On Names

I know I've fallen out of posting again. Which sucks because I got Pinkie Pie for Christmas from my Shadow Boo and I love her to bits. There has also been a new sleep in the last week with pink bunnies on it. Which kind of brings me to what I wanted to talk about.

Lately, It's weighed more on my mind about different names I've gone by or given personas or even what friends have given me. There are names I hold dear and some I don't share while others, I just live as. :) My favorite has been Sparkle Bunny, which a very dear friend and coworker gave me. Which until recently, I never really thought about just how much meaning that name had.

I'm a huge Sailor Moon fan. ChibiUsa being my all time favorite character. When she first came into the series, she acted very adult for her age (but if you go by the comics, she IS very adult for her appearance being 900 years old) yet was alone, scared and confused. She wanted her Papa and her Luna P went everywhere with her. No matter what, she was always going to be the little bunny compared to her Mama, Sailor Moon.

It wasn't until the other day when I was thinking about me being little and how I use Sakura Bunny as an outlet sometimes that it hit me. I'd bought a small pink rabbit, a chibiusa. So now she's being mini moon for Halloween since I'm to tall and fat for the costume :P. Then there is the pink bunny pajamas, which I wouldn't have bought the fabric for is my mom had not insisted that I needed it... which I did. Then of course, it goes back to that nickname at work, Sparkle Bunny or Bunny. In my mind it just stuck and it never really dawned on me why. In my mind, I'm now Sailor Mini Moon thanks to the Doll at work. But really, I think it's it's an unconscious gravitation to a character I related too long before I was every out of the tower as a little.

Not the best one, but one of my favorites.

There are, of course, the names Shadow boo has given me over the years. One which is tied to my shop, Sheria Nightengale. He really only gave me the first part, the second she had always had. While the name was used for rp purposes originally, she just became part of who I am. Same with her sister Sassy Pheonix. I know both bird names are spelled wrong, but that's become part of the identity over the 10+ years of using both names.While Sassy has faded more into the back, Shi is and probably will always be a character and a symbol I use until I'm gone. The name means something and I'll answer to both names when called. Some friends from older long gone guilds, still know me as Sassy. Because of Shi though, I'm still drawn to the silhouettes of small birds because I like to think they are all nightingales.

Then there come the names that have been given to me by people who've faded from every day life for one reason or another. While I think they are gone from memory, something will happen that brings that name to the front of my mind. For the last 2 months, it's been the name Seito.

Seito was given to me by a dear friend. A friend that we dreamed big together and just all around clicked with. Unfortunately... there are things in life that get in the way and suddenly those big dreams crumble. Things remain whether you try and bury them or not. Seito was the name given to one of my lovely dolls as a symbol of that friendship even. At the time, she was one of my best pieces. It's always weird giving dolls to boys though.

For some reason, she didn't like to be photographed. I have a lot that are just not quite right.

Every now and then I think of her, but had disassociated with the name. I had thought I had at least until I was on my way to physical therapy. I normally cut through the graveyard as a time saver and a way to ground quickly before going to heal. On my walk, I pass through the Japanese section of the cemetery. I run myself through drills of pronouncing the names to try and remember the little bit of basic Japanese I remember. Then it caught my attention, just out of the blue. Something I'd passed a dozen or so times before.

It is spelled SETO on the marker, but it's close enough I had to double take and still do months later. I haven't even gotten the courage to take a photo of it, which I thought I had by now. It's a rather large marker too. There was no reason to miss it, but I had until that moment. It stayed in the background of my mind, still there, but not dominating it. Then, within the last couple of weeks, I came across charts with the last name being Seito. Again, I was stopped in my tracks. The same charts keep popping up now in my work. Something needs to be scanned that brings me back to the memories tied with that name.

I have a rule about things showing up like that. The cosmos is trying to tell you something, no matter how hard you fight it, it's trying too.

While the name still has significance to what became a turning point in my life, I still try to forget the tie to it. Even this post was something toyed with until, again, the name was on my desk, staring me down today.

Then I reminded myself that names aren't always tied to all bad things. Words have meanings, both good and bad. Memories tied to them that are good and bad. There are parts of you tied to the name you where given by birth parents that are both good and bad.

I always think of the names as the different personas though. One name is me right now, which is also everyone's Sparkle Bunny, the Party Pony and Pinkie Pie. To people who know me, I'll be Sassy or Shi or little bird. My birth given name is one I just don't associate with, either form of it, but the variations that friends have come up with over the years, I will gladly respond to with a smile. They represent who I've become. They sparkle. They represent another turning point in life. No name you take every truelly dies, no matter how deep your bury it. It still clings to part of you, whether good or bad, it's you.

Right now though, I think I'm always going to be Princess Anastasia Sparkle Bunny Linnie Lou Who CooCooCachoo

Belated Merry Christmas

Despite the usual family drama that comes with the holidays, I had a very good Christmas. I got 5 dolls in total. 4 Monster High and 1 Pullip doll I'd been wanting, but always talked myself out of.

Black Diamond

Out of everyone this year it was Daddy that surprised me most. For one, he's had a rough year. I wasn't expecting much at all from him and had prepared myself for that. I was surprised to not only get a gifty but a couple and nothing video game related!!! Ok... maybe there was one thing, but even that was meant to appeal to my little side because there where instructions to get little appropriate gamies for my 3DS! :D I knew for sure I had a Monster High doll, what one was anyone's guess, but I opened a create a monster pack that had 2 dollies i have not had yet! So I have an art project now. Miss Diamond was different because I had taken the doll off of my Amazon wishlist about a week or so ago because I'd talked myself out of her. And yet, she's coming and it's only because she isn't a froofroo girly pink doll!

This Christmas was a bit of a milestone as it was the first I felt comfortable enough with myself to be little. This went from singing Christmas music when in little head space (which thankfully only one person witnessed!) to staying up tracking Santa on Christmas Eve. I was open about this and heck! I even wore my sleeper I made! I even didn't pay much attention when a family member, who'd I'd not seen in several months, poked fun at the fact I spent a day in my sleeper, with my teddy and a sippy cup watching cartoons. Well, at least I didn't show it outwardly.

There where things however, that brought me down. Christmas is general a hard time for me mentally, even with this year being as fun as it was. There where still those dark moments of doubt and fear and shame. While I know why they are there and what triggered them, for the most part I've tried to not focus on those things. I know that I will need to sort them out. Right now I'm just proud of the fact I didn't let them drain the fun out of the holiday.

I hope you and yours had a magical holiday season and have a bright new year. :)

My Guilty Pleasure

Sunday morning has become the day to snuggle on the couch with a sippy cup of juice, my teddy and a blanky to watch cartoons. It’s my recovery time from the week so to speak. Heehee. 

I’ve been feeling more like myself again finally. Which has been bad for my bank account. Ania boo likes to buy toys and there is one collection of mine that, big or little, I have to pick up when I find a new doll.

I’ve been collecting Monster High dolls now for over a year I think. My first was, of course, the first run of Draculaura. She is my favorite of the group to where I have a few others of her dolls. But the first run of her (this means she was made before they switched them to being jointed at the hips. First runs where put together with elastic in their hips which often broke when trying to change their shoes) was the very very first for me. She’s pink, has piggy tails and is a vampire. What isn’t there to love! Well… her voice in the cartoons bothered me at first, but that’s even grown on me.

From left to right, standing, Abby, Cupid, Lagoona, Ghoulia, Draculaura. Sitting, Rochelle, Frankie.

Ghoulia was next and it wasn’t long before I found Lagoona and Frankie. Lagoona was my first to customize. Out of the box, her hair felt horrid. She ended up getting a boil perm to get the curls back that she needed. I still toy with giving her another one and trimming the ends of her hair. It’s still a tad frizzy.

After that, I was on a quest for Cupid. Abby was always in the back of my mind and then Rochelle. Cupid was the first I found. I love her even more once she was out of the box. The details on her where amazing. Officially, I’d been hunting for her for about 6 months from the time she was released. After getting her, I set my sites on finding Rochelle. I had people looking for them at this point.

At Wal-Mart yesterday, and on a whim, my mom and I were searching the toy aisles. After finding her first one for me a few weeks ago, she’d gotten a bit hooked on finding them. So as we’ve hunted, I’ve told/shown what dolls I’m looking for and what style exactly. When we stumbled upon the Monster High section yesterday, we were met by many dolls I haven’t even seen yet. Robecca and Venus were the only ones we spotted out of the regular dolls. I saw the new Ghouls Rule Draculaura and had her in hand. Then I found Abby and I snatched her up (I had never seen this doll until yesterday. I had given up hope of ever finding her in her everyday clothes. Yesterday, I found 4 between 2 stores.) As I dug through the display, hoping against home I’d find a Rochelle, I settled I’d be leaving with Ula D and Abby. Mom was still lobbying for me to take Robecca and part of me thinks I should have said to hell with it and grabber her too. I happened to look down and there was Rochelle, just sitting there in plain sight on top of the Create a Monster packs. There was squealing and jumping. I put back Ula D (Draculuara) and snatched up Rochelle, hid her and Abby under cat food in my cat and ran. It was the best high ever having my prize. Then the panic attack set in I was in Wal-Mart on the weekend before school and it was chaos.

My catch. Rochelle (pink box) and Abby (blue box)

Why dedicate a post to Monster High dolls on my little blog you ask? For one, I adore them and the message they give to little girls. They teach tolerance. This is a series based in the girls’ high school. They are all different, ranging from sea monsters, vampires, werewolves and even robots. They’ve even been in a campaign in real life to encourage others to not bully and be tolerant of others. How do you not love that?

I grew up in a period where all we had was Barbie. If I had had these, maybe I would have felt better about being different. Maybe the self-hating and the eating disorder wouldn’t have taken hold of me at a young age.

While these have been a bit of a money suck, it’s more about the adventure of finding them for me. There are rules. I don’t order them online. For one, they cost more often times. Also, I’ve heard horror stories about ordering from places like Wal-Mart or K-Mart (where they are often found cheapest) that the dolls will be thrashed or they won’t even send the right doll. I love the hunt of this. I love proudly tell the people at the register to bag the doll separate and to not squish her. I love claiming that they are mine and not for a niece.

Out of all the ones I have, the one I love most, I didn’t buy. She was bought for me for my birthday last year. She doesn’t live on her stand or even on the shelf with the other girls. She often will come along in my purse. She doesn’t wear her stock clothes even and she often will join me in the tub to play with bubbles. She is a Dead Tired Draculaura that my Daddy bought for me last year for my birthday. While I play with all my dolls a little, this Ula D speaks to me the most. I see her as a little like me. Maybe it’s those piggy tails or her jumper dress, but I look at her and see me and it makes me feel better on those rough days of being big too long.

My sweet little Dread Tired Ula D. She sleeps with me, travels with me and on this occasion, came to work with me for a friends last day. She's hiding from the sun here.

Lines on paper

It’s October, my favorite month of the year. I decided way back in June I was going to be Alice again. I love Halloween, so I’m usually planning for the next one in December. Since I sew, I always tell myself I will start in September, but every year, it seems I’m working like a made women the last few weeks of October. Last year’s dress was sewn in a weekend. I had planned on just reusing it this year after tearing the top of it apart and fixing the goofs, but then I remembered just how much work it would be to trim it down to my current size, fix the things I massively messed up, and possible dye it a darker shade of blue. I scrapped that idea and decided it would be much less work to start from scratch.

I bought fabric in a beautiful shade of deep blue. It is a texture fabric, but it works well for what I have in mind for this version of Alice. I want to be darker and more gothicy. Plus, I have darling new Mary Janes that really needed to be shown off with a dress deserving of their awesomeness. After buying my fabric and things yesterday and washing everything, I decided today was the day to cut things out and hopefully sew.

Now, recently I’ve lost a lot of weight. Something I wasn’t trying to do at all either, which has been very nice. Today while taking out the old pattern from last year, I realized just how much weight that was. When you buy clothes, I don’t think many people realize what a huge difference sizes a couple of sizes are. I recently had to buy new things because things where falling off. My default response was, ‘Meh, you’ve just stretched out the old stuff cause you where it all the time.’, but today while cutting the pattern, it really hit home. I had made the first dress a 22 ½. I often resize patterns as I go because, well, patterns are great as a base but I customize things. The first dress was one of these Frankindresses. I also hate cutting paper patterns to size, but realized today I would have to to make the dress a size 16. When I had laid out the bodice pieces I realized just how much that was off the pattern. A 22 to a 16 was a big gap. A huge gap. Was I really that big? Needless to say that this caused a slight meltdown to where I sat and cried. I hate cutting patterns I buy, but I had to to make the dress the right size for me. But how could I have ever been that huge!? 

When I accepted the fact I was little, things like looking in the mirror took on a whole new meaning. I loved myself on the inside. So I didn’t look at the outside with the scrutiny of the average women. I loved my face and my eyes and my curves. I knew I was curvy, but I never saw myself as being huge because for the first time in forever I was happy with me, inside and out. So when I started losing weight, I didn’t notice. I honestly don’t keep track of the numbers because I think it’s stupid to stress over a number. I’ve spent so much of my life hating me, fighting with eating disorders, addiction and mental abuse that now I tend to not look at things that can cause a relapse. I am beautiful, my dress size didn’t need to tell me that.

The last month or so my parents have been raving about how great I look. That I look so much healthier and better and beautiful. I try and shrug it off because I find it a tad offensive. Wasn’t I beautiful before? I felt beautiful before. After wearing my favorite apron the other day and being told that it looks so much better on me now that it doesn’t look like it’s pasted on me, I’ve been just smiling and nodding when parentals start raving. 

I really don’t need to be on another self-hating spiral. I also know that one way or another, I’m getting out of this house early next year. No more triggers to worry about. No more being compared to siblings. My kittens will remember who their mom really is. Most importantly, I can have sippy cups and kids dishes out in plain sight without having to worry about getting the dreaded look or snide remark!

Its such silly things, I know. The past few years have been an emotional rollercoaster and honestly, I’m ready to be off of it. I’m ready to be the big little girl in the big wide world.