Fun is Fun

There are those nights when you go out and have a shitload of fun and then there are those nights when you think you had fun, but you can't quite remember. Here is a list of indicators that pretty much guarantee you did.

Waking up with a full face of make up, smudgy red lipstick looking very crack-whore chic. Arm decorated with no less than seven grubby stamps, none of which give you any clue of where you may have graced with your presence. Skittles on the floor, in your pockets, under the sheets. Nursing what you can only assume to be some sort of dance floor related broken hip, hazy memories of a slippery surface somewhere. Inbox full of unknown numbers: "Who's this?" Who's this indeed. Wallet full of little white ATM slips where all your millions used to be hanging out. Broken elbow. Shaky hands. Queasy tummy. Ingrained frown. Durian in the fridge.

Ahhhhh.... fun is fun.

Stranger than Kindness

If it Weren't for the Eraser...

A couple of days ago I bought a new sketch book. I didn't really need a new one as a dear friend bought me a beautiful new sketch book for my 21st and I have barely used more than a couple of pages but there is beautiful pleasure to be taken in opening up the cover of a new sketch book and flicking through the crisp white pages which are yet to be covered in inky smudges and eraser crumbs. Bloody eraser crumbs! They haunt me, follow me everywhere. Or rather, I create them everywhere. I don't think I have ever sketched something without employing the eraser. If the eraser wasn't an option I wouldn't make anywhere near as many mistakes. Or I at least wouldn't think of them as mistakes. I'd think of them as a first attempt, or an interesting take, or not quite what I was going for but something to work with all the same. The eraser is the instigator for second guessing yourself, making you question if what you've done is really good enough, and lord knows I do not need any encouragement to do that, especially not from a dirty square of rubber.
One of the main reasons I'm yet to have crowded the pages of my sketch book with my scrawls is I'm scared that they won't be worthy. But what good is a blank sketch book? Part of the pleasure of opening the new sketch book for the first time is the excitement you have about all of the possibilities to be created on those there pages.
Doubt is forever holding me back, taking over all facets of my life and creating tiny eraser crumbs everywhere I go.
Enough is enough. No more erasing!

Over Caffeinated

There are a few problems that come with having a sneaky cafe crush on your local barista.

The first is that you find yourself digging through your wardrobe for copious amounts of time trying to decide whether a laid back jeans and jumper would be better to ask for 1 X skinny flat white take away, or whether it would better be executed in dress and stockings. Decisions decisions.

The second is that no matter where you are when the coffee craving hits, you walk/ride/drive the extra block and half in the hope that the long, blonde haired boy will be manning the machine (that is until you get his roster memorised and know exactly what time his shifts are).

The third, and probably the worst, is that your caffeine intake is increased beyond what you can actually handle and you spend the whole day wiping your clammy hands on your pants, chatting incessantly to people and trying to disguise your trembling hands.

Possibly the most exasperating thing though, is walking into the coffee shop only to discover that Blonde Barista and his skinny, skinny jeans aren't even present and you're now in too deep to exit sans coffee, forced to order off the pink haired girl with second rate frothing skills.

Another $3.20 wasted.

The Definition of Frustration

Not having a regular spot for the safekeeping of your tooth brush so that every morning and every night (just in case my dentist is reading) I have to dig around in my bedroom, looking under the bed, in the pockets of things and on top of my wardrobe to try and find it!

Tea-Light Delight

Whilst scouring the vast sea of the world wide web (which means doing anything but finishing off the last 500 words of my Contemporary Design Issues Assignment) I came across this beautiful little clip by Raf Wathion.

I wish I had the time and space to create something equally as mesmerising... Maybe one day soon - after I have finished my assignment.

Ch Ch Ch Changes

Why is it that the changes that want to make to be a better person are so easy to visualise every night, alone, in the dark and then so hard to implement in the day, when people can see you?