The boutique

I have been working at T.C. Ellis for a few weeks now, and can honestly say it has been one of the best experiences I've ever had. Not only do I love being around the clothes, but the people that come in make it even better. 

It seems I have seen it all. The crazy lady who really wanted the hanger, but not in the bag, she wanted the shirt on it (I still don't know why looking like you stole seemed like a good idea). And then there was the most precious girl in the world. Picture this, a 9-year-old with pink flats, fitted shorts, a flowy top, and yes... the sock bun! Never have I ever been so in love watching someone pull their mini RayBans out of their plush clutch and wave goodbye. And the girls who think they will find nothing. Not happy with their body. It is my job to show them how wonderful they are. Give them the perfect dress, and a glimmer of hope.

Before I started the owner of the store told me there were two kinds of shoppers. There are the therapy goers, and the wanderers.

Therapy goers are those who know what they want. They are there to take care of themselves, they have an itch, and want it scratched in the form of a credit card swipe. Some aren't even sad. Some had a great day and need to celebrate, others are trying to cover up something deeper. You can spot this kind from a mile away, they dart in the store and in minutes they have half the merchandise in their hands. Matching shoes included.

 I tried to swing this quote to my mom once... without missing a beat she told me "Shelby, I've paid your shopping bills. Therapy is cheaper."

Wanderers are those who are lost. Not in a bad way, just lost. They don't know what they are looking for, and aren't sure why they are there. Some times they want help, guidance to the perfect outfit. Some times they just want to be left alone.

That is the thing both have in common. It can swing either way. Being left alone or needing guidance. Because overall that is what fashion is, a choice. 

Various people have commented on my shopping habits and fashion tendencies. I am indeed a therapy goer. I want clothes, I think I need clothes, clothes are the solution to my every problem. Had a bad day at work, nothing those shoes cant fix. Got an A on my math test, obviously I need to reward myself with a shirt. I go to clothes for a few different reason. They are fun, they justify the changes I have made to my body, and they are comforting.

No dress has ever said you just aren't good enough for me. Shoot, clothes will tear at the seams just to satisfy your needs. Just think of your favorite pair of jeans. Holding on for dear life just to give you one more wear.

And frankly, why wouldn't you want to take advantage of clothes? People see your outfit before they can make out the dimensions of your face. Why wouldn't you want it to be an attractive one?

I hear the argument a lot that it is too time consuming to put effort into your appearance. This is something I STRONGLY disagree with. It takes just as long to make yourself look frumpy as it does to present yourself in a well manner. Trust me, no one ever got that un-brused look by not putting a lot of thought into how long to not wast their locks. 

No one ever got a job by wearing sweat pants to the interview. 

To me fashion is the utmost form of expression. You will never regret looking good when seeing your new boyfriends ex, or an old rival. But you will always regret it when your hair is a mess, your make up is running from last night, and you are wearing clothes that swallow you alive. 

And with the way fashion is going these days everything is made to make your life easier. Hello! Ever seen the sock bun? It is best done when hair is wet or dirty... can't get any better than that. And don't even tell me make up takes too long. All a girl really needs is one swoop of blush and a great gloss. 

Now I know this sounds silly, and by now you are probably thinking I'm crazy. But I dare you, just try it. Try and  fix yourself up. See how great it feels!

I have always been the friend that was dressed up. Nike shorts are for running, I don't wear them to class. And the grocery store is full of isles, AKA runways, that is not a fashion opportunity I am willing to miss out on. I did feel silly at first, but after a while I started to realize, I don't look silly, I look good. 

Why I do it

I have been asked quite a few times over the past few months, "Why do you do it?" Usually they were referring to why I bust my butt in the world of journalism. And most of the time I told them because I have too. I had to finish school so I could get just one job and breathe again. It had been a really long time since I had taken a breath.

But with diploma in hand I can now say, I do it because I love it. Truly love it more than anything else in the world. The feeling I get from writing is overwhelming. The way I watch words flow from my hand is like magic. 

Most people see journalist and they think we are narcissistic, really only in it to get our pretty faces on TV. Well, obviously my pretty face looks great on TV... kidding! I actually look like a five year old in front of a camera. But that isn't it. 

Others think we do it to be pest. Clearly journalist were also the gossip kings and queens of their grade school. But that isn't it at all. See, gossip is all about making up rumors, we are all about finding the facts.

The thing no one ever does is ask us why. Why do you do what you do? 

Well, I'm here to tell you why I do what I do. 

I'm a journalist because being a journalist is what I know. Everything from finding a story to writing the script is in my blood. We hope with our words we can effect just one person, that someone can be changed by the things we produce. There are life lessons wrapped up in every inch of this job. We see the world through different eyes. To us a wreck is a story, it is finding out why that exact car was in the exact place at the exact second. Why the world works the way it does. 

Like one time when we were dealing with a teen death. It was obvious by the witnesses there was more to this that a simple hit and run. My mind was reeling, how sad it was, how educational it could be. To me this boy was not just an unnamed victim. He was my world. I had to protect him, and I had to give him justice. Of course, going to the prayer circle of high school students made me look like a harasser. But in my mind all I wanted to be was this boys guardian. 

There is an extent that journalist have to cut them selves off from a story. To most it seems we are heartless, but to the secluded world of writers we know it is just the opposite. The reason we do what we do is because we are so emotionally attached. I would stay up for days hunting down a missing person, or to get to the bottom of a conspiracy that may help even just two people keep a job. It is because we care with every piece of ourself that we do these things. 

And then there are the personal reasons for being a journalist, I personally have three:

1) To have an interview like Sweet Brown. I'm not sure if you have seen her... she is the one that said "Oh lord Jesus it's a fire!" Let me just say, this would be not only the biggest test of my ability, but also the best thing ever. Having to keep a straight face while you know you are in the process of making someone a YouTube sensation would be magnificent. 

2) I really want to go to jail for a source. What an honorable thing to know you have enough integrity to suffer just to keep a source unknown. This doesn't happen often now that we can't use unknown sources, but you just never know. 

3) And of course, I want to be a POW. Let's be honest, the stories you could tell after being tortured. And how great to know you are fighting for your country in a way most don't. I'm too scared to be a soldier, but I never said I wouldn't keep my mouth shut while someone was plopping water on my forehead. 

Oh... and wanting to drive the FOX car. Clearly my number one reason. Everything is better in the FOX car.

Today is the first day of school

...And I'm not going. I NEVER have to go again. 

And I'm sad about it. 

I never thought I would see the day. I wanted to graduate more than anything in the world. Pushed my way through classes in a mere three years and said see you never to the REC and library fees that I visited once each. Even last night as my roommates packed up their bag and debated bringing actual supplies I wasn't sad.
Life seemed great!

This morning however, it was not so great. When you aren't in school any more you aren't a college student. Well duh! Like that isn't the quote of the year... but what I mean by isn't so literal.

See, what I didn't expect to find out was that I really am no longer a college student. I can't walk to campus when I want. I can't go eat at the SUB. I can't hang out in the front office of the mass comm building like the creep I so gladly enjoyed being this summer.

Sure, I can do all these things technically. It's not like I'd be banned or escorted off the property. But honestly I just can't.

I am no longer in that group of people who go to classes, wait for Friday nights, and complain about doing their homework. I no longer have homework, expect for planing my next day of work. Ever heard someone say they miss homework? Well, you won't actually hear me say that. Poor people doing theirs tonight because professors think it's funny to start the year off with hammer in hand! There are things I do miss though. Like not seeing the inside of another football game. They don't tell you while in school that journalist don't get passes... and sorry Tech, you are a bit steep on those prices.

What about riding in cars completely sober? Being crazy in the back seat. Or having nacho day because you are about to go to a Mexico themed party and obviously have to get as much use out of the $4.00 blanket you made into a poncho. Or best of all, dancing in your friend apartment like the club stopped by your house. There is nothing better than dancing in your friends apartment.

The more I think about it the more I know I will miss these times, and the more real it is beginning to seem. But after a day of moping around in my own self pity (poor Shelby, she can't drink her days away and spend her nights acting a fool any more) I have come to the conclusion that I shouldn't be sad at all.

I had a wonderful time in college. The experience is irreplaceable. But my future is bright and the road ahead will be a great one. Many people told me I would regret graduating early, they said it was a mistake. The fear of being the person who thought it was had weighed me down for months. Today, right here in this place, I can say I will never be that person. I will never regret living up my college days, and I will never regret ending them when I did.

Oh, this is what lonely is

Here is my situation: Just got home from work, running shorts on, hair up in a ponytail, The City playing on full blast, and I am all alone. 

Walking down the stairs with my laptop in hand I was really excited to blog. Then I started thinking... I am kind of lonely. Don't get my wrong, I'm happy, and this isn't some cry for help. But the truth is, I'm all alone. It is a Friday night and I am by myself.

Quite a few moments have lead up to this point. 

Like high school. High school, when one night without your friends meant social suicide. Maybe you could spare a Tuesday night, but honestly, why aren't you just studying with them at Starbucks? Oh, you aren't in any of the same classes? Who cares! "Mom, you mean you don't want to drop what you are doing to bring me to Megan's house so we can do nothing? BUT MOM!! Didn't you ever have a life as exciting as mine?!?! If you did you would understand!!!"

And college. Remember those nights when you were wasted with all your friends? And remember how much fun it was? The joy of waking up sleeping on the couch with your roommate, because who doesn't love a sleep over? "You sleep on the couch and I'll sleep on the floor. Or you sleep in your bed and I'll sleep on the floor." Clearly I love the floor... Kristin I had to put this in for you. 

But what happens when you are no longer in those stages? What if you are as far away as you can possibly be?

See, I am no longer in high school. I have no reason to study at Starbucks. Though, the baristas at the Starbucks down the street probably interact with me more each morning than anyone else during the day. And I don't drink. I don't like it much any more. I'm not sure if you know, but bars aren't the most fun when you don't drink. And when you act like bars aren't fun people stop asking you to go to them. 

Oh, bug the most obvious sign of them all... this weekend is boys bid night. Not sure if you know what this is, but boys bid night is the best thing that ever happened to college. See, it is the night that all the new frat boys get their bids, and everyone else in town gets drunk. I've been working at a boutique where all these girls keep coming in looking for the perfect bid night dress. 

Yes, this outfit must be picked out in advance. It has to be just slutty enough for the wasted faced guy you are dancing with to see your underwear, but tight enough that he cant actually get to them. As all these cute, innocent, girls were picking out their perfect ensemble, all I could think was wow... I'm too old for that. Not that I am too old per-say, but I am no longer in a state where I can be surrounded by that kind of action. Lets just say I'd be better off walking in wearing my cap and gown than I would trying to dress like a freshmen.

Boys bid night last year I woke up the next day with a bowl of pasta in my lap, black X's imprinted on various parts of my face and arms, and all my clothes on. I go to boys bid night this year and I wake up the next morning having to run, and go to work, and be presentable (camera ready as they like to call it in my business).

So here I am. Thinking my night is the bomb.com until I realize it is Friday night and I am sitting all alone. It doesn't upset me all that much but it does make me wonder. How did I get here? And will it always be this way? 

It's not like this was my life even just 6 months ago. It wasn't until I let my job take over that things started to change. I wouldn't change what I did for the world. I have come to terms that I may not be exactly where I want to be, but I am quite mature and established for my age. But is this the price I had to pay? Will I forever spend Friday nights alone, blogging to a computer screen? 

It's beginning to feel like I'm a stranger to a world I once knew. A world I used to be pretty good at living in.

Unfortunately I don't really have a good solution for this one. I feel bad leaving on this note, but I guess some times you just have to leave it on a question and hope for the best. I can say, growing up is hard, and knowing where you fit in during different parts of it is even worse.

Let the music speak

I have always been an avid fan of the comment "If only my brain would retain half the school knowledge that it does the song lyrics."

I don't really wish the terrible thought on myself of course. There is no better feeling in this world than turing the song that encompasses all of your thoughts up and letting it overtake you. We use music as an escape, and that is exactly what it should be. 

Everyone has that song, or perhaps a few. They mean so much to you, and for good reason. The lyrics were written for you. They speak mountains and they carry you through the hard nights. Some times we take for granted the power music has. 

I will never quite understand why people say they hate a song. How do you hate something so pure? Each song has a different meaning, each made for someone. To hate something of that magnitude, it is like hating emotion. Sure, some songs aren't going to be your taste. I get that. But to hate music seems stronger than hating another person. 

Just saying...

Tonight I found a new song that sang every word right at me. Its meaning captured my being. I've listened to it at least 30 times. 

That is what songs do to me. They draw me in. They take over. I need to know their every word. Feel their every note. For a brief moment I want to be the song because in that song I will no longer have to feel my pain.

Try this beauty out... yeah, I worked at a radio station. I know how to link to YouTube. It is Snow Patrol "You Could Be Happy"

You could be happy, I hope you are
You made me happier than I'd been by far
Somehow everything I own smells of you
And for the tiniest moment it's all not true
Do the things that you always wanted to
Without me there to hold you back, don't think, just do
More than anything I want to see you, girl
Take a glorious bite out of the whole world


For me this song has more than just one stable meaning. But it was everything I had been thinking in the past few days wrapped up into a little under three minutes of bliss. 

I chose these lyrics because they were the very first to stand out. See I have encountered a moment where someone said they held onto my smell. It was wonderful. To know you can stick around in someones mind just by your smell. He wore a vest around for a week. But in that moment he was sad. And so was I. We were sad for the same reason. For wanting one another. But we were sad apart. 

His last words hit me hard. He didn't want me to make a decision about my career based on him. I just wasn't good enough for him right then. My whole world, wrapped into that one conversation. 

I have spent quite some time in the past few years fighting with myself about my career. Trying to be the best, trying to be something big, something I approve of. I want to take a glorious bite out of the whole world. But along with this I recently learned that the whole world means taking a bite out of someone else too.

Never did I think you could have both, and I was set on having the career. Until I wasn't good enough for either. 

"You could be happy and I won't know

But you weren't happy the day I watched you go"

And then there is this. I was not happy. But that is why it is the first line in the song. I shouldn't have been happy when it happened. I am happy now and he probably doesn't know. It isn't because he is gone. I miss the friend I had in him. But I am happy because, like I have said before, some times happy is all you have left. And I'm in a good place. 

But none of this song is happy. It isn't supposed to be. Though by the end, I am happy. All of its words together make me feel joy. The last note leads me to hope. This is what songs should do. They tear down your emotion. From beginning to end they let you watch the story unfold in a different way. You are no longer living it but watching it. And right when you think you have to go back to being hurt, or happy, or whatever you were feeling before the song, they resolve it. 

I was not happy that day. Or the days that followed. But what this song says is that one day I will be happy. One day I will take my bite out of this world. He might not have wanted to stop me. The door closing behind me may have been the last thought of me in his mind. But that is the beauty of a song, for just a moment you are the world, and what you want to happen or want to feel is what it is. The song is you.

Fear isn't always a bad thing

I have this intense fear of rain. Maybe even worse than my fear of mascots... don't question. So this fear of rain, it isn't like we are worst enemines. No no, that would be too easy. It is one of those things where every time there is the smallest drop of rain on the ground I am bed ridden for the day. 

I simply can't drive in the rain. 

Don't be so quick to judge though. There is good reason for my irrational, run the other way, cry to myself in a corner, fear. To put it in perspective, from the outside you would think it was a grandma driving my Jeep, and from the inside a teenage girl whose first boyfriend just broke her heart and left her to make the journey home with only a Taylor Swift CD.

See, when I was a senior in high school I totaled my car due to the rain. Well, rain is giving too much credit. There was maybe one drop of water soaking its way into the pavement. But that doesn't mean my car did not nail it right on the head, spin out like a maniac, and ram right into the over sized monster of a tree! Did I mention we had just completed the painting of our windows for the first day. No better way to show those underclassmen who is boss that a bunch of ridiculous sayings on every senior girls window.

This was my sweet baby Suzie. She wasn't actually sweet... we like to refer to her as the devil car. Oh, and don't mind me, my horribly colored hair, and my extra 50 pounds. High school wasn't my best of looks. Do however note the "Get on your knees" writing on the window. That car ended in a mangled mess which had to be thrown into a waste basket by hand, every ping of a part made my heart sink. But you can bet your bottom dollar out of all the windows, this beauty right here was the only one that didn't shatter in on me. Made for a great conversation topic as they jaws of lifed me out.

But back to Suzie. She made it very clear she wanted to end my life that day. Every cop at the scene was saying how lucky I was, and the miles of traffic (good thing I decided to put on this show right as everyone was getting off work, in the middle of the week, on a one lane road, of the only entrance to the most populated subdivision in the area). Too bad I'm a hot mess and wouldn't let that happen. Though I have to say back then I wasn't scared of the rain. Honestly, I was an idiot. 

Not only did I look horrible in high school, but I felt that way too. It was a really bad time for me. I had friends, but I didn't think they liked me. I went to school and hated every minute of it. I was a cheerleader and  my coach ran me into a hole of depression. I had more psychiatrist than I did clothes in my closet, and if you know me that is HARD to believe. 

It took me a very long time to get over all this. To start to tolerate myself again. It isn't something you can change over night. And those bad thoughts I often had aren't ones that I will ever forget. 

The truth is, there was a moment when my car was colliding with that tree, as the glass was blanketing me, that I didn't want to have to drive in the rain again. It wasn't something I ever told anyone, and thankfully when the air bag hit my phone disconnected from my mom (by the way, don't talk on the phone while driving unless you think your mom hearing your last words is something you would be okay with) because as that wreck occurred around me, and to me, I was hoping it would take me with it.

You may be asking yourself right about now, what does all this have to do with fear? Well frankly, everything.

Tonight driving home from work, clutching my steering wheel, crying to myself, just knowing in my head I wouldn't make it through this light drizzle, the thought dawned on me. I am scared because I have something to live for.

Being scared isn't a bad thing. 

When I got in that first wreck I was so selfish and so lonely. Looking back now I know how bad it would have hurt my family, and my friends if I didn't just walk away with a black eye and some cuts. But at the time I couldn't understand. I couldn't see the beauty in the things around me, or the beauty in myself for that matter.

I still struggle with it, as I'm sure most people do. But at the end of the day you kind of need to toot your own horn. Sure there are things about me I would like to change, and I have been told I'm not good enough. Twice now, once at work and once from someone I thought saw my value. But in my mind I know I am. 

Honestly, I'm kind of pretty great. Everyone is. Now getting in a wreck wouldn't upset me because I would have to drive around a Pontiac Grand AM with three pillows so I can see over the steering wheel... it would upset me because I would be losing so many wonderful things. So many amazing people in my life, people that see my worth and help me live it. And I would be losing myself. 

There are so many things I want to do. I want to get so far in my career that even I look back and say I've made it. And I want to see the world, share drinks and laughs with amazing people. A part of me even wants to find someone wonderful to have my every day with. Now now people, don't get too excited... this is a new feeling so we need not jump to conclusions. A lot of me still thinks marrying myself sounds pretty good! 

But that is the thing with life. As you move on and grow up you really do start to see the wonder in it all. Not every day is great, there will be periods of your life where things aren't going well. But even in those periods, no matter how many people point out your bad qualities, there are other people who can't wait to see you strive, and I hope that others can see at some point they themselves are one of them too. 

The pedestal

Yesterday at lunch one of my dear friends was talking about how we put people on a pedestal. We find someone who gives off a great first impression and immediately they are post marked as perfect in our book. She then said when things end with someone we find to be perfect we have to take the time to see maybe they weren't so bright and shiny after all. Maybe we let a few flaws get away while standing on the lower ground. 

I had never really heard something like this before, but the more I thought about it the more it seemed to be true. We really do give those we enjoy a little too much wiggle room. Perhaps to see if they will fall.

See, I was putting someone on a pedestal not too long ago. For good reason. They deserved to be on one. But they also decided to jump down. It took that conversation to realize it, but what I had thought was all laugh lines and holding hands was not. 

We have these great things called smart phones, and one day I went back through some text messages to put me in a good mood. Oh yeah if you didn't know I'm a professional creep. But what I found was not so good. These things I thought were said so sweetly and with such passion really were not. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't night and day. I was picturing I love you and getting I hate you. I'm not some crazy delusional. Though part of me did wonder what I was seeing then that was clearly not there. 

I think we do this with a lot of our life. We want to be prettier, we want to be skinnier, we want to have a lot of friends. You can suck in your stomach all day, but the extra skin is still tucked away. Eventually it has to be let out.

Now I'm not saying this is a bad thing. And I'm not saying that after every relationship you will be able to look back and say the other person wasn't great. Honestly, the person on my mind still is great. Wonderful to be exact. It was the situation we were in that wasn't. You can't change the cards you were dealt, but you can be a little smarter about the way you play them. 

Hearing my friend say those words helped me see I will be okay. It isn't a coping mechanism, or a sure fire get over you plan. It is simply a way to examine the truth, something we as humans stray so far from.