giggle. giggle. giggle. say it. more. giggle. weird word. giggle.

Hello friends! I have exciting news. It comes in the form of OH MY LORD I AM WEARING BARE LEGS WHAT IS THIS HUH?! Oh, yeah. Hi, bare legs. Long time, no see. Care to stay? Hi, sunshine. Care to stay? My mood is a direct correlation to the weather, as my bitter-winter and happy-summer posts can testify. (That being said... a joy of tights? Hairy legs, of course! Welcome back, razor. I will use you more.)

I liked wearing this outfit. Someone commented, “Oh, you look very spring!” I enjoy Spring, so I said “Thank you.” Don’t you love ambiguous comments? Where you’re all, “Oh, hey, you’re complimenting me? OR ARE YOU?” Dun dun dun. People have a way with words and wording things to mean things differently from what they're really thinking without being obvious. I just call it "fake."

Um, so did something maybe catch your eye? Did you maybe scroll back again? Did you need to DOUBLE CHECK? (Or did you just quickly skim over, not reading my words? Pftttt. Sucker.) YEAH THAT'S RIGHT. It's a SKORT. Serious luvin' goes to this one. It's particularly amazing because it's SO deceiving. From the front? 100% skirt. From the back? 100% shorts. PUT IT ALL TOGETHER? SKORT. I'm in awe of this marvelous creature. (Side note: it reminds me of my dog. Her name is Daisy. She is white. Her birthday is tomorrow. Wish her a happy birthday? Go for it. Let me warn you: She's a dog. She won't get it.)

I'm not usually very "matchy-matchy" with my clothing. You know? My thought process isn't very "Oh, so I had a tint of blue here, so I need it to match the glint in my teeth, and the button on my shoe and yadda yadda blahh." HOWEVER, I was really feelin' all those principles of design. Like, REPETITION? In colours? Check. In motives? Check. Pft, I'm like art y'allll! (Kidding.)


Also... This bag is amazing. Seriously. It's so swooshy, swooshy. I think I'll have to make a video of it. It will be me spinning around with it for 10.3 minutes. With a yellow backdrop. We'll call it "conceptual." Utter love. Also, it's the perfect hot dog shape. Seriously. It make me want to go to an Amusement Park and smuggle my own foot-long hot dog that isn't over-priced because it'd be a very I HAVE A HOT DOG-ESQUE PURSE AND I CAN SMUGGLE ALL THE NOT-AS-OVERLY-PRICED-HOT-DOGS THAT I PLEASE. Kind of thing. Yup. Power, folks. Power.

(Blazer - Thrifted/ Value Village $7, Top - Salvation Army $3, Shorts - Vintage $5, Hat - Nepal, Gloves - Skirt $7, Shoes - Vintage $15, Hot Dog-esque Swooshy Bag - Thrifted $50 brought down to $10ish. BOO YEAH.)

Other thoughts that don't have to do with the clothes that I'm wearing, but still equally unexciting and sleep-inducing are about to be articulated. I talk about high school. This is a warning. Enjoy?

It’s currently the “What are you wearing/ Who are you taking to Prom?” time of year. My answer is “I don’t know” to both of them. I’m jokingly trying to set myself up with the most adorable foreign exchange student. But I think he’s a little scared of me. Pft, it's not like I'm crazy or overly enthusiastic or anything PFT... Anyways, it’s more fun setting other people up. I have come up with a billion different Prom Proposals. It makes me want to be a boy. A player boy. A player boy that asks out a billion different girls to prom in a billion different proposals. It would be fun. I've also decided that my future husband better have one hell of a proposal. Preferably involving terrible puns and hot air balloons. Recipe for an instant marriage? I'd say so.

It’s funny talking about Prom. I remember being in grade 9 and stalking all the Prom pictures on Facebook. It was a very, “omg they r like soooo kewl” moment. Now? Eh, not so much the same feeling. Prom feels so high school. And, to be honest, I kind of like it. I go to a teensy tiny school - there’s about 40 people in my graduating grade - and I feel like I’m missing out on quintessential high school moments. Seriously. I categorize “football rallies” and “cheerleaders” with the likes of Santa Clause and witches. This happens in real life? Um. Sure. If you want to believe that...

In fact, there are a lot of things about high school that makes me think, “Hm? Am I missing out?” I’ve never had that “high school sweetheart.” I’ve never been to those “crazy dope partayyyyz.” Gosh, I've never even had some intensive "frenemy i h8 u beeyawtch" moments. And you know what? I think I'm okay with that. I'm not particularly fond of online cruelty or short-lived flings, anyhow. But I suppose there's that sense of, What will I think in 5 years? 10 years? Have I experienced all that I need to? Will I regret not subscribing to any of these things?

I'm not sure. Thinking about the future is freaking me out. Majorly. The next year is scary to think about. Today, we had to fill out all these grad forms preaching why we're the best and all of that good stuff. One of the filler-inners was along the lines of "Career aspiration? Where will you be next year?" Um, GAH I DON'T KNOW. At this point, my yearbook bio will be along the lines of, "Oh, Lexy has done this and this and this and this. And next year she will be doing, um, it's a surprise... Let's just stick with "she's a hobo."" FUN STUFF.

As much as I think I may have missed out on some quintessential high school stuff... Coupled with the fact that I have NO idea what I'm doing next year... I feel ready. I feel really ready. I say this with a heavy sigh. But not one of the "blechhhh" sighs. But that sigh of satisfaction, excitement, anticipation. What will happen in the next year? Who will I meet? What will I learn? See? Experience? Become? OH MY LAWRD I DON'T KNOW.

But, hey. I'm ready. I feel like I have experienced all that I've needed to in High School. I've done many extra-curriculars, and I've bonded with people I've come to love, and I've accomplished academically, and I've gone through weird stints (um, hello 2 weeks in wrestling and broken collar bone. I forgot about yaaa)... and I'm DONE. I love my school. I love my class. I love my teachers. Buuut... I'm ready to let go. I really don't know who the hell I am or what I really want or need or what the purpose of life is and if the chicken came before the egg and jazz. I'm not going to sit on any high horse. I'm just another confused teenage chick.

But I think I've become all that I can and I've learned all that I can and I've experienced all that I can in this location, with these people, in this place called "high school." I've outgrown my surroundings. I'm ready. I have no idea what da hellll imma be doin'. But, I'm excited for it. I'm commmmiiiin'. (I have this desire to suddenly break into a "You better not shout, you better not cry.... Santa Clause is coming to towwwwwn!") (But I am not Santa Clause and this is irrelevant. Thus, I made the intentional decision to place these words in brackets. Yup.) (Also, if you read all that, YOU ROCK/ PLEASE GET A LIFE. Kidding. We can bathe in our rockstar internet lonerdome together, m'love.)

I have 46 more days of high school!
ANY ADVICE?

P.S. The news/ internetsphere has been flooding with information that I feel like bullet pointing. So IT'S MY BLOG AND I WILL.
- The Royal Wedding. IT HAPPENED EEEEK. Finally. I am so sick of hearing about this. Could we let the happy couple just get freaking married without spending hours dissecting the colour of the Queen's hat or *ooh, gasp!* will Kate wear her hair down? Seriously. So glad that's over.
- BIN LADEN IS DEAD. There's a lot of political stigma surrounding this. I don't feel informed enough to comment right now. Maybe because I'm Canadian, but all that "USA USA! PARTY IT'S SAFE NOW!" stuff? Yeah. That.
- In tabloids... why are these poor Teen Moms plastered all over the covers? Let the children raise their children in peace and quiet.
- Election night in Canada! A lot of my classmates voted today. AW LOOK AT US ALL GROWN UP. If you're a young and eligible Canadian adult, 1) you're awesome 2) I hope you voted.

xxxxx