A nasty barrier between me and domestic bliss

I was going to write about New York Fashion Week, and then something decidedly un-fabulous happened instead.

I have a bug problem. It's ugly. We may need to enlist higher assistance here. Maybe magic? Maybe an exorcism? I don’t know. But things are getting desperate.

I've done plenty of research. I know more about the roach lifecycle than anybody could care to know. I've come to know, intimately well, the joy of nailing one of 'em with a direct line of bug spray and watching its frantic run become a dying twitch. And, I mean, I'm not exactly a germphobe or crazy when it comes to bugs. Generally, if you have a house, you're going to have some bugs in it.

I have a really nice symbiotic relationship with spiders, for example. They eat pests. They keep to themselves. We don't bother each other, and as long as the critters stick to the deal, they can live. The roaches, though? I can't leave dishes in the drainer for even ten minutes, because the damn bugs scurry all
over them in an instant. This isn't their space, it's mine, and the penalty for screwing with that is death.

I’ve been keeping my dishware and my food in plastic bins, right on top of the kitchen table, for at least three months. All right. I’m not the cleanest of people. In fact, I’m quite the clutterbug. We’re not talking nastiness here, just clutter. I have a minor hoarding problem. I’m working on trading in the keep-everything-in-case-I-needit mentality for a minimalist one. This battle, in itself, is fodder for a post if not a whole series.

The bugs, though? This is war. Freaking nasty little roaches. I think they’re the German kind? In my past cockroach sightings, they’d always been big, ugly bastards. These are less than half the size I was used to seeing as a kid. The ones that lived in my dad's old trailer when I was ten? They could have devoured me if I let my guard down. *shudder*

My landlord said he was going to bring some of those roach motels. That was before I even started getting ready for GenCon, so it must have been over 3 months ago. Still none have arrived.
I have bombed. I have sprayed. I have wiped every speck and crumb from all my cabinets. I have rid myself of that habit of leaving the breakfast dishes until after I come home from work. I wash up immediately, or, if I don’t have time, I put the dirty dish in the fridge. Weird, I know, but the little creeps can’t get in there and I’m not late for work, so it’s a win-win.
I’m doing another deep-clean and bomb on later today, after I take my most recent purge’s worth of reject possessions to Goodwill. (It’s sick how many things I have that I don’t need.)

It was finally to the point where I was almost never seeing the critters. I thought our time together was at a close, and maybe I could finally put my dishes where they should be. Then, the day before yesterday, I opened the empty silverware drawer and a HUGE roach practically flew out at me. I screamed like a little girl. He fell to the floor. I reduced him to a smear with my Candie’s boot. I saw, in the drawer, an unholy collection of tiny roach droppings and egg sacs.

I love old buildings with kitch and character. I also HAVE to rent old places with kitch and character, because while I have Louboutin tastes, I earn a Payless paycheck. I really thought I lucked out when
I found this apartment because it’s alarmingly big for less than $300 a month. And the flooring in the kitchen! Holy crap, it’s amazing. The kitchen chandalier is ugly as sin. It looks like a friggin’ wagon wheel. But the kitch factor is through the roof, so it stays. These dang bugs, though! I’m pretty sure they have been here all along, just lying in wait for the first opportunity, when the clinical depression hit again, and I just plain didn’t feel like washing the dishes up right away, or taking the trash out immediately. So they could slink out through cracks, from behind walls, and take over MY kitchy, cluttery paradise.

I hope it will get easier once I’ve pared my belongings down to a more monastic level. I’m actually selling off some furniture and preparing to take on a cozy little studio for my next abode. Something newer, with cleaner lines and probably less character. If Zach and I were still getting married, this place would be too small for us. But it’s too big for me. Ain’t big enough for me and all of these six-legged roommates, though. I hope Friday’s Bugpocalypse takes the rest of them out. Otherwise, we’re talking Thunderdome levels of carnage here. No bug left behind. Balls-out, cage duel, bloody, free-for-all time.

Please. Tell me if you've ever had a similar plague, and what fixed it for you. I really want to actually be able to live in the space I'm paying for. To have those cabinets for storage, instead of wondering what horrors I'd see next if I dare to open one.

The triumphant hero limps home after a Pyrric victory and re-learns childish hope

Almost a year by my count, it's been, since I put down the electric pen because I really didn't know what to do with it anymore.

A lot has happened, a lot has changed, and I write scattered ADD-addled thoughts, not epics. So, in brief, the identity of this blog has changed right along with me, and now that things are finally a little less psychopathic in my life, I think I can sort out my thoughts enough to start sharing them again.

I think the last thing we talked about was Occupy. It was still kind of nascent in November 2011. I was all fired-up about it, I went up one weekend to participate in Occupy Indianapolis, and in two days I watched it turn from a vibrant, energizing, change-hope-full place with a sense of community into a den of infighting, prideful jockeying for agenda control, and, finally, so toxic an environment that one woman kicked another woman, who was pregnant, in the stomach, caused her to go into premature labor, and shortly thereafter everyone in the group who had a clue about decentralized governing was driven out, for their own self-preservation's sake, because apparently the common-held view was that putting out folks who are hijacking the movement for their own gains, or just plain downright violent, wouldn't be right because "everybody gets a voice here." Welp, game over, folks. Part of the game, from the get-go, was to not condone violence or forced hierarchy, but whatevs, it was a nice idea. At least on the national end of things, some people are still having some good conversations.

I was burnt out for a long time after that general time-period. Not saying it was in any way Occupy that caused it, but the general undertone-lesson of "fight like hell and you'll still lose and it will still all fall apart" has kind of been a thing in my life for half a decade anyway. It got very, very hard to shake. For several months, I just gave up, and let life happen to me, and was miserable, and figured well, maybe all that stuff about dreams was pure fantasy and it's just supposed to be this awful. Know what? Screw that false inner monologue. I don't care what it takes, I'll get there.

Oh, what else... Well, I only went to design school for a semester because I didn't want to take out any more debt. 30K plus the credit-card debt I took on while I couldn't find a full-time job is enough, thank you. So I got on at AT&T, I've been in Evansville for six months, and I'm finally starting to catch up on things. Six to twelve more months, and I'll be a little ahead. For the first time,w ell, ever in my adult life, and that hope feels damn good.

I also got un-engaged. Tomorrow would have been our five-year anniversary, but I just wasn't all in it anymore, and neither was he, and it just needed to happen, so it hurt like hell, but I let him go. I wasn't really ready to commit to being an "us" because I still am not anywhere near a point where the creation known as "me" is stable enough to even ponder something like permanence. Honestly, I still haven't even gotten out of the Midwest yet, and it's a lot easy to pack up and mobilize one person than two. So yes, I'm OK.

I've started writing poetry again. It's been at least two years, maybe three, since I actually finished one, so that's cool. And since I don't know if I'll get back to Indianapolis in the next year, or ever, I've squared with the fact that this isn't going to be a street-style blog anymore. There are plenty of other things for us to share. It'll be fine. I still want to talk about fashion. I'm just also a nerd for poetry, politics, sci-fi, and really fun local events when I can afford to go, so the next time I sit to write a post and I'd really talk more about, say, what Mayor Ballard screwed up this time instead of what Balenciaga put on a runway, I'm gonna go with it!

Awright, y'all. Let's do this.


"Hope," by Joanna Hoffman. Also known as my new mantra.

A question for today

How does your personal style and fashion relate to who you intrinsically are? Do you feel that how you dress is an extension of your personality? Do you follow trends without regard to their harmony, or lack of, with the person that you are?

I just got to thinking. You know how I get when I go on a tangent, LOL! But really, a little study on mindfulness within individuals in their personal-style selections, mindfulness within the fashion community at large, and trends relating to this concept, could be interesting. My uneducated hypothesis is that it would go in cycles. I just have my doubts that it's all "a vain chasing in the wind" based on mindless consumption. Mostly? Eh, maybe. But that's not what drew me here.

What does your personal style reflect about your self?

#occupywallstreet support designs are done!

Zazzle store is up! Plenty of ways to wear your support right across your chest! Please check the site, spread the word, and ORDER STUFF FOR THE CAUSE! I must emphasize that I am not keeping a dime from these sales. The proceeds will go directly to the Occupy Wall Street protesters to cover their needs. If you're a protester, and you're reading this, thank you and I love you!


Create personalized gifts at Zazzle.

If you can, I highly encourage you to click 'customize' on the design of your choice, put it on a NICE WARM HOODIE, and buy a box of them. Set this as the shipping address:

UPS Store
Occupy Wall Street
118A Fulton St. #205
New York, NY 10038

You can also direct-donate care packages, money orders, et cetera to this address.

Today's jam, and an announcement.

If you've been following my Twitter account and/or my personal Facebook, you already know. But, officially and on the record, CCS supports Occupy Wall Street.

I'm working as quickly as I can on a line of products. Nothing too fancy, T-shirts, a hoodie, some stickers, that kind of thing. And 100 percent of profits will go to the cause. It's already getting chilly around here, let alone in NYC. They're going to need donations to keep warm. To accompany the official release, probably late this week, I will be posting some DIY tutorials on how to pretty up your statement shirt. Bling it, sew it, cut-and-tie it, use your mind and your hands to make something good beautiful. Yeah, we're talking liberation fashion. Politics getting into fashion is nothing new.

Stay tuned for this launch. I'm totally going to see if sherpa-lined warm hoodies are available, and if so, if I can bulk-discount them if the buyer is sending them to the occupiers in NYC, Chicago, etc.

How to support, via The Nation.

If you'd like to donate directly, click here.

Mailing address:
The UPS Store
Re: Occupy Wall Street
118A Fulton St. #205
New York, NY 10038
Money orders only please, cannot cash checks yet. Non-perishable goods only. We can accept packages of any size. We're currently low on food.

I post links: Midwest Fashion Week 2011 agenda is UP!

Hooray! It's that time again!

Agenda for Midwest Fashion Week: October 19-22, 2011!

October 19th, 2011
Event title: Home and Fashion Fusion-The Kick-Off for Midwest Fashion Week Location:SkyLine Club,
One America Square,
Indianapolis, IN 46282
Time: 5:30pm
Invitation only


October 20th, 2011
Event title: Empowerment Revealed: An ImageCube Naturally You Makeover Reveal presented by Midwest Fashion Week & MePower Events
Location: The Fashion Mall at Keystone,
8702 Keystone Crossing,
Indianapolis, IN 46240
Time: 5:30pm
Free to the Public
VIP Reception: $25


October 21st, 2011
Event title: “Taste of Fashion at Sensu”
Location: Sensu Restaurant and Nightclub
225 South Meridian Street,
Indianapolis, Indiana 46225
Time: 8:00pm
Price: $65


October 22nd, 2011
Event title: “Fashion is Empowerment”
Location: Corinthian Hall at Old National Centre
502 North New Jersey Street
Indianapolis, IN 46204
Time: 6:00pm
Price VIP: $65
Price regular: $35.00

More details at the MFW official Web site! Please take the time to support and check out this part of the Midwest scene! Talented designers from Indiana all the way to the Ukraine are represented in this year's line-up.

I do like this year's event title: Fashion Is Empowerment. I just may or may not have hatched an E-book idea over the weekend on a similar premise, so darned if that isn't a pleasant coincidence.

The first personal-style post of the CCS reboot!

So, today I'm wearing this:

No backdrop quite like the Wall O'Purses.

Surely you recognize the blouse from a recent post. I had a theory that dots echoing dots might look rather nice, so I paired it up with this thrifted red jersey dress. I needed something to wear to work tonight, and this dress is uncomfortably cleavage-y for that purpose, so I brought things back. The trouble is... it just looks, well, so sweet it's saccharine. Even for someone like me, whose style is at least 80 percent uberfemme.

Here's the fix (With a rocker pose as a salute to Vegan Black Metal Chef, one of the best cooking shows I've seen online... uh, EVER.)

Blouse: Eyelash
Dress: Thrifted
Belt: Body Central
Bracelet: Candie's
Spider ring: from a music festival like 9 years ago
Black star sapphire engagement ring: Bauer Jewelers, Vincennes, IN
Boots: Payless
Platinum clip-in streaks: Hot Topic

Alas, these are only the shoes I *wish* I could wear to work. Stilettos don't mix well with being on your feet in a retail environment for 7 hours.

Will made me pose with a wine glass because he's a pretentious wanker.

And lest you get the wrong idea about a broad posing around with a big cheesecake grin in her kitchen:

Bite me, patriarchy. I just think my kitchen looks cool.

All photos by William Dickey.
Soundtrack provided by: M.I.A.