Friday, November 30, 2012


Ugh. I worked a monster shift last night and I have not fully recovered so at the moment I have the good nature of a cynical cat just dunked in a bathtub and the brain power of an ancient lizard but I still seem pretty willing to immerse myself in pastel colours. Well then, the zombie apocalypse better not happen because I will be the one sprinkling hundreds and thousands as well as frosting on their victims. Just a friendly warning to those of you that think zombies have a certain style and attitude to uphold which sadly does not involve crinoline skirts and gypsy white shirts. I had a really strange compulsion to dress in all white with strange stockings last night as well so I suppose something of my mind has passed over or is in limbo because I’m normally terrified in dressing in white full stop but then again I am not completely together on any front what so ever. I bought… possibly five hundred pipe cleaners to go with my twenty five white headbands so DIY tutorials will be coming your way- on the condition I can edit videos without the computer crashing every ten minutes as it did in Year 10 English class. I delayed my project by a month because of the damn program. 

No I don’t detest myself but I do want to take an axe to both my legs because they are absolutely killing me this morning and I can’t think of any other solution than dipping in a vat of deep heat muscle rub or something like that. Luckily drinking sweet cappuccino and watching strange cartoon shows in the morning will soften my mind into a pliable mush before I head off to work… again. More time spent at work means more exercise for me, more money to spend on vintage clothing and more time wasted before my image upload limit resets. Until then I will continue to fester and stew in cynicism and refuse to leave the house today until I absolutely have to and when I come back I’ll probably sit in front of the laptop and watch Daria by which time I will probably drop from exhaustion. This is what I’m like, even when on holidays and not studying at university and it kind of sickens me that I become so obsessed by activity… 

Although I did chow down on some magnificent banditos and steak last night I still wouldn’t mind one of these sugary sweets waiting for me after today running around like a monkey and working as hard as a farm donkey. Realistically I will stick to my single teaspoon of white chocolate and raspberry ice cream from the freezer and stick to my diet and try not to undo all the hard work within the last 24 hours. It still won’t be pretty as a five foot tall soft serve cone of delight in a quaint little dinner or canteen but I can only imagine if I had a decent phone that I would sit there on Instagram till I had a pastel melted pile of puke all over my shoes but that’s what photography does to me at times. It traps me in a world and fantasy all of its own and I feel sorry for those who can’t appreciate what it’s like to get sucked into visual arts even if it is just pressing a button and loading film or whatever. Food also does that but sometimes art is the more worthwhile pursuit because unlike food I can share thoughts and images with you guys on a blog and I suck at cooking. 

I’ve got a ridiculous amount of free time on my hands at the moment and all I can think to do is write or listen to interviews/ music that will make my writing better as well as use and empty our dust buster five times a day in order to make progress of cleaning my room. The shrine is still in progress and I can vaguely see in my minds’ eye the kind of things that would fit together but I still need a broad sheet of fabric to throw over book shelves and sprinkle dried flowers over. As annoying as it would be to constantly clean and replace dried flowers it would still be a bit more fire safe then having to use candles and nervously watch over my cupboard making sure I didn’t accidentally set fire to my room. That would justify my mother’s match phobia where I am concerned. 

I’ve grown up surrounded by wall paper as far as I can remember but I never really adored it or even liked it- it was just there and passive compared to everything else that went on in my house. We had it put in new when we moved in but it’s still sort of sickly and pale years later- probably because of steam showing off the glue in places. Maybe the secret is having a cute pattern and bright colours with university trucker caps- although I have to admit my own institute doesn’t sell caps; only huge and comfy jumpers that are like walking blankets of warmth and joy. It’s scary to think sooner or later I’m going to have to move out and choose my own place and really consider wallpaper or paint swatches but for now I refuse to watch the lifestyle channel because it’s brain-washingly bad and I would rather sit around on a cushion reading a book and ignoring the room around me. 

There is one thing I am looking forward to when I move out: pet ownership again. Unlike all my little companions I kept from the age of ten I’d like to see any rabbits or maybe even cats if I can convince my boyfriend incorporated into my room of taffeta skirts and vintage clothes without fear of them making a mess. In an ideal world there would be no dust or decay; dirt and sticky foods would wipe away cleanly and neatly and everyone would eat rainbows and poop butterflies. The End. 

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