Safety-Pinned Mind

My mind's been off having adventures. Identity crises, moral ambiguities, confusing arousal, and euphoria and depression chasing each other in circles - and I've just sat back and allowed it do its thing. Usually it returns in time for Top Chef. Composure Coherence, on the other hand, arrives about as often as my freelance cheques and I'm rushing to make good of today's sudden burst...

I've realised only recently that my quest to understand people would be strides simpler if I stop trying to solve them.

The handful of relationships that I cherish have one thing in common. They're all based on the premise of Quality > Quantity. I'm not built for too much familiarity, I don't like knowing every last stitch of anyone's day or recounting mine, for that matter. Unless you can tell it well and the conversation has potential to descend into lots of meta humour, then I'm all ears. Otherwise, let's just talk when we actually have something to say.

I think I enjoy struggle way too much to ever really succeed in the conventional sense. I'm at a professional fork-in-the-road currently and while one path definitively leads to being able to afford poncy hair accessories I don't need, the one I'm on has me under house arrest because I can't afford even coffee without feeling like a shameless wastrel. It's still a tough choice. The writing jobs I enjoy the most are the ones that often push me to tears of inadequacy, the ones that come easy are forgotten almost instantly no matter how well they turn out.
I wish to have it all though even the thought of it bores me intensely.

Stupid trends irritate me so much I feel like punching my screen. This business of saying 'super like!' on Facebook,  SHUT UP, IT'S NOT A THING. Also, this sudden adoration of droopy hipster girls with limp hair wearing oatmeal-exciting fashions. WHERE WAS ALL THIS HYSTERIA WHEN MAGGIE GYLLENHAAL DID IT WAY BACK WHEN? Herd. I spurn you.

I have been feeling quite good about my weight even as I remain the fattest I've ever been. Except for this past week of beer and fries and Easter pastries and Pepsi, I've been pretty good about working out and eating well. I suppose it's freeing to know you've done your bit and it's now out of your hands.

I am diabetically girlie. Lace, florals, ruffles, sequins, pastels, sorbet make-up, aforementioned hair accessories, box clutches, diaphanous everything and I'm sold. I haven't triumphed in any popularity contests because of my love for jeggings either.

Ever since I watched Chashme Buddoor a few weeks ago, I've been mesmerised by Deepti Naval. Forever she's been no more than a clip-on Smita Patil to me but Christ, such beauty and vitality. 90% of the stuff below is from here.

Am I right?

Miss Chamko!

So Thelma & Louise :)

'course she's a poet.

Andie.

 <3

"What about me, Phil? Do you know me too?"

"You like boats, but not the ocean. You go to a lake in the summer with your family up in the mountains. There's a long wooden dock and a boathouse with boards missing from the roof, and a place you used to crawl underneath to be alone. You're a sucker for French poetry and rhinestones. You're very generous. You're kind to strangers and children, and when you stand in the snow you look like an angel."

I kind of love you Chloe Sevigny

I don't know what it's about Chloe, but she had me from the moment I set eyes on her in Boys Don't Cry. In Big Love, as a young fervent polygamist, she blew me away. She possesses this illicit beauty that if you appreciate it, says more about you than it does about her. It's some sort of irreverence mixed with innocence mixed with seriously damaged mixed with defensive intelligence that I find so very intriguing. Although some limited experience tells me she could just well be and really probably is a dreadful bore. For now I take heart in the fact that she and I seem to share an affinity for nudes - no really, almost everything I've purchased in the last couple of months has been some shade of skin.