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[Mon Jun 07, 2010 at 10:19pm] |
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I've had a burst of creative energy lately, and have been staying up most nights, chasing it. I love the rush of finishing something. I feel like I'm worth something when I feel that finished product in my hands. I also love the feel of metal cutters, and the way fabric through the sewing machine feels. Im wearing everything I make, I refuse to buy boring dresses and premade jewelry anymore. I might as well wear my own art.
I think I'm about to get fired from the cafe. And if it wasn't for this pesky eat/needing a roof over my head, I wouldn't even care. But as it seems, I need a job. Maybe I should just start looking now. Fucking bollocks, I hate being chained to material positions. It's pissing me off, and stifling my creativity. Maybe Nick will just let me stay with him, he has a load of space, and rents a studio. I can't deal with having to make these adult choices.
Who knew you needed this much money? Honestly, it's just depressing.
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[Wed May 12, 2010 at 8:59pm] |
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Life is so much easier when you don't expect much. Make plans, and allow yourself to just be. I'm sitting here, sewing, I'm always sewing. Stringing beads, working towards having my own shoppe. That's all I want, is my own shoppe. But if it never happens, it could never happen. You can never say never, it's just easier when you don't expect for much.
Last night I was gluing rhinestones on a pair of shoes for my sister. She likes shiny shoes, who doesn't like shiny shoes? I do, I think they're lovely. But she loves them more than I do, and I love using the hot glue gun. There is nothing like wielding hot glue, in a gun no less that makes you feel like you're a total bad ass, even when you're gluing rhinestones on a pair of silver stilettos.
The weather is getting warmer, I can feel summer in the air. I love the thrill of warm wind on bare legs, and being able to go out all night without carting around your coat. That is freedom at it's finest.
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[Wed Apr 14, 2010 at 9:09pm] |
Even though I'm still toiling, and I do mean TOILING away as a waitress, I sold one of my pieces today. I was wearing my hour glass necklace, time stops when you're waitressing with a vodka hangover. But still, the woman liked it so much, she asked me to make one for her. I love when I feel like what I'm doing is worth something. I'm going to talk to my manager about maybe letting me set something up at the cafe. Even if it's only a few necklaces, if I can sell anything, I'll be happy.
Nick is finally back home with his "roommate" Seth. I suppose Nick was truly ready to make a commitment. I applaud him for moving forward, but at the same time, I feel I'm the only one who actually likes to be single. I like meeting the wrong blokes, and dancing all night until my dress sticks to my back, and the pills make things feel nice and fuzzy. Making any sort of commitment, careerwise, romantically, makes me want to run for the hills. I want to be free forever. Nothing holds me down.
I'm getting pissed off cheap cider with my brother, and we're sharing a spliff, strong and sweet. I don't think life can actually get much better than this.
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[Sat Mar 27, 2010 at 9:05pm] |
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Saturday night is my favourite night. It's the night where anything can happen. You can meet anyone, and end up doing anything. Maybe even get a super cool tattoo like Terry's. There is nothing like a unicorn on the arse. My boring foot tattoo doesn't even compare really. I'm thinking next time I need a night out, it's all about Boot.
I'm sober. Dead sober. COLD sober. I need to be pissed, I think I'm getting the shakes. Who wants to get pissed?
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[Sun Mar 14, 2010 at 2:50pm] |
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My days are divided between waiting on people hand and foot. Bringing them tea, and sandwiches, and listening to their specific requests. Crust on the side, tea with a splash of milk. I'm always hung over on the Saturday and Sunday morning shifts. There is nothing like a pounding headache when you're taking orders from people you can't bring yourself to care about.
Saturday nights are mine. I like finding the most diveiest pub in Camden, where my brother lives. And we drink, all night. And dance. I like the way the sweat feels when it drips down my back, and the woosh of cool air when I take my leather jacket off. I love the feeling so sneaking out of some bloke's flat the next day, silently picking my heels off his floor and tip toeing out the door. It feels like freedom.
My brother Nick is staying with me at this moment. We're exactly the same, he can't bring himself to really commit. I can't either, that feels like giving something up, and I can't give one thing up. Anything that makes me feel like I'm better than a waitress in some cafe in London. Making dresses, or making my jewelry. Giving yourself over to someone. It's nothing I can see myself doing. I'd rather have bottles of cheap vodka, and pills on my tongue. Blokes that are all wrong, and sharing greasy chips with my brother who seems to be in the same trap I am.
That's freedom.
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