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And what I chased won’t set me free. [Aug 25 2007 / 3:12am]

Lately, I realized I haven’t been writing like I used to. It’s monotonous, negative, and slow (and not the sort of slow I like), and I’m not making enough sense because I’m leaving important bits and pieces out. I love this journal. And I adore the people who read this journal and the people whose journals I read. So I hope you wouldn’t mind if I took a short hiatus from third person entries to pull myself together because I’d like this journal to celebrate the positive-ness of life, and not so much the negative. I hope you do understand. Thank you very much.

For the time being, please enjoy some websites I regularly check up on (they're basically style blogs or webcomics, but they're what I check out everyday):

Questionable Content
Wapsi Square
Butternut Squash
Penny and Aggie
Imaginary Socialite
The Sartorialist
Style Bytes

Used to be one of the rotten ones and I liked you for that. [Aug 19 2007 / 10:48pm]

Eloise sits in the room she shares with her boyfriend, wearing that scruffy cut up Something Corporate hoodie with the stains on it and eating the button mushroom and brie omelet she whipped up for dinner. The room is bathed in a warm orange glow, and Eloise is glad for it because she’s pale in the sunlight.

The apartment is quiet now nobody is home, and she likes it and hates it all the same when she is alone. Graphic novels read, books poured over, and magazines cut up into ribbons to fill her moleskine journal (the one in the photograph above); there really is nothing left for Eloise to do this evening.

She could watch one of the movies she bought this afternoon, but Marten has yet to watch either Interview With The Vampire and The Breakfast Club. This evening Eloise had introduced him to the world of Clueless. Needless to say, he was not impressed.

She supposes she could possibly paint, or draw a little to pass the time before Marten comes home and she’s able to make one of their nightly shishas to share. Eloise could even clean up the mess at the bottom of her closet.

Or perhaps, do her homework?

Another first person journal entry. [Aug 16 2007 / 9:25pm]

It’s a little past nine ‘o’ clock and I haven’t yet touched my homework. What I have done so far is made two shishas (I’ve perfected my technique), made toast for Chelsea and myself, walked around Lygon before realizing that I hadn’t brought my resumes, and went to the bank. Unfortunately, the bank was closed.

I do have, however, half a page of research on my subject, and a vague idea of some logotype designs I will pen down later tonight. After I finish Ultimate Spiderman #8!

The pain in my side is gone. Thank god. But this overwhelming fear of its return is relentless, really. Keeps me up at night sometimes. Good thing I have Marten, who holds me every night. Even when he’s grumpy.

So, the job hunt resumes now that the only store wants me has dropped me because of the change in my class timetable. Troublesome, really. I’ll be off job hunting, once again. It’s terribly annoying, but I don’t plan on calling my father every time I run out of money, like I’m currently doing.

I think I’m buying Topher’s laptop off him next month, when my aunt deposits some money into my bank account. I can’t wait. This means I get to play Black & White. And get my homework done, and update on Livejournal more often. Yes, that too.

I know this entry is a little monotonous. I don’t blame you if you think it’s boring. I think it’s boring, but I haven’t got much to write about. Maybe I’ll make something happen this weekend.

You are the circle, I am the square. [Aug 11 2007 / 12:07am]
She walks towards her usual spot in the brightly lit, windowless, grey classroom and drops her fake Balenciaga bag on the paint smattered desk in the center of the last row where she always sits. This semester’s intake is small yet her class is already easily the most troublesome, but that’s a story for another day. Eloise’s mind is already elsewhere even though the lecturer has walked into class and is engaging students in a lively discussion. She pulls her messily mounted illustration assignment out of its plastic carry case, trying at a last minute attempt to salvage her piece by re-mounting her work. “Hey guys,” Eloise says, without looking up at her new friends. “Guys?”

Strangely, they have picked up their bags and moved across the ‘L’ shaped table to where Azalea is, on the other side - Monique leading the way. Her eyes narrow and her thoughts are curious but she refuses to acknowledge the fact that they have left her to sit alone. Eloise never expected this of Luella and Chelsea, but Monique had always been a friendly foe. Even long before college. “What now,” she mutters, but this is the least of her problems.

The dull ache in her side is long gone, but she still fears the slightest idea of it even resurfacing. Eloise doesn’t want another visit to the hospital, like early this morning after she stumbled into her bedroom and crashed onto the bed, waking Marten with her groans. It didn’t take very long for the boy to call for help and rush her to the hospital, but only after she dictated his moves from thereon. Her lips pull into a half-smirk half-grimace when Gerald calls for her, breaking her train of thought. “Babe,” he squeals. “I didn’t see you come in. Where have you been?”

Eloise peers up from under her unkempt hair and smoothes her new black dress. She decides that the best thing to say was the most concise answer. “I overslept,” Eloise smirks, and re-arranges her development work for the class before getting on her knees and crawling under the table (because she’s too lazy to walk around it) to get to her seat. “What did I miss this morning?”


Basically I had an incident a couple of nights ago where I was rushed to the emergency room of a hospital by a friend of Marten’s because I couldn’t get an ambulance because it wasn’t a life-or-death situation. In the end, the doctors still could not figure out what the odd pain in my side actually was. I’m sure it’s much more than a sore because it comes and goes, and it’s still here. My painkillers can barely hinder it. I’ve a doctor’s appointment on Monday (yay), and I hope I’ll find some answers soon.

Nothing is real 'til it's gone. [Jul 24 2007 / 11:46pm]

This isn’t a photograph of me today, but it is a shakey photograph of what I wore on my dinner date at Tutto Bene in Southbank (which is one of my new favorite restaurants - gorgeous, gorgeous food) with Marten (who was not wearing the outfit below - that’s just an image I found on the camera and decided to post because I liked it so much). I basically wear a variation of this outfit everyday and I know it gets boring but I’m not particularly imaginative as of late (and I’m a little broke, and I like dressing like a homeless person).

And here’s Marten looking spanky in his new Cheap Monday’s from that Cactus Jam sale. At least, I think he got them on sale. I’m not too sure anymore because I was too distracted by a nice striped APC shirt. I didn’t realize Cheap Monday’s looked this good until he put them on.

Under a cut are the last four books I read (alright, three - I'm not done with one of them yet). Ok, two of them are comics, but I don’t have many brain cells left to finish a proper novel, nor can I find one I feel compelled to read at the moment. Maybe except for Lolita, but Zooey has my copy.


Oh no for first person journal entries! [Jul 23 2007 / 7:34pm]

Today I got to run around Carlton playing photographer with an ancient Minolta where I spotted galadarling walking past the RMIT building in her blue pashmina (she’s so adorable! …and I don’t mean that in a creepy stalker way); a classmate told me I looked like a runway model (yay for days when I bother to dress up!); an Ian Somerhalder lookie-likey started a quick conversation with me in the lift (I was so dumbfounded by his gorgeousness I first stepped into the lift even though it was going up and I was going down, and I spent the rest of the short ride wishing he’d stop talking to me because I was getting too tongue tied); and my boyfriend picked me up from school (and by picked up, I mean waited for me at Hudsons for an hour because he wanted to take the time to read his Harry Potter book). I daresay it was a rather good day indeed.

Now, I have to put together a couple of compositions for Design Studies; doodle in my workbook; pull together an adequate journal entry; and write up the final piece of an essay for English. Oh, I have to cook dinner as well. Or at least reheat some leftovers. Yummy spicy noodles!

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