I’m fast having ideas for this to become a beauty blog… ha! Pastel-like blue nail polish by Barry M…. have I found the nail polish I’ve been looking for? Thoughts? 

Posted again on my blogspot, I don’t know why I don’t just boycott this fully but it’s like Twitter and has become fully immersed amongst the public like so many of its interwebzzzz predecessors. It’s almost a good a public platform as Facebook I suppose, and I guess I write a blog for the attention of others.

I’m getting pretty lost in what it is I’m feeling and what it is I’m trying to say so I won’t stay. I’m trying to succeed right now in who I want myself to be, which includes continuing to write all variations of prose (songs, literature and the like), reading, running and trying to keep busy. I have however taken a baking hiatus. My bikini won’t appreciate the abundance of baked goods that would be at my disposal given the chance. 

Mentally preparing myself for three weeks without my boyfriend, I’m tragic I know. Also on the look out for some pastel nailpolishes…. advice anyone? A chalk-blue colour would be excellent…

and slightly agitated that more people follow me on here, I publish far more frequently on my blogspot and feel it provides more of a validation to what I say. I think Tumblr is cheapened by all the people who use it to post things that aren’t theirs, with no personal input. Pretentious, probably. Honest, without a doubt. I fear a world where we run out of creativity and the only thing left is to express ourselves solely through the words and pictures of others.

the things that come back to us in fleeting moments of thought. Words spoken off the bat and faces made during conversation. I’ll be posting on my blogspot at some point this week, when I’m done talking witchcraft gender (mais quoi?), about a woman who approached me at the beach this weekend about my tattoos. I’d use the DeLorean not to save myself from disappearing in time but to ram her social ineptness down her throat. At least she was talking about how being tattooed made me unattractive as opposed to the size of my breasts or the length of my legs. Ironic considering I’m writing 2,500 words on the subordination of women when as a female I’m persistently measured for my value in society by the way I aesthetically please others….

All semi-rants aside, my aptitude for letting reoccuring thoughts consume me when I should be focusing on more important things (such as the genderisation of witchcraft…uhhh) is outstanding. I want to be talking politics over iced tea and cheese crackers on the curb outside my house.

means I moved my room around as a sign of new times and new feelings. My self-determination needs to stop shirking behind my capacity to hide behind the pages of books and work. I’m going to make a list of things to do and DO them. I’m going to be punctual, to the point, and I have the upmost desire to restart my blogspot and lose myself again in all the thoughts I let consume me every waking hour of the day. I think it’s time again that everybody else as well as myself got to hear what I’ve been thinking. 

Viva laying in my bed and taking on the World through the cracks in my ceiling, listening to Saves the Day and wishing I had someone definite to share it with….

the beast you made of me, I held it in but now it seems you’ve set it running free. Screaming in the dark, I howl when we’re apart. Drag my teeth across your chest to taste your beating heart. My fingers claw your skin, trying to tear my way in. You are the moon that breaks the night for which I have to howl.

Now there’s no holding back, I’m making to attack, my blood is singing with your voice, I want to pour it out. The saints can’t help me now, the ropes have been unbound, I hunt for you with bloody feet across the hallowed ground. Like some child possessed, the beast howls in my veins, I want to find you, tear out all of your tenderness, and howl.

Be careful of the curse that falls on young lovers, starts so soft and sweet and turns them to hunters. The fabric of your flesh, pure as a wedding dress, until I wrap myself inside your arms I cannot rest. A man who’s pure of heart and says his prayers at night, may still become a wolf when the autumn moon is bright.

half way to London in the time it took me to get to university for my 9am class this morning. You could not comprehend my rage.

my academic arch-nemesis. If I have to re-type what articles I wish to search one more time I am going to hunt your creator and deliver his demise.

to do this research for my essay. The fact that there were two influential men who made social history called ‘Martin Luther’ is a pain in my ass.

is the colour of this week’s nail polish. I’m surprised I’ve even had time to paint them let alone post. My mind bears the fragility of a bomb going of and bleeds intention and confusion. I have so many things I am doing/wanting to be doing that I can’t focus and instead of words swimming together on a page it occurs on the scape of my skull.

My lists are no longer punctual but long flowing, I feel like I can only describe myself with quotes and the lyrics from songs. It’s tragic that the only way I can feel like defining my life right now is with the words of others. I wish I had the defeatist mentality to just give up and spend my life reading in coffee shops and people watching. I wish my existentialism extended to stop worrying about the things I believe that matter, like love and vocabulary and academic success that leads to pen pushing and the accumulation of monthly paychecks.

I want to live in chucks, sweater vests and double-decker-red nail polish for the rest of my life.
Or maybe until my nails stop chipping and I can go back to a French manicure.