no, we don't go easy
no, we won't come fast
lock me up outside your garden
i have to figure you out first
from a distance...

don't hold me close
don't go burning your soul
this is the way
i wish you would feel
don't hold me close
but love me, dear

i'll wait for you to catch up
you have the endurance
im stuck with the speed
i won't sweet talk my way in now
from a distance i'll...

hold you close, dear
don't go burning your soul
this is the way
i know we feel
don't hold me close
but love me, dear

budding romance

i know im a bit late, but i didnt want to wait til next year.

In the Victorian era, flowers were a language. When a suitor sent a woman primroses, for instance, it meant he couln't live without her. If she replied with striped carnations, the lady was refusing him. A bouquet of ambrosia? His love was requited! But what are the implications of a twenty-first-century beau's giving his Valentine a Marc Jacobs pink crystal-posy cuff or Liz Goldwyn's rosy copper bracelet that looks like it's made of velvety petals? He loves you or he loves you not? He absolutely loves you.
Bottega Veneta
Liz Goldwyn
Missoni
Marc Jacobs

strutting your stuff.

my boy's my star.


please everybody, buy something exotic this year. there's a desperate need for some energy. and then somebody: go look up balenciaga collection. s/s. - the life energy and psyche are at once the driving force and resource of a work

so lately ive been doing marker and:
i lost my rationality.
the whale rested in the belly of the sea.
it's happy days picking through the garbage for your health.

where am i at:
COMMUNICATION. EXPRESSION. EMOTION.

i found my jvis:
i am interested in arranging materials in an aesthetically pleasing manner. i enjoy being creative and original in the applied or fine arts. i am interested in investigating and learning about various aspects of the organization of society, human behaviour, and social interaction. i am perceptive, inventive, sensitive, imaginative, and aware of my environment.

remember our 'i am' statements from grade nine? (vriend anyone?)
i am a sick teenager scraping to find some focus. i am sensitive to my stuffed animals. i am head ache-d. i am a weary angel. i am crawling still. feels like i can't shake my embarrassment sometimes. i want to have control of what people do to me, but im still tossed back and forth by nasty intentions and one-eyed men. i can't keep my eyes open at night anymore, but i can't sleep either. life is too good to dwell on the broken. and like i said, struggling for focus.

i want a more sophisticated writing style and some creative energy.

love,
deep blue suit

postd

what reminds you of christmas?/what things do you associate with christmas?

ill start (and take some of the easier ones):
clementines
bird feeders (cause for some reason my dad always gives a bird feeder to somebody)
snowmen
cinnamon sticks
that tree smell;)

need to take a holiday

holiday - boys like girls

stuck in the middle with you

dec6

just for the sake of seeing if i can still do this.

"there's really no way to reach me, cause im already gone."

i always make it a matter of writing something that other people want to read. and recently, for me, its been a matter of writing something that shouldn't be on a blog...or rather, something thats better than blogging. if you havent noticed, there's a collection of phrases that we all use just about every time we write. ive already used...three. ill leave you to figure that out. o, four.

"there is nothing new under the sun" read Ecclesiastes 1 for me would you?

what if we've found our future already?

just to let everyone know:
ryerson - fashion design
ocad - art! /design
redeemer - sociology/social work, french, art
...more to come...(?)

it feels so good to be on the road to somewhere. in the most literal of ways and so not. its on a night like this when i feel like i finally have that pony to tack and release that teenage angst(in the way that its really non-existant). its when the weekend is coming and when i spend night after night at the kitchen table cutting and pasting on my art project. its michael w. smith playing Christmastime. it feels so good to feel like you're on the edge of something and then actually fall into it, so good.
she unplugged the fridge early.thank God

max

landing on the moon

"As long as people have been on this earth, the moon has been a mystery to us. Think about it. She is strong enough to pull the oceans, and when she dies away, she always comes back again. My mama used to tell me Our Lady lived on the moon and that I should dance when her face was bright and hibernate when it was dark. Now it won't ever be the same, not after they've landed up there and walked around on her. She'll be just one more big science project."
- The Secret Life of Bees