I'm in such a bad and spacey mood lately- I began to reread Harry Potter and the Philosopher's stone with the intent to feel sad. Knowing that J.K. Rowling wrote the book while she felt sad and abandoned, after her mother had died I took wanted to seek refuge in the pages of the poor orphaned Harry and his horrible Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. It hasn't really worked that well, since I've finished school I'm so much more distractable and I feel bad about thing, I could do with a dream catcher. But what I really need is a negative thought catcher around my neck or worn as a halo to stop me from thinking the worst of everything. If I was smart I would head to bed and warm it up while reading Harry Potter but I can't tear myself away from the sad, folk blues of Dan Sultan.
Now with school finished, the last few days I have dedicated to blogging constantly, producing several posts a day as well as burning a gorgeous smelling candle I got for my birthday, just staring into the flame and poking about with the wax every now and then. I had meant to read more books and watch less television but old habits die hard and it is difficult to wrench myself from the happy, sluggish stupor I sometimes suffer while sitting in front of the television.
I neverknew until a few weeks ago that the smoke from these mysterious pictures was actually a flare going off- it's odd the way some young people find uses for other things. There's a whole rainbow of colours but I prefer this shade of pink coupled with the black sheer blouse and long high waisted maxi skirt and a silver necklace. The mass of wooden branches behind the girl in the photograph is enough to raise some eyebrows and questions, perhaps a satanic fire. Or an abandoned home of a bunch of beavers.
For about a day or so I was tempted to buy my own Ouija board from eBay, but then again I don't like talking to people enough as it is so contacting the dead for someone who's socially awkward may have disastrous consequences. Still though, I do like the photograph, from the hand holding to the black lipstick and outfits looking like they belong to Wednesday Adams. I too have a candle burning in this very room, mainly to make it smell nice and try to elavate my dismal mood. Hopefully my mood will improve by doing something nice with my nails tonight and finally recieving some good mail. Otherwise I could try and take some photographs like this using self timer... though I don't like those odds. My hair was a mess this morning and I'm hardly feeling photogenic.
I love a good pair of dribbly candles, probably more so at this time of year since I've been reading a lot of weird book written by Terry Pratchett. At the moment I'm also reading the first Harry Potter Novel and I may also begin to read 'Equal Rites' by Terry Pratchett. The other day on the way to work a weird middle-aged man insisted on sitting next to me on the bsu despite the fact there were plenty of spare seats. My only saving grace and guardian angel was bringing out a book and having the man respect the fact I wanted to enjoy my book. I can't risk bringing Harry Potter and using it as a social shield- it's too recogniseable and too much of a conversation starter. I'll just stick to reading books on the differeneces in magic conjured by witches, warlocks and wizards thank you very much.
If I had a nice mantle piece and a brightly coloured feature wall to display things on, then maybe I would feel a little more proactive in terms of cleaning my room. But I know no matter what tidying up I do that it will never really be clean and nice and it won't feel like a nice place just to sit around and spend time. I'm much happier in the longue room where there's a television adn a few computers. Besides, my bedroom at the moment is mainly the place I go to sleep and cry. Still, I can't help but shake the feeling it would be nice to have a display of crystals like this. The stark colours look really good against the deep colour of the wooden shelf. If I had to pick a favourite of the healing crystals... I would say the red one on the far left. It reminds me of watermelon.
This past week has been one of the most uneventful and dreadfully dreary to endear in my limited eleven weeks of university experience. Some young women are blossoming and thriving in the real world in which they feature and open runway shows across prestigious, fashion-forward countries. I am stuck handing in boring assignment after assignment and cramming in as much horrible content about evolution, tectonic movement and inorganic chemistry. I have always firmly believed that I have picked the right course and hedged my way in to a high-paying career- this week has brought me a loss of appetite for food as well as complete exhaustion. I am stuck studying the basic condensation theory of the formation of the universe while others are displaying it in a beautiful manner in dresses. The humdrum life of a science degree has never brought me so much displeasure in my life- and unfortunately it's only just begun.
For some strange reason I really admire this type of scrawly illustrations where the facial expression and details are finely drawn and the nose doesn't look like my pudgy abominations. I know in the bottom pits of my heart that I will never be able to draw a person's face well without them being offended so it's just easier to draw something that looks like a cartoon anyway. It's my small compromise between skill and not letting my self-esteem and childhood dream of becoming an illustrator or cartoonist die out. The regime of drawing once a day in my flip-through desk calender has been abysmal and I only pick up a pen to write notes or busily write down a new shift for work. I can afford lots of new things this year but, as always, I have no time to be creative and artistic. 
I love flipping through the online pages of Tavi Gevinson's blog, Style Rookie to see her collection of curious tidbits such as plastic hair pieces and jewellery, cosmic memorabilia as well as mementos in the vain of the Virgin Suicides. I've read plenty about it from her perspective and have seen how the story has profoundly changed her as an individual. It would be nice to dip into that novel and experience it for myself and see just how much I'm really missing. Instead of crawling around second hand shops and taking trips to the library I've had my head down in my books or have been lounging about at work. In just one month I'll take a scenic tour of CBD Melbourne as part as an extra credit assignment for Geoscience as well as plan my end of year holiday at my boyfriend's house. There's a lot to look forward to but even more to slog through in the coming weeks.
It's been suggested that smokers are more unproductive than their cleaner-lunged counterparts; what with all the breaks for a smoke and whatnot. But can be taking a step back and stepping outside in the fresh air for a few minutes to indulge in nicotine and look at the bigger picture be all that bad? I for one, feel to wrapped up in all my activities and have always been studious and attentive towards the finer details in life. I don't plan on picking up smoking and am very proud of my boyfriend for being a non-smoker in a family of smokers but I think there's some value in standing outside for 10-15 minutes a day, once or twice a day and seeing what happens outside whatever building your stuck in for most of the day. While I do love the creature comforts of indoors and worn out couches during Winter, I can't help but feel unsettled when I realise it's been days since I've lest the house and walked further than the mail box each day.
I revel in the tales of one of my high school girlfriends and her exploits as a student studying arts and sculptures; belonging to a group of creative people and making a daily pilgrimage across the road for Chai Lattes. I imagine their dress and daily garb to be fantastic and exotic and I hung on every word as she described a girl with a wolf tattooed on her arm. There are people contributing to the indulgent creative side of our society and feeding the soul and nourishing the spirit and I feel isolated from them and on the opposite boundary of tertiary education learning about science. Being called a nerd and smart cookie has never bothered me particularly but it feels like such a rigid and horrible structure to education now that I've settled into my routine. It seems that the culture I'm most likely to experience is trying a different store from around campus to buy lunch from. 
In two weeks I may experiment with sparklers, birthday candles and Freddo Frog Ice-cream cake for my boyfriend's twentieth birthday. He's not very fashion-minded: he wears flannels and shirts from Jay Jays and wipes his grubby hands on his clothes but he's still rather adorable and like my best friend. I have to try and make the day really special and magical since he's always been my strength, love and support but I have to compete with the mad cooking skills of his grandmother. I have been known to burn water in a saucepan before so I have a feeling I'll come out second best in that bout, but she has a wonderful Irish accent and I plan on getting her to teach me to knit. All is well and all will be well as long as the cake doesn't turn into liquid before the candles get blown out and all digitally enhanced images involving space are left to the true hipsters.
