"I believe in my talent"

sorry, I rarely post anything these days.
there are lots of stuff i'd like to write about; the kyuubi thing, the psychic, mom and dad's relationship, my suckingly bad vacation and so on....

well, recently, i was crying. Over a split dress. Okay, let me explain.
i was crying over a dress that I was supposed to make. you see, I was so psyched up to become my own fashion label designer, i read books, went to the library, read fashion magazines (i mean, REAALLY read), and I managed to make a blouse pattern on my own. plus, mom had offered me this beautiful piece of cloth that she'd let me do my project with. okay, not one, but two pieces. all nice, and right from the textile factory. still fresh.

before i let you ponder why i was trying to sew a dress in the middle of the month, let me tell you something. She rejected it.
Mom, I mean. she hold up my sewing project for a week until she 'could take a look at the patterns', and when she did, she turned it down.

said: "Wrong, Wrong WRONG! That pattern was all wrong. You'll never make a good dress. Forget it, and let me take back the beautiful cloth and make my own dress with it. "

It doesn't hurt so much that she wanted to take back the cloth she promised me, nor that i was hurt because she said my pattern was wrong. what made me cry?

the part where she said "You'll never make a good dress."

No big deal about the cloth, although at the factory mom bought loads more and it was for her own 'project' (which rarely moved anyway), I can buy my own textile from another factory outlet. My pattern? As i see it, and she explained it to me later, it was no big deal. just slightly big at the hips. Flared blouse, I mean. I showed a flared blouse at mom yesterday while we went shopping, saying "mom, look, it's flared, like my pattern design," and she said:"hideous."

no big deal. I can buy. I can learn at my own time. heck, I was sewing since I was 10! And iv'e been helping her sew my uniform way before that! I could handle sewing machines way before my Home Economics teacher tell me how (I thought my friends how, too).

So why did she say that I can't do it?

I thought it was a joke, but like putting salt to a wound, she kept repeating that part again and again.
"Might as well you give me the cloth. You make bad dresses."

"I can fix the pattern! honestly! I learned, you know. And even if you don't believe me, I'll make an EXACT duplicate pattern right from YOUR books!"

"No, No, NO. You make bad dresses."

I challenged her. "Then how am i going to go to classes next semester? I need a dress, you know."

What did she do? She let me go shopping, and she let me buy $120 worth of dresses, blouses and skirts. All from the 'new arrival' rack.

Dad was mad. She wasn't kidding, although she was the stingiest person I know. Later when we were home, she said it again. "Better let me have that cloth. you make bad dresses."

wow, what an effort to lower my psyche, mom.

So I was there, crying over the Dressmaking Pattern Book (rather sillish-ly) figuring out what went wrong when my family is attending the neigbourhood's party night.

Transported myself back to memory lane. Eight years ago.

"You'll never make good brownies." mom said.
"What are you doing at my kitchen? get out! Don't ever get in and cook again!"(weird. usually mothers will cry in joy if they caught their girl cooking.)
"What is this cake? it stinks.!"
"Are you wasting my ingredients? That's it! never go to my kitchen again!I BAN you from cooking!"

"You cannot cook."

what did I do then?

Woke up every six or nine a.m. at WEEKENDS to cook so they won't know. When mom did woke up, and I hear her tink-'tink'-tink of bracelet getting to the kitchen, and I went all white, if I can't hide the dough in the oven or in another covered pan, she'd be as hell angry with me, but in her groggy mood she HAD to let me finish what was almost done.

years and years of that.

My family was rather supportive. the others, I mean. of course they'd want to wake up evey late morning at weekends, groggy-eyed and sleepy, and found themselves with a bownie. or an apple pie. or a pizza. Less and less complaints, and finally dad complained of one thing:

Why did you make only a FEW batches of food each time? we're hungry, he asked.

wow dad, thanks. but the lesser the better, so I can hide it easily from mom (I'd like to say that, but mom was always there anyway).

TEN years from that. FINALLY mom can come up to me and said.

"Hey, I don't wanna cook today. YOU decide what's for dinner."

to build a trust like that, it took ten years. And lots of english, french, asian cookbooks. hoarding in every cupboard.


The words 'you cannot sew' hit me as hard as 'you cannot cook'. as if i was transported to my younger years all the way, and had to start over.

Okay, last week, I make my own dress, for god's sake. And there's a slight problem with the neck. Nothing much, and from the trained eyes, it's just a frayed bias binding. On a place nobody will notice anyway. but i made the effort to read library books and say, "Oh, this is the fault. I won't do it again." I even photocopied the page to make sure I REMEMBER!

Want more? I had made a few more dresses this season. Just no blouse yet. that was what I'm trying to make now. It's just that i have never made a blouse pattern, that's all.

So I was there, crying over the Dressmaking Pattern Book (rather sillish-ly) figuring out what went wrong when my family is attending the neigbourhood's party night.


today I decided to go to the factory outlet. But myself some cloth. mom, she promised to go shopping together today; she wanted to get her favourite handbag and I wanted to get that handphone I liked. But I saw the credit card on the table at breakfast, and she told me she'll be going anyway. Without me. (all because I am going to the library this morning to return books. Just a few minutes!). I asked her again just now whether she'll pick me up later she said, "I wanna rest. later."

Allright mom, you gave me my chances. rest until late afternoon if you want to, because I'm going shopping. i'll make that dress, I sew my dress at early mornings and on weekends. If it doesn't work out, it's OK.
I'll buy another cloth, and sew another dress.
Until I can do my own dress that i'd wear to class and all my friends could be jealous of.
Why waste my money?

Because I believe in my talent.
that's why.