travelling

i don't really think that the english language possesses the ability to capture the essence of human emotion as cartoon sponge and starfish capture jellyfish in butterfly nets. i constantly find myself landing upon words that only describe what i feel with mediocrity and not so much accuracy. which is where i find myself now. it's not boredom, not dissatisfaction, denial or acceptance, pain or indifference - maybe i've found that i am able to be devoid of emotion, that i don't necessarily have to yearn or feel angst or frustration or rage, or that loss of breath when your heart admist hopes is crushed. am i not okay with being okay? sometimes we put all our efforts into things which dissolve within days or even hours, and we tell ourselves time and again that we'll strive to do things which mean more for ourselves and the world, things that will last or carry more than just the superficial pleasure of a matter of trivial moments. but why? why is there a constant need to better ourselves and our actions when they don't mean a thing to anybody else regardless of how they seem in our eyes? in all honesty, most of what we do is done to seek the approval of those we love and admire, or those we wish to love and admire us. it, and you, and those before have all taken little by little to steal the trust and the patience and the will to hold out. belief in a word isn't dissimilar to belief in a brick wall - useless and time-consuming, and when observed upon by an outsider, utterly pathetic.


J; thank you for providing me with literature and stolen spoonfuls of ice cream and ripe triplets.

5-11

coincidentally two of my favourite numbers.

stars hollow snows.
straub dies.
milk & cookies.
grown up milk & cookies.
emily discovers the internet.
kirk is a whore.
jack russell terrier.

i wish somebody would build me an ice rink. despite the fact that i cannot ice skate, and i despise the cold.

vaseline

Love is just a word until someone you meet gives it a proper meaning.

black lingerie

it's a strange sensation feeling your body move without your full consent or knowledge, like you're walking away from something and walking towards something else without your mind being entirely sure of it. it's almost my stop i should put my bookmark in and take my ipod out and stand up without making a fool of myself by falling onto yet another unsuspecting victim and before i know it i'm out the hissing doors of the grubby tangara carriage. i dislike the way in which authors at times feel the need to ramble on for pages about a certain character or event that logically gives the rest of the book context but ignores the fact that in reality i don't care for context, or gail wynand for that matter. i think the only thing i like more than eating would be to prepare food that will later be eaten, not necessarily by me but by someone who will enjoy it. or on par with that, watching that process unfold on television. i like looking at macaroons more so than i enjoy eating them. maybe, just maybe, i don't actually like the things that i think i do. let's take a moment to reflect upon these wise words -

LORELAI: And then I thought, "maybe their freak-outs are like some kind of compass for me" you know like, "I know I'm doing what I want to do if it freaks them out." And then I thought, "what if I don't want to do what I want to do because I want to do it, but because they don't want me to?"

RORY: Huh?

LORELAI: I mean what if I don't like what I like because I like it, but because my mother doesn't like it and doesn't want me to like it? What if I don't actually like the music that I like or the movies or the clothes or the men? What if I don't like what I seem to like?

RORY: Ah, hence the pop-tart.

LORELAI: Yes. Hence. I can remember the first time I had a pop-tart. It was at my friend Erica Catcha's house, and she said, “Do you want a pop-tart?" And I knew my mother would recoil at the very idea of me having a pop-tart. I could just picture her. [Emily voice] "A pop-tart?!" [normal voice] And so, I had one. And I opened the little silver wrapper, and I took a bite, and I thought nothing had ever tasted so good. I thought it tasted like freedom. It tasted like I was my own person. The pop-tart tasted like freedom and rebellion and independence.

RORY: Wow. That's some pop-tart. What flavor was that?

cosmo-slotnick

there are things that we control, things that we do our best to control and things that are beyond our control in such a way that they run alongside the defiance of gravity and other ridiculous scientific theories. when we go through situations or experiences we'd much rather pass on, we don't because we tell ourselves that the end result is worth all the baby nuggets in the world. so who decides what 'worth it' is, and at what point do we decide that something doesn't warrant our deepest faith and biggest bathtubs of effort? it feels as though we are all continuously working towards something, waiting for someone, wanting to be somewhere else - because we assume it'll fix the problems we have now without even stopping to consider that our desire for them lacks the knowledge that they are built on a foundation of problems themselves. the trouble with wanting more is that there will always be more for us to want.

a quote i found in our production room this afternoon while hiding from a 6 month-old letting her bladder go on our coffee table:

God determines who walks into your life ... it's up to you to decide who you let walk away, who you let stay, and who you refuse to let go.

cream

LUKE: Uh, everyone grab a Philips-head screwdriver. [The boys dig around in a box.] Okay, once you have your screwdriver – what are you holding? Bradley, that’s a hammer.

BRADLEY: It is?

LUKE: Damon, that’s tape.

DAMON: Oh.

LUKE: I can’t believe this. No one ever taught you what a Philips-head screwdriver is?

DAMON: My mother’s a lesbian.

moosick*

calcium is good for you.


*lele

addictive excellence

a day of coffee beans, makeshift paper bag umbrellas, burnt tastebuds and lots of love




J: grey skater dress by sportsgirl, red coat by miss shop, bag by regina garde, grey crew socks by sportsgirl, vintage shoes
V: tunic by b+ab, beaded cardigan by juliet in stilettos, bag by urban outfitters, boots by kasui

come visit the kangaroos, ingrid

Baby you've got the sort of hands to rip me apart
And baby you've got the sort of face to start this old heart
But your eyes are warning me this early morning
That my love's too big for you my love

Baby you've got the sort of laugh that waters me
And makes me grow tall and strong and proud and flattens me
I find you stunning, but you are running me down
My love's too big for you my love
My love's too big for you my love

And if I was stronger then I would tell you no
And if I was stronger then I will leave this show
And if I was stronger then I would up and go
But here I am and here we go again

Baby you've got the sort of eyes that tell me tales
That your sort of mouth just will not say, the truth impales
That you don't need me, but you won't leave me
My love's too big for you my love
My love's too big for you my love

hug.

matching tinkerbell beanie and gloves set! happy almost birthday, best baby ever!

tumbleweed

there's nothing i can say that hasn't been said before. and there's nothing that i've been through, or will go through, that other people before me haven't experienced. the enormity of the world around us has the potential to make us feel as insignificant as excess nail polish leaking onto your cuticle. but at the same time, you cross paths with some and not with others, and the immensity of the world for a second has the ability to blow away your most trivial (and then not so trivial) concerns. i want to say that i want to go somewhere nobody has ever been, and do things that are literally out of this world. but i think it's safe to say that i'd be happiest doing what i love, doing what i'm good at and doing something that people appreciate simply for what it is and what it brings out in others.


today, i ate a mushroom. and no, to my knowledge there was no gun pointed at my head.

black & white

life is like a where's wally book - we're all searching for that one special candy-caned person, and the rest are just in the way.

embryo concepts

s'wonderful, s'marvellous









J: vintage navy cardi, leopard print leggings from hk, oversized black tank by agent ninety-nine, flats by tony bianco, purse by oroton
V: floral cardi by ally, black skirt from hk, black tank by nu+nan, black boots by kasui, purse by sportsgirl

true love

i've missed you, jessica wing see chu
















J: coat by miss shop, striped top by quirky circus, bondage skirt by kookai, heart leggings by sportsgirl, flats by tony bianco, bag by HELEN HO
V: dress by zara, shirt by black friday, spotty leggings by sportsgirl, booties by mimi loves jimi, bag by agent ninety-nine

spots, stripes, hundreds & thousands

caffeine and vanity overload.












we have a thing for marble bathrooms and surrounding mirrors
burt, where are you?
canon <3
blending like a smoothie
kasui
9 crimes
what keeps us going
dirty shoe
my weekly wednesday
'gersikah'

my false

i'd like to think that i'm a pretty solid person. that i'm reliable and people trust me enough to depend on me. but there are times where i'm so easily swayed, if i was a little pig's house i'd be the first to go, hands down. and when you have the very core of your existence being questioned, there's only very little that doesn't shatter you like a glass window being blasted apart in an action film scene. it's a hard pie to cut, deciding how much occurs in my head and how big a part reality plays. i like being more than i appear to be. i like exceeding expectations, i like going beyond what's required of me and i like unpredictability. i want to be it, the it that describes the knowledge that nothing else is needed.

patience, grasshopper

it occurred to me today as i sat in the car for 34 minutes waiting for my mother how impatient i am and how cranky i get at queues that should be moving but don't, or incompetent waitstaff at restaurants, or SEMI-DELUSIONAL PREPUBESCENT SHREK-EARS-WEARING BOYS AT MACCA'S. it's not that hard. push button, fill cup, hand to customer. but it seems as though there's this constant pressing need for things to be faster; we need to run faster to make the earlier train and push elderly/disabled people out of the way for a seat (i'm aware that this may just be me) so we can drink more of the coffee so we can continue whizzing through our day like frazzled ninnies. i click my nails when i'm waiting for my change and tap my foot until the little red man transforms into little green man. I ALSO HATE THOSE PEOPLE WHO PRESS THE BUTTON INCESSANTLY LIKE THEIR LIFE DEPENDS ON IT. do you really think they'd invent a traffic light that requires you to push it more times than the last person otherwise you don't get to cross? i have so much hatred for traffic lights, the things that occur in their general vicinity are so infuriating. i also really hate when i've been standing there for a good 43 seconds or so, and another person turns up and pushes past me to press the button LIKE THEY THINK I'VE BEEN STANDING THERE FOR NO GOOD REASON OTHER THAN I LIKE THE RUSH OF WIND THAT CARS CREATE WHEN THEY DRIVE BY ME AND THE SOUND THEY MAKE AS THEY DRIVE OVER A POT HOLE ONE AFTER ANOTHER (okay the latter i actually enjoy). I'M WAITING TO CROSS THE ROAD TOO, TWITFACES.

post-management play time

oh germany. how i feel for you.

five four three two one

we don't get along with limits in our lives like smoked salmon agrees with cream cheese. limits pressure us, they weaken us, they expose us and the bottom line is we like to think that we're better off without them - on our credit cards, on our driving speeds, on our life span. but unknowingly, we push limits to better ourselves and discover things we never comprehended or thought possible. this in itself is such a rare occurrence, because we like to think that we know what's going on under all the hair, that we're able to control the uncontrollable. it's one of those things that only work their very best disguised under a trench coat and hidden behind a newspaper on a park bench.

which gets me thinking that i need to look for a winter coat.

dream on, diana

this alone is enough to turn me insane. i've never been a fan of pastels, but if i've fallen in love with the 2D version how much will i adore it in 3D? it reminds me of america in the 60's, playing with the family dog in the front yard and running through the sprinklers .. although i still don't think i'd be a fan of animals if i was born thirty years earlier.