Kate Bosworth Inspiration

Names

My sister is pregnant so discussion of baby names has been relentless.

It was meant to be a surprise, but they “accidentally” saw the sex during a 3D ultrasound… It’s a boy.

Currently on the potential name list include: Harry and Harris. My niece ensured Harry won so that she can wait until his eleventh birthday for a knock at the door.

With the first selected, then leaves the dilemma of the middle name:

Some parents opt out of it altogether, while others either sentimentally or half-baked choose the name of some relative, usually a parent or grandparent. I'm sure a hint of loss and emptiness abound when leaving that optional box in the Personal Details form blank among our middlename-less peers.

My sister chose to fill in the blank box, saying, “I want something weird and unconventional.”

Precisely after this the baby kicked for the first time.

She favoured ‘Zed’. I suggested Seven, to assimilate myself and my family into the Seinfeld world further, and continue to petition it, but to no avail.

So it seems you can never please everyone. Instead, I want to lay down some factors that you should consult before naming a child, pet, car, you name it! (No pun intended.) Obviously I’m no expert... I'm far off (I need a boyfriend first), but it can prepare me for those coffee meet ups with my friends as we discuss these essential details, because the plans we make at eighteen totally set our future in stone.

“I’m going to have 4 children, the first will be a girl born when me and Mike have just bought our new house and finished our degrees at age 24… then after that we’ll have a boy to protect his next two younger sisters…”

It will fabricate the same as my childhood dream of becoming an architect, chef, or a marine biologist.

We might as well have a baby catalogue.

“Girls page 224… Blonde hair… Ooh, blue eyes are apparently sought after, honey, and on special! Let’s go for that… Now body type…”

Firstly: Names and associations.

It goes without saying that one should avoid the names of exes, tyrannical dictators and less-than-role-model-celebrities. Subconsciously, of course, one would be cautious of their class or work mate named Adolf or Stalin.

Names and meaning: A name could be the catalyst for a person's paths chosen in their own life. It equips one with the opportunity to "live up to their namesake." Hercules appears to be a more attractive name by the minute...

Names and purpose:

Aside from naming children after months of the year, days of the week, seasons, states, countries, etc, which I approve of... Some often wonder whether Gwyneth Paltrow was hungry or just playing eye-spy when she named her daughter Apple, though if it's any allusion to Steve Jobs, I'm all for it. 


I, for one, was named after Hayley Mills. Being the old-fashioned-obsessed person I am, it's a pleasure. But my fascination led me to Google, as it inevitably does. There confirmed my horror that someone in my own country named their child "4real."Yes, with the numeral. The purpose? Cue crickets chirping here.

Nicknamability:

In many a case the Nickname tells you, "You're in!" ...Barring those that result after some embarrassing incident, or apparent downfall.


I've found that people whose names are shorter than about seven letters often live a nickname-less existence.

It's in these situations that people respond to names longer than their original: Serena becomes Princess, Jim becomes J-Dawg, Hayley becomes Hazelnut... Sometimes when creativity is lacking, a complete avoidance of the name results
"Hey, nice to meet you. I'm Richard."
"Oh, g'day Dick!"


Vying for a mystique, your child could even answer to the letter nickname. Case in point: MK for Mary-Kate.

Striving for originality, some look for alternative ways to create a new identity for their child. While I definitely support this, sometimes it's overdone.

How about the hyphenated first name?

"Hey, I'm Annabelle-Rose-Claire-Susan-Freda."

Or the intentional misspelling, which if said with a cheesy voice, subtle wink and a finger-snap-finger-point routine, sounds like a bad pick-up line.

“Hey I’m Jayne… with a y."

Or even one extreme may require two "Hi, my name is..." stickers; the first spells your name, the second tells you how to pronounce it.


A final piece of advice... Bend over.


What? No, I said Ben Dover... Before you drive it off the lot, take the first name for for a test drive – with the last name!

What would you name your child?


What I am trying to say that naming your child, your dog, your teddy bear or your car is a big decision that should be seriously thought about. A name is important, and a beautiful thing when you strip down to its significance to the name-giver.

Who knew that I had so much to say about names. Ha!

- H.

Christmas

What a wonderful day Christmas is. For my family it is chaos, fun and laughter all rolled into one, big fest that accommodates over fifteen people. My mother is the host and loves to work it like a Game Show.
"And now, if I can have your attention, we will open presents in here and then proceed outside to where the presents really are..." Etc, etc. This year our host decided to use an "outdoor" theme where each member of our Christmas party got something that coincides with "outdoor." This was perfect, it being Summer here. My outdoor items included a brand bathing suit (that I chose), a summer hat (that I chose), and some books (that I chose).
Presents are almost always never a surprise. At least for the kids living here, which from about February to November is just me.
Each member had to silently search like in a museum where you got freebies for their big bag of presents marked for their owner with a cute swing tag.
"If you find someone else's don't tell them and move on to find your own! It's like a game," my mother required.
Some were hard to miss: my sister Tammy got a new outdoor chase lounge, table and umbrella; Kurt got a new barbecue on which he cooked our traditionally America Christmas brunch. My niece screamed with excitement when she saw that in amongst a wad of bubble wrap was a MacBook that we passed onto her. She thought she was getting a bag of bubble wrap, which I am convinced she would have been pleased with had the laptop not been there!
Now, I knew what I was getting the books, etc, but I just couldn't find mine... Until... I turned and saw protruding big and soft was a pillow. I knew immediately that it was mine! Why? My mother made a pillow case out of two tea towels that had pictures of giant ice cream sandwiches on them.
The "little" gifts opened before this wonderful and sneaky-feeling were our Sibling Secret Santa gifts – a routine devised to save money. My architect brother got me – wahoo! He built me a band new corner desk and bedroom/bookcase corner nook. It has now made my room become by dream room. It's just beautiful!

The Christmas games create another story that deserves its own explanation!
I love Christmas, my family and my life.

Instant Life

Hello, blog!

I was sitting at a coffee shop the other day, feeling independent, adult-like and sophisticated having ordered my extra hot latte on an extra hot and sunny day, sporting sunglasses and serenaded by sweet, Summer tunes through my headphones.

Then, fifteen minutes passed. I began to look around and, needing caffeine in my bloodstream, began to shake a little. Across the way I noticed a couple of friends who were just served their drinks and items they ordered.
"I got here before them... Why are they being served before me? It's been at least fifteen minutes... Where is my coffee?" Questions pulsed through my mind as the clock steadily climbed the ladder of time: twenty minutes... thirty, thirty-five, forty minutes...

I was off, and took my business to Esquires.

On reflection, this could have gone better. Fed up with taking too long, I had already paid for my luxurious coffee, yet rather than enquire at the counter (I had already asked a waitress) during the mad coffee-break rush, I took forty-five minutes of waiting, thinking as each minute passed, "Maybe this one is mine... Maybe it will come now... Maybe it is my turn..." Until, BAM: it became much too long to wait.

What's interesting is that depending on where you are, it seems to determine your tolerance (or intolerance) for waiting. Waiting at DisneyLand for Space Mountain: one hour seems reasonable, if not more. Waiting for a fancy meal at a five-star restaurant... forty-five minutes becomes reasonable. Now, following unpleasant tasks is a sharp decline in waiting time. To return an item, to complain about a cold plate of fries, to wait in the waiting room to see the doctor...

Instant food, instant music, instant movies, even instant bodies! Add item to cart. Proceed to checkout. Install. Download. It seems we've become so comfortable with our life of things being instant, that now we almost expect everything to be. Please, wake me up on the day that 'Life' comes in resealable bag available at every Pharmacy, grocery store and gas station.

Instead I would rather focus on instant forgiveness, instant gratitude, instant service.

If it means living, I prefer waiting.

Until next time, blog.
Much love,
H.

Observing

Hello, blog!

My friend and I caught up today. As we were walking along our neighbourhood I could not help but do as I always do: observe. There are so many people about and I know only a handful. My Facebook tells me that I definitely know more than that, but it made me think.

This subject matter was inspired by, as mentioned in my last post, the cute guy in the booth-like store in the mall. Who is he? Sure, from afar I can think that he is cute, and he may smile at me and be cordial but: is that because it's his job to be polite and friendly? A good-looking guy like that must have a girlfriend. But does he?

Don't judge a book by it's cover. That is the cliche, slogan-sounding lesson that most are familiar with. Sure, in theory it is a practical and thoughtful method of dealing with people, but rather than judge, I just create. This is my version of childhood make-belief, or "playing house," if you will. He is a figure, and I am making a story, a personality, an existence for him in my life even though all I have asked him is if he has any more iPhone 4 cases.

I suppose that this is kind of like when you see a young person, perhaps aged about 20-24-ish wearing a ring on their wedding finger. You wonder whether they are married, or perhaps it's even a purity ring.

For my own enjoyment and thrill, I am going to continue pondering on the idea that the cute guy in the booth-like store in the mall is single, and exactly my type.

After all, he is just a character, and I am the writer. I will have my fun.

Until next time, blog.
Much love,
H.

Introductions and Op-Shopping

Hello, blog!

I'm such an independent and I-can-be-by-myself-and-be-overjoyed kind of person that I wonder why I haven't started a blog before. I got bored of tumblr. Who was I trying to kid? I love inspiring photos but I didn't want to be another photo lost in the mix of a million. And thus, here we are.

I have finished school and apparently, now life begins!

One way I have "chosen life" is to abandon my prior "cootie" fears about second hand clothing and embrace it. I'm a complete history and vintage fiend... And I said this of myself before op-shopping, seeing being a vintage-lover as loving all things from before this time. Old-fashioned lover is perhaps a better choice of words.

Anyways, I ventured out of my little bubble and bought some items! I was pleasantly surprised. No, I was amazed! On reflection my fashion sense is apparently a mix of '90s and '50s. Images of a person decked out in a poodle skirt and teased hair with a spandex, fluorescent leotard undeneath abounds. I assure you, it is nothing like that. I remember my older sister telling me after purchasing an $80 shirt from my favourite store, Wild Pair, "It looks like it's from an op-shop."
"That's the idea!" I replied with exuberance and confusion as to why Tammy disapproved. But now I can gladly say that I can purchase items that I love more than any mainstream item others could have for a fraction of the price! Here's the shocking reality: I bought five gorgeous items for $25... My theory is that had these items been in Wild Pair, I would be more than willing to pay over $50 per item. It is amazing what retail can do to you. I have learned my lesson!

I secretly feel like Gidget or Audrey Hepburn (depending on the item I am wearing) when I waltz down the street, get out of my car, or glide past that cute guy at the open booth-like store in the middle of the mall. What fun.

Here is a picture of some of my beloved vintage finds:

Note to self: buy more white coat hangers! The number of double-ups I have in my closet is ridiculous. Although, the presently crammed state of my closet will subside when I receive my Christmas present from my brother – a desk/window seat/bookcase set! I'm so excited!

Now, I leave you, smiling to myself about treasuring the simple things in life, like how Coury Combs (fancytreehouse.blogspot.com) renders a day "the best day ever" if she gets an Americano. Bless.

Until next time,
Much love,
H.