Rattle The Shutters

I sat there, still. Staring at the screen, trying to decide what is acceptable to my Electronic Maker. He who I fled from not too long ago, yet I still wondered if this or this would be acceptable,- yet that was why I had fled in the first place. Oppression on whether to know what was right or wrong. Now, now, don't go thinking this is a God reference- surely it isn't, although I am trying to be a follower of God. Neither will I give you the specifics on what exactly happened. You can interpret this as you want, if you haven't noticed by my writing style already- I don't exactly want you to get this. So back to me, or her, or whoever the story is about- I could feel the wheels turning in me. I sat there, looking through the photos- trying to cancel out what was needed and what was excessive. Working on a mental budget is kind of tough. The chimes kept singing in my ears, when suddenly it felt as though the roll of filament ran out and cut. The wheels kept turning and turning with no substance to process. I kept trying to read and interpret the photos with little luck, not realizing whether I had already seen the last proof. I looked at my brother, then at my sister. The room began to get uncomfortably hot. I aired out my chest, and turned off the computer in front of me. My head began to hurt with pulsing pain. Becoming irritable, I began my siren calls to clean up the mess around me. I needed some sort of control before I began ticking. Ticking like a bomb- tick tick tick tick. It was 5:48pm. I took random things, throwing them from one place to another, trying to rearrange the havoc around me. This here, that there! No! Not there, open the chest and throw this here! Pull out the hangers then hang everything laying around on them! I was moving so fast I could almost ignore the reverberation in my body. I could feel the wheels crushing against each other, I was fall apart on the inside. There was no use of asking the Maker to repair me. Nothing but myself could repair me, so I'll just let me break down and start again. I turned on the kettle, maybe chamomile would help cool me down. Oh, God, the kitchen is ablaze! My dear brother, extinguish it! Running back and forth, maybe my body can outrun the thoughts and turmoil in me. Mother came home, and held me back. With one quick switch, she shut me down, and I was down for the count. I awoke on my bed, with my chamomile on my bedside, not sure whether to sit up. I did so, and realized that, if I were human, maybe this would be what it were like for those who were anemic with low blood pressure, sensed the lightheaded-ness, and laid back down. Maybe now I'll be okay, hopefully this is the only time that I will have one of these fits, and I can start fixing myself from the scrap metal left around the room.

Saint of Despair

I was pulled up from my ocean of solitude. No longer was I able to swim alone in my center of the world because of the calling given. He beckoned me to come forth, yet I sensed his insecure motion. He didn't want to know what I truly looked like, not before I readied myself to appear before the masses of crowds considered humanity. How wonderful it is to have the ability to emulate emotions. As I came closer and responded sheepishly, I noticed my voice sounded broken, as though a grater was rubbing itself against my vocal chords. Laid down amongst the stones, I tried to move closer but he insisted on sitting at least three feet across from me. He began with simple questions, ignoring the fact that at one point in time he had researched my background and simple daily routines as easily as reading a complicated textbook. I played with the pool of water slowly forming by the droplets in my hair. I was beginning to get nervous, and didn't want to look him straight in the eye. My shoulders gave in, my head fell forward, and my only support was the skin and muscle holding my shoulder blades to my spine. A hand held me by my chin, and he moved my face up parallel to his. He finally decided to stop torturing me with the question both of us didn't know whether we wanted questions or answered for the fear of the results. I needed to answer bluntly. "No." It fell like silence before the storm. There was a moment of sheer and utter uncomfort. I stifled in my area of the stone, and he stared for a bit more. Then he began the hymn of his words. The storm had started, but silently. As rain lulling you on a cold autumn night, his words hit hard and cold as hail. They stung, but I couldn't sit there and cry. It was my own fault. I was losing the man-child I called an angel, but I could do nothing so as to change the irrevocable. I laid there quiet, motionless, knowing he wanted a reaction. I wouldn't give it. I let the cool ice grow in me, reaching up to my throat like cold medicine. Coursing through my capillaries, down my arms and down my legs, all throughout my little toes. I felt the wave of disappointment passing over him. Words rushed through my head, but nothing came to mind that would fix anything. I laid there. I looked up. His face was clean, and blank. No words could explain our interaction efficiently. "Fine." He said, and kissed my forehead. He left me a note. Standing up tall, he stretched. First his legs, then his torso- twisting side to side, then raising his hands to stretch his arms. Finally he rolled his shoulders backwards and forwards, and set off on his own two wings leaving me as the sea creature to figure for myself what to do and what choices to make. One day I'll make a good choice for myself. I took the note and sank myself back into the bed of water and opened the note. Written in scratched ink and on burnt barkwood paper, was the words "I'll fly with you." I smiled and sank back into the deep abyss.

Okay, Fuck it

This is personal. I think it's time for me to rant.
But what the fuck can I rant about? I'm ranting about ranting. I'm sick of it.
You know when you rant so much about something that when it's time to tell the person that really cares, you don't know what to do or say? Everything just disappeared out of your head on what you wanted to say. Your mind goes blank, and you're like "Nevermind, I'm okay now."
Or sometimes it's that you can't really tell the truth on what you're feeling. Or thinking. Or doing. I don't even know the truth out of all the lies I told people. I don't want to lie anymore, so I gave up in the people that I was spinning lies to, spilled out part of the secrets I've been hiding to certain people, and decided to let myself get free of this. I can't feel satiated though. I don't know what's going to happen. I hate this lack of control there is here. I hate feeling caged. I want to do all these things, but when can I do them? Where can I do them? What little resources I have that I can't find the proper teachers (for cheap or free) that I want to learn from. Youtube only teaches so much, and either way I'm sitting in the middle of the living room for this.

Nevermind, I just got off the phone with my hunni bunni, and I kind of feel better. He said he'll come with me to the things I wanna go see. I want to experience the world, not sit in a room full of high kids or things as such.

Corsetry

I know I'll never be nearly as amazing as Mr. Pearl, and even he himself does not believe he is as good as Fakir or good enough to really be called a corsetier. Gladly, now i'm learning how to make real spiral steel boned corsets, and I'm very happy with it. My costume design teacher is teaching me how to make them!

I hope that soon I'll have at least one or two under my belt by March, and I can keep working on this portfolio. :) So far I have a pretty decent amount of money saved up in my account, I just need to stop taking taxis and buying excessive amounts of pregnancy food.

Dita and Bettie Page are huge influences although I'm really not into the dark glamor that often tends to follow them. I love pin up, yes, and the 1950's style fashion. So shoot me :) I've got a million things going or me right now and it's great :)

Updated Update

I'm sorry for not updating lately, I've been working and then loafing around a lot then sleeping on and off. Honestly, I haven't been doing very much productivity when it comes to working on my portfolio, mainly because I'm too stingy to go ahead and spend money on art supplies and fabric. I just hope I don't get fired because I had made two stupid actions last week that were... well yeah, stupid. I have been in and out of sleep as always, due to depression whenever I'm home, and I've kind of been going out quite a bit. Nevertheless, I got my ass up this week and decided to take some of the leftover fabric and brought it to my costume design mentor's room and started working on some things. I'm going to need more of one fabric so I have to go and run around tomorrow looking for the exact fabric for my swatches. I've got this idea of making a double collection of dark and light- basically making a sweet look of my drapes and then maybe altering them a bit and make an edgier look out of all my patterns. I think I'll make about 5 of each side for this semester, but I still want to do my lingerie designs. Those are going to take a while to make though because of all the detail I put into the sketches and all of the searching I'm going to have to do.

I also had a charming thought in my head today while listening to the Dresden Dolls on another art project I want to start working on. I really should take some art classes though, or travel or something because I don't feel as though my imagination is as large as it used to be. I think I'm done here, I wish I had more of a purpose. I'll write again soon and it won't just be personal updates but about things I wrote, read, saw, or drew.

By the way, I do recommend going to the Tim Burton Exhibit at the MoMa and the artwork at Lehman College at the moment. It's pretty amazing, I love the wooden mirror.I wish I could network with more people, I love staying in the Bronx with my friends, but sometimes I feel as though I'm wasting my time unless I'm with that one person. <333