for themselves, one another or adults/don’t hold themselves accountable for their actions because there are no immediate consequences or they aren’t enforced and we haven’t explained how their actions affect their future.  It starts with us.

Truer words have never been spoken.  Thank you Sofia Vergara.

Now, how does this apply to my life? 

Well, although I consider myself girly, it’s more of a “girl-next-door” girly who will don the occasional frills and heels but feels much more at home in jeans, a comfy tee, and (whatever season we happen to be in) shoes. 

As a child, I HATED lace.  I mean, sincerely and passionately hated lace—oh and petticoats.  Come to think of it, my mom would cut the petticoat out of my dresses because they itched, and I was no stranger to making my discomfort known.  I do believe my mother still resents me for that. 

I am naturally rebellious, and as the first girl to be born into my family in 20 years, I was EVERYONE’S porcelain doll.  It was nice sometimes, but it began to get out of control.  So once I was able to pick out my own clothes, I steered clear of dresses and skirts, opting for pants.  Something my grandmother hated.

So after years of being your typical girl-next-door, Susie Highschool, something miraculous happened.  One day during my three-year stint as a Victoria’s Secret Angel (yes, we call ourselves that) a pair of panties caught my eye.  Now, before I continue, I feel it wouldn’t be fair to the story if I didn’t point out my life long lust and infatuation, a passion even, for panties.  As a matter of fact, it goes back to my potty-training days, when, as I’m told, my mother trained me through “pretty panty” bribery.  So it should come as no surprise that Hanes and Fruit of the Loom never quite cut it for me.  Still, that day while straightening the panty bar, I was shocked by my attraction.  A lace pair of panties.  Full lace.  And I didn’t just think they were cute, I knew they were sexy. 

The beginning of my downfall.

Since then, lace has found itself on practically every pair of panties I own.  It has even made its way onto certain clothing items, namely camisoles and embellished tees, and showed its versatility through crocheted dresses and accessories.  So why am I telling this story, and what does it have to do with the title?  Well, let me introduce to you a new project of mine.

(everyone who knows me personally, you may now sigh a sigh of exasperation)

For the next month or so, I will consciously wear something incredibly girly (besides my panties).  Earlier this evening, while watching “Imitation of Life”, I thought I’d wear dresses everyday a la 1930s-50s, but then I was reminded of my mandatory uniform that I will begin wearing on Monday.  However, that was a good thing, because in this uniform, I will feel nothing like a woman.  So, I guess this project is perfect timing for me to remember to embrace my femininity.  While my outerwear will say “androgynous service worker”, underneath, I will be dressed like a woman.  I will channel my inner Whitley Gilbert.

Who knows, I just might wear make-up as well.

*cue “I Enjoy Being a Girl” and “I Feel Pretty”*