For Tomboys Who Sometimes Go Glam

I’ve always thought of myself as kind of a tomboy—not the rough & tumble athletic type, but the Vans and t-shirt kind of girl who can’t be bothered with manicures or purses (what would I even put inside?!) or keeping up with the latest makeup trends. I’m too busy and too laid back for that. In the cooler months, a cardigan or a flannel is my go-to, and in the summer months I like a flowy top or a sundress (which, I recognize, is infinitely more girly than the winter attire but also about as effortless as it gets—dresses are one piece, eliminating any need for matching). And let’s not start with me trying to curl my own hair. Why can I do things to other people I can’t finagle on myself? Mysteries.

            

I feel like every time I log on to any form of social media, there are either women who look completely flawless (read: unrealistic), or women doing makeup tutorials. Look, I’ve watched “Ru Paul’s Drag Race,” and after seeing average dudes become gorgeous women, I get the benefits of contouring and enhancing brows. My sister is a makeup aficionado herself and always has that doll-faced look that astounds me.

However, these makeup tutorials are always on super speed with some EDM music in the background and still end up being ten minutes long. I do NOT have time for that routine when I’m tumbling out of bed at 6am. Furthermore, all the contouring and layering results in a different looking person than the one running to the store in sweats and a messy bun on Sunday morning. As I said, my sister is into makeup and said she enjoys wearing it, and that’s wonderful—as long as it’s something women want to do for themselves and no one else, have at it! I enjoy eyeliner in that it makes me look awake and thus a little more human on the days where I’m dragging through in a sleep-deprived state. 

           

Bridesmaid :)

That being said, I do like the occasional smokey eye. Ever since I tried it out for my best friend Liz’s wedding a couple years ago, I love using it as a go-to feminine touch for my standard finger-raked locks and Chapstick. I don’t wear a lot of makeup—I typically keep the routine to a basic neutral eye shadow, signature winged eyeliner, and some mascara. Boom. I like the minimalistic look and sometimes even opt for just a couple coats of mascara (especially when it’s humid outside, because why bother?). However, I’m wont to expand for special occasions, such as the aforementioned weddings, holidays, or date nights where we actually feel like going out. 

I pulled my inspiration from Kristen Stewart. Say what you want about her shrinking violet personality and the Twilight saga, but the girl rocks the smokey eye look better than anyone I’ve seen, and she does it with variety as well as finesse: bold black rocker-chic, turquoise highlights, or neutral browns and greys. I went with the latter for my wedding look, and it’s soft enough for me to recreate every day (though Mary only knows I don’t want to).

         

I don’t use any kind of anything on my face—except for the minor sweep of Cover Girl blush on each cheek to give my Casper skin a glow in the winter. I swear by Proactiv’s three step system—sensitive skin, of course, because I’m allergic to everything—and I finish with their green tea moisturizer for a nice dewy effect that’s also great for my skin. That’s it.

           

I actually made a tutorial for my femme fatale eye shadow routine because sometimes even the chillest chicks like to look a little daintier. J

Thunderstorms & Front Porches

I'm a pretty nostalgia-ridden person. I love the way certain things bring you back to a previous place in your mind. The smell of snow in the atmosphere evokes Christmas and all it encompasses, the feel of low sunlight and Andrea Bocelli brings me back to the summer I was ten, and anytime it storms in the summer, I'm with my grandfather on the front porch at my grandparents' house.

The house is one of those standard older homes, and I spent so much of my childhood there that it's inextricable from my memories. The first poem I ever had published was one I wrote about a tree in the backyard that was actually four trees woven into one, with a perfect spot in the middle for my tiny being to squeeze in to write and daydream. The bush in the front yard with yellow flowers we would pick and throw into jars of water and call it perfume (oh, dear), and the cigar tree in the back yard with the huge leaves we used to think we could string together and make a "flying machine" with to take us around the world. My cousins, my sister, and I were quite characters.

My favorite memory, though was sitting on the porch in those hot hazy summer days and talking to my grandfather, my Puppa. The porch was brick, the awning was burgundy, and the creaking porch swing was one of those green and yellow vinyl numbers from the 1970s, host to numerous behinds, porch-sleepers, and a six-year-old version of me who ate too much pasta and then rocked there with my head in my grandmother's lap until I acquainted that pasta with my pink hi-top Converse.

He was off-the-boat Italian at 13. He fought in World War II. I never heard him say a bad word about anyone. He would sit there, in his chair on the porch, staring straight ahead, hazel eyes, white hair combed back and softly curling, and those blue pants everyone over age 70 owns. Sometimes we would just sit in silence, which was always comfortable. He was a man of few words, but sometimes he would break me out of my reverie to talk.

"What are you thinking about? You always look like you're thinking about something," he said to me once. Perhaps I got that from him.

He shared stories of WWII and life on his little farm in Potenza. He told me about what it was like coming here. We talked about my parents splitting up, and about school, and my dreams to be a writer or a musician someday. Often, my sister and my mum joined us. Nunna would come out and join us too, after the three of them finished their post-dinner cowboy coffee in the old Sands mugs. Occasionally, my cousins would come sit with us too, but I secretly liked best when it was just the two of us. I loved the stories. I loved the companionable silence, or the laughter we'd share watching the neighborhood and all its movements, with the long, lonely train whistle as the soundtrack-- these moments the pulse of my otherwise awkward childhood years, all hair and gangly limbs.

When it would storm, we would sit there and watch the lightening crash and the rain pour, rolling in heavy drops off the edges of the scalloped awning. It was terrifying and awesome at the same time to be so close to something so dangerous. God's bowling, the adults would say, which made it less frightening somehow.

Perhaps this is why I still have such an affinity for people's front porches-- less common these days. This could be why I am drawn to the way the lightening dances majestically across the sky, even as the thunder makes me leap out of my skin. All during June, the heaviest month of storms in a Pittsburgh year, I think of my Puppa and miss him fiercely. When I see the thunder rolling in and I detect that smell on the breeze, the one that means the skies darken to a grey-green and the rain lets go, I think of him and I feel close to him again.

Matriculation, Relaxation, & Chasing Waterfalls

Hi friends! It has been an absurdly long time since I've written anything for this blog. I feel I have a legitimate reason though-- I was going crazy working two jobs and plowing through getting a masters degree in 9 months, and as that was wrapping up I was on the grind hardcore.

We matriculate a lot.

Since graduation has been over, I don't think I've opened my laptop more than a handful of times. In spite of teaching at a cyber school for the past year (with a different laptop), my love of technology has not increased any and having the luxury of unplugging was glorious to me. I got to do so many things I hadn't done: read books I wanted to read (rather than what I had to read), play guitar, fiddle with my new camera, and of course spend time with people I hadn't seen in a while.

Now that that's happened, though, and the school year is over and I'm just writing articles over here, I can get back to blogging on a regular basis (and hopefully incorporate images captured on the aforementioned camera).

With our favorite professor, Dr. Donne

Yes, we wore Converse.

Graduation was a whirlwind, as were the weeks leading up to it. I am so grateful to my huge support system for helping me through it-- especially Shells and my family. Honestly though, although at times we wanted to murder each other for deciding to go back to school (again), I couldn't have gotten through it without my BFF Liz. We endured four-hour night classes two nights a week, suffered online courses, plowed through homework, and motivated one another all while working multiple jobs each and trying to run our households. Even though I completed finals and made Shells swear to me she would never let me go back to school, there was something about watching all the doctoral candidates process in wearing those odd hats that made me contemplate the possibility of someday-- though, dear God, not any day soon.

US side 

Visiting Three Sisters Island

After all of that, I was lucky enough to have three days in a row off of work and Shells took off too and surprised me with a trip to Niagara Falls, which was exactly what I needed to calm my reeling mind and relax with her. Apart from a day trip when I was in eighth grade, I've never been there and I enjoyed it immensely. There is something fun about roaming a city you're unfamiliar with, even for a control freak like me.

Misty Maids 

It was wonderful to walk around in the sunshine exploring with my favorite person. Sure, there are a lot of tourist traps (which we went in primarily to mock) but there is also a lot of beauty. It's crazy to me that that is all nature/God in its glory. Also, I had never ridden the Maid of the Mist and that was the one thing I wanted the most...so we rode it twice (my mum said I was like five years old).

Wistfully gazing at the Falls...

Another thing I noticed while we were there, in addition to the gorgeous scenery and intense crowds and the jokes of my love, was the incredible amount of people taking aesthetic shots in a way that said "hey, I see you trying to get by but IDGAF because I need this same shot with every member of my family, baiiii" so that naturally led to me awkwardly standing there and impatiently waiting and Shells saying "Okay, that's enough" and assertively ensuring we get our turn before our trip is over.

By the end of the first day, as we walked off an awesome dinner-- culinary students delivering five-star dining at Olive Garden prices-- and went back to catch the falls in that lovely low sunlight I am obsessed with, we were taking our own aesthetic shots (partially (mostly) jokingly).

Since then, I've been reading like crazy (I have a shelf waiting for me to read its contents), trying to introduce Zorro to his harness so I can take him outside (he is less than interested), and I planted flowers-- like, from seeds. I feel like a small child because I am so excited each time a new pot starts sprouting. Here's to hoping I don't kill them!!!

Looking forward to everything this summer has to offer and all the beauty that comes along with it. More super soon!

Love,
Rebecca