What Does My Handwriting Say About Me?

August 30, 2013January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

I get a lot of comments on my handwriting.

Not compliments.

Comments.

Because people are more fascinated than impressed with my handwriting.

As you can see from the picture, I definitely have my own style. It’s half-print, half-cursive. I use old-fashioned A’s and my lower case N’s look like a smaller version of the capital form. It’s pointy and a little sloppy. Like I said in the note, I made an effort to be neat. If I don’t, then it looks a whole lot worse.

Most of the time it looks worse.

If I’m writing for me, then neatness be damned. I can read it and that’s all that matters.

Except sometimes even I can’t read it.

When I was in college, I was a serious note-taker. I was good at picking out what I needed to know and writing it down, but this meant that I wrote a lot. And sometimes, in an effort to keep up, neatness ended up sacrificed on the alter of speed and in the end there were some things that even I couldn’t read. I admit that some of my psychology notes looked like I was possessed by a demon and started writing in tongues during the lecture. Forget asking anyone else to make a guess, not when they have so much trouble reading it in the first place.

Handy, in a way. Almost like writing in code. Except for the times when I can’t even break it.

The big thing that gets commented on the most is that my handwriting is so small. To be fair, the notebook paper I used for the picture is wide ruled, but it’s even noticeable when I use college ruled (my preference). Even my still-learning-to-write niece has commented on the smallness of it.

For some reason, my tiny handwriting drives people crazy. I don’t know why but that’s just more comfortable to me. Writing bigger feels foreign and awkward to me. Oh, when I was younger I tried to write bigger, using that soft, curvy style that most of the girls I was in school with used. But it never felt right and I couldn’t get it to stick. Inevitably, I’d go back to writing small and pointy letters. Bubble letters and I’s dotted with hearts just doesn’t come naturally to me. Small and sharp is the way I go.

I can’t help it.

It’s just my style.

Sew, I Made Another Skirt

August 26, 2013January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

After doing my first jean skirt, I decided that I had another pair of jeans that were ripe for transformation and decided to do another one, but shorter. I was going for a pencil skirt look, which I sort of achieved.

I did my measuring and cut off the legs where I thought I should. Then I went about the cutting and sewing just like I did with the first, long denim skirt: I cut the inseam of the legs open along the seam and the front of the jeans up along the crotch towards the zipper so I could fold it over and stitch it. I did the same thing in the back, cutting up the butt seam, but fashioning a slit instead.

The front looks pretty good, I think. I don’t like the way the back slit turned out very much and if I’m honest, the skirt should be tighter around the legs to be more pencil-ish. It also turned out shorter than I’d intended. Good thing I allowed an inch or so for a hem, otherwise it would have been much shorter than I wanted.

I learned a few things working on this skirt.

One, I’m terrible at cutting a straight line and I don’t know that I’ll ever get better at it.

Two, shorter skirts require a lot more trimming than I thought. Due to my crap cutting skills and the way the fabric needed to be arranged to be worked into a skirt, I had a lot more excess material to cut away than with my first skirt.

Three, my stitching is getting better, which I consider a huge plus.

Four, I will sew with my left hand without realizing it and then wonder why it’s taking me so long to get the sewing done. No kidding. I was half-way through one section of the skirt before I realized why it was taking me so long to get it done. The sad thing is, I do stuff like that all the time. Clearly, I think I’m ambidextrous, but my left hand just hasn’t developed the necessary skill level yet.

In the end, I’m pretty pleased with this attempt.

This will be the last jeans-to-skirt attempt for a while, though.

At least until I buy some more jeans.

If Everyone Is Saying It, It Must Be True

August 12, 2013January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

I was taught that when someone gave me a compliment I was to say “thank you” whether I agreed with them or not. Don’t argue, don’t protest, just say your thanks and move on. Manners and all that.

And that’s what I do. “You have such pretty eyes.” “Thanks.” “I love your skirt!” “Thanks.” “I like the way you verbally eviscerated that guy.” “Thanks.”

It’s become an automatic response to the point that I don’t really pay much attention to the compliment (unless it’s a truly unique one or backhanded or related to weight-loss because I don’t think saying, “Hey, you’ve lost weight!” is much of a compliment, but that’s another post). It’s not that I don’t appreciate people saying nice things to me on occasion; I enjoy that very much. But I just don’t read that much into it.

When I got my hair cut, I expected some people to notice because it was such a dramatic change. And I anticipated the reactions of a few people would be saying they liked my hair, whether they really did or not, as a way of acknowledging the drastic change in a nice way. In short, I didn’t pay too much attention at first when people said they liked my hair because it was the people that I expected to say something.

But then people I didn’t expect started saying the same thing. My hair attracted more attention than I thought it would. And I started to think…”Gee, maybe everyone does think my hair looks nice.”

At some point I’ve moved from “people being nice about my hair” to “this is the general consensus about my hair”.

Which is weird for me because I don’t typically think of people holding good opinions of me. I know I’m regarded as a failure by certain people and society thinks I’m a fat waste of DNA, and I’d be lying if I said those opinions didn’t impact me at least somewhat, but my opinion of myself is so high that it kind of minimizes the worth of those opinions.

So here I am, already thinking my hair looks freakin’ fabulous, and people are backing me up. It’s just strange. I’ve never had this sort of positive consensus before, particularly about a physical aspect of my being. I mean it’s nice, but it’s strange.

This is one of the few instances that I like going with the crowd, especially since for once they’re agreeing with me. If everyone is saying it, then it must be true. My hair looks good.

I could go mad with this sort of power.

But no. I like my head able to fit through doorways.

Sensory Overload at the Movies

August 5, 2013January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

I went to see The Conjuring with my roommate. She’d been really wanting to see it, but since it’s scary, she didn’t want to see it alone. After being subject to some bribery in the form of a Salted Caramel Pretzel milkshake from Steak n Shake, I was persuaded to see it with her. After reading some reviews, I thought it might not be too terrible, high praise from someone so finicky and critical of horror films, particularly recent stuff.

And I do think it was pretty good. I’m looking forward to watching it again on TV so I can really appreciate all of the elements at work.

Why TV? Why not see it in the theater again?

Simple.

Seeing movies in the theater has a tendency to be a downright painful experience for me.

I’ve found as I’ve gotten older that I have a certain sensitivity to sounds. Theaters are almost always too loud for me. Now that’s not too big of a deal most of the time, unless I’m seeing a film like The Conjuring that contains a lot of jump scares. A component of the jump scare, of course, is the sudden crash of sound that accompanies the visual shock. Yeah, those crashes hurt.

My roommate noticed that I was cringing at things I was hearing long before anyone else heard anything. There’s a moment in the film when a mix of voices are heard on a recording. I had to plug my ears. It was too much noise. I’ve been known to do this during action sequences, too, with a lot of gun shots and explosions. Too loud.

I’ve also found in my old age that the visual experience of movies is hard for me to deal with. Hi-def is great, I’m sure. But for me, in the theater, everything is too big, too close, too much and it’s hard for my brain to adjust. I’ve never been good with point of view shots, but put them up on the big screen and my eyes can’t handle it. Same with anything that has too much shaking. It makes my eyes cross. There’s no way I could have watched Open Water, Cloverfield, or The Blair Witch Project on the big screen. My brain wouldn’t have been able to take it.

As it was there were a few times during The Conjuring that I had to close my eyes, not because it was scary, but because I couldn’t take the shaking and/or point of view angles. The sudden swing of the camera made my eyes cross. There’s a whole swath of movie that took place in the cellar that I couldn’t see because it was all done from the POV of a handheld camera.

Some days are better than others when it comes to the visuals, but the noises are always brutal. My roommate suggested that the next time I go to the movies I wear ear plugs. It might help and I’m willing to try it.

Anything to tone down the overwhelming theater experience to bearable so I can at least enjoy a film based on the film and not how painful the sensory overload is.

Just another reason I’m a pain in the ass when it comes to going to the movies.

I Cut My Hair

July 29, 2013January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

I didn’t cut it myself, of course. I went to my stylist. I’m not completely crazy.

But I did feel a bit daring.

The last time I got my hair cut before this time, in the shab style I’d been rocking and loving for the most part, I didn’t have the top layers cut short enough. I spent most of the time with my hair pulled back into a pony tail.

A couple of weeks ago I realized that this was stupid. My hair was already somewhat short and yet I had it back in a pony tail all the time. If I was going to do that, I should just cut it all off and call it good. It’d be the same thing.

Only it wasn’t exactly the same thing.

I’ve posted before about my hair and the hang-ups I have with. In short, I was afraid cutting my hair off in a pixie style would obliterate what little femininity that I think I project. A short cut on me would just add to my already somewhat intimidating demeanor.

Shorter short: I thought it’d make me less desirable, if that were even possible.

I thought, almost in jest, that I’d do the short cut when I was 40. Something to look forward to. Another way to shake-up a milestone birthday and make it fun. After all, by then who would care how short my hair was? When you’re 40 and a woman, you might as well be dead, at least that’s what I gather from society.

But a couple of weeks ago, I thought, why wait? Let’s just do it now and see what happens. Femininity be damned. I have boobs. That should be enough for people to know that I’m a girl, even though my youngest niece put my fears into words by saying that if I got my hair cut short, I’d look like a boy (she wasn’t convinced the boobs would be enough; honestly, neither was I).

You see, I’ve been in desperate need of a shake-up. I haven’t been feeling too peppy lately. In fact, I’ve been feeling downright blah, if you want to know the truth. Something had to give, something had to change. There’s very little in my life that I have the power to change right now. Too much of the changes I need require resources I just don’t have right now. But a revamp of my appearance. That I could afford.

I admit, I was more nervous the night before my hair appointment than I was the night before I had major surgery. I was more concerned with the negative outcomes of a haircut than I was the negative outcomes of a surgery, and considering those negative outcomes included death, I think that illustrates quite well just how vain I can be.

But it was more than just vanity. It was the excitement, the anticipation of doing something new, something different, of making a change. Things have been stuck in such a rut in my life that the idea of doing something as small as changing my hair style proved to be a huge mood booster.

It also ended up being quite the look booster, too. Turns out, the youngest niece doesn’t think I look like a boy (neither do I). She does, though, think I look like a completely different person.

I wouldn’t go that far, but I do think it turned out pretty well.

Don’t you?

Sew Dressy

July 22, 2013January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

My apologies for the poor-quality selfie. I took this picture in my middle niece’s bedroom and I’m too lazy to try to stage a proper one.

Behold my latest creation! It’s my t-shirt dress.

My roommate buys enough clothes at Old Navy to keep that place in business. She ordered some t-shirts last year, but decided she didn’t like the way they fit or the fabric. So, she gave them to me. Since she’s a couple of sizes bigger than I am, she thought that maybe I might like them to sleep in or something. I do like sleeping in one of them, for sure, very comfy. Great on hot nights when I don’t want to wear pants. But when I tried them on for the first time, I thought, “As big as this is, if I added a little more fabric to the bottom, I could call it a dress.”

So, I did.

I cut off about seven inches of the bottom of the gray t-shirt and sewed it onto the bottom of the navy blue t-shirt. It wasn’t the easiest thing to do and I’m sure if I tried it again, I’d probably figure out a better way to make it come together. But for a first attempt, it wasn’t bad. I’m not thrilled with the stitching, though. I’ll probably redo it at some point just for my own satisfaction. It holds just fine and nobody else would notice it unless they were a seamstress inspector looking to make my life hard. But it would make me feel better if I did it up a little better.

Also, the dress ended up being a little bigger than I’d normally get and even with the belt, it’s not as structured as I’d like it to be, BUT! It’s actually quite comfy and makes for a nice, lightweight dress on a hot day that doesn’t look shabby or lazy. Also, beggars can’t be choosers. It’s a two-sizes too big t-shirt, for crying out loud. I can only do so much with my limited skills.

In the end, I’m pretty pleased with the effort.

The Benefits and Disadvantages of Cottage Cheese

July 15, 2013January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ 3 Comments

“I’d never date a girl with cottage cheese thighs.”

Back in my early twenties, a friend of mine said this during a conversation. I can’t remember the exact conversation, only that this sentence was said in the presence of me, a girl with cottage cheese thighs.

My first thought was, “This guy has no idea the prevalence of cottage cheese thighs.” Because seriously, if this is your criteria for dating a woman then let me inform you that something like 80% of women have cellulite and even skinny women can get it. So, just try to hang in there as bet you can, fellas.

My second thought was, “Did I inadvertently send him a signal that I was interested in him and he had to be sure to shut me down before I became overt with my attraction and embarrassed him because nothing is worse than attracting the amorous attentions of a fat girl?” Because, though I didn’t have any interest in him, I’ve been known to unintentionally “flirt” with people.

My final thought was, “Well, if he thinks that, then that must be what they all think.”

That’s the thing. It’s very easy to take the opinion of one person that you know and consider it a validation of the consensus, particularly when that consensus only acknowledges something when it’s the butt of a joke, object of ridicule, or target of shaming. And since I’ve had this dairy condition on my lower appendages since the latter years of puberty, well, I’m just unloveable, now aren’t I? Thanks for the confirmation, friend!

I still think about that cottage cheese comment all these years later. It’s both a burden and a blessing. On the one hand, it’s a quick answer about any sort of appearance questions I might have about myself.

Should I wear this shirt? Is it flattering? Should I get my hair cut like this? Will I be attractive if I do? Should I wear the red lipstick or the nude?

Then a voice reminds me that I have cottage cheese thighs and I’m like, “Hot damn! It doesn’t matter because I’m hideous by default. No pressure! What do I WANT to do? Red lipstick it is!”

Other times, I wonder if I should wear something like shorts or a shorter skirt or dress and that voice reminds me about my cottage cheese thighs and then I have to debate on if I want to deal with the venom that may be slung my way because I’ve got dimples on the wrong body parts. Do I have the fortitude to deal with the looks, snickering, and/or nasty comments if I go out in public?

And then I put on Capri pants because I just don’t feel like dealing with my cottage cheese thighs that day.

I can’t deny that their existence does make my life easier sometimes. People can just look at me and my dairy laden legs and go, “Oh no. I want nothing to do with that.” They don’t bother getting to know me. They don’t even have to ask my name. They don’t waste their time.

More importantly, they don’t waste mine.

Cottage cheese can be pretty tasty for those who enjoy it.

I’m At That Age

July 8, 2013January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

I’m at that age…

-where I don’t have time for unpleasant people. You’re a raging asshole with bigoted tendencies. I do not wish to associate with you or your kind. Same goes for the drama mongers, the politically ignorant, the sports jerks that take the fun out of the game, and most adults that post cryptic messages on Facebook.

-where I’m intolerant. I prefer to live and let live, but when you come at me with your “how can you be tolerant of my intolerance” bullshit, then darling, I have no trouble showing you exactly how intolerant I can be. Yes, dear, I am intolerant of you and your trollish, asshole behavior and I’ll say so. So tolerate THAT.

-where I’m unapologetic. Not going to apologize for being fat, being a woman, being bisexual, being a Cubs fan, listening to any and all kinds of music, not watching movies, not being religious, not believing in your God, being intolerant to your bullshit, not putting up with your ignorant ass, caring about what I care about, being a writer, etc.

-where I will sing and dance in the grocery store if one of my jams from “the nineteens” (as my nieces would say) comes on.

-where I’ll wear whatever the hell I want to you and you all just need to cope as best you can.

-where I don’t know who most of these new bands and singers are and I have to ask my nieces.

-where I’m tired of hearing about what you eat, how often you exercise, how great your husband/wife/kids are, etc. because you act like if you don’t mention it five times a day I won’t know how much better you are than me.

-where I don’t give a shit if you’re better than me. There’s no prize for being the loudest braying jackass.

-where I’m still going to dress up for Halloween and silently wish I could still go trick-or-treating while I pass out candy.

-where I’m not going to settle.

-where I’m going to point when “new” things have really been around for a while.

-where I’m going to refer to people as “young folk”.

-where I’m going to keep dreaming, reaching, striving, and hoping for something better.

Because, you see, I’m at that age where I’m realizing that the years are piling up behind me, leaving fewer in front of me. The less time I spend messing with the petty and shoveling the bullshit, the more time I can spend enjoying my days.

Sorry if that ruins yours.

The Reality of “Let’s Be Brave”

July 1, 2013January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

Last year I posted about a dream I had in which a young Michael Nesmith came to me and said, “Let’s be brave”. And I decided that it was a great idea and these were words I should live by.

I declared it my new motto.

Almost a year later I can safely say that I haven’t been too good about living up to those words.

In some ways, I have. Little ways. I bit the bullet when it came to my sewing, pushing aside the idea of making a mistake and wasting a shirt or a pair of jean or a handkerchief and turning those things into bags and skirts and dresses.

I’ve self-published a couple of novellas in that time and I’ve been less shy about being a writer, though I’m still pretty restrained when it comes to bugging people to read what I’ve published.

I’ve given fewer fucks about what people think about me and I’m embracing who and what I am and I’m less afraid about being that person in front of everyone more and more.

But in a lot of important ways, I’m still a coward.

My life has advanced very little. My need for security keeps me petrified. My ability to make money being tied to my self-esteem, my inability to be more creative about making money, the constant berating that goes on in my head about not having a “real” job and how everyone judges me as a failure for it, those things I haven’t been brave enough to even face, let alone conquer or let go.

I still can’t ask for help; my ego won’t allow it. I’m not brave enough to admit that it’s okay to ask for help and that, maybe, people would be willing to help me. I’m not a failure for asking for help, even if I feel like I am and like I don’t deserve it.

I’m still ashamed of so many aspects of my life. The bravery that I feel when facing them falters when I have to admit them to other people. I still have too many fucks to give in that department.

And don’t even get me started on the downright terror that complete paralyzes me when it comes to matters of the heart.

Who would have thought that turning brave from chicken wouldn’t happen overnight? Or even in a year?

I acknowledge the progress that I’ve made and I hope to keep making more, but I can’t help but be disappointed that I haven’t gone farther in a year.

I’ll never be able to stitch “Let Be Brave” on a sampler if I don’t live up to those words.

“Are You Really Writing Books?”

June 24, 2013January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

A friend of mine posted that on a link to my Amazon Author’s Page that I posted on Facebook, my meager attempt to try to drum up a little business.

People who frequent my blog on Wednesdays or happen to catch the appropriate Tweet on my Twitter feed might think this is a stupid question. But, actually, it’s valid.

Yes, I am writing books. I’m also writing short stories and novellas and blog posts and journal entries and non-fiction blobs and episode summaries of a TV show that doesn’t exist. Some of these will be published by a real publisher, some will be self-published, and some will never see the light of day. It’s a thing that’s happening whether I talk about it or not. Like my exercise routine or specific food intake. Even if I don’t feel compelled to tell people about it, it’s still happening.

Now, I talk a bit about my writing on the Internet, specifically on Wednesdays. I mention it on occasion on my Twitter. I post about my stories getting accepted and rejected and my self-publishing ventures in between. But I don’t talk about these things much off the ‘net.

Why?

Well, because.

Because I don’t want to answer all of the questions that inevitably come up after I mention that I’m a writer. “What do you write?” is always the lead-off and then it goes from there, down the rabbit hole of awkwardness because, see, I don’t make a living off of my writing (yet) and I’m not at all a best-seller (yet) and I’m definitely not famous (I’m cool with that). You’re not going to find my stuff on the shelves (yet). And the conversation sort of fizzles and dies because, well, how can I possibly be a REAL writer if I’m not making a living off of it?

The lead-off question has another pitfall. I answer that question honestly by saying, “Horror fiction mostly”, which leads people to say, “Oh, like Stephen King?”

I adore Stephen King. We all know that. But the answer is no, not like Stephen King. Stephen King is an educated, literate, well-read man who can craft eloquent sentences and amazing imagery despite his sometimes gruesome subject matter.

I, on the other hand, am a three-time college dropout, who doesn’t read anything she’s supposed to and definitely not as much as she’s supposed to, and only by virtue of chance can string together a few words to form coherent sentences that sometimes illustrate her bizarre and sometimes horrific imagination.

I am nothing like Stephen King and neither is what I write. Our genre is the only thing that connects us.

The other reason I don’t talk about my writing is simply because I get the feeling no one is interested. It’s not like a regular job. It’s hard for other people to relate to what I do. And since I don’t like to talk much about works-in-progress, the conversation is pretty short if steered in that direction. As for talking about the works I’ve done, well, horror isn’t everybody’s bag. It isn’t most people’s bag. And if they don’t like to read it, then they don’t like to talk about it.

I guess I’ve become accustomed to not discussing my writing life outside of the Internet. Which is a problem when it comes to me trying to get people to read my work, but the funny thing is, I don’t look past the Internet for readers either. In fact, when it comes to my writing life, it only seems to exist online.

Maybe I should consider branching out.