My so-called life

Saw Yerma at the cinema (about infertility) and was, for a night, totally traumatised. Then saw The Shape of Water and my faith in humanity (and my love of fairy tales) was slightly restored.

shape of water

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Choices after chocolate

Feeling somewhat more charitable today, especially after over-indulging on a boxful of chocolates.

Upon consideration, would like to salvage what seems incontrovertibly broken – ’tis the season for reconciliations after all. But I have no practical plan, lol lol lol.

But again it’s entirely foreseeable that I might just end up abandoning Project Resuscitation, for do I really have it in me – the ability to sustain hope and interest and love and charity and all these other positive qualities, against lethargy and bitterness and pessimism?

With sugar still spiking through my bloodstream, I really wanted to say, yes, yes, yes…you do, you still do.

Dial M for Mother

Had the weirdest dream ever in which basically everyone I’ve ever known and loved and fallen out with showed up in a haunted house. It wasn’t the pleasantest dream while it was going on (there were also some mice and a couple of gory deaths involving parents), but when I woke up I sensed it could be in some way cathartic. Continue reading


Sometimes when I look as if I’m very far away, I am in fact trying really hard to be present.

Being present has never been harder than it is right now. Sometimes when I open my eyes, I feel like the apocalypse is upon me. But then all that’s before me, in reality, is merely a plastic bag and some kids running around in a park.

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Dispatches from Toytown

Finally on the edge of finishing a shit-tonne of work. I forgot that it’s actually rather pleasant to work hard, provided that my brain can function moderately and that said work is not so challenging as to be crushing. Ah, one more day and freedom will be mine again! If only for a week or so.

A lot of unpleasant characters at work, but what can I say. I am somewhat reminded of the time my friend delivered this verdict on one of my oldest, bestest friends: ‘She’s not a bad person, but that doesn’t mean she’s a good person either.’ I suppose that’s where most people lie, in those morally grey areas of shade. Continue reading


Too busy to think these days. Even forgot the lipstick yesterday and felt really shitty and somewhat naked as I sat through the morning MTR rush of pretty ladies and doddering old men, thinking to myself: My, there was a time when to go out fresh-faced and make-up-free was a viable option.

Am very annoyed with several things in my life, but don’t feel particularly compelled to correct them right now as 1. Feel enslaved to somewhat shitty job + shitty freelance and 2. Pride’s getting in the way. One day I will potentially feel sad and ashamed instead of annoyed but right now all I feel is a profound sense of irritation, with myself, with other people – both close and not-so-close.

To sum up:

As the heart grows older/It will come to such sights colder

(I had this pinned up above my bed when I was at uni, which says a lot about my mental health I daresay)

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Confessions of a budding hermit

The girl who had everything - Cecily Brown

The Girl Who Had Everything by Cecily Brown

And the wall is made of light – that entirely credible yet unreal Vermeer light…light like that does not exist, but we wish it did. We wish the sun could make us young and beautiful, we wish our clothes could glisten against our skins, most of all, we wish everyone we knew could be brightened simply by our looking at them, as are the maid with the letter and the soldier with the hat.


The girl with the music sits in another sort of light, the fitful, overcast light of life, by which we see ourselves and others only imperfectly, and seldom.


From Girl Interrupted, by Susanna Kaysen

I sometimes think to myself what a glorious and traitorous thing the body is. It’s all you have, this bag of skin and bones you live in, yet so often it betrays you with diseases large and small, by sprouting hairs in unlikely places, by drying up when you need it to be wet, by building up layers of blubber when you want to whittle it down to the bone.

Key words of the day: beauty, shame. Continue reading

The anthropology of gemstones

There comes a time, in every little girl’s life, when the only kind of gem that makes sense is a diamond.

It’s called growing older, more materialistic, more desperate and more cynical.

It seems a mighty shame though, to throw away all those rhinestone rings and teenage baubles….nothing would ever quite match their cheap sparkle against sweaty teenage skin. Continue reading