Before we stopped talking

One night in 2010, he jokingly accused me of saving our online conversations within a word document and reading them again later when I'm alone.

I won't be complete, 'til I can call myself Bowie's doppleganger.

So out of reach, so far to go. Although, to be fair, David Bowie probably doesn't go into his bathroom with his least favourite piece of technology (Do not buy the Kodak EasyShare ZD710) and his tripod to do late-night photoshoots.

BUT NOW THAT I HAVE RED HAIR I CAN FEEL SMUG WHEN I LISTEN TO VELVET GOLDMINE, hell YES.

Forget everything I've said ever.

Nothing I've alluded to mattering really matters. No sir, not in comparison to this collossal monstrosity!

Sony NEX-5 No good? NO GOOD?

WHAT THEN, SHALL I BUY???

Panasonic LX5?

Lumix GH2?

Tonight/this morning is not so great. I started off brilliantly happy at work and at least managed to fake it after the happiness leaked away, but I'm not feeling brilliant anymore. It was one of those nights where I see him and can't help but wonder what tonight would have been like if I had ever gotten up the courage to talk to him before it was too late.

Advice: If you are not trapped yet, do not let yourself end up that way. Always be upfront, never let yourself walk into the cage of miscommunication in case you accidentally drop the key of potential friendship and can't find it. Because it is difficult to unalienate people you have purposely driven away.

I never let myself get close to people. I never, ever do... unless I don't care what they think of me at all. And only then I am honest for thrills. As a general rule they don't believe me/understand what I actually feel. They think I'm being dramatic or funny. They don't realise that when I speak with a light tone is when I am most honest. So they laugh along with the real me masquerading as a joke Which is just how I like it.

I am so so so unhappy. I will probably never completely forgive myself. I'll probably just forget and then wonder what happened between me and this person in 2010. They saw through every mask I ever put on. In ten years from now I'll think I was being a silly teenager being hormonal about whoever came along. I wonder if I am. I could swear on my life that I'm not. The only real thing I ever felt was pushed away again and again and now is gone for good. I am such a freaking douchebag.

You will notice I have put some pictures through this post so it looks more interesting than it actually is.

Things I long for

I know I've already made a post like this, but this post is different and better and more colourful with pictures and colours and colourful pictures. Like this one below. See, I haven't even seen this TV program below (Called Pushing Daisies) but I am already a fan. Anyone who looks like Zooey is automatically highly regarded on my ladder of respect and this adorable chap and in the sharp suit is someone I am bound to develop a crush on. Yes, my fur coat. I plan to buy these DVDs tomorrow. And then I am going to buy a red dress and find a nice garden to play in.

The Vintage Gypsies! It all began when my mother and our mutual neighbourly friend Kirsten the Creative decided to begin selling magnificent lights. Actually, that is a big 'ol lie. I had nothing to do with it for the first day or so because I was still in the hinterlands having a riot.

Anyway, when I came back they were on the computer looking up products and I was all "what's this?" And they were all "We're starting an online light shop, but the catch is, we only sell really amazing and pretty lights, none of this dull-boring-fail business" And I was all, "Well, this sounds fun, plus then I can say I'm part of a business and feel smug... I'll join! Every business needs a mostly useless but occasionally brilliant partner, right, RIGHT?" And they were all "Ok"

So there we have it. Vintage Gypsies. We have a facebook page and everything. Oh, and since then it has become more of a "Tupperware" style thing. Well, that is the plan anyway. We are going to have parties and sell the lights through those. How fun. I am the "photographer" of the team. Again, how fun.

Jiu Jitsu. I used to go for about six months but never often enough. I graded from white to yellow belt but then I stopped going altogether for about four months. FOUR MONTHS! :O

Well, I am going back. And regularly, too. Not just one class a week but TWO! I am going to be a blue belt by the end of the year, folks. That's the one before brown. And we all know that brown is just before black.

Buying a camera that doesn't make me want to throw it out of top-storey windows. This is something I cannot currently afford... or rather, I can afford it. Just. But then I would have no money left for Sangrias or hats. I aim to buy one of these Sony Nex-5 bad boys by May. And a Macro lens. Because Macro lenses are amazing.

London. I have grand plans to relocate to a city that people have heard of at the end of next year. I will fill my bindle-stick, put on my best shoes, slip my harmonica in my pocket and carry my guitar on my back. And then I am leaving. I am leaving to go to London.

This ROBE. Ignore the lady. Especially ignore her expression. I've been wanting the perfect robe since I saw Blair wearing the white robe in that episode of Gossip Girl where she wears the white robe. And I saw it in a shop window whilst walking through the city a few weeks ago and would have bought it except the store was closed due to flood damage. Fail. Anyhow, it was in black and now I don't know whether to buy it in black or white. What a dilemma.

Italy. If anything has been scratching at the scars of my healing heart lately, it is my dreadful longing to return to this beautiful and wonderful place. I miss Italy, something chronic, but in particular I want to go back to Florence. I miss the memories that took place, I miss the smell of coffee, I miss the fact that the sun doesn't sink until late at night and I miss the wonderful people. I feel a lump in my throat now. When I am in England, the plane tickets to Italy will be more like $200 instead of $2,500 from where I live now. One way.

Being Better. I can't explain it. I just want to be better.

Nice post of nice stripy things.

After the last entry, the entry of angst and general whinings about people who are nice to me, I will post something nicer!! Some things that have been on my mind lately.
Warning: I am still in a bad mood so I will have to rely on the art of re-blogging.

Amazing, beautiful song. Conor Oberst is the most magical creature ever born.


Bright Eyes - Southern State - Shepherd's Bush







There. They are all nice. I don't have the energy or the motivation to explain how or why.

Brick a brack entry of miscellany.

What has upset me recently:


One of the only few people I kept in contact with from High School wants to catch up.
"Why does this upset you, that sounds nice!!" you say.
Well, wrong!! It's depressing. We have everything in common; music taste, idea of fun, idea of misery, interests, interior design... We agree on everything, basically.

Mathematically, scientifically, logically we should get along. We shouldn't just get along, we should be BUDDIES. Proper buddies that tell each other things and don't have awkward silences every few minutes.

And yet everytime we catch up (the group is me, her and another girl we went to school with) we just stick to small talk. Anyone observing us socialising would assume we just met.

It shouldn't bother me. I should just stop seeing them... but I want to understand it. And I want to understand why they keep wanting to catch up.

Obviously I like the person who wrote the note to me on facebook. But the fact of the matter is this: It will never get better. It's been four years.


P.s I didn't press [comment]
Instead, I backspaced my reply and signed out of facebook.

The Rules of Facebook

You cannot change your profile picture more than once in one day unless the second one is very, very similar to the first (to such an extent that is impossible to distinguish by the naked eye).

Putting a picture of a car or motorcycle as your profile picture automatically makes you a douche or bogan and anyone who reminds you of this fact is well within their rights to do so. You are not a car. You are not a motorcycle. If you are, delete your facebook page now; you aren't meant to have an account.

The only time you’re allowed to post more than one status update in an hour is if they directly relate to one-another or are very witty and non-autobiographical.

Your total status-updates for a day should equal no more than three unless this is the only day in the past week you have posted a status update. If so, it cannot exceed five. Otherwise you are a douche and have no life.

If you add people you do not know, do not be sly about it, nor attempt to sweep it under the rug. Be upfront and let the world know: “I am on the prowl for a higher friend-count”. Also, vacuum under the rug. You disgust me.

Do not photograph yourself photographing yourself through a mirror. (This applies to everything, not just Facebook)

It is difficult to photograph yourself enjoying an alcoholic beverage. Possible, but difficult. If you can pull it off, I take my hat off to you. But if not, you are probably a douche whom is attempting to appear hardcore and such.

You are more likely to receive trolling on your status-updates if said status-update is whiny or angst-ridden. People like to pretend they are insensitive because it’s funny. This practice of “insensitivity” is often rehearsed (or rather, enthusiasts sharpen their wits) online, in particular, on facebook.

On the flipside….

If you enjoy sharpening your wits on your friend’s miseries, chose to do it over facebook. Facebook can be very useful to those who like the perks of an audience but also like to hide behind their computer-screens. The truth is, insulting people is funny.