4.6 billion years

'My Spirituality as an Atheist'

I don't agree with the use of the word 'spirit/spirituality' but this kind of idea, this "essence of human" is what enables me as an atheist to breathe vacancy day by day. An enriched understanding and appreciation of beauty seems the only way to devoid life of absurdity. Not necessarily meaning or significance but simply "to feel wonder, to be in awe" and to allow my senses to marvel in the world.

Currently reading: Cloud Atlas

A gift that keeps giving.

Jiminy cricket

The problem with holidays is that we expect them to be something other than ordinary days. Houses and buildings are forced to fancy dress, there is colour everywhere, noise, people bustling in and out of these very buildings clutching their preparations to the crooks of their limbs, straggling and struggling, pushing and being pushed, there is overlapping music, jolly carols and gaga and no silence, no one can see the floor they walk on but we feel the rubbish rubbing against our soles, clocks under pressure tick their arms harder and faster, everywhere phones are ringing and everyone's digging in the pockets of their clothes and other clothes and bags and other bags and a finger strikes the shiny screen but it has stopped ringing, children are crying from the laps of bearded strangers, teeth are decaying and trees are dying, companies are laughing and knocking glasses, everyone's running and shouting and buzzing with the excitement and anxiousness of a million people who have no idea what they're celebrating. It's Christmas, It's Christmas!

So this is why when I come home to a family who doesn't acknowledge this mess outside our door, and I wake up to the 25th expecting to be woken by Santa himself, and to see trees adorned with glitter and tinsel, and to experience the love of giving, and to see my entire extended family before me, and I don't but instead, wake up naturally from a good night's rest and drink tea and listen to bon iver and wait for the explosion of a joyous day to ensue, I keep blinking myself awake but nothing happens so I just keep drinking my tea and wonder jasmine rice and green or chai or earl grey? So I decide one of each and write a million tiny unfinished blogs because I cannot concentrate because I am still expecting. So tell me to stop because I don't even like holidays that much except the energy, all for the energy, and I'm sure if I believed Jesus was anything other than a magnificent figment of imagination, I would be different but that's just too bad. I just want to enjoy my nothing day because I love nothing days except this isn't a nothing day. Things are good as long as they fulfil their purpose, so this day despite being perfect to me, is imperfect, so Christmas, screw you, screw you so hard for ruining my nothing day. It was meant to be a perfect nothing day.

so ready for us

I like reasons, which is a terrible habit but I like them so what can you do? I like knowing that I laugh because I am shrinking the world so it fits within my cupped hands. I speak the way I speak so no one will understand me unless they understand me and are listening. I listen to the music I listen to because it makes me feel, and because feeling is important to me, because feeling in the beating of my heart, in the signals from my brain, represent false promise, which I also terribly like. I read textually dynamic books because confusion draws me away from living the fear and nearer being stimulated to understanding that which is the truth. The truth of all truths; that there is no truth. I talk to the people I talk to because they think about, and struggle their lives with the the unfortunate circumstance of being nothing, or something. I love my family because I owe them much more, as we all do. I am who I am because I spend my time doing everything I have said, and by not being someone who doesn't do and think those things. At times, I feel like these are the reasons to explain a person. I feel that if I ask the right questions the right way and receive the rightly meditated responses, then I am seeing into their person. That by using the simplest of ways, you and I are helping each other to understand. Do you believe so? In all my life, I have only known few things that would make something like Life an exciting journey rather than constant downfall. I believe in people, and trust that I will find the person who can exclaim this entire passage to me in divergent words with a brain that sends signals that are similiar to mine. I believe that in the moment of silence before my own child cries, I will burst and burst until I can burst no more, then lay down and cry because I always cry because I feel too much.

Duty of Care

From the moment we are born we inherit a swelling sack of losses and failures, they ride on our backs and push us face down into the earth. Then limitlessly, unconditionally, we will feel hands of strength, pushing harder on us, pushing until there is dirt in our lungs and our skin, tortured with bruises, and then there is release. The same hands begin to uproot us, pulling us upwards towards the sky, towards light. What is parenthood? Why should any individual be responsible for another's entire being; their health, their minds, their everything. Torches drop from nowhere into the hands of mothers and fathers, and they super glue these torches to themselves and carefully, so slowly, guide their children through tunnel after tunnel. Children run. They stumble, they are lost at any time but the torch never fails to give light. This is what it means to me. There comes a time when the world is crashing down and we cannot blame ourselves so we blame this light, we hurt the light, thrash our limbs and roll boulders its way. But the world will not crash, we will grow taller, stronger, and we will stop fighting. So that when we are old, when we are learning to finally able to walk confidently, steadily, like a turtle that has been walking for a long time, we can finally, finally every once in a while, turn around and simply smile a little and say 'thank you'. We have a duty of care, we have a responsibility to love the people who have sacrificed decades towards the children they bled tears for. Our love will not compare, but we can make the hurt stop, we can be at peace with each other, tell each other things not because we have to but because we know it matters, because sometimes light switches fumble. Coming to terms with one's adulthood is perhaps a challenge, a rocky stepping stone but summoning the decision to enter parenthood is beyond an unexperienced person's imagination. We learn to love through the way in which we are loved, and for every morsel and every crumb of our lives, we should be grateful and we should care because love may be overrated in so many ways, but in this way it will never be underrated enough.

Skis in Vancouver.

"For what gives value to travel is fear. It breaks down a kind of inner structure we have. One can no longer cheat—hide behind the hours spent at the office or at the plant (those hours we protest so loudly, which protect us so well from the pain of being alone). I have always wanted to write novels in which my heroes would say: “What would I do without the office?” or again: “My wife has died, but fortunately I have all these orders to fill for tomorrow.” Travel robs us of such refuge. Far from our own people, our own language, stripped of all our props (one doesn’t know the fare on the streetcars, or anything else), we are completely on the surface of ourselves. But also, soul-sick, we restore to every being and every object its miraculous value. A woman dancing without a thought in her head, a bottle on a table, glimpsed behind a curtain: each image becomes a symbol. The whole of life seems reflected in it, insofar as it summarizes our own life at the moment. When we are aware of every gift, the contradictory intoxications we can enjoy (including that of lucidity) are indescribable."
‘Love of Life’ from ’Lyrical and Critical Essays’ by Albert Camus
Translated by Ellen Conroy Kennedy

 

Wear it ironically.

A few quick snaps from outpost at cockatoo island last week which was fun. I like ferry rides, playing "spot the sluttiest cut-offs" game, trying to "get" the arbitrary piles of materials being presented in frames, and laughing at hippies with their ridiculous moustaches and unnecessary smells. I also like being in the company of banksy's mind. So simple, so effective.

  

Contributing to the pathway of chalk art. "IF NOTHING MATTERS, THERE'S NOTHING TO SAVE" (Foer, duh.) Chalk mess, heat and nail breaking aside, sense of accomplishment went BOOM! Biggest drawing on the path, booyah!

 Powerful apples

 I like robots, and bins recycled to become speakers, and "weapon face"

Shirt Strings

   

 

Entering PASTEMODERNISM Land. 

 

Sunday Funday is fantastical.

Show me a garden

I enjoy people most when they are filled, bursting, outpouring with energy. It doesn't matter whether the nature of this energy is positive or negative. It's the presence of any kind of energy and its relative animation; the buzz of hatred or love. The stimulant to all kinds of things that excites me. I enjoy watching people being energetic, and watching that energy twist and pierce the skin of those around that person. I like the taste of an atmosphere filled with a lot of people with a lot of unheard noise, and the kinds of expressions that they carry on their bodies and faces. Energy never seems grey. It doesn't have to be loud nor vibrant, it just needs to feel akin to hope but more abrupt, more fresh and with a soul that ripens and bursts. Hope dies too slowly. I enjoy observing the fierceness to an angry person with an enormous pit of negative energy, and watching them plot to push down buildings and slap baby animals. I enjoy watching a happy person paint themselves rainbow, dance to their own poorly-composed songs and embrace the world with fingers that wiggle gaily because they can't help themselves. I feed off these people, absorb every little morsel of what they have to offer and breathe a little of their air. I suppose this energy is the rush we feel when we are connected to a moment in our lives; our way of communicating our own raw experiences. I don't believe that all experiences are meaningful, I'm not even sure I believe in the kind of meaning I crave so inherently but I'm still waiting for a kind of enlightement, and patience is a thing I am becoming acquainted with frequently so maybe a few calendars down the track, I will know a little more with certainty. I came home and had too many spoonfuls of glorious baileys with icecream, and I'm just tired of feeling like a body with no bones and too much skin. 

From da hoodz

It was a fateful sunday involving me, some fun kids, a load of clever graffiti, and one life changing ferry ride. I was floating on a ferry named 'Charlotte', and making my company proud by singing remix versions of 'Incy Wincy Spider' (incorporated some rapping which made it all cool & stuff), and then I notice there's this girl two rows in front of me with what must be the most amusing sunnies I've ever come across. While shit like flower petal framed sunnies gets my adrenalin goin', this was a different kind of love. I released my inner creep and hunted this girl down. Bam! 'Henry Holland for Le Specs HOODIES'. You belong to me. Imagine a mash up of your obsession with the metal, gold, round shapes and BIG EYELIDS. Imagine that during a mindless hunt for your summer sunnies you found these. YOU ARE NOW IN MY STATE OF MIND.

Also, when you wear these on top of your head, you look like you have guinea pig ears, which is one reason enough to persuade me.

Give my thanks to the deceased.

My new pastime is to raid the virtual markets for quirky little gems. My meat being gold toned jewellery, my plate being estate sales, and my fork and knife; etsy and eBay. Considering one of the reasons that turned me off thrifting was mahzah's kind reminder - "You're wearing dead peoples' stuff!", I'm surprised that the thought of wearing a little, dead, old lady's necklace around my neck, is completely fine with me. I'm getting worried though, too many bulk bought shipments of old enamel, onyx beads, coloured glass, agate chunks and I don't even know what, has me questioning the practicality of what I'm doing. Yeah, rationality's a bit slow. I need more limbs. (Apparently the easier solution as opposed to y'know, buying less.)

I know, I know, I really need a real hobby. I'm becoming the kind of people I work with, I think it's cause their conversations consist of nothing but shopping lists so in finding some kind of conversable language, I've fallen wallet first into their world of exchange, exchange, exchange. Anyway, I WOULD KILL FOR SACHIN & BABI, and winter weather to wear my 

new boots and angora blend sweaters and bubbles of warmth.

 

 

 In an attempt to unshallow myself from countless, hollow nights of filling virtual shopping baskets, I tried to read a bit of the classic stuff to no avail. It's a shame cause I was all for 1Q84 (in a very murakami mood), but guessing it wouldn't be the same without reading 1984 first, and I don't know how I'd manage. Not fun enough, that's what I think. It's harder to be fun and serious at the same time, your mind plays the game rather than watching a game being played. So much difference, don't you think? If I ever wrote anything, it'd be like Murakami, only looser, with no connection between one sentence and the next, and basically, shit. Textual dynamics: 1 million. Me: 0/completely seduced.

Anyways, if you'll excuse me. I have some more pointless browsing to attend to.

P.S

"Remember it's just food, not love." To that I say Psch, what do you know?! Have you even tried Connoisseur's caramel honey macadamia ice cream? My body disagrees because I'm still dairy intolerant. In rejection, I sucked up a whole original sized Boost yesterday, and ate a massive bowl of aforementioned creamy heaven. I sure showed...myself. Despite these boar-like behaviours, I'm actually losing weight. Woo-boo-hoo for me.

Listening to florence + the machine has gotten me feeling all "floopy"

Sphere of (H)ours.

It's been a while since I've wasted time here, owing to reason a) my main online activity heavily concentrates on eBay, b) nothing new/no real excitement except lame things like new purchases due to reason a) and c) my digestive system no longer knows a system but is more like "Screw it! REJECT REJECT DIE REJECT!". I'm trying oh so hard to feed my past vitamin C addictions to feed my immune system, but what's over is over, I don't love anymore.

I like these pikchurs. Clever, clever.

 

Also I realised I have become the spiteful person who knowing I can no longer purchase an item (cause the stupid bidders have made the stupid price too high), will purposefully nudge these prices up more. i.e if I see something with a current price of $91, I will fake bid '$94' knowing 1000% that the bid was $95..so that those stupid bidders have to pay more as a result of their stupid unneccessary bidding a week before the auction ends. Also, maybe not so much 1000% cause I accidentally ended up buying a couple of items..yeah, real brainy. As a result I've resorted to selling this crap so that I can continue this vicious, vicious cycle. I don't know. Tell me something better to do. Also, I bought dirt cheap body glitter and am using it to draw circles on my arm RIGHT NOW which is fun fun fun, oh it was funn ~ (noah and his love for one animal with a blowhole). Also trying to formulate a formula that will cushion my roots with speedy love and the stuff that makes babies go 'bam!' overnight, so that this horrid, uneven blanket of hair on my forehead will grow, and become all curvy and voluptuous. Puberty for hair. pubair? or beer breath? or shut me up and let me eat? please? Okay, I'm going to lie down now, and spoon with my luscious, lambskin lover. Mhmm.

miniature.

we worry our brain cells dead and rub our hands together until our skin wears thin, only to find that the solution is as simple as listening to ourselves. we are constantly in battle, weighing the problems of the world on one palm, and our willingness to erase them on the other. we've found so many remedies, but we colour them invisible and lose them. maybe i am slowly realising if good is both the result and the answer, then it doesn't matter how many hurdles we need to smash out of our way, good is good. let's skip misinterpretation and consequence and pride, and let caring breathe a little. if something means something then hear it, embrace it and overwhelm yourself. stare hard at your bones, feel their hardness, and crack them open to expose a waxy cocoon of confusion, interference. it shelters us from rain but droplets of gold (ray!) too, and what are we if ignore everything, what do we become? life is ours to discount. let's allow ourselves to spill and splash and seep into the cracks of what we believe. 

let bullets hit you and show them how you heal, and throw balloons of dried blood back at it. serve your shield on a platter and chuck it at a porcelain wall and paint that wall your favourite shade of fuschia, struggle as you chuckle and you'll know we're made of water; as tender as we are tough.

GG just got cooler.

"this has been the best debut novel since Jonathan Safran Foer!"

now I have a proper excuse to watch this whilst drowning in a pool of shiny vanity and schemes.

Gem.

Today has been my do-nothing-day since..a few months ago? And I've been chewing and sucking the sweetness out of the day like I do with the flavour of salt and vinegar chippies. Sleeping in until 1:25pm, eating my insides sick, enjoying Waldorf cruelty and reminiscing days like yesterday; more time laughing, less time complaining. 

Discovery that unleashed my "smiley eyes" which apparently resemble two broken pointed fingers:

Now you're going to have a great(ly fattening) midnight snacketty snack.

x

"You always zig when I think you're about to zag"

Seated in W46, I felt like my heart was about to explode out of my ears. There he appeared, in his ironic leather shoes and important words. He was honest and funny and kind and brutal. I'm so glad. He doesn't ever fail to reaffirm my faith in vegetarianism.

I guess I'm writing this to explain to those dear to me, cause otherwise you wouldn't be here, so listen.Vegetarianism isn't one of my experimental phases. It's not. And just to clarify, when I say "I'm vegetarian", I'm saying "I don't eat meat". I choose to use the term rather than the latter because saying "I don't eat x" makes people sound like whiny little shits, and I don't like that. 

Anyway, before you start forming arguments against vegetarianism, as you do, let me have a say. He said this - "We have to be careful about our terminology. We have to make sure we're referring to the problem." When people criticise vegetarianism, it's not directed at the problem, it's directed at the way in which we're using an effective solution. No one's against saving the environment; our planet, or being healthier. No one's against treating animals more ethically. What people are against are the labels. He's reiterated this point time and time again. There's a massive hypocrisy in choosing a selective diet, say for example, how I refuse to eat meat while I'm grasping onto a buttery, leather bag (Yep, love my leather). This is such a problem for someone who chooses not to eat meat i.e. 'vegetarianism', because we do use animal products and if we're not strict enough with ourselves, say, let slip a bit of chicken or whatever...then CHAOS. Finger pointing all around. "Oh, she's not a real vegetarian." "Yeah she ate meat..it lasted x months though" Why is vegetarianism all or nothing? It's not a bloody religion. Honestly, I don't give a shit if someone were to say those things to me, or question my persistence. That doesn't affect me, I know I'm doing what I want to be doing. That's what matters. But the truth of the matter is people are so quick to punish hypocrisy that others don't want to attempt it. It's not logical though. Let's apply this logic to another point, if a boat was sinking and you had 10 lifeboats and 20 people. Would you say to yourself "Ah, screw it. Can't save them all anyway. Let 'em all die."

No. 

(By the way, my solution to the hypocrisy that is apparent in my use of animal products is simply to live with it. I'll try to minimise that possibility but for me, I don't believe it's realistic to be without animal products at this point in time.)

You see, people have this misguided perception of people who are 'vegetarians' or 'vegans'. But "It's an aspirational identity. All we need to do is act on our values." And by this identity I mean we seek to be an individual who is humane, ethical, and concerned/proactive about global problems such as this. I was once told something that implied being vegetarian doesn't necessarily mean you're being 'deep' and doing the right thing. At least that was the jist I got out of it. Um, relevance? None whatsoever. How many assumptions had to be made for that statement to have been said? My beliefs don't concern animal rights, but health, humanity, the environment and animal ethics. (The difference being that I would eat animals if they were being farmed in a way that I perceive to be ethically correct.) Labels. Vegetarian = someone who doesn't eat meat. That's all. Why are there all these stupid implications attached to these labels? Or maybe it was cause it was me, but I thought I had implied enough, anyway, I don't care. But as was said before, why nit pick on the strict definitions of these labels? Surely, the point of this is because we essentially see something wrong behind the scenes? No one's doing this out of boredom.

"We have a different responsibility than our parents or even our grandparents did." This applies to my family. We have a different understanding of the world, a different food culture, and a different willingness to learn about the consequences of our dietary choices. But let's apply that grand saying - with knowledge comes great power! Except this power refers to our ability to make choices. Equipped with all the truth of factory farming, I choose not to be a part of it. "There is not a single person in the world who would rather that system to one in which animals are given proper food, shelter, space and ethical treatment." C'mon, I dare you. Say you would rather we torture the living and integrate that kind of filthy practice into our daily lives. You wouldn't, because you're human. Is that not important? And it's not even about the treatment of animals even more. It's about our future. Factory farms account for more greenhouse gases than everything else in the world combined. Yeah, global warming..kinda bad. Oh, and Mcdonalds, you might be grossly tasty, but those $1 cheeseburgers cost the environment about $100. Just trying to imagine (very, very, very vaguely) the impact of Maccas alone, is quite frightening. If we have knowledge, and the ability to do something about it, I think we should, and there's no real reason as to why we wouldn't want to.

We should stop being so infinitely terrified of being inconsistent.

If we all cut down on our meat intake, we'd be making a difference. What's the use of me donating towards ACF if I'm doing more damage than I'm paying to fix for? Well it accounts for something doesn't it? It's sticking a bandaid on 1 of a billion sores. In reality, every bit counts. That's why we take 5 minute showers right? I mean I don't hear anyone saying they'll refuse the usage of water because that's the most they can do. We don't always have the ability to be able to do our best, after all, food is part of our culture. If we all gave up because we couldn't do the most we could, then nothing would ever get done. But I think something needs to be done, it's a global issue. Countless times, people have said to me "Oh that sounds good..yeah I might read 'Eating animals' but I'm scared of becoming vegetarian". To me, that sounds like "..but I'm scared of doing what I think is right", which is weird. Just do it, man up and do it. Sure, some people are vegetarian/vegan police and will interrogate you but who cares, they're just shit for not summoning effort, responsibility and their own beliefs to be able to try.

Just some of the thoughts I wrote before I saw 'What we are and what we eat', that became more concise after. 

Alrighty nighty!

But anyway, side note. A strange little lady asked Foer an immensely long question about food and its relationship to spirituality, and about her experiences with meditation. To which, Foer simply replied - "I tried meditating once. But ...I found the idea of banishing thought, unpleasant." How brilliant.

Eat it.

I have this childhood related obsession with peaches. And I've never thought it necessary to talk about it because it's what I spent my eng. majorwork doing...yep, 7000 words relevant to peaches. But not the tiny little shits you get at Woolies. See, the peaches in Beijing during september are about the size of your heart, and swells your heart to about 5 times it's size, with overwhelming love juice (I am just referring to fruit juice here). It's probably one of the greatest things I've ever eaten, and the fact that I haven't had one in about ..6 years, made me all the more keen to shove a few boxes of these down. So when I arrived in Beijing, it was one of the first things I thought of. GOD DAMN PEACHES. So I got to my grandparent's house, and my grandpa's waiting outside the door with a peach in his hand. So cute, hah. I take it inside and cut it in half, and my mouth's suspended in accumulating saliva action, when I discover something wiggling, like a tiny little version of my finger. Hi, wormy thing. Not being "dude" enough to just flick it off and chomp my peachy delish down, I squealed "ew, There's a wormy thing!" but kept awkwardly holding the peach, positioning my fingers as far as I could from the greyish fleshy thing. Grandmahzah looked at me seriously, (and just for reference, my grandma is this pedantic little clean freak who is as picky with cleanliness/hygiene, as I am with books) and peered at Mr. wormy thing and said "You should eat it." I struggled to understand. "No." She looked at me with the same expression I imagine I looked at her with. We were so confused. She tried first. "You see, if there's a bug, it means the peach is sweet, and good. Eat it." I refused to listen. "It's a bug, a dirty, dirty bug." "Eat it." "..Okay."

She left the room and I chucked it out. All guilt.

F O C U S

At 3:30am I encountered my arbitrary "must clean up my life" mood. Results were productive. I managed to clean my entire wall, given it's not a huge space, but it was entirely filled with a messy, interpretative collage of my thoughts. No more pretty prints, posters, hand drawn pictures from the kids, strips of quotes or photos of things I love. Anyways, now there's nothing but a corkboard and my main focus; yes, the word, focus! I also cleaned up my camera and computer. No useless files or files in the wrong places, things are now correctly and consistently labelled. Apparently, that matters.

I'm secretly a person who thirsts for organised desks and colour coded systems and everything to be categorised. I'm just incredibly lazy is all. Okay, no more, munching on strawberries and waving goodbye! goodbye!

Won't you, please.

How this plays with me. LET'S BE DRAMATIC-TOC. It's like the kind of thing that remains cement, and it doesn't matter what happens to you, you know it'll remain as it has, if not better. I wish I could keep a tally of everything. Like how many bad decisions I have made. I love saying "decisions, decision!". It's fun. Today I wore new dark wash jeans that bled everywhere. (I) Then I tried to use a nail trimmer to remove my rock hard nail polish/glue, whatever you call it, and ended up cracking a chunk off so I have uneven thumbs, and I refuse to cut the other cause my thumb nail needs the elongating (chubbybubby). (II) But my god, stupid nail polish won't come off so I'm going to have half green nails soon, anticipate that people, it'll be... een. And right now I realised that making up an entire industry project is proving difficult, maybe using real experiences would've been better. (III) Also, I just ate a shitload of dried cranberries; my new love affair, and I'm about to vomit fructose. Like eating it twice, even better. But dried mangoes still beats your shrivelled, maroon face. (IIII) Okay, I've wasted my night shopping. Collared shirts are the best thing ever. And I need me some new reading material. Suggestions please my bubbalooossss. I've been meaning to look for a few books on cults and zen, but besides that I'm as empty as my ambition in life. K COOLZ SHEE YA LATERZ.  "...and you have the ability to just talk about nothing". Yep, sure do. Not something to stick my chin up and boast about though.

Festival of Dangerous Ideas.

 

This is bloody amazing. So much blood rushing to my heart, and I still have 4 solid days of waiting. Noone in my life understands but on the night of the 1st, I'll be in a room with 2100 other people who do or want to, and it won't matter that I'll come out not knowing any more people than I went in with, but I'll come out clutching the fact that this many people have been touched like I was, and it will be fantastical.

Two left shoes.

Finding something I want to buy is perceived as a shock every time. I'm never the person who will say things like "I saw this dress that was amazing. It's $460 but I'm going to buy it, cause the cut is great and flattering and yada yada". You'll probs catch me saying "yada yada" but that's about it. I don't know why, I don't know why. Aren't girls supposed to be born with this innate desire to spend money on renewing their physical selves? I'm not good at playing this game at all, I just make do (like a boy). At times I think "aye that's nice. I wouldn't mind owning it." but I remain forever rational when faced with an item and a capable wallet. The "I can get away with not buying this" thought always shoots through me like a dreadful rainbow, and I'm reminded. I don't spend unneccesary money on things like clothes, accessories and shoes. Perhaps my mother's educating me has transformed my brain in judging everything by its value. And being 'value-for-money' is not enough. You have to be able to get a block of gold for 20 cents before "it was cheap" is a valid reason to buy something. But ever since my little mental breakdown (this basically arose from trying to clean my room), I chucked everything away. & I do not exaggarate that I have less than 20 wearable items left in my wardobe. Every time I open it up, there are no more surprises of old, forgotten pieces. In fact, there's nothing. It's oddly alarming, and it's taken a while to hit me. But when I wander about my room and look at the hollowness of my wardobe, I feel like it's threatening me to stray the streets as a sad, nude girl. And it's terrible, y'know? Because I know I've always been terrible at creating passable first impressions, and I'm sure not being able to dress myself will help that problem in any way. When I was fob I felt like I was framed within a multi-layered, pink-bows-and-cutesy-shit-filled, fake-branded fence that guided me with what to wear. Plus going to China every year to hoard made it even easier. But now. I don't like anything. Actually, I know what I like but these things don't go together and don't come across often. To my infinite sadness, my galaxy leggings, giraffe shirt or apple print dress do not go well with..(m)any items. I mean if I had my way, I'd wear them all together but that's not socially acceptable and even to me, that doesn't look good. & to make those items look actually cool, I'd have to try hard and find things of the appropriate colour, length, cut, texture..and I wouldn't do that. We should just all get uniforms, we're all the same anyway.

Fashion is really not that big a deal. There, I said it. I keep coming across fashion bloggers and enthusiasts ranting about the importance of fashion, and how pretty clothes = acquiring meaning of life, and how people who don't care about dressing or dress like everyone else, should just go play the hanging game. And to that, I say screw your face! Yeah, it is nice to look nice, and it is nice to have your physical self be a representation of what you aspire to be, but it's hardly ever linear in this way. So while everyone's hyping up fashion as an art form, us commoners can just chill in our abercrombie hoodies and forget about that, or at least I will. Yeah, I not-so-secretly wish I had the willpower and coordination to colour my body in pretty, pretty materials, but in the end it's just looking pretty. I don't really have a point except that I don't own any clothes, and it's weird how that's affecting me.

TATA.

1DIMENSION.

IMAGINE THAT THIS LAND OF SCRIBBLES DOESN'T EXIST. IMAGINE THAT THERE ARE NO BLOGS. IMAGINE THAT ALL THAT YOU SEE OF ME IS ME, AND NOTHING MORE. IMAGINE THIS WITHOUT ME, AND ME WITHOUT THIS. FORGET THAT THIS IS ALSO ME. YES, THERE'S DIFFERENCE BUT IT'S UNREACHABLE. THERE IS NO EXPRESSION OUTSIDE CONVERSATION BETWEEN US. BALANCE IS RESTORED. YOU SEE WHAT I SHOW YOU. THERE IS NO JUDGEMENT. Stop. Just stop and consider.

Don't even make sense.

Love of the coconut.

I once read a line in a book that has stuck with me, which often happens. I love that feeling. I love how much you can understand a few words, and how much they can tell you. But anyways, context first. Something about a woman and how she was in a carpark, and she called her husband to talk about something trivial, then she went on and suddenly in that phone call, she realised she asked for a divorce. It shocked herself. She talks about how she never imagined she'd be the type of person who would do that, and how people always dismiss one-off occurrences like these. Then she says "“Sometimes we have to be judged on our one-offs". I don't know why this resonates with me so much. I just feel there's so much truth in this. We're constantly dismissing the one-offs that present inconsistencies in our characters. We convince ourselves and other people that it's a one-off; it carries no meaning, and no representation of ourselves. Somehow, stand alone from us. There is such a fear of inconsistency. When did people start understanding inconsistencies as a forbidden interference in our identity creation? How do we become truer to ourselves by establishing we're purple people hence push out every single other colour from the colour spectrum? Why do we need to placate ourselves in this way? Inconsistency is so interesting, I feel like that is the inch we are able to thrive in, the open space that encourages more. 

Our most common way of ridiculing inconsistency is through shouting "YOU HYPOCRITE". I actually love talking about how much of a hypocrite I am, and usually people don't like to listen because:
- Inconsistent people are shit, and hypocrisy is not cool.
- Stories about loving and hating trivial things are boring.
Let's just use food as an example. I used to hate avocado, coconut, eggplant and the worst chocolate bars in the world were bounty and cherry ripe. Now when I study a menu, avocado and eggplant spark a fond, cuddly affection, I drink/eat at least 2 coconuts a week (and I've grown to love coconut water, coconut flesh, coconut milk, coconut candy, shredded coconut..basically, in any form, I'm keen), and bounty is my favourite choc. bar (out of the generic Mars choice, and of course you can argue this is an extension of my coconut affair but my love for cherry ripe is also pretty astounding..okay crap, just remembered that it contains coconut too). I also used to hate eating a lot of veges raw, but now I love it. Maybe I just love coconut, and maybe vegetarianism means I have to mix it up a bit..but still. Okay how about shoes! When gladiators were first out, my reaction was a facial that would've made people jump back and scream "BUCKET, PLEASE, ANYONE?!" (about-to-vomit face). Then I loved them. Then I saw ugg boots and scoffed, then I bought a couple of pairs that never left my feet during many months overseas. Then I saw clogs and was like "oh my god, they're like..crocs but not plastic", then I bought 2 pairs and want more. Pretty. Okay, now I sound desperate to prove I'm a hypocrite. Also, it wasn't very interesting and now I understand why people don't listen. Gerrate. 

You get my point though, right? Yes, okay, GOOD. Happy times, you and me. 

Bye lovey.

Interrobang.

Best punctuation mark ever.

Conversion.

I've lost. I've become a bag person, just going to accept the fact that I'm going to become one of those annoying people who spend all their money on pieces of well constructed leather, hardware and extreme attractiveness.

My bag wish list:
Givenchy 'Pandora' & 'Nightingale'


Alexander wang 'Emile' tote in dove grey & 'Eugene' shoulder bag.

Longchamp 'Gatsby' satchel in patent black & sun, and clay exotic.

Proenza schouler satchels

Kate Moss for Longchamp 'Glastonbury' & 'Gloucester'

YSL 'Lucky chyc' tote & 'Tribute' tote in leopard.

Chloe 'paraty' with python print finish.

Okay I can't be bothered posting any more. Hah, my bag crushes are so predictable:
- textured lambskin/pebbled calfskin/python print
- short strap + shoulder strap
- silver toned hardware
- colour: yellow, coral, deep blue, beige, black black black

Givenchy bags are so perfect. If I had the money, I'd blow a tiny proportion (tiny because I am that rich) of it on all the givenchy bags I am lusting after with no hope of buying, then I'd buy everything alexander wang has ever designed, and I'd only ever wear proper materials like silk, silk, silk, and then I'd be the most fulfilled and content girl in the materialistic world. 

Ugh, this is all so shameful.