Neurotic & Creative

Beware! Ugly shirts ahead!

If you are my friend on Facebook, you might have seen the picture I posted yesterday of the shirts I found at Kohls. If you aren’t my friend, I’ll include the picture below, but I feel like I have to warn you, it’s pretty… offensive. 

 

WHOOMP THERE IT IS!

I mean, did you ever? I’m a 25 year old woman who lives in New york. Why should I dress like a 75 year old Floridian man? This is the problem I have with Kohls. I find that as much as they try to keep the plus size section on the same page as their straight sizes, they usually fall a few paragraphs behind. Case in point: I went there today looking for one of those sheer button down hi/low shirts. They had really nice ones.. in the petites and juniors sections. That’s ok because I pride myself on making things work. So I wandered over to ”my section” The only thing that came close was a mustard colored silk button down shirt. I had to walk away. It was just not workable. I wracked my brain as I walked through the section and I spotted a collared half button down 3/4 sleeve shirt in mint green. SCORE! It was trendy, it looked comfortable, and my new favorite color of the moment is mint green. I grabbed one and headed for the dressing room. I pulled the shirt on and my happiness faded. It fit and it was comfortable; it just made me look like a manly camp counselor. It was not a good look. That’s an important question I ask myself in the dressing room. It actually made the top three. Does it fit? How does my chest/butt look? Does it make me look like a fat, man-ish camp counselor? Can I afford it? As I said before, I pride myself on making my clothes work for me. I think I do a pretty good job at it too. Sure, I have had many break downs in dressing rooms, in front of my closet, and, on particularly bad days, in front of the mirror. It’s normal and almost expected. Seeing shirts like the ones in the picture above always seem to throw me. I understand that the buyers for Kohls have to keep many different demographics in mind when choosing the items that will eventually be sold in stores. I just feel like they lean towards the older, more conservative woman more often than not. Don’t get me wrong, I love Kohls. Seriously, I LOVE Kohls. Lately it seems like I really have to work on finding things that someone my age would wear. It’s not just at Kohls that I am noticing this problem. It’s all over because designers and buyers seem to like to ignore that the average American woman wears a size 14, which is considered plus sized. You can’t tell me all of those women regardless of age, want to look like an extra from the Golden Girls. Another thing I notice about Kohls and alot of the other clothing stores is that once a particular style hits it big, they don’t stop buying it. I can’t tell you how many batwing/dolman sleeve shirts I have. Peplum seems to be the next thing that will fill my closet ad nauseum.

Clothing isn’t the only place the Kohls buyers need help in. Need I remind you?

I still cringe.

I was having a conversation with one of my cousins one night and she paid me one of the best compliments I have ever received. She said to me “I’ve always been jealous of the confidence you have.” I said “What confidence?” She told me “In what you wear. Even when we were younger you wore color, you went sleeveless, and you always seemed like you didn’t care what people thought.” That’s because I learned that I really CAN’T care what other people think of my clothes. If it’s 103 degrees out I’m wearing a tank top AND shorts. If you’re offended that my thighs know each other intimately and that my arms can give Old Glory lessons in flapping in the breeze, well honestly, you can just SUCK IT. Believe me you do not want me to be hot and miserable. With the help and patience of my mom, many family members, and close friends I’ve learned over the years that it doesn’t matter where you shop, what size you are, and what you buy as long as you’re comfortable in it. Just remember, confidence is sexy. Know it, love it, own it.

My prom dress had no back, no sleeves and I didn’t care!

I wore sequin leggings for New Years once. Who cares if I looked like a disco ball?

I was channeling JLo when I put this outfit together. I loved it so much that I even made this my Facebook profile picture for a while.

What did I say about wearing tanktops AND shorts? I had so much fun that day I didn’t even care that I had no makeup on (well, maybe a little).

Oh man. I just realized I might be coming off as conceited with all of these LOOK AT ME! DON’T I LOOK PRETTY? pictures. That’s not my intention. I’m just proving that I really practice what I preach. But seriously, look at me! Don’t I look pretty?

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This is what you get when I have too much time on my hands

I haven’t posted on here in a while and, as usual I have EXCELLENT excuses reasons for that.

• I was in Africa helping starving children.
• I was designing a plus size line for Chanel. You know how Uncle Karl loves us big ladies!
• I was curing the common cold.
• I met, fell in love with, and married Zac Efron and we have been so wrapped up in each other that I couldn’t tear myself away long enough to even check my email, let alone write a blog post.
• I lead a pretty boring life and have had nothing to write about.

DING DING DING! We have a winner!

Ok, my life isn’t that boring (yes it is) but that doesn’t mean I should neglect something that I truly like to do. They say to write everyday you MUST write everyday. How am I supposed to write every single day when I’m too busy beating myself up for not writing every single day? I mean, come on.

I’m sitting here at work (Don’t get excited. That was not my “I got a job” announcement. You’ll know it when you see it - trust me.) and it’s pretty quiet and I forgot my lunch so I decided to drown out the growling of my stomach by pounding on the keyboard. Aren’t you lucky?

I guess I could start by filling you in since my last post, which was in JULY. As you can see from the list above, I have been a pretty busy bee since then and really don’t know how to cram all of my journeys and accomplishments into one post. And really, it would be so unfair for me to go on and on like a Braggy Betty. Nobody likes a Braggy Betty.

However, for the sake of this post, brag I must. Last month I met Michael Strahan! And got a picture with him! And realized the about 5 of my hands could fit into one of his! And he liked me so much that he asked Gelman right then and there if I could have a recurring segment on the Live show! I start next Monday! I told you that you’d know my “I got a job” announcement. Unfortunately, only 3 of those statements are true. I could only fit 3 of my hands into one of his hands. He was really nice. I was about to ask him how his mom was (because that’s what happens when you meet celebrities, you remember the weirdest things about them and then the overwhelming desire to ask them about it takes over - it’s in God’s hands after that) but someone totally interrupted me asking if he would take a picture with me and my cousin. That interrupter was totally me.

It’s hard living in the fast and fabulous lane but someone’s gotta do it. I have to get back to the drawing board - Chanel Spring/Summer 2013 is almost finished!

Zac wanted to share some of our photos with you too! Sometimes it’s so unbelievable, it’s like it’s not even really me! I am really “The Lucky One”.

I need SERIOUS PROFESSIONAL HELP.

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I don’t watch the news: Martina talks about the CO shooting.

As I’ve mentioned before, I am not a watcher of the news. I am not proud of that fact seeing as I am now 25 years old and should really care about things other than what Kim Kardashian had for lunch yesterday. That being said, there are some news stories that make you stop, watch, (collaborate) and listen.

The shooting that occured in Colorado last night (this morning?) was that kind of news story. I had heard little snippets of the story all morning - through Facebook, Twitter, the AOL Welcome screen (yes, I still use AOL and I love it. Judge me, I don’t care). My television has not been on all morning so I had no idea the gravity of this situation. I had no idea that the death toll was so high or that it keeps climbing. I had no idea how pre-meditated this attack was. It wasn’t until I signed on to Facebook and saw all of the statuses about it that I realized that I was missing something.

I pulled up the Welcome screen and started to click through the articles and I read the timeline of events. I didn’t read more than 3 paragraphs and I started to tear up. Seriously. The accounts were TERRIFYING. All I could think of was myself (surprise, surprise) and what would I do? How would I save myself and the people around me? Would I freeze up and not do anything? Would I unleash my inner Rambo and take the gunman down? My next thought was “I am never going to the movies again”.

I don’t want to trash talk the gunman since obviously, something is not right in his head. His problems did not start during the opening credits of the latest Batman movie, nor did they end when he was arrested. All I can say about him is that I hope this was not his idea to gain notoriety or to bathe in his 15 minutes of fame. I hope for his sake and for the sake of his victims, especially the 3 month old that he shot, he gets the help he needs.

My heart and my prayers go out to the victims of this tragedy.

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One of Those Days.

This is my first post since March 22 and they both begin the same way.

Today has been “one of those days”.  I feel like when the time comes for me to have a tombstone, that’s what will be inscribed on it. Please say one Hail Mary because it’s been “one of those days”.

I had an appointment with the Career Center at St. Francis. My father has been on my case to make an appointment with them so I did. Even though I saw the gray clouds of doom in the distance. Nothing goes the way it should when my father asks me to do it. Seriously. So I get to the office and I find out the person I’m supposed to meet with isn’t in today. The people in the office were so nice that it really didn’t bother me that I just spent 45 minutes getting there.

With nothing else to do, I left and made my way over to my job because today was PAYDAY!! Or so I thought. After going through the pile of checks twice, I was told there was no check for me. Ok no problem. Maybe it was left in the payroll office. NOPE. After a few phone calls, I was told that the payroll office has a ton of paperwork and my timesheet was “overlooked”. -__- Now it will be anywhere between 2 weeks and a month before I see that check. For some reason, this didn’t bother me too much either. I mean it pisses me off that the payroll office is so non chalant about blatantly not handing in my paperwork but there’s nothing I can do about it.

Now here we are at the end of the day. I’m settling in to watch The Pauly D Project. I fired up the old laptop and pulled up my mail. Amongst the messages about penis enhancements, dating websites and the like, I found an email from a company that I just made a purchase from. They were canceling my order because my credit card could not be authorized (of course they were). The company is in the United Kingdom and I had already told my credit card company that the charges were legit. SO WHY ARE THEY SCREWING WITH ME?? I quickly re-purchased the item because I don’t want it to sell out. Then, I sent them an email explaining the situation. Needless to say, I’ve been obsessively checking my email to see if the problem was resolved. Life needed much?

My great grandmother used to say (or so I’m told) “If everyone you know were to hang their problems out on the clothes line for everyone to see, you’d be scrambling to get yours back because you’d realize yours weren’t so bad after all”. She’s 100% right. Even though for all intents and purposes my day wasn’t the best, it wasn’t the worst. I know that I’ll meet with who I need to meet with, I’ll get my paycheck, and I’ll get what I ordered (eventually, hopefully). There’s no use in sweating things you can’t change. (who is writing this and where did she come from?) Now if you’ll excuse me I have to refresh my mailbox because hey, you never know.

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joblessness ramblings.

Today has been “one of those days”. It is 75 degrees and beautiful. I’m wearing capris and flip flops and it’s still only March 22. Second day of spring? More like full day of awesome! I looked good, felt good, smelled good. I was ready to enjoy a nice day of errand running with my mom. Until we started to run the errands.

We started our day by heading over to the place that employs me to pick up my paycheck. On the way there we started to argue about my joblessness. I started to cry and she started the silent treatment. I’ve probably said this before but I’m not a crier so just know that whatever was said in the 10 minutes it took to ruin the day must have hit me hard. It wasn’t even what was said, it was the little points brought up to make it to the major point of me not having a real job and hating myself everyday for it.

We started to talk about friends of mine who I haven’t hung out with in a while but have sort of kept up with. In person, not digitally. I was filling my mom in on the great jobs they have and the fact that their lives are so much better than mine. So instead of assuring me that my life would change and that things would start to work out, my mom told me I had to be more agressive about things. Believe me, I don’t need to be coddled and told that the job fairy is going to leave a great salary and benefits package under my pillow tonight, but “you need to be more agressive” is not what I wanted to hear. Especially since this morning I tried for the 3rd time to make an appointment to speak to someone about job postings/availability in a department that is different from where I am now (same institution, different department).

When we got home, I went on to careerbuilder.com and searched for entry level positions in a media/journalism field. What did I come up with? Well, there was an interesting post for Segment Producer at NBC (YES! Backstreet Boys here I come!). All I needed was a 4 year degree (check!) and 5 years experience (huh?). Wait, this is entry level? You’re kidding. So I kept looking and found a job for an military recruiter, a telemarketer, and then an assistant at some undisclosed agency that when I read the description the company may or may not have been called “Adult Entertainment”. Thanks, but no thanks.

This led me to question myself as to what I wanted to do. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I cannot be at the job I’m at for much longer. My new boss is 2 years younger than me and obviously thinks I’m stupid because she talks to me like I’m 2. (Among other reasons.) I love to write. I would love for people to read stuff that I wrote and laugh, or know that they aren’t alone, or just be informed. I don’t know how to do that. I can’t be a freelancer because I’m not known so who would publish me? (1) and they’re a dime a dozen (2). I need good benefits because if I don’t get dental soon, the cavity I diagnosed myself with is going to take over my mouth and I’ll have to start charging rent. (plus side: income!) I want a job with perks. I want that cool job that gives it’s employees giftbags, free samples, unwanted concert tickets, cellphones and other great swag. I want one of those jobs where you walk in and BAM there’s a celebrity drinking their morning iced coffee. Don’t tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about. You’ve never signed on to Facebook and saw a friend from high school or college or whatever standing next to ___________ (fill in name here) on your newsfeed; which made your stomach sink into your toes because you’re stuck handing out basketballs all day? Oh, that’s only me?  Touche. I JUST WANT TO SLIP ZAC EFRON MY PHONE NUMBER! Is that so much to ask?

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KONY 2012

As embarassed as I am to admit this, I don’t usually watch the news or really even keep up with it. But when something is all over my Facebook newsfeed and my beloved Youtube, it forces me to take notice.

There is a very dangerous and powerful* man who is abducting children from their homes and familes to fight for him. CHILDREN. Forced to kill their own parents, siblings and loved ones. He doesn’t stop at boys either. Girls are used as sex slaves. Lovely. His name is Joseph Kony and he needs to be stopped.

For the whole story please watch this video : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y4MnpzG5Sqc&feature=share

It’s about a half an hour but really, this monster has been terrorizing for 26 years, you can spare 30 mins.

For even more information please go to www.kony2012.com

And to just blindly donate because I’ve done enough persuading please visit : https://www.stayclassy.org/checkout/donation?eid=14711

or to buy the kit/ other merchandise go to : http://invisiblechildrenstore.myshopify.com/

At the very least, please watch the video. Be informed.

And at the very VERY least, please reblog this post.

*powerful by his own making;not by votes or public acceptance. the bad kind of power, you know?

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World Book Day = My Favorite Holiday!

I know you’re probably wondering where I went. Nowhere far. Actually, just nowhere. I have been a little uninspired to write anything lately. The only reason I’m writing anything now is because the Occupy Martina movement camped on my lawn has spilled out to the sidewalk and is starting to annoy the neighbors(and you never know when you’ll need a cup of sugar).

To appease the masses I sat down and wracked my brain for ideas. The only topics I came up with were my job, religion, and politics. Funny how the mind wanders. So I started to give up and went to Youtube. As I’ve mentioned before, everything I’ve learned, I’ve learned from Youtube. I was clicking through my subscriptions and found that one of the girls I go to when I need the name of a good foundation had posted a book haul. I’ve seen this type of video from her before but we don’t find the same type of books interesting so I usually pass over it. Having nothing to lose, I clicked the video and started to watch. She mentioned that she liked to watch book hauls on Youtube to get some ideas on what to read next.

HELLO! Did it just get brighter in here? Yes! because the light over my head just turned on.

I had to search for a couple of days to find people who read books in the same genre that I do, but they’re out there and slowly but surely I’m finding them and subscribing the shit out of them. Oh, cool they also have a Twitter? Follow. Tumblr? Follow. Facebook? Like. Ok, NEXT! In case you’re wondering, I like to read anything mindless,frothy and girly. I read chick-lit and I’m proud of it.

So that’s where I’ve been. Watching book hauls on Youtube and getting ideas on what to read next. I’ve also been spending alot of time trying to figure out how to get those books into my house without my mom seeing them. It kind of takes the fun out of it when I’m getting THE LOOK from her when the mail comes.

I’ve loved the thrill of a new book since I was able to hold them. My favorite day of the school year was the book sale; and those Scholastic book flyers were like puppies and kittens and Lisa Frank stickers. Remember them? Ahh childhood. So what I was the only one who ordered that month? At least I had something to read while all of you losers watched cartoons on Saturday mornings. Thanks to that monthly magazine of magic (see what I did there?) I was introduced to some of my favorite childhood books. The Babysitter’s Club (and their little sisters) came with me on family vacations, to family functions, anywhere and everywhere. My mom called me the bag lady because I would pack them all up in an old backpack and haul it around like it held the Holy Grail.(Thanks Mom!)

^ Apparently, I was running the first toddler book mobile in Brooklyn ^

I still carry a book with me almost everywhere I go. “Get a Kindle, Martina!” Well, I already have one. I’m sharing it with my mom and it seems that she’s getting into paperless reading; I’m still digging my heels in the sand. I love pages; the turning, the smell, the feel of them. I love the sound of a book. Yes! the sound. Call me old fashioned but it’s really hard for me to wrap my head around digital books. Not to get too off topic but it’s getting harder for me to wrap my head around alot of new digital things. It’s sort of scary and sometimes it would be nice to just go back to a simpler way of living. That’s a different story, though for a different post.

Now that you’ve read this, please leave my lawn and take your stuff with you. Go read a book!

Fun fact: Today, March 1st is World Book Day. How appropriate!

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Any idiot could walk on a balance beam…

One of the most embarassing things to happen to a person is falling. One minute you’re vertical and the next you’re eye level with ants. It is the one thing that can make people laugh automatically. I know I do. I am one of the worst people to fall in front of because while you’re trying to collect yourself and brush yourself off, I have my back turned to you, wiping the tears of laughter from my face. Sorry. It’s a reflex. 

For most of my childhood, my mom was a stay at home mom. It was cool because unlike some of the kids in my class, I had my mom at my every beck and call. School trip? My mom can come! Need a class mom? Yep! I got one right here! You have 30 tee shirts that need to be puffy painted for the dance festival? Send them to my house! I don’t know how she got it all done, but she did and did it well. I couldn’t wait for the summer to be home with her all day. Maybe she would teach me some of her puffy paint secrets. Imagine my surprise when she took me to sign up for camp. CAMP? You mean that place where I have to go everyday that is just like school except none of my friends are there and we are essentially in gym class all day? Not a good time.

For the first couple of years, she sent me to a camp that she knew a few kids from my block attended also. That would have been all well and good if she sent me at the same time as them. So I trudged through the last two weeks in July and the first two weeks in August. I gave everyone a hard time. I didn’t care how annoying I was or how pathetic I looked I didn’t want to be there and I was making it known. Finally, the summer before 8th grade(or maybe 7th, I can’t remember), my mom thought it would be fun to sign me up for gymnastics camp. Her reasoning was that two of my best friends were going also, how bad could it be? To this day, I wondered if my mom had ever met me before that summer. I mean, me in a gymnastics camp? ME? I was like those hippos from Fantasia except less graceful. I went along with it because my friends would be there (FINALLY!). There are alot of things that I remember from that camp but the most memorable moment was when I fell off the balance beam.

The balance beam was one of the more tolerable activities that the camp offered. Any idiot could walk on an elevated straight line and jump into a pile of foam bricks. Or so I thought. The beams were set up on a stage it height order. When you got to the last one, you jumped into the pit of foam. I never got to the last one because 1). I didn’t want to and 2). I tried to get on the beam and it wasn’t happening so I stuck with the lower ones. I got on walked the length of it, turned, and fell. It didn’t take long for it to register with my friends that I was on the floor and the laughter started soon after. After the shock of being on the floor faded away, I brushed myself off and started to laugh right along with them. I guess I’m the only idiot who couldn’t walk on an elevated straight line. I was fine and continued about my day as if nothing happened. In the back of my mind I couldn’t help but to be a little upset. Years later I admitted to my friend (who was one of the ones to get her seven laughs in that day) that I was disappointed that I was OK that day because I thought it would be my ticket out of there. She gave me a look that only people who have known each other for most of thier lives could give. My response was “I was told that by the time I left the camp I would know how to do a cartwheel. Do I know how to do one? No. Obviously something was not working.” She shrugged and said “I guess I see your point”.

The other night I was leaving work. I had dropped the nightly deposit in the safe and was making my way to lock the door and BAM. On the floor. I landed first on my left knee and the rest of my body caught up shortly afterwards. My first reaction was to cry. You know when a baby falls and for a second they look around too see what emotion they should have? That was me. 24 years old, lying on the floor looking for someone to tell me how to feel. For a split second I felt like the 12 year old sitting next to the balance beam. “Is this my ticket out?” Nope. I got up, brushed myself off and limped out of the building.

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