{Outfit Architecture: Black drape cardigan, H&M. Striped ruched shoulder gold button shirt, Anthropologie. Zebra print zipper skirt, Club Monaco. YSL knock off platform heels, Dolce Vita Aprils. Lace tights, Target. Purple bow waist belt, Go Jane.com. Necklace, Jessica Simpson (Gift from Laureality). Gold Antique Key ring, House of Harlow 1960 via Shopbop. Marc by Marc Jacobs locket heart watch. Twig & CZ earring, gold infinity earring, Sole Sisters, a Royal Oak, MI boutique… }

I’m not completely certain if my personality is accurately imbued in my content. When I write, I try to infuse as much of myself as I possibly can, because, more often than not, I’m posed like a total vain-glorious vag in my photos. More often than not, I feel awkward in front of the camera, much preferring to be behind it, snapping the photos myself. I pose in stiff postures, a small number of canned poses I rotate through regularly, because posing in anything other than Hand on the Hip, Slightly Cocked Hip, Slightly Pigeon Toed style is actually really, really difficult. Where do people come up with these different poses? I don’t know. I feel contrived if I try to get too creative with posing, as if I’m trying to be a living work of art like some of those full-time bloggers with beautifully captured photos by a live-in professional photographer boyfriend.

So, these stiffened, mannequin-like poses might actually belie the fact that I’m rather silly, over active, vivacious and loud. Ask anyone. I talk a mile a minute–drunken on my own verbosity, if you will; I can be rather explosive, extraordinarily coarse (I swear like a sailor), and prone to saying the words “like” and “so” much too often. I also tend to break into song spontaneously, sing along to most tracks whenever I play my music (much to the chagrine of my husband, who thinks the music is intolerable enough already), and am ready to talk about all things nerd related.

Luckily for me, I met my match when I met my husband on MySpace all those years ago, and we jived through letters over our mutual love of nerdery and all things quirk-ridden. Imagine my surprise when I found him to speak as fast as I do, if he tended to lapse into pensive, awkward silences every now and then when he needed time to formulate his thoughts properly, and someone who could break into random fits of giggles and hissing laughter and was riled with delight when he discovered I could play videogames for hours and hours and not bat an eyelash. So when I tell you N and I are rather giddy and absolutely childish with each other, I can’t emphasize it enough. Our humor is positively juvenile.

When coaxing him into taking photos of me, he usually does it with the condition that he can fart about with the camera… which results in attempted panty shots and photos of me mocking the weird faces he makes to get me to smile.

There’s nothing better than taking all the seriousness out of life, and as well with seemingly vain endeavors as taking five ga-jillion photos of yourself and your shoe collection.

Better view of the front.

Accessories. More mismatching earrings.

Art Directing the photos. (“Portrait… try attempting an angle… get the shoes!”)

Making faces.

Attempted Up Skirt. FAIL!

{Life is too short to take it seriously, and not collect shoes.}

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