Tuesday, 26 June 2012

ain't she sweet?

What do bored, entertainment deprived teenage girls in their FINAL year of high school do when they are not so free? They watch movies and documentaries and what not, in various languages instead of working on their history project  and cry over the achievements of a woman who rose from a bar dancer to a successful (ha, this word doesn't even begin to cover her majestic power and divine aura) designer. Yes, I am talking about the creator of one the biggest fashion brand - Chanel i.e. COCO CHANEL *orchestra goes crazy*
I did my freshman year Business Studies project on her majesty, and now every Chanel product seems to speak to me and not in a creepy way either. It takes me back to her struggle; being abandoned by her sister, barely getting by on scrapes, hooking up with ugly men to somehow be a part of the adventurous city life that seems out of reach, like an exclusive inner circle that can complete your life (so the movie might have exaggerated her life a bit, but it is definitely better than the robotic version on Wikipedia). She despised the overly frivolous clothes women forced themselves into, just to look presentable to the society and fit their mold of an 'elegant, well-behaved lady'. Who cares about the too tight corsets, hats that weigh a ton and a truckload of jewellery? Women must, at all times, look pleasing to the eye, especially to that of a man, who is obviously the ultimate judge of her beauty.


WHY CAN'T I BE YOU? *whines and stomps around*
I don't know. I just like complaining these days, about anything and everything. Its fun. Like "Why is there a beetle in my bathroom? Why can't I just shower in peace without dying from a beetle bite?" or "Why is it night already? Can't a person enjoy reading in the sunlight?" Mom says I need to grow up. "Why do I have to grow up? I can't even whine now? It's a free country!"

Saturday, 16 June 2012

explosions in the sky.

Lately, I haven't done ANYTHING. It feels wrong. I love it. Except at nights, when all the nagging doubts and scattered thoughts and regret and guilt come out like childhood monsters from an old closet, keeping me up till dawn.
I know I should be studying for my tests, or practicing for the never ending entrances I have to give next year or DO something productive.

Instead I lay in bed all day, discovering play lists on 8tracks with beautiful post alternative songs, like this one and think about life and death and existence and what not. Simultaneously I keep dumping all these pictures in a folder called 'INSPIRATION', mostly photos of far off places that along with the songs, have a beautiful effect. I dream of being there, just me alone. Escapism is such a treat.

Yesterday left me emotionally and physically battered. My sister, with whom I shared every moment of the 16 years I have been on this planet, now lives in a hostel. Just like that, I have a whole room to myself, nobody to share clothes with and an empty side of the bed. It's funny how Dad can be so insensitive about it, or maybe he is putting on the tough-guy facade to hide the pain. I will never know.
Our car broke down thrice, in the unbelievable heat and as usual, I had the worst headache in the history of all my headaches. I came home showered, ate a bit and threw up for almost an hour. For once, sleep came easy, with a goodnight text from my sister.
Today feels like an experiment, a day without her. I don't want to move a thing and yet, I want redecorate the entire room, welcoming change with open arms. Tomorrow I'll tackle the huge cupboards and piles of dusty books. For now, I just want to exist peacefully. Even if for a while.  

Wednesday, 6 June 2012

god save the queen

I love punk rock  and everything else associated with it. The music gives me a sense of belonging, like I from another planet where it is OK to dance naked and hate the government which automatically makes me better than everyone else. The 70's-80's punk movement with the emergence of bands like Sex Pistols, Joan Jett and the Runaways and Siouxsie and the Banshees, and eventually similar bands such as Guns n Roses makes me nostalgic and a little teary eyed. I like to think that in my previous birth, I was right there among the rebels, screaming obscene lyrics and fighting for my rights. 

Vivienne Westwood, who was largely responsible for fueling the punk movement, created BEAUTIFUL clothes and opened a store called SEX. Does it get any better?  

Vivienne Westwood, partner Mclaren, the sex girls.

Their wacky SEX clerk Jordan

Some collector's items that I found online (SADLY SOLD OUT)

Sex Pistols
Joan Jett in a Sex Pistols shirt

Siouxsie Sioux