Par Amour

Back in July when I started this blog, I had intended for it to be about fashion for the most part. Turns out I'm having a hard time sticking with it. Honestly, while it's fun to post about pretty clothes and sweet finds now and again, it does get incredibly boring. And in excess it feels terribly shallow and quite self-indulgent (taking all those pictures of yourself...). I guess I was not cut out to be a true fashion blogger. I lack the funds, materialism, and ego.

Even the big famous sites are boring the bejesus out of me now...cherry blossom girl, sea of shoes...it's all very nice that you can become famous for being pretty and having the funds to buy new MiuMiu and Margiela every week, documenting the tens of thousands of dollars you've spent on decorating yourself with your fancy dslr camera for the world to see and envy...I've just seen so much of it at this point, it's all the same. Your 10th Chanel bag fails to excite me.
Fashion does still catch my fancy. I'm a sucker for it. I've become a collector of shoes and professional vintage hunter. I will still post about these things when I feel inclined to do so. You'll be hearing about the nifty Christmas dress I found today for $12 later.

I named this blog Red Herring for a reason, being that the phrase means a distraction from the real issue at hand. Not to sound well versed or anything, I picked it up from the Georgia Nicolson book series. Either way, the phrase grew on me and it fit. I started all of this because I figured it would be a good distraction when my boyfriend went to basic training. And it has been. But now we're nearing the end...as of tomorrow, we have only 34 days to go. His return is overriding pretty much every other concern and thought that I entertain on a daily basis.
This whole thing has been nasty tough. Mild ups, incredible downs, tremendous doubt, the whole shebang. I never thought I was cut out to be a military girlfriend, and never wanted to be one...honestly, who really does?

And then I think about him. He's pretty much everything I've ever wanted, even though half of the time I don't know what I want. How he made up for the terrible birthday I had this year. How he held my hand when there was a bear outside of our tent when we went camping in Albany. How he made a heat pad for me out of microwaved towels when I had cramps. How he jumped out from behind the refrigerator to scare me, only to find out that it was my mother coming down the hall...
This soldier is worth 143 days of waiting. If that's not a fact, I don't know what is.

1 comment: