Books Are My Friend

Books are my friend. They always have been and always will. On nights when humans have ditched on plans, or days when no one wants to lay out in the blazing Texas sun books are always there. Tell me I need to pay $5.00 for water or $50.00 for a book, I will dehydrate enjoying a novel. If faced with the choice of bringing my iTunes library or paperback collection to a deserted island I would have my books neatly packed before the sentence was complete. 

As a child, when announcing a need to use the restroom, I would run through the house yelling "I have to go to the bathroom! I need 15 books!" 

It seems ridiculous, but ask yourself what better escape there is in life? To sound like a total geazer: Kids these days just don't understand the importance of a good book. They walk around doing drugs and causing mayhem when they could be educating themselves on things that really matter. Things like Coco Chanel's legacy and Ellen's funny antics. 

The youngsters who do read have a tablet and fill them with magazines. Not that I have anything against magazines, or tablets now. It did take time for me to understand the phenomenon. Their plethora of buttons and lack of old book smell felt like a foreign object. 

In recent events (where Instagram stalking Emma Roberts happened) I fond every other photo on her feed was a book. She reads all the time. She is a girl after my own heart. And to respect someone who takes the time to open up a crisp novel, I have decided to honor her by reading all the books she has posted. 

Emma Roberts Instagram Book Challenge is my new summer goal. As it should be many others. Children in their chaotic teen years, I challenge you to put down the joint and Key Stone can (you are only doing yourself a disfavor with this watered down beer) and pick up books. Learn something. Be something. And when summer comes to an end and all of your friend ask where you have been you can say to them "I have been on an adventure. I have explored place you will never go, and seen things you will never see."

They will probably think you are crazy and might halt contact. This will only allow you more time to read. Everyone wins in the end. 

Style Begins With A C

I recently read the book "The Gospel According to Coco Chanel" by Karen Karbo. It explains life lessons from the world's most elegant woman, AKA Coco Chanel. In conclusion I have learned that Coco, yes we are on a first name basis, is a bad ass. Bottom line, this girl knew her stuff. She might not have been the first to put women's fashion on the map, but she was by far the best. 

The thing about Coco was that she knew her style inside and out. She didn't waiver in the face of fame, and that is what, I believe, kept her so strong. 

Yes, over the years the face of Chanel has been through waivers with designer changes, but her collectable pieces have always remained the same. Tweed coats and mounds of pearls will always been a statement made by Chanel. 

And this is where I wonder, where does my true style lay? I have always been very strong in my clothing choices, saving lunch money to buy a shirt or skirt was the norm for my childhood years. But if you look at my style over time it seems correct to think "This girl is a hot mess."

From prep to punk and back again. There was a period that I wore matching bows in my hair with every outfit. Please forgive me Style Gods, I was young! And then college came, though I was never fooled by Nike shorts and oversized tees I was a sucker for sheer everything. Not even Platos Closet had enough liking for my bags full of see through tops and skirts. And now, back in Austin I scrounge the streets for the best indie digs a boho babe can find. 

What does this mean for my being? Am I am sucker for the latest trend? Am I not the individual that I once thought? Will I ever recover from a life of following the trend? Please Coco, help me to become more like you, a goddess of fashion who can forever wear what makes me feel good, no matter the looks at hand. 

Yours truly, A fashion faux pas  

You Can't Sit With Us!

Let me start out by justifying the image you are seeing above, along with the name of this post. No, I am not going to discuss how much I love Mean Girls, though it was a good move it never struck me as a classic. And no, I am not going to tell you how I came from Africa and rose to a short lived popularity, that would be mellow dramatic. Nor did I take over a school with my team of strategically casted bitches, that would have been highly overlooked at my institution of schooling.

So why, might you ask, did I choose this photo and title for todays late post? Because, sitting down to babble at my computer one night, I wrote what some might call a novel. Not with any intention in mind, just because I think my Macy-Mac wants to hear all my deepest and darkest thoughts. Along with the funny ones, too. 

I wanted to share a small excerpt from the mindless thoughts of who some refer to as Shelby Leigh. Okay, no one refers to me as that, but here it is anyways:

At a rather young age we are subjected to the thoughts of being popular. It doesn't take much to be on the top tier of your grade school pyramid. All you need is the biggest hair bow, the whitest Keds, and a quirky yet cute laugh. If you don't have these things you are screwed. Sorry bout ya, but there ain't no rest for the wicked and that should be taught at a young age.

I myself have fought the woes of popularity for many a years. From my first group meeting with the girls I still call my best friends. That fateful day seemed to be over before it began with the mere mistake of saying Ramen Noodles were a foreign object to my grocery list. 

"Mom! You NEVER fed me what all the cool kids refer to as 'Ramen!' You have ruined my childhood and my only chance at ever having friends!! I will die alone and even worse... A LOSER!"

Yes, we fight this battle for many a years, and then adulthood comes. 

Oh right. It is no different. 

Yes people, I am here to let you know that just because you made it into the so called "real world" does not mean you have escaped the superior bunch. My eyes scroll down Instagram post by Instagram post, during Bachelorette commercial breaks, wondering why I was not invited to be one of Austin's elite? What do they have that I don't? Besides an unrealistic clothing budget and a tan of course. 

And what should I take away from this? You can follow the path of your childhood, try to be cooler and try to fit in. Or, you can just turn up the volume a littler louder on your own life, and make a kind of popular all your own.