tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29424123612660122642024-03-05T09:19:56.261-08:00Little Rabbit EarsMirandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13988714858649923959noreply@blogger.comBlogger190125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2942412361266012264.post-28291924935551628322013-05-12T21:04:00.000-07:002013-05-21T01:56:55.077-07:00A Change to the Home Sweet HomeHello my lovely readers,<br />
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After much deliberation, I have decided to switch to Wordpress. On May 17th, I can promise an exciting change to my layout, that makes me simply giddy to think about. Truly, if you could see me, I'm slyly grinning like a cheshire cat. My skin has even turned purple. Anyway, in perfect timing with my own move, I am moving to a fresh home that is much more suited to Rabbit Ears.<br />
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Come swing by and knock on my door. Freshly baked (virtual) cookies await.<br />
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My new home is <a href="http://www.littlerabbitears.com/">littlerabbitears.com</a>.<br />
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*m<br />
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<br />Mirandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13988714858649923959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2942412361266012264.post-33975206155265720112013-05-12T17:20:00.001-07:002013-05-12T17:20:27.299-07:00Meet Your Summer *Insert Ridiculously Out of Reach Item Here*Whenever summer rolls around, the same dreamy images float through the fog of my brain. Now this fog is relatively easy to clear up though, so don't be too concerned about its gloomy presence and/or my health. With each exam checking itself off on the seemingly never ending list of things that had to be completed before I could declare my summer as officially open, the sun would break through that fog and I could suddenly imagine myself dangling on the tip of a sail boat on the open sea. Perhaps dangling is a little too life-threatening. Although a good dangling session on the edge of a sail boat does sound appealing if it weren't for the fact that I have imagined myself already in a rather expensive and oh-so-breezy summer dress.<br />
Seeing as how what I'm wearing kept coming into play in these day dreams of the exotic nature of my summers, whenever a fashion mag would boldly state, "Meet your summer jacket," I would immediately direct my eyes to this apparent staple for my summer wardrobe. Until the price tag practically hisses at me, "$525." Who has that money, yo?! Okay, well, not the starving student I claim to be (please look away from that Starbucks bill).<br />
So this is pretty much a nod to magazines to say that the majority of people who pick up your magazine want to be whisked away into a dream-like state of picking and choosing items for their dream closets... but the dream can only extend so far, and I would like to see price tags that don't cripple my soul (no hint of melodrama here).<br />
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And with that, rant over & happy mother's day!<br />
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Please get your mumma this many flowers. Or treat yourself. Or a stranger. Because I think everyone deserves to be hugged by this many flowers.</div>
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Actually, now that <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/tastesorangey" target="_blank">Clare Elsaesser's paintings</a> have made its way into this little post, I should dedicate a few more words to her. It would be a small crime not to, as I would be depriving you all from a taste of graceful talent. The series that first caught my eye were, of course, focused on these beautiful collections of flowers. My eye has become acutely trained to notice any bursts of colour that have so graciously bloomed for us over the next few months, as though they're trying on a new shade of lipstick and are eager for us all to see their dolled up beauty. We'll kneel down, place our nose but a few inches away, and just smile and say, "We're so glad you decided to stop by." At least that's how it should be. And I think that's exactly how these women feel, as they embrace their bundles of flowers as though they were long lost lovers. There's such a distinct feeling of relief, coalesced with sincere longing and a desire to never unlock their arms. And by hiding these women's faces, it becomes less of a painting about one woman, but one moment - a moment where love has bloomed all over again and we're somehow given this privilege to see it all paused, amidst the chaos of everyday when they have rushed to the store and spontaneously - or very much intentionally - purchased a bundle of flowers, or more aptly, found a moment in time to remember a lover. I find it all very beautiful. What's more, these scenes have a distinctly European feeling to me, and, of course, only in Europe does the term "lover" really seem to feel at home.<br />
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It is because Clare can so gracefully catch the beauty of the moments that are often overlooked that I am drawn to her paintings. I do think that she shares an appreciation for simplicity, made elegant but kept with its raw state. The next series of paintings focus on the quieter moments between <i>lovers, </i>if you will, or, I suspect, of a couple she may have simply passed by on the streets, or imagined herself. </div>
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To me, it looks as if this body is radiating warmth from the inside, with these golden undertones finding themselves so much more illuminated against the darkness. It's as if you're in the perspective of her lover, and your eyes notice the soft curve of her spine, and the way the light just seems to wrap itself around her.</div>
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Quiet dependancy. At first, I thought that there was anger between the two of them, with the darker clouds hovering over them as though it hinted at unhappiness, but now I notice the way the woman is slumping into this man, letting herself relax into his back, her body appearing as though it has given up, and I realize that her support system is this man behind her, and he is the only thing that is keeping her from falling. </div>
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Again, I love the fact that their faces are hidden, because the emotion of this painting is made clear by the way this woman retreats into his chest, turning her face towards his to sweetly whisper, or just to relish in this lover behind her. Clare captures the light in these block-like strokes, edged along their arms, boldly and unapologetically. It's as if Clare wants us to realize that she knows that the moments we are sometimes most desperate to freeze in time go by the fastest, in a blur of feelings and touch, and that by focusing more on the way with which the woman finds shelter in his arms rather than the finer detail of her dress, or the flowers surrounding their bodies, we recognize the fleeting nature of these moments we want to freeze, and that maybe they're not meant to be frozen at all, because the memories are meant to be in the feelings that will inevitably linger in our hearts. </div>
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The next series is a delicious dose of whimsy. </div>
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*mMirandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13988714858649923959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2942412361266012264.post-15284510970848771522013-04-10T06:24:00.000-07:002013-04-10T06:26:18.711-07:00Dainty Tingz<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">A collection of daintiness for your dainty eyes (can eyes be dainty? you tell me). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Because I'm in exam crunch mode, I am lazy. Because lazy people don't credit, there are no credits. Because I procrastinate, I have a tumblr. All photos from <a href="http://www.rabbitearz.tumblr.com/" target="_blank">my tumblr</a>, but are most definitely not my own. If you really want me to track one photo down for ya, shoot me an email or comment. Please congratulate me on my logic in the comments as well. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The last one-piece I wore was on the shores of Positano, Italy, and ironically enough I felt very Parisian. I was a Parisian child visiting Italy. Although I'm not sure I would ever have the occasion to wear such a delicate bathing suit, as I'm not sure barnacles and dog paws suit that lace detailing too well, I can always appreciate its dainty allure.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This might be what it feels like to sleep <i>in </i>a painting.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">A singlet fit for a fairy. And due to my obsession with all things fairy, I need it. Although the only issue with this beauty is that I would turn into Carrie from SATC and would just lounge around in my undies all day, regardless of what needs to get done. <i>Someone just answered the phone as Carrie. There are spies everywhere. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">A little post-christmas daintiness. Replace the pinecones with flowers, and this is entirely fit for the summer.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">What is it about stringed lights that tempt me so? Well the answer is obvious, my friends. I just picture hundreds of little fairy wings aglow above my bed. And who doesn't want to smile at the thought of that? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">How I would like to look if I were a ballet teacher.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">A portrait of the Parisian child all grown up, visiting the city. </span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zko1V9KlB4c/USzNSgPkChI/AAAAAAAAKd8/TUdyYpy31lw/s1600/tumblr_mi9jq51zff1qgwhwho1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zko1V9KlB4c/USzNSgPkChI/AAAAAAAAKd8/TUdyYpy31lw/s1600/tumblr_mi9jq51zff1qgwhwho1_500.jpg" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This would also be an issue. Because I would want to buy seven pairs so I could wear them every single day. Variety is the spice of life... unless your undies look like this.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">A pixie manifested in human form. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Now that your eyes are so satisfied with daintiness, your ears might be feeling a little deprived. Don't worry. I got that covered for you. </span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Keaton Henson: Lying to You</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I first heard Keaton Henson's song, "Lying to You", and instantly fell head over feels with his vocal cords. So much soul in this fella.</span></div>
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<i><a href="http://www.songmeanings.net/songs/view/3530822107859431557/" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Noted lyrics.</span></a></i></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 19.765625px;">As we lie in bed I feel lonely,</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 19.765625px;">Though we're young, I feel eighty years old.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 19.765625px;">And your arms around me are keeping me warm.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But baby, I'm still feeling cold.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Daughter: Candles</span></b><br />
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Had a special someone send me this song, and it only makes my infatuation with Daughter multiply by a hundo. If Keaton Henson and Daughter were to get together, I would be the happiest girl in the world. The world needs more perfection.</span></div>
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<i><a href="http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/daughter/candles.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Noted lyrics.</span></a></i></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: normal;">Things cannot be reversed, we learn from the times we are cursed</span><br style="border: 0px none; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="line-height: normal;">Things cannot be reversed, learn from the ones we fear the worst</span><br style="border: 0px none; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="line-height: normal;">And learn from the ones we hate the most how to</span><br style="border: 0px none; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><br style="border: 0px none; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="line-height: normal;">Blow out all the candles, blow out all the candles</span><br style="border: 0px none; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="line-height: normal;">"You're too old to be so shy," he says to me so I stay the night.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: normal;"><b>Bloc Party: Intimacy</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Yesterday was a giddy moment indeed, folks. That same special someone sent me a link to these fellas and I just got waves of butterflies once I heard them. Their album, <i>Intimacy</i>, is ridiculous. I could listen to it on repeat for hours. Especially this song. It's so pleasing to my ears, they're just beaming.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: normal;"><b><br /></b></span></span><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/TooEjrCnUWw?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></div>
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<i><a href="http://www.metrolyrics.com/signs-lyrics-bloc-party.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Noted lyrics.</span></a></i></div>
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<span class="line line-s hover" id="line_9" style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #3a598f; display: block; line-height: 15px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 5px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I can sleep forever these days</span></span><span class="line line-s hover" id="line_10" style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #3a598f; display: block; line-height: 15px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 5px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">'Cause in my dreams I see you again</span></span><span class="line line-s hover" id="line_11" style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #3a598f; display: block; line-height: 15px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 5px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But this time fleshed out fuller faced</span></span><span class="line line-s hover" id="line_12" style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #3a598f; display: block; line-height: 15px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 5px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">In your confirmation dress</span></span><span class="line line-s hover" id="line_12" style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #3a598f; display: block; line-height: 15px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 5px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span><span class="line line-s hover" id="line_12" style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #3a598f; display: block; line-height: 15px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 5px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I hope you all feel a tad more dainty.</span></span><span class="line line-s hover" id="line_12" style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #3a598f; display: block; line-height: 15px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 5px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Until next time.</span></span><span class="line line-s hover" id="line_12" style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #3a598f; display: block; line-height: 15px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 5px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span><span class="line line-s hover" id="line_12" style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #3a598f; display: block; line-height: 15px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 5px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">*m</span></span><span style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 15px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"></span></div>
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Mirandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13988714858649923959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2942412361266012264.post-42987164258611287712013-04-09T07:21:00.000-07:002013-04-09T07:21:47.194-07:00My Entirely Realistic, Mind-Numbingly Logical Summer PlansAt this time of the year, somehow my summer always begins to appear as something out of a utopia. My wardrobe transforms into a collection of delicate sundresses, my alarm clock is in the form of the sweet little birdies resting on window sill, and you could find me walking down the beach while strumming away on a guitar (because yes, I picked up an entirely new skill in two weeks). But <i>alas, </i>as much as I relish my summer, these dreams are usually replaced by an obscene amount of sleep, where I roll out of bed and spend a few hours on Sims 3, and then head off to get money, get paid, at my work. Oh, right, yes I see friends too.<br />
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However, this summer is going to be so different. Seriously, I swear. I found some visual images to accompany my deadly serious plans for summer.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bxG4xbD3taE/UV3uHx4qthI/AAAAAAAAKqk/gfd5PpRaBMo/s1600/summerplans2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bxG4xbD3taE/UV3uHx4qthI/AAAAAAAAKqk/gfd5PpRaBMo/s1600/summerplans2.jpg" /></a></div>
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One. I don't know where this is. Nor do I know if it is real (I told you I'm logical). However, I will be there this summer. And I will most definitely be wearing a cowboy hat because how could I not wear one when in the presence of horses and <i>dinosaurs. </i>I would be a fool if I didn't! Summer is a time for exploring your hobbies, yeah? My new hobby is horseback riding with dinosaurs and <i>ohmygod are there people hanging on to that dinosaur's leg? </i>Change of plans. I'm going to ride the dinosaur itself. </div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vUTRyIFrHr0/UV3uIScDGtI/AAAAAAAAKqo/UV1QYfsA6uQ/s1600/summerplans.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vUTRyIFrHr0/UV3uIScDGtI/AAAAAAAAKqo/UV1QYfsA6uQ/s1600/summerplans.jpg" /></a></div>
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Two. Not only would my mum drool at the sight of this filing cabinet (set of drawers?), I would also drool. In fact, I am right now. But I would probably cry if I opened the drawers and they <i>were filled with baby ducks, is this real life? </i>So yes. This summer I fully plan to invest in a few hundred baby duckies and a rustic filing cabinet... and let total joy ensue. </div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hszXnCy8JRM/UV3uIUFwAQI/AAAAAAAAKqs/YRqlQIslMt0/s1600/summerplans3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hszXnCy8JRM/UV3uIUFwAQI/AAAAAAAAKqs/YRqlQIslMt0/s1600/summerplans3.jpg" /></a></div>
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Hai.</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HZHUggx9Fak/UV4e1bUS4YI/AAAAAAAAKrA/S4ZYQa8rcBg/s1600/NOMMY.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HZHUggx9Fak/UV4e1bUS4YI/AAAAAAAAKrA/S4ZYQa8rcBg/s1600/NOMMY.jpg" /></a></div>
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HOLY MOLY! I may have been exaggerating earlier when I said I was drooling over the filing cabinet. That might be a little excessive (but not actually, totally justified). But <i>this. </i>This I can drool over. Avocado on bacon on tomatoes on basil on eggs on toast on SCRUMPTIOUS TIMES. I fully commit to replicating this to a <b><i>tee</i></b> this summer. </div>
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<br />Mirandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13988714858649923959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2942412361266012264.post-69088054217896354982013-02-24T18:12:00.000-08:002013-02-24T18:12:00.190-08:00Bookish Vibes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
One of the most noteworthy perks of falling for a bookworm would have to be the conditional libraries. Think about it. A true bookworm would not live without a library of some variety. Be it a few shelves beneath their bedside table, or an expansive room with bookshelves that stretch from your toes to the ceiling. No kindles, kobos, or iPads storing electronic copies of their literary loves, but whole walls filled with stories waiting to be read. That's how it should be.</div>
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<i><a href="http://freshome.com/2008/02/12/rainbow-bookshelf/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+FreshInspirationForYourHome+%28Freshome.com%29&utm_content=FeedBurner&referrer=LuxeFinds.com" target="_blank">Freshome: </a></i></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-szhHsfzNTRc/USk9dKhd-WI/AAAAAAAAKXs/4Nmh_ELVK_A/s1600/color-bookshelf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-szhHsfzNTRc/USk9dKhd-WI/AAAAAAAAKXs/4Nmh_ELVK_A/s1600/color-bookshelf.jpg" /></a></div>
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OCD + bookworm = meant to be.</div>
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<i><a href="http://www.labohemeblog.com/2012/04/sunday-mornings.html" target="_blank">La Boheme</a></i><br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-djWWnA_-rmk/USk9gDN1zBI/AAAAAAAAKX0/zPDRDIcrx0k/s1600/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-djWWnA_-rmk/USk9gDN1zBI/AAAAAAAAKX0/zPDRDIcrx0k/s1600/1.jpg" /></a></div>
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This is a spot where I would invite three wealthy architects over and have them debate the significance of the bookshelf a whole foot above the others. </div>
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<i><a href="http://pinterest.com/joanischofield/to-read-and-to-hold/" target="_blank">To Read and To Hold:</a></i><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ku9O2AgCttU/USk9gYqYpbI/AAAAAAAAKX8/hoTEWxc4xAY/s1600/dc215e16d40aa106b65db88d5ab8b8ad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ku9O2AgCttU/USk9gYqYpbI/AAAAAAAAKX8/hoTEWxc4xAY/s1600/dc215e16d40aa106b65db88d5ab8b8ad.jpg" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Rj-ntLXqB20/USk9hV0adfI/AAAAAAAAKYE/jdH_joEzf6c/s1600/pinnu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Rj-ntLXqB20/USk9hV0adfI/AAAAAAAAKYE/jdH_joEzf6c/s640/pinnu.jpg" width="458" /></a></div>
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This is a spot where I would sing to my plants and expect them to sing back. And then take out my frustration on the looming canvas in front of me when they don't. </div>
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<i><a href="http://pinterest.com/tout_moi/books-words-authors/" target="_blank">Books, Words, and Authors: </a></i><br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8PqOcAXRMqs/USk9h7lvipI/AAAAAAAAKYM/uEgOMS-0_6E/s1600/pinny.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8PqOcAXRMqs/USk9h7lvipI/AAAAAAAAKYM/uEgOMS-0_6E/s1600/pinny.jpg" /></a></div>
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Ah. This. This is a spot where I would transform into a kitty cat and bask in the sunlight to my heart's content.</div>
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<i><a href="http://bookshelfporn.com/post/5300330198" target="_blank">Bookshelf Porn:</a></i><br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uZ7WkkvVBCU/USk9iuZ_4sI/AAAAAAAAKYU/FNoHqlZSnP0/s1600/tumblr_lktl6g9FoQ1qzupj0o1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uZ7WkkvVBCU/USk9iuZ_4sI/AAAAAAAAKYU/FNoHqlZSnP0/s1600/tumblr_lktl6g9FoQ1qzupj0o1_500.jpg" /></a></div>
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This. This is a spot where I would play the blues on my harmonica and annoy all my neighbours. </div>
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<i><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rejeanpellerin/250740777/in/photostream/#" target="_blank">Flickr:</a></i><br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XCSrIJVQrH8/USk9kG1wnwI/AAAAAAAAKYc/yJKWDibq01U/s1600/tumblr_lnd2waXDoy1qlc7vyo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XCSrIJVQrH8/USk9kG1wnwI/AAAAAAAAKYc/yJKWDibq01U/s1600/tumblr_lnd2waXDoy1qlc7vyo1_500.jpg" /></a></div>
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This. This is a spot where I would have to wear my prom dress whilst reading Tolstoy and having multiple revelations. Perhaps dance down the hallway with my butler as well. </div>
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<i><a href="http://ruemag.tumblr.com/post/20077702024" target="_blank">Rue Mag:</a></i><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pWTwIa2iUGk/USk9lxukG8I/AAAAAAAAKYk/w0IplkGpv6I/s1600/tumblr_m1kni5Qs3m1ql5uppo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pWTwIa2iUGk/USk9lxukG8I/AAAAAAAAKYk/w0IplkGpv6I/s1600/tumblr_m1kni5Qs3m1ql5uppo1_500.jpg" /></a></div>
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This. This is a spot where my math essay would just write itself. </div>
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<i><a href="http://manchannel.co/post/23777906033" target="_blank">Modern Man: </a></i><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-n5-Eb4Z3xDU/USk9mXRC0ZI/AAAAAAAAKYs/fWFajhkYZgE/s1600/tumblr_m4lw38sL3t1qkxah3o1_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-n5-Eb4Z3xDU/USk9mXRC0ZI/AAAAAAAAKYs/fWFajhkYZgE/s1600/tumblr_m4lw38sL3t1qkxah3o1_1280.jpg" /></a></div>
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This. This is a spot where I would feel as though the world was able to be controlled with my mind. John Nash would probably join me and <a href="http://103writers.files.wordpress.com/2010/11/emily-b.jpg" target="_blank">we would draw things on the window together</a> (he wouldn't be doing all the work, I swear).</div>
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I feel as though I should share with you all my newest taste of sophistication in my life. By day he's a business man, but by night, he transforms into a biker with a need for speed. I fell for him immediately. Oh, his name? Such a fool you are, it's a coat. I personify all my clothing obviously. </div>
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How glad am I not to be wearing my puffy parka built for Antarctica and cannot be worn with brown pants otherwise I am the human tree? SO GLAD. YOU HAVE NO IDEA. </div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-d0OBS4rtMYY/USkKpYUGHnI/AAAAAAAAKWQ/SVUIzSi7VwQ/s1600/photo-2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-d0OBS4rtMYY/USkKpYUGHnI/AAAAAAAAKWQ/SVUIzSi7VwQ/s640/photo-2.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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Have a <i>vunderbar </i>Sunday evening (so cultured, I know). </div>
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*m</div>
<br />Mirandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13988714858649923959noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2942412361266012264.post-36172009159258079612013-02-24T09:09:00.000-08:002013-02-24T09:09:02.740-08:00Summer Bikini Temptations<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I remember the first time I fell in love with a swimsuit. It was the summer of '05 and I was in Positano, Italy with le famileh. The sun was setting and the waves were just callin' my name so I pranced on outside with my two younger brothers giggling and dancing behind me and frolicked in the Italian waves for hours (I don't know about you, but I come from a family of cupids clearly). And what else would I be in other than a swimsuit? Well, a wetsuit, yes, or maybe my birthday suit, but both of those options would be bizarre. Why would you even suggest them. I happened to be in a one-piece cherry red and sailor navy blue striped suit, and I felt so European and stylish.<br />
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The second time I fell in love with a swimsuit was in the summer of '09 when I was going on a boating trip with a friend. I managed to transform into a swan every time I went swimming because of the most delicate and dainty bikini I had ever laid eyes on. It was a ruffly, milky white bandeau top and simple white bottoms.<a href="http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lov9v2AiNT1qhkribo1_500.png" target="_blank"> I truly felt like this (Ryan Gosling not included, unfortunately).</a><br />
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And here I am, Spring (Winter?) of '13, falling in love with a bikini all over again.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ljbt4x62Ymk/USpE248HiII/AAAAAAAAKaQ/x8fMm4VCvVE/s1600/hs12_nicola_tbb_back.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ljbt4x62Ymk/USpE248HiII/AAAAAAAAKaQ/x8fMm4VCvVE/s1600/hs12_nicola_tbb_back.jpg" /></a></div>
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Meet the Australian line, <a href="http://www.rittenhouse.com.au/index.php" target="_blank">Rittenhouse</a>, all jazzed up for summer.</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sL193bCH8uI/USpFAa1tYCI/AAAAAAAAKbE/7iJTD3Y1gy8/s1600/hs12_tbb_swim_detail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sL193bCH8uI/USpFAa1tYCI/AAAAAAAAKbE/7iJTD3Y1gy8/s1600/hs12_tbb_swim_detail.jpg" /></a></div>
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Would ya look at this?! So whimsical, I adore it.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDK9h0qCIwfDDQAHtYYr6SQS9NpLwPTztv7LKfKSyCSdk5biO_qpVR3YGaJZCYVqIqHHxs22WXDgIYX85r8sFuDrS-6J7_-xilCxzBPULCru-yLSYYCRdSogyHrD91rLIdjKatkwxj7KQ/s1600/hs12_rws0077_bs_back.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDK9h0qCIwfDDQAHtYYr6SQS9NpLwPTztv7LKfKSyCSdk5biO_qpVR3YGaJZCYVqIqHHxs22WXDgIYX85r8sFuDrS-6J7_-xilCxzBPULCru-yLSYYCRdSogyHrD91rLIdjKatkwxj7KQ/s1600/hs12_rws0077_bs_back.jpg" /></a></div>
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I've always been tempted by one pieces, and this one maintains that little bit of youthfulness with the tied string back. Quite charming, isn't it?</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2K5PEpWdzpY/USpE7KCWvUI/AAAAAAAAKao/NseNUXRqX3k/s1600/hs12_rws0079_bs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2K5PEpWdzpY/USpE7KCWvUI/AAAAAAAAKao/NseNUXRqX3k/s1600/hs12_rws0079_bs.jpg" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5IrPHXwiY5k/USpE6NsoMmI/AAAAAAAAKac/srCZgA_rzo8/s1600/hs12_bs_swim_detail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5IrPHXwiY5k/USpE6NsoMmI/AAAAAAAAKac/srCZgA_rzo8/s1600/hs12_bs_swim_detail.jpg" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4-tc4A7KnUM/USpE2hi0i6I/AAAAAAAAKaM/yxzckzZOulk/s1600/hs12_rws0075_blk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4-tc4A7KnUM/USpE2hi0i6I/AAAAAAAAKaM/yxzckzZOulk/s1600/hs12_rws0075_blk.jpg" /></a></div>
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I feel as though you have to have a certain element of sass with this. It's so minimalist, yet daring.</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dxMNsjTsbP8/USpFB8xmakI/AAAAAAAAKbM/6mDaPDk4whE/s1600/ss12s_11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dxMNsjTsbP8/USpFB8xmakI/AAAAAAAAKbM/6mDaPDk4whE/s1600/ss12s_11.jpg" /></a></div>
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And here's a few clothing pieces I have been flirting with the idea of.</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-33qGnjOski8/USpE9c9DZ3I/AAAAAAAAKa0/1nfDi3wPEQg/s1600/ss12s_17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-33qGnjOski8/USpE9c9DZ3I/AAAAAAAAKa0/1nfDi3wPEQg/s1600/ss12s_17.jpg" /></a></div>
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Like these pants. How bohemian.</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-H17kG_JRRcE/USpE_-z8A_I/AAAAAAAAKa8/J4AFEKPc6HU/s1600/ss12s_18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-H17kG_JRRcE/USpE_-z8A_I/AAAAAAAAKa8/J4AFEKPc6HU/s1600/ss12s_18.jpg" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IEASnwzR9Xw/USpFCFldJLI/AAAAAAAAKbU/g2ZPP0XP8Cg/s1600/ss12s_38.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IEASnwzR9Xw/USpFCFldJLI/AAAAAAAAKbU/g2ZPP0XP8Cg/s1600/ss12s_38.jpg" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-16sV3KXhGU8/USpFC2hr4HI/AAAAAAAAKbc/SZ286YDanNE/s1600/ss12s_57.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-16sV3KXhGU8/USpFC2hr4HI/AAAAAAAAKbc/SZ286YDanNE/s1600/ss12s_57.jpg" /></a></div>
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Currently, I'm hanging out in the executive class lounge in the airport. My ticket randomly upgraded, and I <b>wasn't about to complain, guys. </b>This place is awesome. I'll be walking out buddy buddy with a few of the wealthy business suit clad men any minute now, and be discreetly stuffing my pockets with as many of these croissants as possible.</div>
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*m</div>
Mirandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13988714858649923959noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2942412361266012264.post-29626109700226119102013-02-23T15:52:00.000-08:002013-02-23T15:52:00.312-08:00Breakfast, We Have Good Times<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Banana oat pancakes this morning and if I do say so myself, they were made <i>perfectly. </i>My mother was pleasantly surprised when I made them for her. Please note the bb pancakes. Gotta thank <a href="http://mylittlecelebration.com/vegan-banana-oat-pancakes-revisited/" target="_blank">My Little Celebration</a> for the recipe. She is a real life wizard. Also, let's be honest, her photos are far superior (damn you, iPhone).</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DZtvU97VA04/USKa_Z4NHkI/AAAAAAAAKKY/tpoIUUa6id0/s1600/13+-+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DZtvU97VA04/USKa_Z4NHkI/AAAAAAAAKKY/tpoIUUa6id0/s640/13+-+5.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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And then this, below, is a scrumptious crepe made with buckwheat flour, or in my brother's lingo, dirt flour. Don't let that fool you, it was delicious.</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yDfo9GeZeGU/USKa1-WvAyI/AAAAAAAAKJw/fcFQx4p-gWI/s1600/13+-+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yDfo9GeZeGU/USKa1-WvAyI/AAAAAAAAKJw/fcFQx4p-gWI/s1600/13+-+2.jpg" /></a></div>
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Beautiful instagram photo by my dear friend. It was a good morning.</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1QbizW9xeYY/USVhnxjP5pI/AAAAAAAAKTA/uKBf-MT1J2s/s1600/photo.PNG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1QbizW9xeYY/USVhnxjP5pI/AAAAAAAAKTA/uKBf-MT1J2s/s1600/photo.PNG.jpg" /></a></div>
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Okay, let's see better lookin' food below. I'm warning you. The pictures I'm about to show you are little vixens of salty or sweet goodness... but, hey, it's the personality that matters, right! I can assure you my cooking is just bursting with personality and ambition and wit (why I decided to turn my cooking into some sort of eligible suitor is beyond me, it's morning, forgive me). </div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PITl0AX19bM/USkJK-_mJVI/AAAAAAAAKVA/5VAf_GgICyE/s1600/foodporn2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PITl0AX19bM/USkJK-_mJVI/AAAAAAAAKVA/5VAf_GgICyE/s1600/foodporn2.jpg" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GHxS_6rvlVk/USkKIRcUsPI/AAAAAAAAKVw/4uTA6PK41Pg/s1600/foodporn8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GHxS_6rvlVk/USkKIRcUsPI/AAAAAAAAKVw/4uTA6PK41Pg/s1600/foodporn8.jpg" /></a></div>
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Check my tumblr for credits. </div>
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Cheerio, chaps. Enjoy your Saturday.</div>
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Mirandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13988714858649923959noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2942412361266012264.post-90306755977776789222013-02-22T10:08:00.000-08:002013-02-22T10:08:00.167-08:00The Issue of Sleepover Attire<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LHfBbqaSjaI/USUQtt18q-I/AAAAAAAAKRU/Rqh_3WyVfw8/s1600/grease_sleepover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LHfBbqaSjaI/USUQtt18q-I/AAAAAAAAKRU/Rqh_3WyVfw8/s1600/grease_sleepover.jpg" /></a></div>
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If you have
ever organized a night dedicated to girlish giggles and (not-so) scandalous
secrets, otherwise known as a sleepover, the pajamas you throw on every night
are no longer a matter of comfort. As much as we would like our friends to
believe that we wake up with bouncing curls in our hair, perfected eyebrows,
and shimmering eyelids, that illusion is about to shatter to pieces when you
emerge from the bathroom in a three year old summer camp t-shirt, and a pair of
sweats that are appearing more like shrunken bell bottoms everyday. So what
realistic options do you have? Are you doomed to a broken social life after a single
sleepover? No, no, no. Don’t think like that. Consider your choices.</div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]-->1. Silk, baby-blue lingerie with fuzzy faux-fur
slippers.<br />
Oh, you vixen, you! There are two perks to this
choice. One, you’re a real-life dream come true to all the men who still
believe that sleepovers consist of pillow fights in nighties, rather than three
sobbing girls reciting the lines of the Notebook together. Two, you may be able
to convince your friends that the <i>reason</i>
you’re nonchalantly wearing lingerie to a sleepover is quite simply because of
the endless number of occasions in your life that call for such attire. I mean,
look outside, your suitors are lined up around the block.<br />
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2. A classic, cow-print onesie.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Any other print will do, really. The beauty of
onesies is that they don’t sacrifice comfort at all. In fact, they kind of
define comfort. You’re covered head to toe in a blanket and can technically
call it a pair of pajamas. Praise the onesie! <o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;"> </span><!--[endif]-->I should warn you though. Onesies do not bode
well in the heat. What, it’s still hilarious? No. Resist. Nothing is more
painful than facing the sweaty reality that the stench intruding the room is
thanks to your piggy onesie. Irony at its finest. <o:p></o:p><br />
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3. Matching
sets!<o:p></o:p></div>
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Ah, the matching pajama sets. It’s what your
mother forced you to wear until you got your first concert t-shirt, and
subsequently rebelled against her fascist wardrobe demands to sleep in the much
preferred Avril Lavigne shirt instead. I just hope you didn’t make the mistake
of wearing a tie over your t-shirt too (Avril-swag failed miserably for me). <o:p></o:p></div>
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Despite the bad rep matching sets had when you
were younger, let’s get over our angst and admit it – that shit was
comfortable. It’s usually some ridiculously soft material, while covered in a
rather cheerful or humorous print. My personal favourite is covered in cupcakes
and as nauseating as I may look to the average sleepover attendee, nothing can
penetrate my bubble of happiness.<br />
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4. Your birthday suit!</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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If all else fails, you can go nude. Minimalist,
understated, elegant. Also you will really freak out your guests and might get
your spot on the couch back.<o:p></o:p></div>
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*m<br />
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<!--EndFragment-->Mirandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13988714858649923959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2942412361266012264.post-26552999323039336122013-02-20T09:56:00.003-08:002013-02-20T09:56:55.359-08:00Deer Scouts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Oh, little deer friends on each side of a collar. Could there be any more en"deer"ing collars? <strike>I haven't made that pun before.</strike> I've come across a lot of collars that are just too agressive to wear. Let's be honest, it's a collar. A collar is associated with little puppies, isn't it? At least that's how I like to imagine them. I don't feel particularly in the mood, ever, to wear leather collars with studs and/or statement bullets lacing the edges. But das just me.</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-E4ETahdcpyQ/USRyXepoEgI/AAAAAAAAKNk/3Af06895XFY/s1600/deer2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-E4ETahdcpyQ/USRyXepoEgI/AAAAAAAAKNk/3Af06895XFY/s640/deer2.JPG" width="512" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP3BYY1k4Kneb4bn7FtDyR4JVnmraonZYQLlAJcGZwprBUa3s4qd9KxJbzUWVY6CW0TJxrI8NWlwuc02s6HSmDRtZ6PRPLjdf-I9VJJUKQNYGIcMHG3itrxl-tqZvCi4MAG2aXtSWP4qA/s1600/deer4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP3BYY1k4Kneb4bn7FtDyR4JVnmraonZYQLlAJcGZwprBUa3s4qd9KxJbzUWVY6CW0TJxrI8NWlwuc02s6HSmDRtZ6PRPLjdf-I9VJJUKQNYGIcMHG3itrxl-tqZvCi4MAG2aXtSWP4qA/s640/deer4.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cHOLoAM-CHc/USRyYMGCUAI/AAAAAAAAKN8/1SCLlYVaINE/s1600/deer6.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cHOLoAM-CHc/USRyYMGCUAI/AAAAAAAAKN8/1SCLlYVaINE/s640/deer6.JPG" width="512" /></a></div>
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Camp fire scarf! Please, please, please. I used to be a brownie <strike>so that I could wear those adorable pink shirts</strike>, I deserve this. </div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TK0KwSfY8jo/USUNljJIaEI/AAAAAAAAKP4/VTmQ0piPC-E/s1600/deer7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TK0KwSfY8jo/USUNljJIaEI/AAAAAAAAKP4/VTmQ0piPC-E/s640/deer7.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aLuiKt2drb0/USRyX5wfXzI/AAAAAAAAKOA/81UZ3l0DUxc/s1600/deer5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aLuiKt2drb0/USRyX5wfXzI/AAAAAAAAKOA/81UZ3l0DUxc/s640/deer5.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Courtesy of <i><a href="http://bookofdeer.com/" target="_blank">Book of Deer</a></i>, most charming online shopfront I've come across in a while.<br />
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*mMirandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13988714858649923959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2942412361266012264.post-56915341155659824152013-02-06T17:28:00.000-08:002013-02-06T17:28:10.415-08:00Total & Utter RandomnessCheck out my updated tumblr <a href="http://www.rabbitearz.tumblr.com/" target="_blank">theme</a>. Finally found one that, like, totally <i>speaks </i>to me, you know?<br />
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Playlists I've been enjoying for getting in the mood (to study).<br />
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Also.</div>
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The majority of my free time has been spent on <a href="https://pinterest.com/mirandab17/" target="_blank">Pinterest</a>. </div>
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Or tumblr.</div>
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*m</div>
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Mirandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13988714858649923959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2942412361266012264.post-89705315491751196902013-01-24T13:08:00.000-08:002013-01-24T13:08:00.542-08:00Our Love Affair With Google<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--4AIql3bAJA/UP2vMQITezI/AAAAAAAAJ-8/-pzcHwdHloI/s1600/Screen+Shot+2013-01-21+at+4.11.15+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--4AIql3bAJA/UP2vMQITezI/AAAAAAAAJ-8/-pzcHwdHloI/s1600/Screen+Shot+2013-01-21+at+4.11.15+PM.png" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12px;">I can safely say that 67 per cent of people have Googled themselves. I can also safely say that 83 per cent of statistics are made up. Tough to believe what we find on the Internet, isn’t it?</span></div>
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Either way, Googling our own names remains an inevitable Internet journey we all travel through at one point or another. And even though it seems to be a fad most of us went through when our Neopets were still our big responsibility, the allure of discovering who you are in the eyes of the collective world hasn’t disappeared. Once we grow a little bit older, when angst is our beloved middle name and voice cracks appear in the most socially convenient of times, our lives become even more centred around the Internet. You know, when we’re <em style="border: 0px; font-size: 12px; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">finding</em> ourselves. We spend our days looking deep inside our souls and pulling out the unexplored wisdom that accompanies maniacally trolling our newly formed YouTube account.</div>
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Googling your own name is almost akin to finding someone else’s diary. It’s you, but from an objective view of the <em style="border: 0px; font-size: 12px; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">world.</em><em style="border: 0px; font-size: 12px; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"> </em>You see yourself as simply a name, a profile, and it suddenly clicks how small you are. There is a certain intrigue as to who you will find. Suddenly, you’re no longer John Smith, but <em style="border: 0px; font-size: 12px; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">John Smith,</em><em style="border: 0px; font-size: 12px; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"> </em>track team member in Grade 6 and the proud owner of the most thumbed up comment on Rihanna’s “Love the Way You Lie” music video.</div>
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Does this imply we are a vain society? All eager to snatch a little pocket of fame, even if that entails a Blogger profile abandoned years ago? No; it’s human curiosity. We want to see ourselves as others do. It’s smart. We want to see ourselves as our potential employers will. It’s hilarious. We want to see how many alleged criminals share our names on the FBI wanted list. It’s natural.</div>
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Yet it’s also natural for people <em style="border: 0px; font-size: 12px; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">other </em>than your procrastinating ego to type your name into the mother of all information known as Google. It’s this very fact we have to be cautious of, and is precisely the reason I just signed up for a Google Alert with my name on it. Every time my name is searched, I will be notified. And that’s either a whole new level of vanity or absurd paranoia, but I suggest you do the same, fellow cyberspace civilians.</div>
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Despite the creepers lurking behind the screens around the world (and apparently anyone who has looked through someone else’s photos on Facebook qualifies for the endearing term “creeper”), the Internet is a place of endless discovery, perhaps even nostalgia. A few months ago, I stumbled across my old Neopets account, which reminded/guilt-tripped me about the fact that I had left this virtual little pet without food for 3627 days. No wonder eight-year-old me was so addicted, seeing this creature’s eyes tearing up, begging me to come back and play. This was a game of serious responsibility!</div>
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A friend of mine entered his name into Google only to find a website which looked to be <em style="border: 0px; font-size: 12px; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">dedicated</em><em style="border: 0px; font-size: 12px; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"> </em>to him, as if he came across a personal shrine created by his oh-so-devout fans commending his piano expertise. It was entitled <em style="border: 0px; font-size: 12px; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">The Piano Sensation,</em><em style="border: 0px; font-size: 12px; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"> </em>but not targeted towards my buddy over here. Just another guy who made a website for himself praising his piano skills (if that’s not sad, I don’t know what is).</div>
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I, for one, share my name with what seems to be hundreds of middle-aged women in Ohio. A fascinating lurk, I know. Others have such unique names that they are really the only ones who come up – the one and only in a vast world of Internet fame.</div>
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It remains a source of intrigue for everyone. Some are left feeling sufficiently creeped out after finding their name inserted into a foreign blog entry, others feel a little ashamed that they only appear once for participating in their school’s annual bake sale, and most feel a little bit smaller than before.</div>
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The power of Google has literally overtaken the world. We may think of the internet as being an invincible creature, holding our secrets as its own, laughing with us while we watch the panda sneezing for the thirtieth time, patting our back while we read a surprisingly tear-jerking chain email (grandparents always have a knack for those). But in reality (please stop reading if you’re morbidly afraid of the Internet already) it’s as if Google is glaring at us at all times. <em style="border: 0px; font-size: 12px; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Really? </em>It rolls its eyes. <em style="border: 0px; font-size: 12px; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">You’re checking how to spell “definitely” for the third time today? Do you honestly think the baby with the bellowing laugh is this funny?</em><em style="border: 0px; font-size: 12px; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"></em></div>
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I’ve essentially come to view the Internet as a cynical, bitter creature before me, who probably views me as a sporadic, ADD-prone maniac. But hey, at the end of the day, we are their masters. The Internet is our very own tool for success. It doesn’t have a brain.</div>
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…at least for now.<br />
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Mirandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13988714858649923959noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2942412361266012264.post-73161563544195644652013-01-23T18:25:00.000-08:002013-01-23T18:25:00.468-08:00Words of Wisdom Wednesday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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*m</div>
<br />Mirandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13988714858649923959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2942412361266012264.post-41747141688169447832013-01-20T18:15:00.000-08:002013-01-20T18:15:00.582-08:00The "Decor-Whore" Shares Some HappinessTumblr is not only a place of angsty words spilling from the mouths of privileged teens, or incessant photos of naked women in distinctively awkward poses. It is a land of gems, just hidden gems. Hence why I still have a tumblr, even after slamming my head into my keyboard about four times whenever I scroll through and see yet another girl in a flannel shirt, holding a coffee cup, with the caption, "I just need somebody to love." YOU WON'T FIND SAID PERSON ON TUMBLR.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Well, actually, true story, a girl I knew in high school did in fact find <i>somebody to love </i>in this bizarre world. They're still together, too. Makes for an interesting, "And how did you two meet?" story. But this is beside the point. </span><br />
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Recently, I wandered into quite a hidden treasure trove actually. Please don't dismiss this tumblr based on its name. Each interior is <i>quality stuff. </i>So this is to you, decor whore, and all your wonderful choices in life.<br />
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(I feel as though I should make this a running series. The hidden gems of tumblr. It's tough to find, but when you do find them, it is so worth it.)<br />
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The high ceilings are almost reminiscent of a studio, especially with them sleek appliances. But then we can see the farm-house details making an appearance, whether through the statement door at the end of the kitchen, or the paneled cupboards. The implicit contrast is endlessly pleasing. </div>
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There's man caves, and then there's lady caves. This is an example. </div>
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This is the cheeriest kitchen I've seen in a long time. Perhaps it's because of that adorable dog staring longingly into my eyes, or perhaps it's because they combined the two most pep-me-up colours known to the human eye: sunshine yellow and happy skies blue. </div>
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Edwsf-8F3sI" target="_blank">what's up, buble</a></div>
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A pleasant mixture of rustic and minimalist elements (aka my favourite mixture ever), and I think it was a particularly smart move to adopt the minimalist shelf against the window rather than an aged wooden one. The light coming in is left nice and pure.</div>
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Living small - fairly sure that's a washing machine or dryer. Economical! Or just a dishwasher, which may be more probable. But hey, regardless, this kitchen makes me think of baking cupcakes. Fresh, girly, retro times. </div>
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Ah, sometimes light is the only thing you need in a room. It's just a blanket of happiness. I would feel so <i>zen </i>in this room, and that is not a word I regularly use (for good reason, don't wanna be the girl that always comments on the zen qualities in her life... how many people actually know what zen really means anyhow?).</div>
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An aga! I grew up with an aga. Reactions are always very perplexed as to what this odd, often colourful cube structure is doing in the kitchen. Is it... a dishwasher? Are those... cabinets? And then you take out a perfectly cooked turkey and their minds are blown. And <i>omgthatwallpaper. </i>Could it be any more adorable? NO. The answer is no. I'm fairly sure I would spend at least five minutes a day just taking in how pretty it looks. </div>
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So much to look at without feeling bombarded by details. This floor is begging to have slippered feet slide across it. Doesn't this table just look like it would facilitate such artistic conversations? A clan of sculptors each making their way into the big league. </div>
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Has anyone seen Tangled? Please don't judge me... but it was a fandiddlytastic movie. Anyway, this room is reminiscent of a modern version of the tower she was locked away in. Surprisingly full of light, with vines creeping in and potted plants. Either way, I would not mind being banished away into a room as cheerful as this. </div>
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*m</div>
<br />Mirandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13988714858649923959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2942412361266012264.post-81383963656920244952013-01-16T13:57:00.000-08:002013-01-16T13:57:00.262-08:00January's PressuresI think of all the months, January very well may have it the hardest.<br />
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Just around the corner of New Year's ecstasy lies the first of January, gleaming in the light of a fresh start. She's dressed in garments of hope, and ambition, wearing a beret made up of future artistic endeavours, and peers through sunglasses moulded with confidence. We practically knock her over when saying hello, bursting with anticipation as we shake the hands of a new year. We begin to recite to her the dreams of 2013, and she smiles and nods and agrees with our aspirations. After all, how could she deny us this giddy desire for a whole year's worth of days? The first of January is no stranger to such greetings, as it comes every year without fail. Whether we publicize our greeting with her or not, everyone has the same twinkling wish in the backs of our minds for the best year yet.<br />
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Then we meet up with January 15th.<br />
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How are the daily runs going? January 1st told me all about them. Sounds really great. You mean you didn't actually get up every morning at 7 to go for a jog? You know what, that's cool. At least you go three times a week? O-oh, well once a week is really good too! Oh, <i>no </i>times a week? I guess you can't succeed in all of your resolutions. I'm sure your school work is going swimmingly then. No? Have you been keeping up with the readings? Have you dedicated an hour to blogging everyday? Have you made sure to line up a summer internship yet? No? NO?<br />
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WELL THEN. I GUESS YOU FAIL.<br />
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January 15th pretends to be sympathetic, but we all know she's a judgemental bastard. You came to January 1st with such ambition and innocence, and now you're slowly admitting defeat to every day after. But hey! Wipe those hypothetical tears away! Go back into your closet and grab those hypothetical garments of hope and ambition and all that jazz! Snatch those glasses moulded with confidence that are gathering dust and put 'em on with pride! I challenge you to face up to one of your New Year's resolutions for today and push that condescending reminder of your procrastination to the very back of your mind. Put it out of the way. January, as hyped up as it is with new dreams and rules, is just another month to try and be your very best. Every month should be greeted with such anticipation. Every <i>day </i>should be greeted with just as much excitement.<br />
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Now let's just take a moment to reflect on the corniest motivational speaker post ever (this is really all a way to take a break from calculus).<br />
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I'm starting afresh as promised and will deliver you a post of goodies! January 1st is back!<br />
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That is all, lovelies. I'm off to fetch a pita.</div>
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*m</div>
Mirandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13988714858649923959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2942412361266012264.post-87781068440891308362013-01-15T20:21:00.003-08:002013-01-15T20:22:09.706-08:00Slumpy Slump SlumpThere's a reason people fall into slumps. Slumps are damn comfortable. The slope of the hill running along the curve of your back, like a hammock... who wants to get up? Slumps along the journey are too tempting.<br />
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...but I've been chilling in said slump for far too long.<br />
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I'm back.<br />
Hallo.<br />
Greetings.<br />
Hope life has been swell.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--LW86A7lp0I/UPYqTcPs7QI/AAAAAAAAJ4k/gAD28oFgEZI/s1600/entrance2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--LW86A7lp0I/UPYqTcPs7QI/AAAAAAAAJ4k/gAD28oFgEZI/s1600/entrance2.jpg" /></a></div>
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My hypothetical return will be in either of these dresses, please and thank you. </div>
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Or I might play it cool and sneak back in without you noticing. Well, I hope you notice my hypothetical Great Gatsby sweater, but aside from that, yes, sleuth entrances are my<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> fort<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">é. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">Cheerio.</span></span></div>
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<br />Mirandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13988714858649923959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2942412361266012264.post-10841157362745771032012-12-13T07:27:00.002-08:002012-12-13T14:12:49.205-08:00Mellowed Out Techno<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MI_U-NBELlU/UMn0sQle70I/AAAAAAAAJuo/xr0WbumFTUg/s1600/img-chet-faker_170044383239.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="528" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MI_U-NBELlU/UMn0sQle70I/AAAAAAAAJuo/xr0WbumFTUg/s640/img-chet-faker_170044383239.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i><a href="http://www.interviewmagazine.com/" target="_blank">Interview Magazine</a></i></div>
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Really feeling this music. So glad I stumbled upon this fella while I head into a day of non-stop studying. Other than to feed the necessities I experience as a human (geekiest way of saying other than when i'm a <i>hungry, hungry hippo!</i> - yes, I speak as if I'm a kindergarden teacher).<br />
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Ladies and gentleman, the aching, crooning, and damn smooth Chet Faker. His voice is laced with heart break, and each of his tracks falls into this mellowed out electronic vibe that I can't get enough of.<br />
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<a href="http://chetfaker.com/" target="_blank">Become a little bit cooler by being in the presence of his musical godliness.</a><br />
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Chet was elaborating on what drove his inspiration in an interview for, well this is perfect, <i><a href="http://www.interviewmagazine.com/" target="_blank">Interview Magazine</a></i>, and he mentioned that it was a medley of his parents' taste in music. If that were true for me, I'd be listening to a Leonard Cohen and Bruce Springsteen combo. Don't know how well that'd work out for me. The snippet of the interview is <a href="http://www.interviewmagazine.com/music/discovery-chet-faker" target="_blank">here</a>:<br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #393939; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">WHEN MOTOWN MEETS MINIMALIST HOUSE MUSIC: I was lucky, my parents had really different tastes in music. My mum was listening to a lot of Motown. I think the most played record in our house was</span><em style="background-color: white; color: #393939; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;"> </em><span style="background-color: white; color: #393939; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">the </span><em style="background-color: white; color: #393939; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">Big Chill </em><span style="background-color: white; color: #393939; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">Soundtrac</span><em style="background-color: white; color: #393939; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">k—</em><span style="background-color: white; color: #393939; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">so Smokey Robinson, Aretha Franklin, the Temptations, Otis Redding. I think that's where I got my love for a good hook, a good soul hook—really smooth and warm and from the heart. And then my dad would listen to the chilled out Ibiza CDs; all that super down tempo female vocal kind of stuff. It's like my parents' musical tastes are the mother and father of my music. [</span><em style="background-color: white; color: #393939; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">laughs</em><span style="background-color: white; color: #393939; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">] It's their fault for making me so emotional and in tune with my emotions!</span></span></blockquote>
Chet actually calls his name an <i>ode </i>to Chet Baker,<br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #393939; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">He had this really fragile vocal style—this really, broken, close-up and intimate style. The name is kind of just an ode to Chet Baker and the mood of music he used to play—something I would like to at least attempt to play homage to in my own music. </span> </span></blockquote>
Ya did good, Chet. Ya did good. Here's the fellow he's talking about. Lots of soul.<br />
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And on a side note, before I embark on my glorious studies, I have a three line story to tell you.<br />
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'Twas not Christmas Eve, but the eve of exam week, and young men and women alike were gathered round a gingerbread house. I envisioned windows trimmed with icing and gum drops galore, and I shouted out with glee, "Let us create a rustic house, for our gingerbread family!"<br />
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...two young men from across the room greet my idea with blank, soulless faces: "What is rustic?"<br />
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AND MY STORY IS OVER! HOW CAN THIS BE?<br />
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I shall elaborate on the beauty of rustic homes in my next post. But first, studying (sorry, my textbooks are gettin' their bitch face on).Mirandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13988714858649923959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2942412361266012264.post-81006437639547672132012-12-07T07:28:00.002-08:002012-12-13T20:54:38.797-08:00Where I Would Like to be Studying Right Now<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Exams are burying young men and women around the world. Frantic, dazed, sleepless youth are wandering in and out of libraries, coffee shops, basements of their dorms.</div>
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I am one of them.</div>
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*insert dramatic music*</div>
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And now, on my study breaks, my eyes have become trained to focus in on books or computers or desks or anything else in resemblance of my setting of the last few days. Some of my favourites.</div>
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(This is really all just an excuse to show books in rooms looking adorable.)</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9uOKZyxd1ls/UL_T3VLeS8I/AAAAAAAAJk0/fhWgYoAfReA/s1600/booksandshtuff5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9uOKZyxd1ls/UL_T3VLeS8I/AAAAAAAAJk0/fhWgYoAfReA/s1600/booksandshtuff5.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">(<a href="http://www.desiretoinspire.net/blog/2012/11/29/idha-lindhag-favourites.html" target="_blank">Desire to Inspire</a>)</span></div>
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For some reason, I always associate a fashion editor or photographer dwelling in this room. Most likely in some dramatically upscale outfit in bursts of colour, casually flipping through a magazine, or running her fingers down the spines of the impressively monochromatic book collection.</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LPNUGX5bd80/UL_T5TBNKoI/AAAAAAAAJlM/JM0d-fDDAOQ/s1600/booksnadshtuff1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LPNUGX5bd80/UL_T5TBNKoI/AAAAAAAAJlM/JM0d-fDDAOQ/s1600/booksnadshtuff1.jpg" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://gallery.airows.com/post/36911414951" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: x-small;">(Airows)</span></a></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DIXttRMoO2c/UMFvL7Jev6I/AAAAAAAAJmI/oXowi3svxUE/s1600/booksandshtuff7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DIXttRMoO2c/UMFvL7Jev6I/AAAAAAAAJmI/oXowi3svxUE/s1600/booksandshtuff7.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://www.housetohome.co.uk/room-idea/picture/5-clever-ideas-for-home-offices/4" target="_blank">(House to Home UK)</a></span></div>
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Ah, it's a dangerous ting indeed to have two vintage suitcases right in view whilst studying.</div>
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1. I would muse about couples eloping in the fifties, rebelling against society with the thrill of adventure fuelling their journey.</div>
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2. I would dream about flying home in a creamy trenchcoat and robin's egg blue oxford shoes to match my trunk.</div>
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3. Well, I would literally leave.</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-d8uJpgDsDwk/UMFvMTktr7I/AAAAAAAAJmQ/-aome4X0XuQ/s1600/booksandshtuff8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-d8uJpgDsDwk/UMFvMTktr7I/AAAAAAAAJmQ/-aome4X0XuQ/s1600/booksandshtuff8.jpg" /></a></div>
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(<a href="http://www.bloodandchampagne.com/" target="_blank">Blood and Champagne</a>, aka the sweetest site I have found in a very long time)</div>
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Scrolling down past this image made my eyes widen like I just saw Santa Claus. That wood, is gorgeous. It reminds me of caramel macchiatos and Christmas fireplaces. And at the same time, I love how mysterious I would appear to any guests if they asked what I kept in there and I would simply reply, "I can't go into that right now." </div>
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I like to think of myself as quite the enigma, as you can see (this may or may not be true<strike>, most likely not</strike>).</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3D2OOMaR658/UMFvM73vEuI/AAAAAAAAJmU/rXq9yN4Ytl8/s1600/booksandshtuff9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3D2OOMaR658/UMFvM73vEuI/AAAAAAAAJmU/rXq9yN4Ytl8/s1600/booksandshtuff9.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">(<a href="http://www.myparadissi.com/" target="_blank">My Paradissi</a>, via <a href="http://pinterest.com/velvetsky/interior-inspirations/" target="_blank">Interior Inspirations</a>)</span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xa5DF7NOsqk/UMFvNIu-xKI/AAAAAAAAJmc/Tzivr_VXy7o/s1600/booksandshutff10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xa5DF7NOsqk/UMFvNIu-xKI/AAAAAAAAJmc/Tzivr_VXy7o/s1600/booksandshutff10.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://pinterest.com/velvetsky/interior-inspirations/" target="_blank">(Interior Inspirations)</a></span></div>
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The good ol' days. It's weird to me that I can actually say that without it being laughably near to my age now. Reminds me of when I was nine or so and said, "Well I remember when I was young..." and the small party of adults near me roared with laughter to my sincere confusion.</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sxAlVKpFBs4/UMFvNg9iNMI/AAAAAAAAJmk/RV1BfpxHMTU/s1600/booksandshutff11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sxAlVKpFBs4/UMFvNg9iNMI/AAAAAAAAJmk/RV1BfpxHMTU/s1600/booksandshutff11.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://thedesignfiles.net/2012/10/melbourne-home-georgie-and-alex-cleary-of-alpha60/" target="_blank">(Design Files)</a></span></div>
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DAMN STRAIGHT, do I enjoy <a href="http://thedesignfiles.net/2012/10/melbourne-home-georgie-and-alex-cleary-of-alpha60/" target="_blank">this office</a> or what. If I walked into this office, I would immediately expect to be meeting with someone with a hell of a lotta swag and I may not want to leave their presence in the hopes of sneaking some. Or at the very least attempt to steal one of those sweet ceramic white legs to place, very randomly, into my dorm. </div>
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<br />Mirandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13988714858649923959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2942412361266012264.post-57192873871307015302012-12-05T06:37:00.000-08:002012-12-05T06:37:31.584-08:00A Moment<div style="text-align: center;">
Can we also stop for a moment and declare our mutual longing for this adorable little fellow to be gracing the countertops of kitchens universally wide? Yes. Thank you for that moment of silence in awe of his charm.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vn3xw8ZOLqM/ULhZkoHC9yI/AAAAAAAAJho/Fdf8uhXhMz4/s1600/creaturesandcritters5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vn3xw8ZOLqM/ULhZkoHC9yI/AAAAAAAAJho/Fdf8uhXhMz4/s1600/creaturesandcritters5.jpg" /></a></div>
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<i><a href="http://www.anthropologie.com/anthro/product/home-new/25806852.jsp" target="_blank">Anthropologie</a></i></div>
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*m</div>
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Mirandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13988714858649923959noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2942412361266012264.post-69842502305795883722012-12-02T10:54:00.000-08:002012-12-02T19:41:26.490-08:00Starry Lights <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
It's always interesting to me to see how people embrace the holidays. Some opt for the minimalist decor, a star here and there, christmas lights strewn across a table, maybe a single reindeer proudly standing next to the salt and pepper shakers. Others take these 25 days as something of a challenge to channel as much Christmas spirit into their home as possible. The whole tribe of Santa's reindeers dangling from a chandelier, cookie jars with a smitten elf tempting you to reach in and grab one of grandma's freshly baked shortbread cookies, a wreath dominating their door, a toy store of plush creatures from Santa Claus' team suddenly occupying every seat in the house.</div>
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Whether you're on one end of the spectrum or contentedly in the middle, I can't deny how happy it makes me to see elves as a socially accepted addition to everyone's home. </div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Topc1rX5DoU/ULf7Hw157iI/AAAAAAAAJgA/yfymaYp21JE/s1600/christmaspartiez.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Topc1rX5DoU/ULf7Hw157iI/AAAAAAAAJgA/yfymaYp21JE/s1600/christmaspartiez.jpg" /></a></div>
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The <a href="http://lamaisondannag.blogspot.ca/search?updated-max=2011-12-01T23:48:00%2B01:00&amp;max-results=7&amp;start=89&amp;by-date=false" target="_blank">naturalistic decorator</a> keeps things simple with the elegance of frosted pinecones and lacey stars sprinkled across their home. Candles are a welcome addition as well, but not too many, as their house is most likely built off of an abundance of wood.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigB95h2T-zM9IxiFgmTOCLkaMEQwum_8Hhbc5_nbyl_4rjtdq5hycHtGjlqw0JwUDd8XBnOpfe49Iju94RC5r71KrGRqJ4cD3Iffzh5-ZHh4Xh2MQh3n01tcIubmR9BaSSuBn-QzNUBeY/s1600/christmaspartiez2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigB95h2T-zM9IxiFgmTOCLkaMEQwum_8Hhbc5_nbyl_4rjtdq5hycHtGjlqw0JwUDd8XBnOpfe49Iju94RC5r71KrGRqJ4cD3Iffzh5-ZHh4Xh2MQh3n01tcIubmR9BaSSuBn-QzNUBeY/s1600/christmaspartiez2.jpg" /></a></div>
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The <a href="http://lamaisondannag.blogspot.ca/2010/12/un-noel-royal.html" target="_blank">"christmas-all-year" decorator</a> never quite lets go of the cheer and jolly spirits that pervade homes during December. She prefers to keep the cranberry accents and twinkling christmas balls as a reminder of the importance of generosity, and very well may end up tricking children and adults alike that she is in fact related to Santa Claus.</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zNxmi-8QJyg/ULf7JC1g8OI/AAAAAAAAJgQ/mBuEMTzi_LY/s1600/christmaspartiez3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zNxmi-8QJyg/ULf7JC1g8OI/AAAAAAAAJgQ/mBuEMTzi_LY/s1600/christmaspartiez3.jpg" /></a></div>
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The <a href="http://ellasinspiration.se/2012/october/nu-ar-det-jul-igen.html" target="_blank">starry light decorator</a> keeps much of her home the same, but adds an absolutely whimsical effect in the form of lights dangling from anywhere she can manage to find an outlet. Suddenly her whole house is draped with the milky way and her feet become ever so lighter.</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ok_InvKI8Gk/ULf7JmjtqAI/AAAAAAAAJgY/an5up30m4jU/s1600/christmaspartiez4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ok_InvKI8Gk/ULf7JmjtqAI/AAAAAAAAJgY/an5up30m4jU/s1600/christmaspartiez4.jpg" /></a></div>
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Ah, <a href="http://lamaisondannag.blogspot.ca/search/label/No%C3%ABl?updated-max=2010-12-13T11:10:00%2B01:00&max-results=20&start=22&by-date=false" target="_blank">the eclectic decorator</a>. The perfect home for entertaining as the combination of vintage St. Nicholas postcards, delicate strings of golden lights, and the seemingly never ending glasses of wine contribute to quite the party. </div>
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The <a href="http://www.desiretoinspire.net/blog/2012/7/5/from-lithuania.html" target="_blank">naturalistic decorator's sister </a>is more adept to adding in the touches of the outside wintery world with quite the luxurious pieces as well. She considers herself the Narnia decorator, where a tree stump is balanced with a minimalistic stool, and collected tree branches are in juxtaposition with white cylindrical spot lights. It's like the forest if it were dominated by elegant paintings and brilliant lights.</div>
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Oh<a href="http://www.styleathome.com/homes/interiors/holiday-home-simplicity-style/a/44190/11" target="_blank"> the gift wrapping artist</a> comes out to play in this month of giving. She fully immerses herself in the art that comes with gift presentation, seeing with delight the looks of her impressed friends as they examine her work. If you walked through this lady's home it would be marked by subtle presents peaking next to dolled up mirrors, and beneath hand-sewn Christmas stockings. </div>
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The <a href="http://pinterest.com/offsite/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.styleathome.com%2Fhomes%2Finteriors%2Fholiday-home-simplicity-style%2Fa%2F44190%2F7&shatoken=f6b00b039ba262c3cc7fc4927f651356e867cff0&pin=165436986283395945&strip=1" target="_blank">Scandinavian decorator!</a> Oh you know my soft spot for Scandinavian style. Homes covered head to toe in a milky white, with feminine accents here and there, whimsical paintings, and when Christmas comes around? A collection of particularly warm strings of lights and storybook frosted trees popping up on miniature pianos. So endearing.</div>
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<a href="http://atelierrueverte.blogspot.ca/2011/12/lumiere-de-fin-dannee.html" target="_blank">Lanterns</a> really aren't reserved for Halloween. They add such a fairy like element to any home, reminiscent of twilight picnics and starry nights. </div>
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Now I really frickin' wish I wasn't in a dorm. Challenge? Deck out my dorm in Christmas swag? I could accept that. </div>
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*m</div>
Mirandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13988714858649923959noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2942412361266012264.post-79435695432342023172012-11-29T13:04:00.004-08:002012-11-29T13:04:49.936-08:00The Christmas FrenzyEasily one of my favourite things about Christmas season, aside from the cranberry red Starbucks cups peeking out behind mitten wearing hands, and the velvety voice of Michael Bublé crooning away during almost every hour of the day, is the sudden reappearance of the most loveable and dainty creatures of winter folk tales - reindeer.<br />
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And, at least where I'm from, I <i>rarely </i>get to see deer. They've become something of a mystery to me. So magical in their presence! So it's only suiting they come out to play during Christmas.<br />
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<a href="http://www.abchome.com/store/store/pc/holiday-gift-guide-c519.htm" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: x-small;">ABC House & Home</span></a><br />
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I want you all in my home immediately. </div>
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Mirandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13988714858649923959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2942412361266012264.post-38159855712188055212012-11-09T14:15:00.001-08:002012-11-09T14:15:27.582-08:00When The Beating StopsIt sags, this fleshy mass,<br />
Lurching and gulping and gasping,<br />
Vile, needy thing - pity feeds you.<br />
You say you're deprived.<br />
You tell me you're dying.<br />
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But then you cradle my bones,<br />
And just like that, leave me<br />
Breathless.<br />
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Now it's my turn,<br />
Lurching and gulping and gasping,<br />
Sagging under this fleshy mass.<br />
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And I say to you,<br />
I'm deprived.<br />
I'm dying.<br />
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But you keep beating<br />
This blood through dusty halls<br />
And you sink,<br />
To the bottom of my toes,<br />
When it floods back<br />
(Inevitable)<br />
This time seeping into your chamber.<br />
It wants to swallow you, I say,<br />
Once and for all.<br />
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Oh do not weep,<br />
Wait, no, I didn't mean<br />
that.<br />
Come back, come back.<br />
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I'll save you one day,<br />
When I am nothing but bones<br />
And flesh and heart<br />
And I greet the ground<br />
Cold and still, I'll save you<br />
<br />
Because now the current<br />
Slows<br />
Pauses<br />
forever<br />
And suddenly, just like that,<br />
We're on the same side.<br />
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Hush now, hush.<br />
We are still. We are one.<br />
Just sleep.Mirandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13988714858649923959noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2942412361266012264.post-67705006989762622402012-10-31T12:44:00.003-07:002012-10-31T12:53:10.408-07:00Serious Drawings for a Serious Life<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Because no one is fine and dandy all the time. Take a break with some serious humour.</div>
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This humour is so dry, my lips are chapping. Hyuk, hyuk, hyuk. I always wonder how some people form their styles, too. Like how did Marc come up with these faces that fit the message he's trying to convey so <i>perfectly? </i>The spread out eyes, minimal detail, those somber, unamused expressions... was this the result of a doodling day gone <i>awesome? </i>As if he was just chilling on the bus, or vaguely staring at his paper in front of him in class and suddenly these faces appeared before him? Either way, I am a fan.<br />
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Whimsically dry.<br />
Those are two words that aren't next to each other nearly enough.<br />
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<a href="http://www.marcjohns.com/" target="_blank">Marc Johns</a>, everybody! Give him the slow clap. A serious, slow clap.Mirandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13988714858649923959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2942412361266012264.post-67123824040822272202012-10-30T22:48:00.002-07:002012-10-30T22:48:35.247-07:00Zombie TerritoryYes, I admit, I have ventured into the life of the living dead these past couple weeks. Masses of work have appeared out of nowhere. First, its presence was that of a fruit fly. If I kept waving it away, all was well, but it would inevitably come back to the sweet scent of my procrastination. Then, this fly transformed into a fucking monster. It creeped up behind me and just ate me in one bite, leaving me whimpering and passively fighting it with no use.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-S7ehHrMpFiQ/UJC68mnehgI/AAAAAAAAJcA/CpGFrCHrajk/s1600/tumblr_manwk2tUnc1qc91i1o1_500.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-S7ehHrMpFiQ/UJC68mnehgI/AAAAAAAAJcA/CpGFrCHrajk/s1600/tumblr_manwk2tUnc1qc91i1o1_500.jpeg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Me, in kitten form, just peeking over to freedom. Because everything is much more pleasant in kitten form, obviously.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
And now that I have crawled out of zombie territory (hopefully), here is a quote to enjoy. Not at all angsty like the excessive amount of egocentric teenage girls crowding around on tumblr (not that I have tumblr or anything...).<br />
<br />
It's something I need to remember. Fate is not a fact. Everything did not necessarily happen for a reason. I just sometimes like to think so, because more than anything that notion is comforting.<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">Your life is not an episode of Skins. Things will never look quite as good as they do in a faded, sun - drenched Polaroid; your days are not an editorial from Lula. Your life is not a Sofia Coppola movie, or a Chuck Palahniuk novel, or a Charles Bukowski poem. Grace Coddington isn't your creative director. Bon Iver and Joy Division don't play softly in the background at appropriate moments. Your hysterical teenage diary isn't a work of art. Your room probably isn't Selby material. Your life isn't a Tumblr screencap. Every word that comes out of your mouth will not be beautiful and poignant, infinitely quotable.</span>Your pain will not be pretty. Crying till you vomit is always shit.</span> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">You cannot romanticize hurt.</span> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Or sadness.</span> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Or loneliness.</span> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">You will have homework, and hangovers and bad hair days. The train being late won't lead to any fateful encounters, it will make you late. Sometimes your work will suck. Sometimes you will suck. Far too often, everything will suck - and not in a Wes Anderson kind of way.<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">And there is no divine consolation - only the knowledge that we will hopefully experience the full spectrum - and that sometimes, just sometimes, life</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"> </span><i style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">will </i><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">feel like a Coppola film.</span></span> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">-<a href="http://lonelyhearthunter.blogspot.ca/2010/03/my-knees-are-cold.html" target="_blank">Malena</a> </span></blockquote>
<br />
And with that, I bid you adieu.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">ps. whyamistilluphowamigoingtogetupdamnyouinternet (bonus points for understanding this) </span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
</blockquote>
Mirandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13988714858649923959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2942412361266012264.post-12559282736071664972012-10-16T17:13:00.000-07:002012-10-17T06:02:05.395-07:00Mind = BlownEvery now and then I'm really glad I have a book of faces <span style="font-size: x-small;">(facebook) </span>because you can come across some <i>damn nifty things. </i>Of course, it's relatively akin to shopping at a dingy thrift store. Most of the articles you see, you may question humanity as to why they were ever even created in the first place, like a turtle neck with a bunny silhouette cut out to show bare skin on the neck (or in terms of dear facebook, cue dramatically passive agressive statuses about a boy, potentially in poetry, or perhaps a mobile upload with the caption, "Hard day," and a girl with immaculately straightened hair in front of a mirror putting on a sad face). Then, out of nowhere, comes a reason as to why you went there in the first place. An absolute treasure has been revealed.<br />
<br />
Now I've always been fascinated by how our mind can play tricks on us with music and headphones in. As in when a cello is playing on what seems like one side of your brain, and then Adele is belting it out on the other. I can vividly see some casual cellist sitting on a miniature chair atop my gross looking brain, knowingly smiling at Adele.<br />
<br />
So, enough of my rambling and to the point, do you fancy a virtual haircut? Have you been looking in the mirror and thinking, "What happened, when did I become Hagrid?" This is for you. And even if you've looked in the mirror and thought, "Holy crap, gotta take this sexuality down a notch," still listen because, <i>shhh</i>, <i>you don't actually get a hair cut.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
LISTEN.<br />
I DEMAND YOU!<br />
Please.<br />
With a cherry on top.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.moillusions.com/wp-content/uploads/virtualhaircut.mp3" target="_blank">Mind will be blown by clicking this sentence, with your headphones already in otherwise it will all literally be ruined.</a><br />
<br />
And now, partly because now my blog looks consumed by words, here are some dreamy pictures for you.<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZuIVxr9v3BY/UH6nVB-bSgI/AAAAAAAAJG4/RlFTFzarSwI/s1600/hello+there.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="367" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZuIVxr9v3BY/UH6nVB-bSgI/AAAAAAAAJG4/RlFTFzarSwI/s640/hello+there.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><a href="http://interiorporn.tumblr.com/post/33398303101/denofopulence" target="_blank">Interior Porn:</a></i></span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-p2IdZiLqtwE/UH6pN85ohQI/AAAAAAAAJHA/ZTIhY7jZqm4/s1600/tumblr_mbqernzLCA1r96weoo1_1280.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-p2IdZiLqtwE/UH6pN85ohQI/AAAAAAAAJHA/ZTIhY7jZqm4/s640/tumblr_mbqernzLCA1r96weoo1_1280.png" width="554" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><a href="http://abstractnumbers.tumblr.com/post/33765093386" target="_blank">Abstract Numbers:</a></i></span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-q3qHzTrd7Rs/UH6qfDjiVjI/AAAAAAAAJHI/XdARChct_yQ/s1600/tumblr_m99qyoTT8l1qfm41co1_500.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-q3qHzTrd7Rs/UH6qfDjiVjI/AAAAAAAAJHI/XdARChct_yQ/s1600/tumblr_m99qyoTT8l1qfm41co1_500.jpeg" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><a href="http://interiorporn.tumblr.com/post/33378321915" target="_blank">Interior Porn:</a></i></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gU7Y05Fnr4I/UH6qfvvYIPI/AAAAAAAAJHM/XjREQz0AHXY/s1600/tumblr_mb5z0inSQT1qk21cfo1_1280.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gU7Y05Fnr4I/UH6qfvvYIPI/AAAAAAAAJHM/XjREQz0AHXY/s1600/tumblr_mb5z0inSQT1qk21cfo1_1280.jpeg" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<a href="http://interiorporn.tumblr.com/post/33348573117" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Interior Porn:</i></span> </a></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-h177OHctUgw/UH6qgL6E7XI/AAAAAAAAJHU/uH0rIxn_Deg/s1600/tumblr_mbnonp6hja1qjyilyo1_1280.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-h177OHctUgw/UH6qgL6E7XI/AAAAAAAAJHU/uH0rIxn_Deg/s1600/tumblr_mbnonp6hja1qjyilyo1_1280.jpeg" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><a href="http://rabbitearz.tumblr.com/post/33770075682" target="_blank">Rabbit Earz Tumbla:</a></i></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZuG9im3_qw-QmtZFwTo-1a8-pFkMh9UelWRYpr2ojvPome2eh5hQ3_R9gXJ4-Zx-LJhgdCx8LMbpDyWQmABnblDh7HhFcfYGH6qr6B5ohynafoONpg8vWFrz_GmlJC67e1eK9GJfTpow/s1600/tumblr_mbw4sh3k9Q1qder5oo1_500.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZuG9im3_qw-QmtZFwTo-1a8-pFkMh9UelWRYpr2ojvPome2eh5hQ3_R9gXJ4-Zx-LJhgdCx8LMbpDyWQmABnblDh7HhFcfYGH6qr6B5ohynafoONpg8vWFrz_GmlJC67e1eK9GJfTpow/s1600/tumblr_mbw4sh3k9Q1qder5oo1_500.jpeg" /></a></div>
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Mirandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13988714858649923959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2942412361266012264.post-54555707441046704322012-10-15T08:27:00.002-07:002012-10-15T08:27:42.811-07:00iPhone Five Set to Take Over World
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4sHg0q1t-Uw/UHwq8O6T1wI/AAAAAAAAJF4/IqWHOu270yE/s1600/applefanboy.png.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4sHg0q1t-Uw/UHwq8O6T1wI/AAAAAAAAJF4/IqWHOu270yE/s1600/applefanboy.png.jpg" /></a></div>
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Typical apple fanboy, pshaw.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dear iPhone 5 Hype,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m
speaking on behalf of all of those who don’t live under a rock and are held
subject to the absurdly frantic hype over what is called the <i>iPhone</i> <i>5. </i>Apple fanboys have been lighting up cyberspace with mock
trailers for months, spurring intensified critique of the current iPhone 4S,
and spending 98.7% of their time dreaming around their new life which will be
so radically changed with this new phone. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
See, the new design has been
deemed “revolutionary”, a complete “breakthrough”, and “lighter and skinnier
than ever before”. But am I the only one feeling a nagging sense of déjà vu?
Despite its attitude of literally taking over the world with its brilliance in
the sleek confines of the skeleton of this phone, haven’t they called every redesign
thus far revolutionary? Each one poised to simply blow your mind? Sorry to
inform you, Apple, but I can confidently say I have never been <i>blown away </i>by a phone. I have not awoken
to a newspaper article with the newest design of the iPhone and consequently
fallen off my chair in sheer shock as to what they’ve done. And to anyone who
has, you may want to go take a bike ride and realize what just happened to you
(I’m sorry, you can only go up from there). </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
Why am I so stone-hearted, you
ask? How are my nerves made of such steel in the face of such a ground-breaking
design? Well, fellow consumers, it stems from the irrepressible irritation of
the incessantly repeated updates to an identical phone each time! In a sense,
it seems as though the inner snob in all of us is exposed when we can feel
the newest iPhone in our pockets, as if it was the ring from Lord of the Rings,
power pulsing through you, seeking envy in the eyes of those you speak to.
Conversations ensue, and it becomes a challenge to drop the fact that you have
the “game-changing” phone by your side, acting as though the phone from three
generations ago is almost the same thing as an infamous Nokia brick. The iPhone
4S will now be met with an “Oh, cool”, escaping from their subtly condescending
lips, as if you just told them you prefer mailing letters in a horse drawn
carriage. In actual fact, that would be far cooler than any phone on the
market. Who wants to bring back carriages? Nokia, this is your chance to shine!</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
Now I hate to sound so brash. Admittedly,
I have tapped into some of the beauty of Apple on my own. I’m the proud owner
of an iPhone, a MacBook, and some family member down the line has an iPad, I’m
sure. I know others who have virtually every product released by them, and
others who stick to simply one. Regardless, it is undeniable that Apple has
made a permanent mark on the consumer world, and it has come out of repeated
innovations that have literally changed the dynamic of technological products.
No longer are these advancements confined to the awe of the nerdier elite of
society, but it has stretched over the world to an unfathomable degree. It is
something to be feared, though, when people will sacrifice all logic for an
obsessive frenzy over the release of a product that really doesn’t seem to be
that innovative on its own anyhow. How much is marketing and how much is true
innovation? How desperate are we to be a part of this advancing technological
world that we will buy the newest products every time, not questioning their
value but simply praising their name?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I
know we love to pick on our old fogeys of parents, pointing out the flaw in
their story of the trek to school being two hills up, chuckling at their
confused faces as they attempt to send emails, feeling all high and mighty when
they ask you how to save a document, but what were they waiting in line for,
camping out for in the prime of their earlier years? Legendary rock festivals,
like Woodstock, which gathered 400,000 people, or tickets to Jimi Hendrix or
Led Zeppelin. The phenomenon of being the die-hards for a certain niche of the
entertainment world came from genuinely <i>sick
</i>things you could go to. Not for some game that you’ll hide in your basement
and play, or for a phone that you paid someone to stand in line for (oh, the
things that could go wrong there). And it’s not like after we get the iPhone,
we rush home and do crazily innovative things with it, like solving world
hunger with an app, checking out some x-rays as though we were McDreamy from
Grey’s Anatomy, being Picasso for an afternoon whilst using your finger to draw
a stick man – let’s be real. We instagram, we tweet, we facebook, we game alone
on the bus. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Essentially,
phone companies of the world, you’re making us less cool than our parents, with
their hipster records and vintage photos of their afros gleaming in the sun. And
as impossible as that sounds, it’s becoming a tragic reality. Stop the hype.
Let us be cool again. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sincerely,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
@FedUpWithPhoneHype #whenwillitend #hashtag</div>
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<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Mirandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13988714858649923959noreply@blogger.com0