The Nose Conspiracy | Storytime

In an effort to create space on my phone, I decided to go through my photos and make some necessary cuts to my collection. Now, I’m a firm believer that phones say a lot about their owners; being overly observant and nosy has its perks (for once). Whether the owner has a really old case (either too lazy to change it or very practical and doesn’t see the importance of having a ‘pretty’ case), or a flamboyant fluorescent object that just happens to also function as a case on the side of having credit card slots/ a pocket for change/ a compact mirror/a gum dispenser/a gps/ spare kleenex (the girl who is always behind in her daily life because she is too busy living it up on Twitter *cough* Tumblr) — the point is- I notice these things.

Items as personal as phones reflect us in some way. But the interior- the junk that appears once you unlock the phone- that is as intriguing as the latest Stella McCartney runway show. Apps aside, I am referring directly to the photos on our phones. Not necessarily because I care to see the selfies I imagine people take of themselves, because the selfies are no way as near as interesting as the photos we take of things we like or that make us think. When we photograph things, we want to remember them so we can later go back and go back to the train of thought we had when we first saw the item.

ANYWAY, I was reminded of some thoughts I had when I went to the Met in New York recently. After looking at sculpture after sculpture, I noted a trend in the profiles of their faces, and I had to take pictures so I could compare with others. Now looking back on them, I strangely feel like I should justify to people why they are on my phone and make sure I’m not the only person who find this funny (I need to make sure that I’m not weird).

Behold, a peek at things I find weird/thought provoking:

IMG_4415
My first instinct was to think of Mads Mikkelsen. Now I can’t stop seeing it. i can’t stop laughing either. 

 

met noses
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He’s back. 

 

met noses1
You guys must see the pattern now, right?

 

met noses 2
Now there’s a family of them!!!?!

Alright. This will sound either stupid, or like I’m reading too deep into the situation.

I consider the photos above reason to believe that Voldemort is very much alive and was angry that artists back in the day did not pay homage to his gloriously flat face (no offense to Ray Fiennes) and thus invaded the Met at some point in time and yelled some sort of spell that severed the noses of every ancient bust on display.

Here’s a more plausible and boring conclusion: maybe the employees at the Met don’t get paid enough and instead of going on strike, they figured they’d attack the artwork since that would express their invisible anger towards their bosses.

And here’s what I REALLY think happened : A pretentious curator at the Met calmly perused the sculptures before they went up and found all their noses to be ugly, and instead of wasting money on a sculpture surgeon (okay I obviously know that is not a profession, I just liked the way that sounded in my head), he was Mr. Do-It-Yourself  and took out his trusty chisel and mallet and screwed it up thinking he had better taste in noses than the Greeks and Romans. By then, he was frantic- he had to do something. He probably trembled, thinking to himself, Julius and Augustus are turning in their coffins as I operate on their cultural treasures WITHOUT EVEN A DEGREE IN MEDICINE. So then, he pulled out the next best thing, which was his daughter’s silly putty that he accidentally brought with him, and he smacked that on the noses, but that slid off of the noses to his dismay. As he felt the end of his career approaching, he fell feebly to his knees and begged the Roman and Greek gods to show him the path to artistic enlightenment. He smacked his forehead, chastising himself for thinking like Narcissus, and curled into the fetal position next to a statue of a chubby cherub (I am killing it with these alliterations!) and waited to be found and fired.

But then, out of nowhere, a light shone from above. The now dusty curator looked up, suddenly blinded by a white light. He meekly asked, “Zeus?” A voice came out of the intercom instead, announcing that any damaged sculptures would soon be seen by a visiting specialist in refurbishing pieces. The light went off. Hmm. The man might refurbish their noses. But the continuity- it would only work if I were consistent! The curator looked up again, slyly. He pocketed the chisel and mallet and whipped out a much heavier hammer that he didn’t remember having before, and he sprinted through the entire backroom, smashing every. Single. Nose. Not one statue was left untouched. The man had no time to admire his work, so he fled the scene.

And that is how the noses of so many statues now look flat. You’re welcome.

xoxo

 

Where Were You? | Storytime

Hi guys! Here is a short story that I wrote randomly, while spinning around in my chair at my desk, and staring into the ceiling, and listening to random indie music that I don’t recognize. I would really, really, really appreciate any feedback. This was really hard to publish, especially because I like to see writers on tumblr who pour their hearts out eloquently and here I am, still spelling words like ‘rhythm’ wrong (I spell checked that a few times and still misplaced the stupid y). 
Maybe I’ll post these here instead of keep them away in random notebooks. 
This was based loosely on memories I have. But no, this never happened. I just took memories and ran with them. 
Thanks so much for reading! xx

Coming Soon…

Hi guys! I’m going to introduce a new segment on the blog, which I would like to call “Storytime”.

It is very straightforward; I believe some context is required here. Let’s go a long way back, when I was in elementary school. My best friend Jordan and I were talking, and though the conversation itself is fuzzy now (I feel old, haha), I do remember that I mentioned writing a short story, and she jumped on board and volunteered to read it. The story itself was my first solo writing venture, the first time I wrote something without a specific prompt from a teacher, and even though the story itself lacked skill and interest (maybe I’ll talk about it one day, if someone reminds me, haha), I kept on writing short pieces and passing them on to her to read. Even now, I still write things, and if they are grammatically correct, I’ll pass them on to her. Yesterday, she requested that I write again, and that I post it here, and also on Wattpad, a website for aspiring writers. While I try to find where I put my password to log into Wattpad, I’ll start sharing some stories with you guys, if that’s okay.

But don’t fear guys! The fashion content is still here. That’s been a part of me since I was six, so that will never change;). 
The stories/writing paraphernalia will be labeled like this post, and tagged as ‘Storytime’.
GET READY.

They’ll be better than this. Promise.
Thanks, guys! xx

C’est La Vie

I was at home this weekend, and I had a lot of homework to catch up on, so I wore a pretty basic outfit. You can tell I was doing homework by my bun/ponytail hybrid. Here’s to hoping these shorts can come out again before autumn starts! Up until now, I have avoided wearing anything remotely ‘cute’ while at college- I’m an incredibly messy eater, so I have labeled all of my white bottoms ‘off-limits’ until I feel like I will be able to control the weather, food, and drinks in a ten foot radius around me.

On another note, since this blog is primarily for me to remember certain things that happen to me that I feel

  1. are important
  2. were funny and will probably make me laugh forever
  3. are inspiring
  4. are surprising

…And so, I feel the need to share a story so you all can find some solace in someone else’s sad/funny sorry.

Storytime! 
It was a hot and humid Thursday afternoon. There were, admittedly, some clouds in the sky, and the weather in the area had been for the most part rainy and stormy. Nevertheless, stubborn Sarah wanted to do some exercise that day. So off she went to eat lunch, and then to class. When she left her classroom, she noted the increase in clouds, so she ducked into another building, figuring that she would stay dry inside while the storm subsided. After almost an hour, she decided that the rain was much slower than she had expected, and so she supposed she would simply bike back to her apartment faster and get (at most) a few drops on her. Fast forward to halfway home. The clouds parted, and buckets of water decided to fall. Realizing that she was going to get wet no matter what, Sarah tried to bike faster. She saw one corner stood between her and the straight road that would lead her straight home. Upon turning the corner, the bike slid in a puddle. Attempting to brake, Sarah leaned slightly over onto her left side, and she felt her stomach drop. She was very well aware of what was about to happen. She stuck her leg out and bent it and squatted unevenly and dug her hip into the concrete. She was on her side, her bike jammed into her right shin, and her flip flop a few feet away, the stupid slippery thing. Angrily, Sarah got back on her bike, and started pedaling again, reminding herself that no one saw, she was fine. She was drenched now, and sore in a few places, but she was fine. Somewhere behind her, tires squeaked and there was the noise of water splashing about. Oh NO. NO NO NO NO NO. Sarah turned ever so slightly. Right behind her, in the same lane as her, the bus going back to her apartment stood, full to the brim with fellow students. Now furious and embarrassed and getting cold from the water in her clothes, Sarah pedaled harder- and within a matter of minutes, she was angrily locking her bike in its spot,and then squishing her way, step by step up the flight of stairs into her apartment, where she sat shivering for hours, her teeth chattering with anger over her unfortunate bike ride home, and her lack of sound decision making. 

If you guys ever have a bad or embarrassing moment, just know its okay, and that tomorrow will be better.   

That blogger pose where you crouch and look away because you’re self concious of your under-eye bags. 

“I wasn’t ready yet, I was trying to stretch.”
“Wait, I can’t see with the light in my eyes-“
If you cared to see what I was wearing without the shadows…

Top: Gap//Shorts: Lauren Conrad//Sandals: Ivanka Trump//Jewelry: bought in Colombia

Thanks for reading!! xx