I really can’t believe how much I look like a guy while wearing Jak. So much fun fooling people who even knew me rather well! BWAHAHAAH!
Man, it’s been forever since I’ve posted anything! Between work and stress, I’ve barely had anytime to do anything. I have, however started working on a new Cosplay…. can you guess? ;D
In light of successfully pulling off a man at Oni-con… my next project is VERY ambitious! If you guessed Sesshoumaru from Inuyasha…. you’d be right! This’ll be for Ikkicon at the end of the year. :D
You can see the undershirt— which is really just a dickey, and then the mock-up of the overshirt-kimono-thing. I’m not painting the sleeves, I’m actually appliqueing everything, and it’s my first time doing it! I’m pretty pleased thus far, even if it’s a LOT of work. Each one is four layers long, and I have to stitch all the edges very slowly.
Or a playstation or a flat screen TV or a newer car, etc and etc. I know people that work under the table for half their pay and get paid on the books for the rest and collect welfare. I know of drug dealers that collect for tax purposes even though they pull in thousands of untaxed money each month dealing. Tell me how I am not supposed to be upset with these people like I am with greedy corporate cronies? I’m not heartless. These people are selfish and unethical.
Except not everyone who has nice things is automatically cheating the system. People are given things as gifts. People buy things and THEN qualify for assistance. People save up for nice things.
You can’t assume what someone’s situation is just by what they own.
We were eating only donated Panera bread, rice, and turnips. My father was sneaking to the various blood banks in town to sell his plasma at twice the rate they allow. My mother was dying due to not having her medicine, which cost well over $1,200 a month after insurance.
My autistic baby brother wanted to do something nice for me.
He worked for months making custom art pieces to sell. He worked up courage despite crippling social anxiety and speech problems to ask the neighbors if he could do chores for them to earn more money - raking the yard, helping clean their house, walking their dogs.
For nine months he carefully hoarded his money in a jar in his bedroom. He counted it every single night and compared it to the cost of what he wanted to get for me for Christmas.
Finally he had enough. He bought me a DS Lite and a pokemon game.
He was so happy.
Until one of our neighbors, a highly conservative jackass, saw me with it outside a couple weeks later. My brother was with me.
The neighbor stormed up and became screaming at us, a pair of teenagers, over how we could be so selfish to spend money on “electronic shit” when we were a family on food stamps. Spittle flying from his lips, cuss words every other second, rage radiating off of him so violently that our father came running out of the house - at a limp, since his spine is broken, which causes him horrific daily pain beyond what I can imagine - to protect us.
My brother was never the same again. There is no happy ending here. That episode in his life changed him permanently and for the past seven years he has almost never left his room and never gone to a friend’s house. He is terrified of the neighbors and believes he is a bad person.
Because of fucking people like you OP.
Because of fuckers who believe that they know what life is like for everyone and have a right to judge.
So fuck you OP. If you know drug dealers, report them, go on and put your ass on the line then. But for fuck’s sake don’t you dare thing you understand what goes on in the life of the people who live in never-ending, grinding poverty. Because you have *no fucking clue* what goes on in the detailed lives of others.
You want to talk selfish? Look in the fucking mirror.
This is an important post.
that time Bill O Reily was shocked and appalled that poor people could afford *gasp* A TV AND A FRIDGE IN THEIR APT?
and went on a rant saying these ppl shouldn’t be on welfare because they have a plasma tv and fridge because obviously poor people need to not have tvs and fridge because poor ppl should be storing their food underground in holes and draw on walls with stones and sticks for entertainment.
When I was a child on welfare, eating rotten lunch meat, walking in shoes with cardboard in the bottoms to cover the holes, I had an extensive collection of My Little Ponies. Not “one or two horses”; over three hundred, all told, and almost all the major playsets. Maybe, oh, 10% of the total came from my mother, over the course of the eight years I spent collecting and living with her. The rest were gifts from family members who didn’t know about our situation, but knew from Gramma’s chatty “everything is fine” letters that I loved My Little Pony. They were from the charity groups that let you sign up and specify what your children wanted for Christmas. They were from me saving every penny I found on the street. They were from favorite teachers who knew how poor we were, who wanted me to have birthday happiness. We’re talking thousands of dollars of plastic horses, almost none of which took a dime from Mom’s budget. And the ones that did? She was a mother trying not to break her daughter’s heart.
Every time someone yelled at us because poor people shouldn’t have nice things, we all died a little inside, and I clutched my horses even harder. I needed something bright and beautiful in the world, to make up for the roaches in the walls and the mold growing on the butter.
Unless you’re someone’s accountant, you don’t know where they’re putting their money, and it’s not your place to judge.
"Oh, groceries are hard to come by? Don’t go buy that fabric. Oh, you have to eat nothing but sandwiches for the next month? Then why the hell are you going to a convention?"
These are things that I constantly hear about me and my costuming hobby. I’ll be frank. I’m batshit poor. I make about $300 every two weeks at my job, and no, it’s NOT because I’m lazy to find a better job. Jobs are not easy to come by.
Good jobs are nearly impossible to come by.
Yea, I’m working on a costume… because the fabric was an early Christmas present from my mother. Yea, I went to Oni-con… with the quarters that I literally saved in a jar by my bedside. I don’t have cable so I can keep doing my hobby. I sacrifice things to have fun.
And it’s not easy. No, I don’t put fabric over my light bill, and no I won’t starve myself to go to a convention. Cosplay is trivial when it comes down to living. But it really pisses me off when people assume I’m poor because I’m ‘spending all my money on cosplay’ or ‘too lazy to get a better job’.
I qualify for food stamps, but I’ll never get approved. I’m working with what I got, and I pray it’ll get better some day. And it will. And I’m not saying that people DON’T abuse the system, they totally do. But please, don’t just assume.
No, I’m not throwing out thousands of dollars on cosplay materials, okay?
Remember that I’m a cosplayer for geeklurv? Yea, because I am! It’s this awesome new dating site made by geeks, for geeks. Do you have to like anime? No. Do you have to like Comics? No. Being a geek isn’t defined by what you like, its defined by how you like it! This site is for everyone! :D
Right now they’re accepting pre-registration for when it finally opens, and we cosplayers are here to help you with that! We all have a coupon code that you can use for a percentage off your first subcrip fee. Best part? THEY ARE STACKABLE! Add them all together, and you can end up with 73% off total~ So awesome~
Here’s the first round of codes— mine included! Be sure to check it out! :D
I thought I’d share a little sneak peak of a photo shoot I did last weekend with missmarquin in her casual T-Elos swim suit alt. costume. Probably the most challenging part of this was ‘chasing the sun’ to get that wonderful light.
Follow on Facebook: www.facebook.com/WhiteLilyPhotography
Miss Marquin’s facebook: www.facebook.com/missmarquin
OH HEY IT’S ME.
First Official Jak photo. I freaked out a lot of people when they found out that I was really a woman… including some of my friends. :D
To those whom it may concern,
I recently stumbled across this photo claiming you were hosting a casting call for the next season of “Heroes of Cosplay”. My knee-jerk reaction? This photo had to be fake. I mean, didn’t they get enough bad PR during the first season? Do they ever look at the…
Let’s have a talk.
Fat Shaming. Those two words can make me rage in the blink of an eye. The term was coined about the act of ‘shaming’ someone for being fat.
The last few days, talk of ‘fat shaming’ has been all over the internet.
One friend of mine posted a very controversial post (and I think nothing less of him) about how people need to get over it. That being fat is a lifestyle and that shaming is okay. The opposite action is endorsing an unhealthy lifestyle whereas shaming is kind of an effort to get someone to see their physical issues and do something about them.
But that’s not what happens and that’s not how it goes.
You can’t shame someone for being fat anymore than you can shame someone for being a stick. News flash: being super skinny is super unhealthy too. But you don’t see ‘skinny shaming’, even in an effort to bring proactive awareness about the issue.
And you know what? Who cares if you thinks its unhealthy? It’s a life CHOICE.
Now, I realize that many overweight people have no control over it— my mother is like this. This is another reason that fat shaming should be a no-no. For the people who CAN’T do anything about it… could you imagine? People harking on you about how you need to take control of your life and lose that weight, when in reality…. you have thyroid probs? Or something?
The fat shaming movement needs to end. Period. It’s not right. You aren’t helping anyone. You’re being a dick.
A wise article once said, ‘Eyebrows are like shoes: You don’t notice them unless they are exquisitely right or disastrously wrong.’ The truth in this statement is astounding.
That up there is me, a rare photo out side of cosplay. I wasn’t born with nice (albeit thick) Italian Eyebrows, I was bless with amazingly stubborn and out of control Native American eyebrows. Of all the places that my Cherokee and Pueblo heritage shows, it’s in my hair. Anyone who knows me well, knows that my hair is little more than horse hair. I use Mane ‘n Tale shampoo and I’ve been known to break handles off of brushes. Remember that scene in the Princess Diaries? Yea, that’s me, only not because of curls, because of coarse and thickness. You could easily floss a teeth with a strand of my hair and it would live to tell the tale.
So naturally, my eyebrows are just like this as well. In the photo above, my eyebrows are nice and trimmed, and let me tell you… it’s a WORLD of difference to what they normally are. My brother used to tell me that I needed to do something about my ‘overtly mannish eyebrows’. Thanks Bro, way to give my young teenage-self image problems.
I hated my brows when I was younger. I was afraid to pluck them, so I basically ignored them. And I tried to ignore every comment I could about them. As I grew older, I grew brave and plucked my eyebrows the first time.
Way too thin. My mom got a bit angry and that was that. It wasn’t until I started working retail that I wore make-up and started to make sure that they were groomed. Not that I’m a bit older, I know that a thicker brow style suits my face much more so than a thin, arched style. I’m lucky enough to not have a unibrow, however, I have a lot of hair growth in the arch area and that’s where I hate to pluck the most!
I’m glad that thicker, 60’s-style eyebrows, reminiscent of Aubrey Hepburn are coming back into style. Now I don’t have to feel pressured to make them thinner and thinner and thinner because people stare weird.
If only I could get my fiance’s mother to understand that.