I'm late!

I don't really know why it's been so difficult for me to write lately. There have been multiple drafts and countless thoughts but apparently none have been good enough to finish and publish. It's the ongoing battle I seem to have with motivation, inspiration and harsh self-criticism. Being a perfectionist is a pain in the ass.

My intention to 'just do it' hasn't exactly taken off. Well, it did. And then it slowed down and stopped, mid-air, and is in the fast and dramatic process of crashing and burning. My inclination to 'just do it...really really fucking, ridiculously, awesome' has overridden all other philosophies.

I've found both solace and slight depression in speaking to other creative types. It seems as though the people I know are equal parts industrious and confused. I feel I sit somewhere in the middle and have been sitting there for quite some time. My ass is fast becoming deeply imprinted in this writer's block rut. It's infuriating.

Today* I attempted a spring clean. It was incredibly superficial but somewhat effective. I did not dare touch my wardrobe - fuck knows what disasters lie in there - that would require and entire weekend and a lot of discipline and strength. All of which, today, I did not have. Instead, I stripped my walls and cleared out my work desk. A good purge works wonders. Not that I really threw anything out. Just stored away in a box. Out of sight, out of mind.

I feel I have this fear of looking at things in all their excessive, disgusting glory. Facing the situation as it actually is and dealing with it, cleaning it all up, once and for all. I fear the length and depth of that task. Knowing that I would not be able to sleep or eat or do anything other than completely immerse myself in the mess until it was all packed away, shipped off, thrown out. And all I had left, at the end of the day, was the perfect situation.

This is not just about having too many clothes or shoes or books. Obviously. I disguise my oversentimentality with a 'fear of commitment'. Piling more new stuff on tope of old, unwanted stuff, in the hopes that forgetting about them or ignoring them will compensate for not actually getting rid of them. Fucked. Totally fucked up.

What actually eventuates is that everything always remains where it always was.

*By today, I actually mean October 28 2012. In my attempt to find material to just post up because I've been such a slack ass bitch, I went through all my handwritten notes looking for gems to string together or comment on. Which is when I found this, and realised it didn't sound half bad. True to form, it was unfinished in ink. I cleaned my room two weeks ago. It's still relatively intact.

K.x

An excerpt from...

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close - Jonathan Safran Foer

'I wonder in my Nothingness moments if she's testing me...just to see what I'll do in response, she wants to know if I love her, that's all anyone wants from anyone else, not love itself but the knowledge that love is there.'

K.x

The 26th

Two days ago, 26 happened. 

I didn't want to make it a 'thing'. And then I did. And then I didn't. But I did. Birthdays can be fantastic. A day where you can command the presence and attention and love from your inner (and extended) circle, be showered with gifts and food and drinks and get to purchase and wear a bangin' outfit especially for the occasion. It's like a yearly wedding, without the formality, clergymen and life-long contract to another person. I am, however, a relatively anxious and self-conscious person, despite all my talk of 'chilling the fuck out' and just looking indifferent. As a result, birthdays - specifically my own - are often a source of intense stress and general up-tightness. If you do something, there is so much pressure to put on a good show. Will people like the venue, will they like the music, will they like each other, will they even fucking show up? It can get a little overwhelming.

As it turned out, I didn't need to worry. It was fantastic because my friends are fantastic and that's pretty much all it comes down to. I felt very lucky to be living in a city that spoils me, surrounded by people that I love individually for various and sometimes strange reasons; who have come into my life for various and sometimes strange reasons. As always there were notable absences, mostly due to geography, but overall, I felt relaxed and loved and very birthday-y. In the end, if you're still worried or stressed or pissed about the superficial appearance of your birthday, you are probably yet to find peace in the presence of your loved ones. Or you're just a lame selfish prick that needs to get over yourself and stop whinging about your stupid first world problems.

I think every time your birthday rolls around, a stocktake of your life occurs. What have I done, who do I know, where have I been - all because you have to face the quantification of your time on earth. But to quote my homegirl Aaliyah (RIP, incidentally)...

Some of us don't find ourselves where we planned to be by a certain age. My eight year old self had decided my life would be settled by the time I was 25. Husband, kids, house, cars - apparently a career in there somewhere but the details of what and how fulfilling it was remain sketchy to this day. Eight year old K was a blunt-fringed cutie who could write a mean short story, kick ass in art projects and be seen frequenting Marioland in her free time. She was also, obviously, clueless as shit.

But that's ok. I know now that you can't control life. You can plan and hope and dream, you can put into place the steps that are required to get to your goal, you can save money, you can work your ass off. But in the end, it might not mean shit. Life is the best in the game at fucking all your shit up. But that's ok too. It doesn't have to mean nothing in the sense that it might as well have not happened. Even plans that go awry are learning experiences, and unless you're completely socially retarded, I'm sure you will learn from them. And if you actually have conviction, you will continue to pursue your dreams with more maturity, wisdom and determination.

I've talked a lot about how different my life is compared to a lot of my peers. On the surface, it does look like I'm still living the life of a teenager. Aimless, varied, little routine, no titles - I'm a parttime everything. I have no mortgage, no husband, no fulltime job, seemingly no stability and I used to scoff at the thought of having any of those things at 'my age'. I don't scoff so much anymore. I still don't foresee any of those things in my near future but I have no reason to judge anyone who does or already has. If that's what you want, and you've been working towards it and working on it everyday, then good for you. I have no authority to gauge or even assume anybody's level of happiness. If you honestly are, then I respect that and am happy for you.

What I don't agree with is standing still. Not like, "taking a breather 'cause I've been working my ass off", standing still. Like, "Oh woe is me, life is too hard, the universe hates me, I'm not gonna put any effort into it, the world owes me all the good things in life". Fuck you. In this instance, the reason why you're not where you want to be is because you don't actually give a shit enough about your own life and situation to change it.  It's not an easy task, I should know. It's actually probably the hardest thing to do, to be able to identify all the gaps in your life and plan and work to fill them to be happy. Nobody is entitled to anything in this world. Whatever you put out there, with sincere intent, you will get back, sooner or later. I truly believe that. And you will get those opportunities because you deserve them and you will appreciate them and make the most of them. 

It is still a constant (yet manageable) struggle between what I feel like doing (sometimes nothing), what I want done (everything) and what other people want me to do (everything different to what I want). What is getting easier is understanding who I am and what my motivations are. I have been given enough opportunities to be able to congratulate myself but only enough to whet my appetite for success. My faults are many and need rectifying but at least they have been identified. I can see the path that I'm walking is a little less gravel and a little more bitumen. It's not as windy anymore but it is still on a slight incline. And that's ok. This is exactly where I want to be.

K.x

An excerpt from...

The Prophet - Kahlil Gibran

'Love has no other desire but to fulfil itself.

But if you love and a must needs have desires, let these be your desires:

To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.

To know the pain of too much tenderness.

To be wounded by your own understanding of love;

And to bleed willingly and joyfully.

To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;

To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy;

To return home at eventide with gratitude;

And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.'

I would normally read a passage like this and be like, "Pfft, that shit's for lil bitches." Except now I know it to be true. So maybe I am a lil bitch. And what?


I could quote this whole damn book. 


K.x

An excerpt from...

Russh February/March 2012

"I didn't love him enough to stay put. He didn't love me enough to take me back. Then we both lived happily ever after. The end."

- Isabella Manfredi

Truth.

K.x

An excerpt from...

EVERYTHING IS ILLUMINATED

"She eats well enough and is healthy, insofar as she's never sick, but her body looks like that of a chronically sick girl, a girl squeezed in some biological vise, or a starving girl, a skin-and-bones girl, a girl who is not entirely free. Her hair is thick and black, her lips are thin and bright and white. How else could it be?
Much to Yankel's dismay, Brod insisted on cutting that thick black hair herself.
It's not ladylike, he said. You look like a little boy when it's so short.
Don't be a fool, she told him.
But doesn't it bother you?
Of course it bothers me when you're a fool.
Your hair, he said.
I think it's very pretty.
Can it be pretty if no one thinks it's pretty?
I think it's pretty.
If you're the only one?
That's pretty prett.
And what about the boys? Don't you want them to think you're pretty?
I wouldn't want a boy to think I was pretty unless he was the kind of boy who thought I was pretty."

So sometimes I read. And what?
Turn a page, learn a little something.


K. x

Kiss my...

...lazy ass. Aha!

Nah, kidding. Or am I?

So I signed up to the General Pants Co. mailing list a whiiiile ago (don't ask me why, seeing as we don't have one GP store in Perth) and received the regular drop in my inbox today. This time around the hype was about their new season denim range but what really tickled my fancy was the dopeness of the graphic they used.

HOT. Right?

This, in turn, reminded me of my current (slight) obsession. Lipstick. I'd bought a few blah lippie shades since Summer 08 but had rarely been brave enough to break them out. This winter, things changed. I'm not quite sure what the reason was. New crowd? New outlook? Who knows. But ultimately, I just stopped giving a fuck what 'most' people were doing and using lip colours that weren't nude or clear.

And surprise, surprise...I liked it. Shit, I love it. I defy any female who doesn't feel amazing when she's wearing that red lipstick. Shit is hot. Seriously.

Though being a sucker for the glossy mags, I was drawn to orange, coral and fuschia, seen on many a runway model. I have yet to test-drive all the major brands but I think I have built a solid basic palette so far.

Here are a couple my staples.

Revlon Wild Orchid

K, so I need Effects....I'm definitely not amazing without it!


Napolean Hara
See? Baha. Cheers to my girl Simone at the NP counter for letting me 'play'.

I've derived much satisfaction from taking my pout out, especially during the day. It's part of my new 'power suit'. Skinny jeans, white tee, fresh face and lips that go POP.

"I'ma wear my Supergirl swag, if you don't like it you can kiss my..."
CIARA, Pucker Up

K. x