So as I was walking back from *yet* another failed audition, it suddenly occurred to me that all the disappointments one goes through really makes you appreciate things that you wouldn't normally. Like, at the moment, I really miss having a full time job that I have to go to every day, whinge about and ultimately get paid to do. So in the future, I'm going to actually appreciate the drudgery, as opposed to resenting it or taking it for granted. But I'm grateful even for this "in limbo" state of being, as it means that I have a rather obscene amount of spare time on my hands, and thus gives me the freedom to write a lot more, discover new interests, and even consider other career paths. In the end, it's actually kinda cool ;) For one thing, I now have some semblance of control over my weekends; I can plan things in advance, and actually know that I will be there! No more wistful "maybe, depends on work" every time I want to go away for a weekend. Ok I'm getting a little too excited here, I do want a full time job, promise! But it is nice to be living free, for a change; similar to student living, which is something I'm bitterly sorry I'll never get to do for real. Wake up lateish, go to a class or two, come home, read the internet, watch a movie, read a book, write a blog, read more internet, do a bit of work, got to bed. Repeat. Correspondence studying is not quite the same as being at varsity, but I at least get out to do classes with ballet companies, so there is some socialisation there. Maybe not quite as much drinking, but that's probably for the best. So my mission is to make the most of this brief and possibly last time in my life that I can, in (mostly) good conscience, be a lout. I intend to look back on it fondly in future, when I'm back to the grindstone, and appreciate my time of youthful freedom.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
World Golf Tour 2012 and picspam
So I'm in full research mode for WGT 2012, which myself and the Nameless Wonder are attending this May. And no, we aren't actually going to a golfing event, but the Wave Gotik Treffen in the wonderful city of freaks, Leipzig :D (I posted something about WGT on facebork and someone asked if that stood for the World Golf Tour, and now the name has stuck). I can't wait to go back to Leipzig, I fell in love with it as soon as we arrived and saw at least 5 groups of goths outside the main train station, and even the beggar wore chains and sported some tattoos and facial piercings. It's my kinda town, in other words, so I'm really excited to go back when all the freaks are out in their full glory. BUT, the obvious question is: what to wear? This is a tough one. I mean, I don't even have most of my clothes in Germany, not to mention no summer wear and least of all any of my corsets (I miss you my babies). So what's a girl to do? Well, shop, of course! As I will soon be in London again, I am planning on making another assault on Camden, to see what I can dig up. However, to avoid bankrupture, I need to have my outfits planned before I get there, so that I can swoop in knowing exactly what I'm looking for. So far, I've collected a few basics, such as: fishnet stockings, stripy socks (black-and-white as well as candy-red-and-white), a white underwear corset (like, what people actually wear under their clothes, so it's not lace-up but it's ever so pretty), a black skirt, and last but certainly not least, my Docs. This collection seems to be lending itself to two different aesthetics: black goth and white goth. Let's explore some of the possibilities:
Courtesy of flickr
I could go with something like this. Well, maybe not the sheet thing, but flimsy white summery dress, paired with fishnets and Docs. It would make a nice visual juxtaposition, methinks. The other white option could be more Emilie Autumnal, in other words cutesy, maybe a little frilly skirt, candy-striped socks and... Docs. I'd like to somehow incorporate my white corset, perhaps by wearing it over a white tank top? We'll have to see. The other aesthetic is even more tricky to choose; there are just so many, many styles and sub-genres within black goth! I'm thinking maybe shorts-fishnets-cute-t-shirt combo, I have an adorable Lenore tee that is presently still residing in sunny SA, which I miss very much:
So I'd have to get a replacement. Another aesthetic is this:
courtesy of rantchick.com
Though sadly I do not have money to go full-on Victorian goth. One day, though... I do, however, have a rather gorgeous hat:
I will definitely be wearing it, whatever my outfit, to keep the evil daystar at bay. So to round it up, I basically have accessories for my legs and head, but not much in between. Who knows what may transpire in the next month, with Camden and all the rest of lovely London at my feet, but I will have at least another post dedicated to WGT, as I know how concerned everybody is about what I'm going to wear :P
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Doc Martens: The Odyssey
Call me crazy, but I think I have a telepathic connection with my new Doc Martens.
To explain: I got my beauties in London a couple of weeks ago. They're classic, black leather 14-hole Docs, and have been on my "to get" list for, oh, at least ten years. Quite possibly more. Myself and He Who Shall Not Be Named aka boyfriendface, have been on a mission to find Docs ever since we alighted in the first world, and from what better place than the land that gave the world Rammstein? But alas, Germany's Doc stores were sadly lacking in inspiration for us, so we waited impatiently to get to the next place that we knew would have a wide array of choices, and in useful sizes.
So we ended up in London. We managed to keep up our pretence of being there with no ulterior motives, just visiting friends, rather well. To cut a long story medium, the Big Moment arrived: we had manipulated our friends to take us to a Doc Martens store, and I found the shoes I liked, nay loved, and tried them on with Cinderella-like anticipation. They fitted lengthways and breadthways just fine, but sadly, they dug horribly into the top of my foot. This is due to my high arches which cause a bone to be rather prominent, and I've had to kiss many a pair of shoes goodbye due my weird foot shape. But I resolved to show no pain nor weakness, and just wear the buggers in until the leather softened. So I wore them back home on the plane (big mistake, many ow's), and to walk around the village in (again, excruciating), until the other day I gave up on them for a while, to give my feet a rest and my brain some time to regroup, and consider other options for stretching them. Then, for two nights in a row, I had dreams of them fitting just right and feeling wonderful, and I'd wake up with a tear in my eye and look at them wistfully until deciding to leave the inevitable pain for some other day, when I felt better emotionally capable of handling the bitter disappointment. And then, today, I had a random bit of business to do in the village, not far from the house, so I gritted my teeth and decided to wear them, fully expecting a considerable amount of pain, but at least I'd have tried. I put them on, and... they hurt. But then, all of a sudden, they stopped hurting. I walked faster in them than I've been able to up until now, and barely felt a twinge. This lasted all the way into town, then for the next few minutes of standing around, and by the time I started back, I was composing this post in my head, because I realised that something magical had happened. They had communicated to me in my dreams, trying to tell me that they had finally submitted and accepted that I was boss.
And so, that is my epic tale of love, pain and hope. It goes to show you that things will mould to your will, if 'tis steely enough. I'm looking forward to many happy years with my Docs, who, I'm sure, will remain faithful until the end.
To explain: I got my beauties in London a couple of weeks ago. They're classic, black leather 14-hole Docs, and have been on my "to get" list for, oh, at least ten years. Quite possibly more. Myself and He Who Shall Not Be Named aka boyfriendface, have been on a mission to find Docs ever since we alighted in the first world, and from what better place than the land that gave the world Rammstein? But alas, Germany's Doc stores were sadly lacking in inspiration for us, so we waited impatiently to get to the next place that we knew would have a wide array of choices, and in useful sizes.
So we ended up in London. We managed to keep up our pretence of being there with no ulterior motives, just visiting friends, rather well. To cut a long story medium, the Big Moment arrived: we had manipulated our friends to take us to a Doc Martens store, and I found the shoes I liked, nay loved, and tried them on with Cinderella-like anticipation. They fitted lengthways and breadthways just fine, but sadly, they dug horribly into the top of my foot. This is due to my high arches which cause a bone to be rather prominent, and I've had to kiss many a pair of shoes goodbye due my weird foot shape. But I resolved to show no pain nor weakness, and just wear the buggers in until the leather softened. So I wore them back home on the plane (big mistake, many ow's), and to walk around the village in (again, excruciating), until the other day I gave up on them for a while, to give my feet a rest and my brain some time to regroup, and consider other options for stretching them. Then, for two nights in a row, I had dreams of them fitting just right and feeling wonderful, and I'd wake up with a tear in my eye and look at them wistfully until deciding to leave the inevitable pain for some other day, when I felt better emotionally capable of handling the bitter disappointment. And then, today, I had a random bit of business to do in the village, not far from the house, so I gritted my teeth and decided to wear them, fully expecting a considerable amount of pain, but at least I'd have tried. I put them on, and... they hurt. But then, all of a sudden, they stopped hurting. I walked faster in them than I've been able to up until now, and barely felt a twinge. This lasted all the way into town, then for the next few minutes of standing around, and by the time I started back, I was composing this post in my head, because I realised that something magical had happened. They had communicated to me in my dreams, trying to tell me that they had finally submitted and accepted that I was boss.
And so, that is my epic tale of love, pain and hope. It goes to show you that things will mould to your will, if 'tis steely enough. I'm looking forward to many happy years with my Docs, who, I'm sure, will remain faithful until the end.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Pictures of pretties
So here are some cool stuff things that I found in my trawling of the internets for body mod ideas:
(A lot of people seem to think this is me in the picture... if only!)
The most beautiful corset piercing pic ever!
More to come soon.
Tattoo annoyance
I've been getting a little annoyed lately at peoples' (and the media's) attitude towards tattoos. Every article in magazines these days seems to be written by your least favourite maiden aunt, and they all have a smug, I-told-you-so tone as they explain gleefully that you can stop getting tattooed now, because it's gone "mainstream" and thus isn't as "edgy" as it used to be. So all you wannabe rebels can go home now and find another way to piss off your parents. Now while I'm perfectly sure that there are people who get inked PURELY to annoy their parents/ prove what a badass they are, most people that I've met did it for the controversial reason of "I liked the design and it makes me feel pretty".
Another new Thing that has annoyed me lately is the placement-prejudice. You get sarcastic annotated diagrams on the net ripping off all the possible placements for a tattoo; deriding people for having "tramp stamps", wrist tattoos, ankle tattoos, face tattoos... Any place on your anatomy, and they've got a snide remark about it, regardless of what the tattoo actually is. So where, pray tell, would NOT be a stupid place to get a tattoo, in your expert opinion? Not all tattoos are classy pieces of art, granted, and some people wearing them are perhaps not among the great thinkers of this century, but if people want to get a butterfly tattoo on their lower back, then who are you to call them a slut? If it's common, it doesn't have to mean it's stupid or classless. I don't see people making a fuss of the fact that, like, every second girl has lobe piercings in the EXACT SAME PLACEMENT! Anyway, prejudice is sooo last century...
So, in essence, I believe that people are entitled to get tattoos even though it's becoming more common, and they're damn well entitled to get them wherever they please without being harassed about it. Plus, the more people paint themselves, the more colourful the world becomes :)
Photo courtesy of Google images
Another new Thing that has annoyed me lately is the placement-prejudice. You get sarcastic annotated diagrams on the net ripping off all the possible placements for a tattoo; deriding people for having "tramp stamps", wrist tattoos, ankle tattoos, face tattoos... Any place on your anatomy, and they've got a snide remark about it, regardless of what the tattoo actually is. So where, pray tell, would NOT be a stupid place to get a tattoo, in your expert opinion? Not all tattoos are classy pieces of art, granted, and some people wearing them are perhaps not among the great thinkers of this century, but if people want to get a butterfly tattoo on their lower back, then who are you to call them a slut? If it's common, it doesn't have to mean it's stupid or classless. I don't see people making a fuss of the fact that, like, every second girl has lobe piercings in the EXACT SAME PLACEMENT! Anyway, prejudice is sooo last century...
So, in essence, I believe that people are entitled to get tattoos even though it's becoming more common, and they're damn well entitled to get them wherever they please without being harassed about it. Plus, the more people paint themselves, the more colourful the world becomes :)
Books that left their mark
I feel that I don't read enough books these days, which is very sad; although just at this moment, I'm saving up for a Kindle so that should hopefully sort that problem out. I read more of the internets than perhaps is wise, and I miss the attention span that I had a few years ago when I could nest in my room and read for an entire day. So this is just a tribute post to authors that inspired me to be a bookworm, and did quite a bit of personality moulding too :)
1) Enid Blyton
I grew up watching Noddy, and I'm pretty sure that had I grown up watching Barney, I would be a different person. I suspect that my prolonged exposure to Enid Blyton instilled in me a rather British mentality; the Brits have a profound love for whimsy, which I now share. The Famous Five, Secret Seven and the Adventure kids were such a huge part of my middle childhood that I remember them better than a lot of real friends from that time. Her books made me long for the innocent times that her characters lived in, times where words like "ragamuffin" were used and parents didn't worry about their kids all the time. I regularly used to fantasise about going off and having Adventures with a few friends, going from farmhouse to farmhouse for delicious high teas served by kindly farmer's wives, and camping in the woods or fields. Sadly crime was always too present a danger for me to live out those fantasies, but I've had a craving for adventure ever since.
2) Emily Bronte
Wuthering Heights is, to me, the most romantic book ever written. I love the dark and brooding style, how messed up yet sympathetic the characters are. The movie, incidentally, has exquisite music, which is now the soundtrack to the book whenever I read/ think about it.
3) Mervyn Peake
The Gormenghast Trilogy is essentially what got me through my final year at school. It provided just the right type of escapism from the torture of Matric exams, with all the stupid, banal problems that went with them. Its style is surreal and beautiful and ugly and weird, as are the characters, and they felt more real than reality at that point in my life.
4) Douglas Adams
Hitchhiker's Guide is the best sci-fi ever written, in my opinion. The characters are consistently, fascinatingly quirky, and even the bad guys are slightly loveable. What I love, though, is that underneath the amusing, satirical prose that Douglas Adams is so very brilliant at, he explores serious philosophical questions without you gagging from pretentiousness.
5) Neil Gaiman
King of the spooky and surreal (d'you see the pattern here?), it's like Neil Gaiman has a direct link to my dreams. I'm sure many people feel this way, because his stories are crazy and impossible on the surface, yet somehow they make sense in some deep (very deep) corner of one's mind. This is why the man is a genius. Neverwhere is my favourite book of his, because it's based in a real London with real London names and believable characters, and then it tips everything upside down until you're left with a vague uneasiness and possibly vertigo. It's almost like an acid trip, in that just when you think everything is fine and normal again, the wall starts bending and you know that you aren't home and dry after all.
6) Terry Pratchett
I can't possibly choose just one book of his, because I've loved all of them. His strength is in his characters; he writes them as if he loves each and every one, and he has overflowing empathy for flawed personalities (which we all are, in the end). His books, even though they're fantasy, are so grounded in real people and situations that the fact that some characters are not human doesn't really make any difference because he makes you realise that we're all just people on the inside, no matter what our outsides look like.
7) Oscar Wilde
The Picture of Dorian Gray is seductive and sultry and dark and witty; it shows off the best of the worst personalities. I enjoy complex, twisted characters and this book has plenty.
So there you have it... I'm sure I've left out some books, because I'm terrible at remembering these things when it comes down to listing them, but if I remember more I can always just add them. These books all had their part in forming my young, malleable mind into what it is today, and hopefully I will read many more that will leave lasting impressions on me just as these did.
1) Enid Blyton
I grew up watching Noddy, and I'm pretty sure that had I grown up watching Barney, I would be a different person. I suspect that my prolonged exposure to Enid Blyton instilled in me a rather British mentality; the Brits have a profound love for whimsy, which I now share. The Famous Five, Secret Seven and the Adventure kids were such a huge part of my middle childhood that I remember them better than a lot of real friends from that time. Her books made me long for the innocent times that her characters lived in, times where words like "ragamuffin" were used and parents didn't worry about their kids all the time. I regularly used to fantasise about going off and having Adventures with a few friends, going from farmhouse to farmhouse for delicious high teas served by kindly farmer's wives, and camping in the woods or fields. Sadly crime was always too present a danger for me to live out those fantasies, but I've had a craving for adventure ever since.
2) Emily Bronte
Wuthering Heights is, to me, the most romantic book ever written. I love the dark and brooding style, how messed up yet sympathetic the characters are. The movie, incidentally, has exquisite music, which is now the soundtrack to the book whenever I read/ think about it.
3) Mervyn Peake
The Gormenghast Trilogy is essentially what got me through my final year at school. It provided just the right type of escapism from the torture of Matric exams, with all the stupid, banal problems that went with them. Its style is surreal and beautiful and ugly and weird, as are the characters, and they felt more real than reality at that point in my life.
4) Douglas Adams
Hitchhiker's Guide is the best sci-fi ever written, in my opinion. The characters are consistently, fascinatingly quirky, and even the bad guys are slightly loveable. What I love, though, is that underneath the amusing, satirical prose that Douglas Adams is so very brilliant at, he explores serious philosophical questions without you gagging from pretentiousness.
5) Neil Gaiman
King of the spooky and surreal (d'you see the pattern here?), it's like Neil Gaiman has a direct link to my dreams. I'm sure many people feel this way, because his stories are crazy and impossible on the surface, yet somehow they make sense in some deep (very deep) corner of one's mind. This is why the man is a genius. Neverwhere is my favourite book of his, because it's based in a real London with real London names and believable characters, and then it tips everything upside down until you're left with a vague uneasiness and possibly vertigo. It's almost like an acid trip, in that just when you think everything is fine and normal again, the wall starts bending and you know that you aren't home and dry after all.
6) Terry Pratchett
I can't possibly choose just one book of his, because I've loved all of them. His strength is in his characters; he writes them as if he loves each and every one, and he has overflowing empathy for flawed personalities (which we all are, in the end). His books, even though they're fantasy, are so grounded in real people and situations that the fact that some characters are not human doesn't really make any difference because he makes you realise that we're all just people on the inside, no matter what our outsides look like.
7) Oscar Wilde
The Picture of Dorian Gray is seductive and sultry and dark and witty; it shows off the best of the worst personalities. I enjoy complex, twisted characters and this book has plenty.
So there you have it... I'm sure I've left out some books, because I'm terrible at remembering these things when it comes down to listing them, but if I remember more I can always just add them. These books all had their part in forming my young, malleable mind into what it is today, and hopefully I will read many more that will leave lasting impressions on me just as these did.
Friday, March 9, 2012
This first post is in the form of a disclaimer, because I don't know where else to put it and it seems as good a start to my blogging career as any.
Abandon all hope, ye who enter here (with any sort of sensitivity or aversion to atheism, or what I fondly refer to as Logic).
There will be a few, or possibly many, posts involving ballet, because I am a dancer. But don't worry, I'm more embittered-theatre-bum than I'm-a-fairy-princess, so don't dismiss those posts as the usual boring claptrap you'd imagine them to be.
I love body modification, like, a lot. So there may be posts about weird piercings or ritualistic blood play and other similarly gory (and awesome) things.
I reserve the right to make sweeping generalisations about geeks and ballet dancers because I consider myself both. So if I do, take it as self-deprecation rather than a jab at your precious hobby /lifestyle/ boyfriend/ cat/ doorknob.
Last but not least: I'm new at this whole computer thing. I much prefer paper but I like the rainforests too so I'm using dastardly technology to save their asses (or trunks, har har). For that reason you'll have to excuse my bad formatting and lack (so far) of any aesthetic value to my blog while I stumble around trying to figure it all out.
And would you look at that, it's teatime already!
Abandon all hope, ye who enter here (with any sort of sensitivity or aversion to atheism, or what I fondly refer to as Logic).
There will be a few, or possibly many, posts involving ballet, because I am a dancer. But don't worry, I'm more embittered-theatre-bum than I'm-a-fairy-princess, so don't dismiss those posts as the usual boring claptrap you'd imagine them to be.
I love body modification, like, a lot. So there may be posts about weird piercings or ritualistic blood play and other similarly gory (and awesome) things.
I reserve the right to make sweeping generalisations about geeks and ballet dancers because I consider myself both. So if I do, take it as self-deprecation rather than a jab at your precious hobby /lifestyle/ boyfriend/ cat/ doorknob.
Last but not least: I'm new at this whole computer thing. I much prefer paper but I like the rainforests too so I'm using dastardly technology to save their asses (or trunks, har har). For that reason you'll have to excuse my bad formatting and lack (so far) of any aesthetic value to my blog while I stumble around trying to figure it all out.
And would you look at that, it's teatime already!
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)