I want to be a tea party
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Feb. 21st, 2009 | 06:15 pm
location: on porch
music: Patrick Wolf’s album The Magic Position.
Cups of coffees and mountains of hastily buttered toast have done little to help me differentiate the days and weeks that have devoured by my hectic schedule. Handling sweaty change and counting singular lollies before shoving them into paper bags has made me brain dead to the point where my night time musings are backed with the echoes of whining children ordering dirty sweets with their ice cream smeared gorge-holes. The portions of time where I am free to mosey about my empty house with headphones and just undies are worth more than sauce consumption.
Recently I have been observing, as I usually would, to what extent I am known. I find myself to be a cloud of fog and uncertainty in some eyes and should not be surprised by it in the slightest; the rendering of my personality would explain it thoroughly. I find myself in situations where it is me absorbing my company without offering much in response due to either the company is too preoccupied or it isn’t an appropriate time to to express elements of myself. I should not feel terrible about it as it is a part of who I am to tend to others before I tend to myself but at times it is surprising to know that people I hold close do not know various things that I would consider palpable.
Thus now I will begin to take down parts of myself, note the traits that I consider elements of Cinnie however trivial they may seem but I feel obligated to put myself on the table. This entry will be updated regularly with dot-points on myself. I feel like such an egotist despite knowing my intent contradicts the state of mind.
I secretly love walnuts. And Philadelphia cheese icing.
I am constantly threatened by losing people to others that is can induce physical illness; my insides want to die and I feel it too often.
I wanted to be a fashion designer as well as an archaeologist when I was younger. Now I wish I knew what a metaphor was when I was young; the constant fight between something of beauty and something of curiosity and knowledge. There was also a time where I thought shopping was also a career option. I am incredibly thankful that I was told otherwise.
I like my coffee so strong that I can’t even enjoy it properly because it’s so hard to drink.
When I was younger, a peculiar woman dressed in a semi-transparent polka dot blouse drew a picture of a woman in beautiful wedding gown for me. She was an Italian friend of my aunt’s. From the vague memory (could be affected by the fabrication of my own mind) she wore this pale brown blouse with wild dark brown curls, I remember dark lipstick and at the time she was very tall to me but there was once a time where I was very, very small. From then I wanted to be a designer; I have scraps which used to be large binders full of dresses I drew, most of them puffy like a French pastry and a tight bodice inspired by my early exposure to Sleeping Beauty.I would collect human bones if it was legal. I am fascinated with skeletal frame work; I consider it one of the most beautiful things within this world. I imagine the bones of people I know quite frequently; curious as to how they differ in shape and how their bones might feel underneath my fingers. I sound like a killer but I am just too fascinated by our insides.
I don’t take pleasure in trusting people although perhaps I should. I fear the disappointment and deceit people are capable of and I believe everyone has the ability to break me; whether directly or indirectly, they will wound me. Best to be safe or not?
I will admit to having driven a vehicle under the legal age with no supervision... It is only recently that I have recalled this youthful blunder; you musn't tell my mother (it was her car).
I grew up with the idea that a woman did not have to get married nor did I adore the notion romance in a conventional sense. The couples that defined my youth did not create the distinctive connection between love and marriage that perhaps most little girls grow to understand; I was not able to comprehend why people would make such a fuss over such an occasion. To this day I still only see it as a way to get pretty and for people to invite their own audience to soak in their financial efforts. Oh it does sound bitter, doesn't it? The chip that controls my understanding of weddings doesn't exist; maybe the experimenter who created me left it out purposefully. I believe in expressing love, in being in love for I am within the very realms of it now but I will never understand why such an event is so weighted! Although I understand the dress part; mine must be black...