My personality really shone in the first year of writing this blog.
During that year, I was also bulimic.
Since my masters degree, my life has been stale, a state of limbo in which all positives seem to have been through a magnifying glass of Antonia's love. Lately, I have felt slowly that I am discovering the parts of me that I used to like.
Im feeling things that I didn't used to. My emotional repetoire is expanding (oh, what a bland and yet academic way to say it).
I have probably said many times that I have a certain outlook that I embody on everything that I own. I avoid shitty adidas shower scrubs, or aerosols because they are awfully uncouth and not my way. My personality is expressed throuhg little ways. I have about a dozen black shirts from gap, and I'm almost always wearing steel toe boots. I've learned a 'look'. In a way it came out of a movement to finding my individuality after a sense of loss of personality back in 2004-5. Between 06-07 I got closer to making a personal dress style and in 08 I perfected it. By 09 to present day I suspect that my style has become stale. My black shirts are fading, my jeans are fading naturally (but in a cool way) and I have the juxtaposition of wearing what was once new and possibly fashionable clothing with the wear and tear of an experienced man. I guess I've found my grown up look.
In this post I want to bring up the household items that have reminded me of a single insight: some things last longer than love, household things. My brother got a christmas pudding from his ex back in 07-08 christmas. It expires next month. I thought I'd eat it, considering not only that girlfriend has long gone from our memories, but its like two christmases passed since then and I want some desert.
I bought lots of male cosmetics in a way that I'd distinctly stock up in the future as an attempt to save money and capitalise on boots promotions. I've found many of those items outlived my ex girlfriend, and even the glory days of my bulimia.
I'm also reminded to use them, given I've got so much of the stuff.
Cosmetics make me feel pretty. I've observed a few confessional blogs, and theytend to be very interesting psychologically; sexual, intense and definately something I'd be turned on and attracted to as a good piece of writing. I think that my blog by contrast seems to be a catalogue of weirdness and tired thoughts.
I sometimes get that burst to want to blog something and my fingers blast away. Other times I force myself. At the moment I'm in a mix of the two (I am making myself write two posts that I've been meaning to write; the very fact that I'm writing about writing styles means that I've also decided to conflate two topics into one). I am metablogging; writing about blogging. Get it?
I think that if you met me in person, you might mistake me for interesting, maybe charismatic. I can sometimes be shy but I can also be interesting. My blogging style at the moment feels tired and used, like my crusty old pillow.
During that year, I was also bulimic.
Since my masters degree, my life has been stale, a state of limbo in which all positives seem to have been through a magnifying glass of Antonia's love. Lately, I have felt slowly that I am discovering the parts of me that I used to like.
Im feeling things that I didn't used to. My emotional repetoire is expanding (oh, what a bland and yet academic way to say it).
I have probably said many times that I have a certain outlook that I embody on everything that I own. I avoid shitty adidas shower scrubs, or aerosols because they are awfully uncouth and not my way. My personality is expressed throuhg little ways. I have about a dozen black shirts from gap, and I'm almost always wearing steel toe boots. I've learned a 'look'. In a way it came out of a movement to finding my individuality after a sense of loss of personality back in 2004-5. Between 06-07 I got closer to making a personal dress style and in 08 I perfected it. By 09 to present day I suspect that my style has become stale. My black shirts are fading, my jeans are fading naturally (but in a cool way) and I have the juxtaposition of wearing what was once new and possibly fashionable clothing with the wear and tear of an experienced man. I guess I've found my grown up look.
In this post I want to bring up the household items that have reminded me of a single insight: some things last longer than love, household things. My brother got a christmas pudding from his ex back in 07-08 christmas. It expires next month. I thought I'd eat it, considering not only that girlfriend has long gone from our memories, but its like two christmases passed since then and I want some desert.
I bought lots of male cosmetics in a way that I'd distinctly stock up in the future as an attempt to save money and capitalise on boots promotions. I've found many of those items outlived my ex girlfriend, and even the glory days of my bulimia.
I'm also reminded to use them, given I've got so much of the stuff.
Cosmetics make me feel pretty. I've observed a few confessional blogs, and theytend to be very interesting psychologically; sexual, intense and definately something I'd be turned on and attracted to as a good piece of writing. I think that my blog by contrast seems to be a catalogue of weirdness and tired thoughts.
I sometimes get that burst to want to blog something and my fingers blast away. Other times I force myself. At the moment I'm in a mix of the two (I am making myself write two posts that I've been meaning to write; the very fact that I'm writing about writing styles means that I've also decided to conflate two topics into one). I am metablogging; writing about blogging. Get it?
I think that if you met me in person, you might mistake me for interesting, maybe charismatic. I can sometimes be shy but I can also be interesting. My blogging style at the moment feels tired and used, like my crusty old pillow.
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