PINK

C A R N A T I O N S

Once I asked Lisa about Marie Antoinette. I was reading her autobiography, loaned to me by my landlady, a hilarious, wise Irish gypsy woman called Bernie – who had lived the most colourful life and was quite excellent at Tarot. When I asked about Marie Antoinette – Lisa simply looked at me and said that what Marie Antoinette did was “not good.” When I was really depressed, I watched a show called “Rose of Versailles”, an anime about a girl-called-Oscar-who-dressed-like-a-boy who protected Marie Antoinette. I’ve always been taken by extravagant characters from the past, who had the power to influence entire nations for generations.

I love strong women. #feminism

82422-004-57221ef9

I love Anne Boleyn too. My favourite of Henry’s wives – a total strategist.

13-3-7808608

Henry 8th thought it was all for him. Hilarious.

{Edited to add – 30th March 2018}
Check out this article!

Screen Shot 2018-03-30 at 13.38.19.png

Although she was never a Queen, I adored, more than any of these women, Emma Hart. Lady Nelson. She was a great friend of Marie Antoinette’s. I read two books about her, I picked one up in a charity shop in Somerset. She had a really tumultuous life – massively influenced art – had kids taken away from her. All sorts of shit that women have had to go through. She wasn’t murdered but I imagine she must’ve felt like she died a million times. She created a dance form called The Attitudes where she channelled mythological archetypes and great figures from the past, like Cleopatra. I found a silhouette bust of her when I lived in Farnham, in a charity shoppe. I hung it beside the front door, in the hallway leading to my flat – 7A West Street.

Emma Hart as Circe c.1782 by George Romney 1734-1802

Never a Queen – or is that a lie? I think so

maxresdefault

I’m doing a lot of research about the things I became frightened about when I wasn’t feeling well – trying to make sense of it all, ultimately – come to terms with it all. It’s part of my healing process, trying to be at peace with that scary part of my life. That awful alternate “reality” that became me.

It’s important, I think, that through Art we can come to terms with every level of our experiences – including the ‘unusual’ or ‘bizarre’.

When I was in my first year of University I did acid. When my mother found out she took me to a GP to discuss it – and I very frankly told him that I took it because I was inspired by Lewis Carrol – who wrote Alice in Wonderland.
I wanted to write something like that – something completely strange and “inspired” by some ether. Although it came many years later, I fell down a “rabbit hole” of my own and I feel like if I really wanted to write a surreal story, that’s the best I’ve got. And I feel like it’s important to walk myself through that part of my past to make peace with it.

A lot of people I was inclined to admire when I was having a hard time, were seemingly built up to be sacrificed.
There’s an episode of the Simpsons where they mock the story “The Lottery”.  That’s a pretty extreme way of looking at what I went through, but I guess  that’s justified by a few aspects of myself – my truer character – which I am becoming reacquainted with. Firstly – I am dramatic – I have a very – not extreme – but definitely particular way of observing myself. In any case – when I was being bullied – that was the truth that I was personally living.
So right now it’s important to write about everything I went through. I’ve got a “Story writing” thinking cap on – because I think it’s an important step in coming to terms with my struggles and trauma.
Putting together childhood dreams – not for money or anything like that – but so that I can finally “let it go”, y’know?

It’s like – I’m stuck in these repetitive behaviours of self sabotage. I loved subjects like History, and it’s ironic that I can be so taken with looking to great figures of the past and even the not so distant past.
I’ve heard that one of the reasons people are drawn to study history is that they’re taught “oh: it’s so we don’t repeat the same mistakes! It’s almost as though people don’t act consciously, as though they are programmed.”

Of course the things you observe in others are the quiet observations you’re not ready to make about yourself.


 

In November, last year, I observed a spider sitting in a huge web she had built beside my mother’s front door, and thought-asked “don’t you get bored?” and she “said” “I meditate.”

Ofcourse that sounds a little silly – I didn’t hear a voice, in my graphic-novel-writing-mode, I thought a question and I thought the answer. My mother, who has influenced me greatly, grew up engaging with Performing Arts and Theatre. When you’re in that creative place you really, I think, have to develop that “empathy” quality – not only observe something, but really think about what they’re thinking, about their experience.

When I listen to Wendy Williams – a woman who earns a living by gossiping and also occasionally offering non-factual information that she sometimes (often accurately) predicts as psychics do – and I am taken back to moments where I sat with Bernie, Lisa, Suzie and her friend Dee and that super fun aspect of black culture, where women get together and discuss things very openly and offer some kind of better way of dealing.
In a meditation Lisa told me that it would be in my best interests to look at women who have treated me badly as young-elephants that don’t know better.

Elephants are matriarchal animals that all have something to contribute to any situation. Baby elephants are raised by the community.
I watched an episode of Wendy some time ago, and Lisa had a solution for a celebrity that was being discussed – and Lisa’s timing was SO perfect it was as though Wendy replied “I disagree” and then Lisa engaged with that by continuing as to why she thought what she did.
That’s something I feel like women of colour have to teach everyone – that parenting is a collaborative, community effort. Individuals exchanging a variety of life-experiences and lessons learned.

Lisa really believed that the best means of me coping with the bullshit I’ve experienced from other girls is to not-exclude them. When an elephant-girl is nasty, she said, imagine an older elephant slapping her with their trunk. Elephants stick together, whether they like each other or not.

I’ve had a lot of advice from mature women who I admire greatly – and some who I don’t admire but who still had a truth for me to reflect on and somehow filter into creating a better capacity for judgement in navigating my life experience.

Does it sound silly I’m even watching day time TV for the first time in my life? Watching women I think to be wise, in an effort to better deliberate what I should focus my efforts towards – what I should be doing with my life.

A spiritual teacher told me not to have role models, but actually I believe it’s important to have role models. But also it’s important to be able to properly judge who makes a good role model. No one has all the information. When I am focusing on writing, I focus on writers. When I am focusing on art, I focus on artists. I find a quality I respect and I try to “embody” that as I work. I guess that’s not seeking a “role model” as such, but it is a means of guidance. Thats what is so great about the internet, actually. That ease of access to the greatest minds that exist, and have existed throughout our past.

Oprah – “inspired me” to start a spiritual YouTube channel. She said she had wanted to start a spiritual TV channel and I took that as career advice… If it’s an ambition worthy of Oprah, it’s certainly something worth aiming for.
Oprah strikes me as a very honest (as honest as show business allows you to be), very strong woman with a capacity for enquiry, asking important questions – (how can you learn anything unless you learn how to verbalise what it is you want to know?) and a woman who has amassed a great success through working hard.

When I was a child I used to dream about writing stories for children. I guess to an extent I’m doing that with my current project – I’m authoring a script, making a little film and animating. Collectively and very gradually putting together work worthy of a portfolio and an attempt to define my creative identity.


Speaking of strong women… (I’m going through memories and personal inspirations… feel free to close my blog because I’m sure I’m the only person who would find this even remotely interesting.)

When I visited my Grandmother in Paraguay, she sat with me at a table full of food.. and told me to serve myself. I did! I won’t go into embarrassing details, but basically she was quite shocked at my table manners and by how much food I had put on my plate and basically told me that when you eat in public you should serve yourself tiny portions – and always leave some food for others on the serving plate –  It was so much more painful than this

A year or so after that stay at my grandmother’s – I went to a secondary school where I was taught that you should serve others before you serve yourself. Imagine how much fun that was… in a school full of girls that I loathed entirely.

After THAT I lived with Lisa, who would prepare food for everyone – and eat last. And she said matter of factly “That is what mothers do.” She told me that men like women who clean and tidy, and who can cook. I told ONE girl this at University – a girl with a mouth bigger than mine – and ALL the girls suddenly became OCD Michelin chefs. Ha. (I’m working on manifesting a life in which I have a mansion full of beautiful, overpaid OCD maids in designer French maids outfits.)

Going back to Princess Diaries for a moment..

There’s a scene where Mia walks into her Grandmother’s house and accidentally breaks stuff. When I visited my Grandmother’s home, I wanted to play with toys (for some reason I thought that 10 was too old to be playing with toys) and I hadn’t brought any. I was pretty good at improvising… my Grandma had a little hand-carved wooden sculpture collection of the Christmas “nativity”… Mary, Joseph, the three wise men and a little baby Jesus. I played with that and broke one of the figures. I think it was one of the “wise men”. I was mortified and put it all away without telling her what I had done. Actually, it still makes me feel a bit uncomfortable to think about. I can’t find the scene where she breaks one of Grandma’s decorative heirlooms but yeah, so funny.

Also this scene is funny, because my grandmother took me to a plastic surgeon to get my ears pierced. Such a psycho. Amazing. So sly. I got my ears pierced three times per ear and had platinum earrings put in. The surgeon’s name was Pancho, not Paolo. That was when I learned that I needed to get my lips done. I love silly coincidences.

And he didn’t do my hair.. Grandma took me to the mall and I spent three hours sitting in a chair having it cornrowed. Poor grandma. I must’ve looked a fright!

It’s so weird, after years of smoking weed and doing all sorts of drugs (irresponsibly might I add!) I recall that my Grandma (mother’s mother!) had a spare room but she insisted I slept in her bedroom, on her lovely bed, opposite her widescreen TV. She would insist on sleeping on the floor so she wouldn’t be woken up by the light from the TV and remove her hearing aid. It was so much fun being allowed to stay up til so early in the morning because my mother would never, ever have permitted that. Ha.
At night I would watch Card Captor Sakura …by some fantastic coincidence… this anime would air in English, and Sakura wore her brown hair in little buns on her head – just like Chun Li. Paraguay is a Spanish speaking country! I still don’t know why they were playing a children’s cartoon in English, in a Spanish speaking country, at like 3 am. I guess they couldn’t afford to have it dubbed in Spanish or something…

How hilarious is this scene!?!?!?! HOW ANIME IS HER UNIFORM!?


Although it’s what I want – it’s unlikely I’ll get work as an artist – unless I’m specifically looking to learn something I can’t learn on my own.

I think the issue with applying for work nowadays is that most of the kinds of places I’d like to apply to work at would be the kind of places that might want to see a person’s web presence. And I don’t really have one.
And then there’s “job” interviews and things like that. I’ve always performed for job interviews and jobs – I think when you’re being paid – Service is a performance. Someone has worked extremely hard for their money, and when they are spending it on eating or drinking out – whether they are buying a sandwich in a plastic tub or a club sandwich held together delicately with toothpicks, served on an antique plate – if you’re working in retail or waitressing, its important to be the kind of person that makes a person feel like their money was well spent. So, for me, jobs in service are tiring.

I’m an introvert. The most basic interaction makes me tired. Working to take care of other people is a huge responsibility on any level – and it’s an exchange of energy… and if you’re an introvert, it means that you lose energy upon interaction – and you acquire energy by spending time alone. It’s a scientifically proven fact of life… There are pros and cons to being introverted and pros and cons to being extroverted. In any case, if you are an introvert – I personally believe that you should be paid a lot more. Just for me – I look back and I know how much I was inclined to give – waitressing was never taking orders and serving food and cleaning tables – it was engaging with customers and creating connections, and really trying to make them feel special. Those interactions were a reward to me, but also, while thinking about what I wanted to write for this post, I recalled an experience when – on one Sunday I was Front of House, working at a quaint two floor cafe in Farnham. It was almost full, on this occasion – the cafe – and I was hurriedly running up and down serving too-many people for one person. Of course it was so much fun, and fantastic that the cafe was so full – but I was really pressed – trying to make everyone happy.
I remember one woman had asked for skimmed milk, an obnoxious woman – well, I thought as much when I was so pressured – she complained that I hadn’t brought up the milk she had asked for. When they were paying, she complained to my boss Elsa (Anna and Elsa, ha) that I hadn’t brought the milk. I was so so stressed out and I said “you could’ve come down to ask if it was so important” and she said something (not memorable but to the effect of demanding that I should’ve remembered – because she was SO self absorbed she couldn’t see that I hadn’t stopped moving, the cafe was FULL) and I said she was lazy. Close to tears. My boss tried to diffuse the situation by removing the milk they hadn’t been served from the bill. I remember the ending of all that differently – but essentially I came out of that looking bad – not the customer.
I know the customer is “always right”, I know that, little kids playing pretend running shops will know that – it’s one of those sayings. But I do think that it’s concerning that there is a kind of person that lacks the capacity to notice their surroundings to a minimal extent, to observe a person who is trying to keep a lot of very demanding people happy. I love jobs in service, I am not above them at all – but when working in an overstimulating environment makes me unhealthy – because of how much of myself I give – and being exposed to rude people I can’t politely excuse myself from – who lack any sort of basic empathy triggers me. Like I haven’t learned how to maintain a neutrality in those situations. It is my nature to put so much – too much – effort into trying to create a fantastic energy and experience for other people. (The experience is altogether quite different if I consider you family.)
Everyone in the cafe was chatty, laughing, smiling. And over a little jug of milk this woman could’ve easily descended the stairs to fetch herself, she ruined the atmosphere of an entire shop floor. You think that when you walk into a lovely, vibrant establishment that the energy is brought in by a customer – but it isn’t.
That’s an illusion. Energy is something that a host gives out. I ended up losing a job in a cafe that almost felt like it had been opened for me. I think I wrote about it before. The last time I ever saw my boss she cried because I was leaving. I said “Why are you crying?” and she said “because I love you.”

She was the first person who had ever been sad that I was leaving.

Some time after that Frozen came out… Anna Karina and Elsa-bee (Her name was Elsabee!) by Disney. Ha. Life is so weird.

When I was applying to various Universities – one of the courses I wanted to do was Photography. I recall sitting with a form tutor at my college, and she was looking through my personal statement and I think she enjoyed that I said I didn’t want to create photographs that depicted reality – inspired by a chat with my brother about suspending disbelief – I think I wrote about somewhere in this blog.


This is a character from Legend of Korra – called Zaheer. To me, he’s my big brother (who even also had a slit in his eyebrow at one point) …

This is Zaheer’s partner… I dressed up as her once, for a Halloween party.

I always joke that my big brother is dark Goku, ha.


OMG my mother & a lovely lady she hires to help her keep the house clean (she’s slightly less “able” than most people but my meditation makes me truly believe she will get better some day) emptied out the book shelf in my office – of her/my/my sister’s books, to be redecorated. THIS BOOK FROM MY PAST CAME INTO MY POSSESSION.

costumedesign.jpg

Check out how I ruined the inside of my little period costume book.

costumedesign02.jpg

Back to my point – I’m commissioning DaniPandi again – for something very special. So I’m illustrating designs for that. I’m listening to these fabulous and creative personalities.

I know these are crude illustrations. (Scribbles!) But I love them. The design is called “Marie Antoinette Carnation and Lambsfeet Teacup”. Everything begins as an idea. The handle is inspired by Marie Antoinette’s initials. I don’t know if Marie Antoinette ever drank Jasmine tea, I saw her drinking it when she was portrayed by Kirsten Dunst in Sofia Coppola’s beautiful rendition and it’s also a little homage to the plant sitting in my mother’s garden – “the Syrian girl”. The Pearl is a reference to Queen Kleopatra VII. I wonder if they make edible pearls.

carnationteacup2.jpg

carnationteacup.jpg

carnationadlambsfeet.png

MAUVE, PINK, STYLE

P I N K

In, I think, about forty minutes I will fall asleep. My sleeping pattern is so so so kdljfsdfkgjsdfg. It’s fine – by the end of this weekend a load of things I’ve commissioned will become available to me. So exciting. To me. So… I live a lot in Dream Land (asleep or awake) … I’ve kind of walked around taking snaps of stuff. I really like documenting transitional phases, is fun

meememememeemfef.jpg

I have almond oil in my hair. I put it on my legs too because my skin gets dry – it takes awhile to work but it does work and it’s inexpensive. I love a good “beauty” hack. If you want flowey locks you should invest in some kind of natural oil. When I was living with Lisa she told me that I should buy toiletries – creams etc – from shops run by black people (she is black, she can call black people black) and I actually bought this oil from a shop run by a brown person. (Using colour to collectively describe a culture is probably beneath 2018-internet, but I watched a Wendy Williams video where she described “white” people as “pink” and I wasn’t offended. Also I only look “white” / “pink”.) Shut up – this is boring dialogue – this rant is so I-need-to-sleep-I’m-typing-for-the-sake-of-typing-when-I-wake-up-I-will-cringe-wince.

001blog

I got a cute duvet cover & pillow case. I’m waiting for a new sheet… This one has residue from some spray-painting stuff I’ve been doing. I don’t really have the best/safest work practices and I wiped a lot of pink spray paint out of my nose. But actually it’s kind of made me think that there should be super-light-tie-dye-ombre-faded-washes of bed clothing. V cinematic. To me.

blog002

My room divider is nice. Everyone should have a room divider.
blog9stuff.pngI got a wig of a haircut I had a long time ago. Ugh it reminds me of this girl I was at uni with who literally only ever looked good when she and I were friends. I told her I saw a girl in topshop with short hair and a cute messy-grungey fringe and a top knot bun. She got a bob and I called it “the edwardian monk bob” on twitter when we weren’t talking. She was gossiping about me with people I wouldn’t of given the time of day, one time legit ran crying to our pervert landlord next-door-neighbour about mess our other housemates had left, particularly in the kitchen (around this time I actually wasn’t really eating very much – because I was catatonic because I couldn’t trust anyone – people thought I was paranoid because I was smoking weed – first of all, weed acts as a magnifying glass that enhances your intuition) and second of all – if you grow up around people you can’t trust, you attract people into your life that you also cant trust. It’s a cyclical behaviour and a truth of “human” behaviour that any counsellor will confirm with you. One day I’ll be awarded a complimentary PhD for my services to both psychology & psychiatry. Really.)

When I was super ill – and by ill, I mean freaking out about stuff like my boyfriend cheating on me with most (if not all?) of my friends, being robbed of stuff (five grands worth of Saffron. Pity the guy who created that karma..), being discussed by people – confronting the people who discussed me and being called names, severe anorexia, being so broke that I had no heating, being ditched by everyone that I actually really cared about… Reliving unfortunate childhood memories I had tried to forget over and over. Casually ignoring I’d had about three miscarriages (one time, a hobbit girl stood in the doorway of my kitchen talking with great passion about her super-ultra-deep feelings for about five hundred different guys, while I quietly started heating up/shaking and out of nowhere just started bleeding onto that Ikea Ofelia blanket I had on our red “sofa” and said quietly “oh I’ve just had a miscarriage” – to which she responded “oh” and then continued talking about these boys, while I ran to my room and put a pad on – and then dabbed at the blood with the kitchen sponge . She didn’t ask if I was okay or anything because obviously this chat was incredibly important. Anyway – people call me self absorbed and I thank every fucking star on the Planet (I’m leaving ‘Planet’ there because I typed that automatically, but the intended words were ‘in’ and ‘the Universe‘) that I am because if I wasn’t, I would not have survived. Anyway all of this happened, then later I realised I’m a medium – I channeled Jung and Freud at the same time. Ha.

Not insane or even actually mentally ill – just absorbent of other people’s emotions about both themselves and me, absorbent of their insanity (of which insecurity..) and mental illnesses, like depression. A weird sponge.

That girl also had a lot of things to say about my depression, that is a discussion for a more honest time. I give it about eight months. Actually she’s in my graphic novel. I did a lovely little drawing of her. She may well be the only person I’ve illustrated myself and the likeness is uncanny.

blog00threeroomdivider
blog006.png
blog004.jpg
If you look through the divider this is what you see. Fascinating right?

I bought this from Etude. Is nice. Everyone should have one.

blog9ears.jpg

blog005.jpg

The upstairs hallway is being done up. I probably said before.

blog006plug

These doors were installed years ago by one of my dads Arab friends? Contacts? Someone my dad knew. This door. When it comes to interiors my mother is .. uh. She pretends that she had nothing to do with this mess – it’s really, really funny.

A friend of my mother’s called Jessica, who we knew in Dubai (She used to escort distraught foreign women who had come over to the U.A.E to marry ((often abusive, actually)) Arab men – through airports – leaving behind their children.) used to joke that my family were the Simpsons.

I guess it’s true

I digress for a funfact – did you know that the internet started using ‘warm’ colours because of Godsgirls.com? A photographer called Matthew Cooke brought that in. The influence of Aesthetics is so so subtle. He, Lithium Picnic, Kelly Lind and Cherry from SuicideGirls were my favourite photographers – aside from Araki, Arnulf Rainer and also that David Lynch shoe-fetish collection of Louboutins. Y’know Instagram filters? They happened because of people like Lara Jade and even Felice Fawn (Who at 14 had a – dressed – self portrait stolen and used for a pornography. If I were her I’d have loved it)

007.jpg

I get the concept of a “self hating” Jew. If anyone ever wonders – I don’t hate that I’m Arabic. If I did – I assure you I could offer you a huge list of reasons as to why it would be justified – but I actually quite like it. Apart from the like, body hair and stuff. Ive been conditioned to hate that. Like you’ve been conditioned to neg me for it.

Some Persian guy once pointed out something pretty cool about body hair – when someone is around you, the hair on your arms responds to it. He was a piece of shit though. But so was pretty much every guy I hung out with at University, even the white ones with the fanciest british accents. But y’know, men from every culture find some way of abusing women. Perhaps one day some brave woman will write a book about the abuses indigenous to various cultures. I heard Somalians are quite into female genital mutilation and beating women. British boys are into date-rape drugs and also beating women. Vikings are also into date-rape drugs. Indian guys like to harass women from cultures outside of their own, because within their own culture theres always some auntie that knows their mum. I’m more of an other-hating Jew really, I hate everyone

I’d probably really fit in in Israel actually

So uh, amongst the many thoughts/dreams/premonitions/etc that go through my skull when I’m staring – this is how I experience the entrance to my mother’s bathroom. My dad paid someone to do that. My mother let someone leave her house in that state. (The incompletely-painted floor happened years ago – when my mother started painting it… and then her leg snapped in two the day I had a pretty serious surgery.)

Uncategorized

R E S I L I E N C E Y

I attract contrasting experiences because somewhere deep in my subconscious I absolutely believe I need to – to grow. It’s an unfortunate life-long habit. The details of any particular story are unimportant when you believe in Karmic theory… when you believe humans are inclined to perform cyclically. You can replace individuals in any story with some fictional character that represents their contribution to the narrative.

I don’t like ambiguity, I don’t like details left out, I like to know what’s being discussed. I’m nosey. (Actually I’m not so nosey, more curious: where there is adequate justification. And sometimes there isn’t, sometimes it’s a self defence mechanism – when I’m functioning on a low vibrational frequency. Sometimes it’s jealousy – sometimes it’s concern – sometimes it’s some other emotion I haven’t learnt the word for.)
When I meet a person, if they are special enough to capture my attention – and so seldom is this the case – I like to know how they happened. I am personally attracted to that and those which can convince me – with success – that I have not experienced them before in any shape or form.
I like to understand things/beings – if I perceive them to be special enough I will mentally travel to the ends of the Multiverse in an effort to really understand them. Sometimes I regret this aspect of myself, but I suppose information comes at a price. (Thats really a beauty of retail actually, how you earn a certain amount of money for a certain amount of energy expended determines how you value a price for an item… but when it comes to something like information – which is not material – the notion of the price you may have to pay is quite open to possibility.) And I access more information than anyone else ever has – I assure you – if my intentions are in accordance with the Laws of the Universe.

When one believes (as I do) that the people that come into your life are ‘replacements’ of those you grew up surrounded by, (It’s a concept discussed in counselling therapy but my spiritual education gives the concept a context that better resonates with me) – if your life has made of you, a nature that is bound to character analysis… What childhood experiences are you trying to make sense of by living your life?
In childhood to adolescence to adulthood we essentially become conditioned, we sacrifice our truer natures to adjust – to become acceptable to society – we are forced to succumb to a societal thinking in order to ‘survive’. A quality of human & community and ‘connectivity’ that I am repelled by. I’ve tried being ‘normal’ – I’m not capable of it.

I’m irritated by someone who… people’s chosen guidance systems (such as religion) necessitate that I respect, the hive-mind teaches that this individual is my ‘example’. This individual broke an agreement with me. I’m at a phase of reliving my karma with this person, in a proximity I’ve never before endured. The result of this is the quiet (loud) realisation that they’re a disgusting person. I find them revolting. I can’t find anything compensatory about their difficult qualities – I once got a fortune cookie in a Chinese restaurant in Kent that said a sense of humour makes up for what you’re not… I don’t even find them funny. I find them useless. Expecting of me, something that they’re wrong to.

[I mean.. I’m not trying to give away too much but there’s an excerpt somewhere, in which Germaine Greer confronts the little girl that likes to flirt with her daddy. I’m not, and have never been, that little girl. Actually that became an issue – I spent my life being selectively mute and was thought to be intensely stupid for it.]

I know more than anyone that people demand strange perfection from others – and I am not perfect – but I try my hardest to be imperfect in a way that only really affects me. I have a lot to contribute to others that they’ve never learned to see value in until I was long out of their lives. It sounds stupid to say, but when I studied ballet I was taught that with great skill there must be a sense of effortlessness. This thing/pirouette/leap I’m doing that’s taken intense life-long training? Oh it’s just magic. You have to indicate ‘this is nothing to me’. That is a fundamental aspect of any performative skill. Actually it is something to me. I’m acting like I don’t care, because I know that this person wants to trigger me – I’ve killed any part of myself that cares about my interactions with this person. Consequences, consequences, consequences. The only thing that I value about this person has been revoked and they’re choosing to be deceitful about why. I know why, but they’re playing stupid. So am I.
This is a game I’m good at. If I’m playing against an equal adversary, we both come out nearly dead. Figuratively. The other person is not an equal adversary. They’re the kind of manipulative coward that would hide behind a schoolchild if it would buy them a little time. (But what use is time if you’ve never developed a good use for it?)

I’m thinking of getting one of those ‘sayings’ posters – that a Man is Only as Good as His Word. I could fill everything in, with every specific detail that you could ever want, but I don’t think I need to. I think this is some story you’ve experienced too.

[“As I said before – an eye for an eye. I’m a lot stronger than I look, you know.” – L, Deathnote]

Anyway.

I’ve been reorganising my bedroom and I absolutely adore it… I have an eye for colour… & detail. I’m exploring textures & introducing a new colour palette into my life. There’s beauty in every corner, almost!

ROOM1.png

I’m currently taking a break from tidying; which has been a real-life tetris game – I’ve been shifting furniture from one side to the other in increments, hoovering the tiny empty space and then dettol-blasting the germs. Any worth-while process – with guaranteed fabulous results – is gradual.

ROOM05.png

Patience is a virtue and uh. I’m not especially virtuous.

ROOM06.png

Blogging again (I’ve been on and off blogging and documenting my life for years although I stopped for quite some time..) has proven to be a really important and cathartic means of documenting my adventure in living a life in accord with the Laws of Attraction.

ROOM02.png

ROOM03.png

My bedroom is a good size for me – at present. I found a ‘handyman’ on Gumtree for a very reasonable price – who will be helping me dismantle my sister’s left over furniture & assembling my new bed. I’m excited for Monday!

I’ve always been taught that your bedroom is a reflection of your mind – which might be why I felt so out of sorts in my room in Copenhagen. Which was beautiful – but had a strong sense of ‘temporary’ about it. It was a good place to begin a healing process I think.

ROOM04.png

I’m listening to Death Note on YouTube right now. I’m on episode fourteen. I’m trying to teach myself not to hate Misa, trying to acknowledge some hidden intelligence in her. I’ve always identified as L, who is an interesting contrast to me personally. I would never work with the Police, I find them inherently corrupt. It’s actually depicted in the show itself – L is also corrupt, something indicated by his treatment of Misa – & the police condone it. Iunno, most people are too stupid to read into any narrative so even if I wanted to talk to people about the shows I liked I would probably end up rolling my eyes (I’m infantile like that, it’s a flaw that I *love*)
A friend – a fan of the series – years ago observed that L and I both ‘sit’ the same and have a penchant for sweet things. I’ve been having a savoury phase lately though.

ROOM07.png

[I’m now on episode fifteen!]

For most people, days pass in 24 hours.

[An ex of mine once told me about how these geniuses would explore with sleeping patterns – instead of sleeping through the night they would take naps every few hours & in doing so I suppose they could experience the energy of the varying times of the day?  The conversation related to productivity, it took place so many years ago now. 
At the time I was recovering from a break up and I’d spent many, many months asleep. I was authoring a fairytale that merged the mythologies of various geographies – I got to 14k words and stopped – and the fairy tale was lost years later. I know I have a better version of it in my mind.]

For me – a day can last for weeks.

I like sleeping late at night and waking up early in the morning. I actually started this to-do list yesterday. I wish the ‘Notes’ section on apple products was true to time.

Screen Shot 2018-03-07 at 18.01.56.png

ROOM10.png

ROOM08.png

ROOM09.png

Uncategorized

M I D N I G H T

Here’s an experimental test shoot exploring potential colour schemes & showing you the progress of my set (it doesn’t look anything like the final version) for a kids channel I’m putting together. My little Bastet candle holder is coming along so nicely! Also no where near finished. More than I enjoy the process of things, I am actually result driven.

I worked out how to use my macro lens with a single hand! I need a reflective surface though

Uncategorized

F L O W A Z

flowas3.pngwriteup

In NO small part inspired by various findings on Pinterest!

mememe.png

Incase you can’t read my writing, today I’ve been building a set for a kids-channel I’m setting up on YouTube. (In between making atleast 3 x memes and… another thing I’m gonna try)

churrrr.png


outfitoftheday.png


I’m going to take a break from all the multitasking, tidy up my room & hopefully-maybe I’ll have time to make a mini movie about my ‘beauty’ regime >:D

Here is a self portrait I did last night titled “and I woke up like this” (and then maybe later a thought discussion – as to how writing is actually a visual art – with myself – as to why italics are absolutely necessary. and then maybe some kind of visualisation session as to how twitter could be improved)

Screen Shot 2018-02-09 at 13.34.36.png

PINK

B E I G E

Waiting for clay to dry…

So you may (or may not) remember that I started >> a little craft project. <<
Incase you don’t remember… Let me refresh your memory!


I’m making this clay piece for an idea I have for a kids channel I’m putting together on youtube. It’s very much an experiment at this stage – but I’ve been working on it for a little while.

So here is a little rundown of the process of putting together a little Bastet candle holder.

tott

I started off by sketching a little design (below) & creating the basic shapes using a discarded cardboard roll, blunt kitchen scissors & mummification bandage (modrock, above!).

bast

This is how she looked while I was waiting for the bandage to harden.

catani

I ordered clay on Amazon awhile ago but it’s taking time to arrive… so, being inpatient as I am, (and – FYI – I am SO inpatient) yesterday I visited Hobby Craft & bought this Air Drying Clay… I  watched a couple of clay modelling tutorials on youtube & realised that I actually don’t know anything about it. All I know is that I value my time and I need something that dries fast. :p

I struggled at first, with uh… trying to work out how to get the clay to stick to my little modrock cat-babe but this youtuber came to my rescue. Isn’t it amazing how we have so much access to all this knowledge now? You can use youtube to learn about ANYTHING.

03

Here are some obligatory macros (I live for macros) of everything.

01

How cute are these tools?! Zoella kind of got me obsessed with copper coloured things. I mean, technically this is “rose gold” (which would be difficult to tell by my colour correction, but I wanted to colour coordinate with the pretty tutorials I included in this post..) but looky! So0o0 pretty. The tool-handles are textured and they match my mermaid tail brushes, I think.

02

Hopefully the clay will actually stick to the modrock…

catcat.png

In any case it’s a fun learning process. Hopefully it’ll be a successful project, so I can get to making my cute crafts video.

This video came up next on my feed. SO CUTE. Insta-follow’d

The beautiful colours of the macaron inspired me! So… Here is a sort-of illustration of what she might look like when she’s finished.

karina.gif

Edited {Later on this same evening she started looking a little cuter!}
{The colours are different so excuse the lack of colour-continuity}

kit1kit02

My leggings are a mess but maybe I could design some like these… I think they look kinda cool.

regs.gif

Madre’s put on Disney songs for the chihuahuas for the most part of the day and they’ve been really happy about it. They’re usually such Taylor Swift fans! (Though not Tintin, so much)


Today I had a great final appointment with my psychiatrist. I asked him to listen to a particular Abraham Hicks video, where she speaks with a psychiatrist – who on the one hand was a fan of Esther and Abraham but on the other, works with people who engage with a reality that isn’t quite apparent to him. Its sort of a really amazing conversational exchange that I don’t think has ever been documented before. My psychiatrist said he’d watch, I told him that I’d really appreciate if he considered suggesting Ester & Abraham to his patients and he said “we do suggest various meditations” (he is more articulate than my memory is dictating him as being) and I told him that over many years I’ve tried numerous meditations but it was really through Abraham that I actually got better, that my life changed noticeably. I kept really rudely interrupting him every time he tried to speak because I felt so comfortable speaking – I haven’t in ages, really. With anyone. I think he worked that out though. He said he’d share Abraham with his team and I hope he does.

Before I went to University I had a spiritual teacher that I talk about so, so frequently – “Matrixesque oracle” – essentially she told me numerous times not to do drugs. The reason being that my being put in a psychiatric ward was always going to happen – but when I was it, my experiences were put down to drug use and that was wrong. I was given the wrong diagnosis, robbed of an opportunity to be properly studied for the things I was experiencing. I know I will never be sectioned or put on psychiatric medication again – but I know that other people like me will be filtered through the system and I think that if I can trust a team of people to consider Esther Hicks as an example of someone like me (who has a much greater control over her emotional state!) that the world will be a completely different place in a year from now.

Oh, then I asked him if I could see him for a final appointment. I think he knows it’s because I want to know what he thinks of Abraham and Esther.

And when I got back in the car with my ma, I had a pretty honest chat with my her about my experiences – and she told me about how one time – when my Grandmother (Who-would-DESTROY-me-for-calling-her-that. We-just-called-her-“Conchita”, although-her-name-was-“Concepcion”) was pregnant, my Aunt Norma (an infant at the time) came and said to her that “Jesus is taking your baby away now”. That night she went into labour and the baby was born with it’s umbilical cord fastened around it’s neck. My grandma also died that evening. But she came back.

Oh! And one time my Aunt Norma refused to go to this country club my family went to in Paraguay because she knew a little boy was going to drown… Of course, he did. If a child had told me about that I’d have said “well then we HAVE to go! And you’re going to swim in that pool ALL DAY!”

I’m uh, going to go downstairs – my dad wants me to “see something” (it means he wants to show off a meal he’s made) anddddddd then I’m gonna come back upstairs, watch some Gaspard Ulliel interviews, fall asleep and make some memes about my starsign when I wake up. (#Ophiuchus, btw.)

Uncategorized

B A B Y P I N K & G R E Y

THINGS 1.png

Inspired by – and by inspired I mean I completely ripped off – >> this pin <<

I was thinking of some shitto from essex who clearly failed year 8 biology & probably doesn’t know what beta means

(I fucking LOVE urban dictionary like, it’s just so much more fun than the oxford dictionary. It’s a kinda more comprehensive take on the English language isn’t it? who really gives a fuck about the oxford dictionary??? does ANYONE?!)

DTqEL8oXkAEnIpU
[I can’t take credit for this, I’m pretty rubbish at the sciences too but it’s called a genetic diagram & basically explains how two dark haired people can’t actually have a blonde haired and blue eyed baby]

That’s what you get for marrying a cheating picasso painting (like, once you’ve seen one of them you’ve seen them all & they’re only “valuable” because of the name of the dude wot painted them and they’re not really all that nice to look at, lets be honest) & calling me

THINGS.png
(P.S I might be HIDEOUSLY ugly but I know THE best plastic surgeons in this country and I really don’t think I’ve got anything wrong with me that can’t be fixed.)
(P.S.S So0o. Tell me… super-hottie-ultra-good lookin’ sex-bomb…HOW are you gonna fix this tiny problem????)

What options do you have??????? Gee I guess you’ll just have to master a way of getting laid without anyone seeing the junk in yr trunk, won’t you (what happened to the other half of it?!?)

postcard.png
I’m actually contemplating having this made into a t-shirt, or postcard or frame-able of some kind. Is he still doing a book tour? I could set up a little table outside & live my merch girl teen-dream, selling fantabulous memorabilia to his super-creepy fans)

(P.S.S.S Jesus Christ, you could’ve grown some fucking pubes cos the effeminate thing doesn’t work for you.)

I’ve always *loved* effeminate guys… They’re the most beautiful thing this Planet has going for it. Sincerity, kindness & sensitivity are kind of like aphrodisiacs or something. I mean I know some guys fake it to get laid but the truth always comes out in the end.