I'm in my typical hipster mood of collecting images from Tumblr and then smashing them together in a hap-hazard manner as I wait for my boyfriend to come online, but it's occurred to me that even my average hipster mood is just a little weird. If I could I would credit every single creator for each of these lovely little photographs but as it is, I can't since the site I scalp them off is notorious for it's author ambiguity. Shucks.
I've been caused to stop, think, and look at the bigger picture of my blog as a whole and the popular culture/ fashion posts that I do and what to think of it in contrast to bloggers interviewed and the way they carry out their lives.
I don't even want to contemplate what my family and friends would think if they saw something this risque, strange and altogether unconventional in terms of the music I listen to, the way I dress and personal grooming. But maybe I like chopped hair on other people as well as the best plucked eyebrows in the world and sheer bodysuits; the limitations of my social setting and where I live scare me though. My mother has never liked my strange taste in clothing and dress sense and sadly I just wanted this to be nourished of all things. I do it in secrecy mostly behind closed doors and without anyone else home- does this mean I'm being untrue to myself or I'm struggling to break free?
I recognise that I'm not the perfect lover and their are moods in which I am selfish and unmoving but I hope I never give any beau a heart-wrenching feeling and drive them to desperation and deep sadness. There's something just a little sad and sadistic about destroying such a sweet and symbolic piece of baking. I'd hope to never have to destroy a cake this way, but it would be nice if someone made me a nicely iced cake with small little roses for me to drive a knife through myself; but the best I've been given is a badly drawn Santa that looks more like a troll wearing a sleeping cap.
I've again started collecting the names of potential universities to visit when I run off to another country for study abroad and I still have my heart set on Japanese culture, warm smiling Geisha sporting dazzling red lipstick and more phone charms than you can poke a stick at. I don't know any Japanese other than phrases I've adopted from watching cartoons about ninjas and the whole thing is a really bad idea, but I still can't resist the exotic lure of such a culture centred on youth as well as Eastern traditions. The statement hairdos are also another incentive to explore the streets known for miniature cars, the refinement of serving sea food as well as shy schoolgirls everywhere.
It's a Friday night and I have already brushed my teeth, had a shower and tried to clear my pores; there are normal people my age going out to clubs and drinking alcohol, being photographed to later be noticed on Facebook and I'm wasting away, slaving over a laptop. I perform these rituals regularly under the pretense that establishing a name for myself as a blogger will open doors and a new life of excitement when I'm older, but truth be told, I'm really happy just exploring my own thoughts as well as reading engaging literature when I have time on my side.
Sometimes I feel like calling to arms myself and today nearly wore all black by sheer coincidence when going out for a drive this morning, but in my strange ways I abhor violence and have broken up a few small quarrels amongst short-tempered who are also short in height. The thing that has made me most mad all day is my boyfriend who I haven't had a decent conversation with in over a week. Sometimes I do feel like giving him a good kick up the butt, but often we just settle for mutual tickle fights as well as play fighting and throwing each other about my lonely house. Yeah, I complain about him a little too much but he always makes me feel less tired, stressed and lonely and for that I think him and could never be truly mad at him.
My moods between gold jewellery which is thing, refined and set with precious stones fluctuates between my urge for silver rings, thick jewellery with lapis lazuli or turquoise and a bohemian aesthetic. I think I may buy a heavy turquoise snake head necklace and revert back to my old ways in which I rely on thick silver rings that can pack a punch behind any wallop or blow to make me feel safe again. Hormonal stress has a habit of swinging my moods about vicariously and making tense nerves even more jangled. Knowing I can thrash my hands about when wearing heavy silver jewellery makes me feel a little less vulnerable.
I'm still on the lookout for the perfect baseball/ raglan long sleeved t-shirt to wear to university for days when I'm feeling cheap and slobbish, but they're cheeky little blighters and continue to get the better of me when I hunt for them online as well in stores. Perhaps there can only be one perfect shirt that I dream of but a babe with peroxide blond/ white hair and equally bright teeth has been the one to claim such a prize. The whole image seems very in touch with the American Independence and the 4th of July was only a few days ago, or maybe I'm reading too far into this for meaning. I also listened to 'National Anthem' from Lana Del Rey today and the chorus has been floating about in my head all day tormenting me gently with softly sung lyrics and dark, moody cinematography.
Goodness knows I'm not courageous/ rebellious enough to do this to a real set of stairs, but if ever I owned a house which had a large sprawling garden I think a nice set of piano key stairs in concrete would be high on my list of absurd priorities and landscaping needs. The Jewish candelabra set in stone on the back wall with silhouette Christmas tree is pretty confusing but I dig it in a strange, eclectic vision of what street art has the great potential to become. Everything seems so weird and strange tonight, I can accept the oddity of clashing religions as well as Vogons from 'The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy'.
At this very moment I am close to getting tattoos inked, buying vintage kimonos with old, second hand Dr Martens and adding in dip dyed Ombre extensions to my hair. Being a lone wolf never bothered me in high school and it felt normal to hate everything and everyone around me but with something to live for now and people who do care about me it pisses me off when I feel abandoned and left to my own devices. I'm eighteen years old, haven't set foot in a club yet and spend my Friday and Saturday nights reading in bed, blogging on computers and trying to feel inspired by videos of others. The problem is I imitate style a little too easily in some primitive behavior and attempt to 'survive'. So it seems I'll be watching many videos to balance everything counters everything else and read till my eyeballs fall out.