Spring Cleaning Your Consciousness

Well, technically Spring is still a little way off (damn you, freezing winds and chilly rains, DAMN YOU), but I don’t think there’s any harm in getting a bit of a jump on things, do you?

A PRECURSORY LAMENT

Ah, to be alive. To hear the birds chirping, see the colours of the sunrise, feel the wind in your hair and have breath in your lungs... and yet, sadly, I feel I have sunk into a perverse disillusionment that has clouded my ability to appreciate life's gorgeous tenacity. I don’t know how it happened (that’s a lie, of course I do), but somewhere over the last six months, life’s usually-persistent knocking on my proverbial front door faded into the tap-tap-tapping of fingertips on knees, whiling my life away in pathetic fits of self-loathing. I momentarily lost the clarity in colour, the luxury of light- to be perfectly honest, I’ve just been downright miserable to be around, and for that, I do apologise.

It did get me thinking though, about my Conscious Self. I’ve always been fascinated by the Unconscious Self, whether it be dream analysis, or the concept of passive aggression (hello, Facebook user who posts status’ and photos specifically designed to make others miserable) but for the most part, I have spared very little thought for the what actually happens when you are conscious.

There are many varying definitions of consciousness. One, for example, is ‘to be aware of one's own existence, sensations, thoughts and surroundings’. Another is to have something ‘known to oneself; felt’. So for all intent and purposes, let’s look at consciousness like this:

Knowing Your Own Sensational Existence.

How sexy is that?

On Monday night, as I delicately sipped a cold glass of Sauvignon Blanc and waited for my nail polish to dry, I got to thinking about existence. Or, more precisely, feeling my own existence. Even more precisely, feeling, hearing, touching, seeing and tasting my own existence. Do you see where I’m going with this?

Spring Cleaning Your Consciousness has to begin somewhere. And while it is most certainly a daunting task of monstrous proportions that should only be attempted in the most fabulous of shoes (stay tuned- Solestruck delivery ETA Wednesday), it should, of course, be attempted. But this does of course beg the question- how does one spring clean one’s senses?

I SPY WITH MY LITTLE EYE

... a plethora of stuff, really. Open your eyes and take it all in. What do you see? Your desk? Your bedroom? What about on the way to work? What does your house look like? What colours do you notice, what brightens your day? Do you like the look of certain shapes? Houses? Cafes? Street trees? Visual stimulation is powerful. Very powerful. And, happily, is one of the easiest things that we can alter to achieve a greater happiness.

I HEAR YA, BUDDY, I HEAR YA

Chatter. Car sounds. Birds chirping. Dubstep. Heels clicking on concrete. Screaming children. Sliding doors opening. Panadol popping out of foil packaging. Planes flying overhead. Shouting. Laughing. Crying. Computers whirring. What sounds make up your day? Which ones do you love? Which ones tire you out? Which ones are boring? Intruiging? Exciting? ... why?

LIKE A FAT KID LOVES CAKE

Mmm. Food. One of my all time favourite things in the universe. I personally prefer exotic, spicy foods, with lemongrass and ginger and coconut and peanuts and pretty much any variation of Thai/Indian food that you could find. But with the constant worry over sugar reduction attempts and not eating carbs without wanting to kill myself, my quest for flavours that make my tastebuds dance and sing has become bleaker that a Siberian winter morning. Why do you love the foods that you love? Ever find it interesting that some people absolutely love sherbet, but others find it acidic and foul? Why do identical twins have varying favourite foods? Why do you love/hate aniseed/chilli/caramel?

SMELL YA LATER

The sense of smell is an interesting one. They say (who are ‘they’? These faceless entities from whom knowledge and wisdom seem to spout like seawater from a dolphin’s blowhole?) that smell is the most powerful trigger of memory there is. I will attest to that- there is one particular aftershave that seems to be inexplicably linked between my nostrils and my tear ducts. Thus, it is a smell that I associate with certain types of emotional pain. What smells do you associate with happiness, positivity and joy? (..... freshly baked brownies, anyone?)

I GOT A FEELIN’... OOOH, OOOH

Silk, satin, fur, cashmere and ludicrously thick bath foam are my top five touchable textures. Of course, there are about a zillion others, but we’ll get to those later. The sense of touch enables us to relax or recoil; our hearts to skip beats; our hairs to stand on end. It brings us closer as humans and allows us to express affection (or rage) in ways that are so very powerful. A comforting hug from Mum, a spider creepily crawling on your bare skin, an electric, accidental brushing of hands with the person you have secretly loved for years. All are awe-inspiring. All are different.

Over the next week or so, I want to scour the proverbial seabed of tingling, tantalising senses and uncover ways to improve my experiences in my day-to-day life. We’ll start with sound, so get your thinking caps on. This is the very beginning of surrounding myself with joy. Out with the old. In with the new. It’s all uphill from here.

Join me, won’t you?

M x

The Calm Before The Storm

It is with savage rigour that I throw myself and my Mess headlong into cyber traffic once more.

And yet... I sit back, and reflect on exactly what it is I have started. This whole blogging business has spiralled almost completed out of control over the last few years. Every man and his dog seem to have a blog nowadays, and I’m not entirely sure it’s the best thing for the world. There are plenty of self-absorbed, loathsome idiots on the internet, and blogging is just another tool that gives voice to those who do not really need any more opportunities to make total asses of themselves.

TO BLOG, OR NOT TO BLOG

In my humble opinion, being a successful blogger requires something a little more than a poorly designed web-template and a basic understanding of Instagram (both, I acknowledge, I employ). It requires a more delicate spray of poignant prose and sarcastic melodrama that demands the most frugal choosing of phrases and structuring of sentences. Otherwise, you’ll bore your readers out of their fucking minds, and who wants to come back to a blog that is blatantly self-righteous and solely self-fulfilling? Bloggers should seek to enrich their readers’ lives, or work toward a common goal, uniting a community through common purpose. Not parade about their bedrooms in slap-dash ensembles snapping cheap shots of themselves on their iPhones and declaring themselves fashionistas.

And, whoa, hold up a second there- get down off Ye Olde High Horse- DISMOUNT, I SAY!- I’m not, for one second, saying that a well-written fashion blog by a talented young woman who knows what she’s talking about isn't one of the single most coolest things ever. Because God knows, I follow about four or five religiously (seriously, to the point where I might actually be considered a stalker if they knew. Don’t tell anyone). I follow the four or five that I do because these women are hard-working, worldly, experienced, respected journalists who have got their shit together and wear their eight inch towering JC’s to their local coffee parlour proudly. They also acknowledge, for the most part, that they are privileged to have made names for themselves in an industry that is as cutthroat as it is fluid- changing from one second to the next, fluctuating wildly across continents. They write well, speak well, dress well, and are fabulous role models for young women (and men) all over the world. And that shit don’t come easy.

Aside from the fashion blogging circle, there are some other truly fantastical blogs out in the cybersphere. Gala Darling has been one of my all time favourites for years (EVERYONE should get on the Radical Self Love bandwagon. EVERYONE). There are cupcake-baking blogs, misanthropy blogs (for all your people-hating needs!), shoe blogs, travel blogs, photography blogs. Blogs and bloggers of all shapes and sizes from all over the globe. But the truly great blogs are the ones that inspire you to create. To foster. To grow. To think. Isn’t that the whole point?

I’m not saying that I have some sense of entitlement to this cyber galaxy of extreme cool. I’m not saying my work is every going to be uber-famous, or uber-talked about, or even uber-known at all (apart from you delightful morsels who follow my shameless self-promoting links from Facebook- welcome!). But I’d like to think that at least I stand for a little more- living life, rather than documenting it; fostering fabulousness, while rarely feeling very fabulous myself; and of course, teetering into my local coffee parlour in stupid shoes, because what’s life without a little hypocrisy? Ha. ha. ha.

HOMEWORK

Right. Now that that's said and done... as stated in my very first entry, THIS blog is supposed to be all about Cultivating Your Personal Aesthetic. I’m starting to think that I might need to whittle that idea down a little, because now that I am beginning to appreciate the scope of the mess (actual mess, not 'beautiful Mess') I’m in at the moment, and 'cultivating an aesthetic' seems about as easy as navigating a spaceship to Jupiter.

First things first - refill coffee cup.

Second - stop contemplating the things that have, over the last three months, made me totally and completely miserable (the profoundly negative impact that a few nasty actions from a few nasty people can have on the long term health and well being of another still absolutely baffles me). I am ashamed to admit I have been driven to the point of throwing crumpet crusts at happy people on television, with black mascara tears running down my blotchy unwashed face. Disgusting. 

C) - walk home from work in the sunshine.

and lastly - start planning how to Spring Clean My Conciousness (stay tuned).

Until next time,  

M x

An Addiction, An Affliction, A Profound Affection

It’s been a stupidly long time since my last post. I don’t really have an excuse- other than a ten day trip to Bali, starting University (which means hours and hours of reading like a total maniac) and job hunting. I don’t want to let this blog slip away though, so I will endeavour from now on to put something up every couple of days, even if it’s just an inspiring quote or picture!

I’ve just finished one of my text books for Uni. It’s called The Little Red Writing Book and it’s essentially a beautifully stylish, concise writing handbook. It’s got me to thinking about the way I write, why I write, why I choose words, why I omit sentences, why I’m petrified for others to read my work. In other words, I suppose, it’s had a pretty profound effect on the way that I think.

Call it what you will, the particular brand of ‘creative investigative journalism’ I choose to employ should be considered more of a preoccupied fascination with my surroundings. You already know I’m obsessed with colours, and lights and sounds and smells, and of course, all the wonderful weirdos who embellish the bizarre tapestry that is my own glorious Mess.

There may be others that would consider it more merely as a collection of muddled-up musings from a nerd with a minor inferiority complex... but, I digress.

Ever since I was small, I have been enthralled by words. A single word can inspire stupendous reflection in the mind. Rainbow. Glory. Insignificant. Lavender. Whale. Bland. Taj Mahal. Do you see what I mean? Describing words, names of things, names of people. I’ll take the lot. And people! Oh, people ... watching people, talking to people, listening to people talk to people. Laughing at people, laughing with people, dancing with people, watching other people dance, watching people cry and fight and walk and walk into things.

Cause and consequence, action and reaction. What a wildly erratic world we live in! I consider it to be a great privilege, having such a childish preoccupation with life, to sit and observe this wondrous phenomenon that is Mess. What I hope to be able to do (not only in the three microscopically small years I have at University, but over the course of a lifetime, or several, if I can swing it), is to be able to write about it. Clearly. Concisely. With colour and vigour and clarity.

"Why do you want to write?" a stuffy bean-pole of a man asked me once on a plane. "Because I have to," I answered plaintively.

To quote a man who is fast becoming one of my favourite authors in the universe, Mark Tredinnick: "A writer writes because he must: it's an addiction; it's an affliction; it's a profound affection." That is a far more eloquent and beautiful turn-of-phrase than my clumsy attempt (-"Because I have to"- idiot). But what Mark is getting at is true. I write because I have no other choice. There are few other outlets, few other places to channel excess energy. My head is too full of thoughts and imagery and noise to have it contained in the few square inches of space inside my skull.

What’s more- another idea from Mark’s wonderful book- is that writing is really just thinking on paper. Writing allows you to put everything you think down on paper, but is gracious enough to allow a level of filtering that enables only the most pure form of thought to be recorded. (If that’s what you choose to do. You could just leave a plethora of crap there if you wanted to. Ever read ‘War and Peace’?).

My best friend calls me a romantic at least twice a week. I’m happy to wear that- at least I know that I am slowly becoming a product of my own experiences. But I think that I’m slowly coming to use another term to describe myself. I’m a writer.

I write.

I’m a writer.

Things I Love Thursday!

That’s right! I have decided to incorporate this fabulous initiative by Gala Darling into my very own blog! Things I Love Thursday, for those of you who don’t know, is an opportunity to share all the tiny little things that have made you smile over the past week. It’s a chance to be thankful, and also, to recognise the beauty in the seemingly small and insignificant details of your Mess.

Ready?! <3

Phone chargers
Staplers
The bubbles in champagne
Emails from University
Job interviews
Pink highlighter pens
The truth
Tissues
Lavosh bread wraps
Pink lipstick impressions on my Mickey Mouse coffee mug
Flight confirmation emails
Fresh flowers in my hair
Giving roses on Valentine’s day
My mascara
Shaved legs
Sun on my face
A confident strut
Mersey Valley cheese
Mum’s cups of tea
Kisses from my dog
New underwear
Crisp fresh salad

What do you love today? What made you smile in the last week? Leave a comment or share on my Facebook post!

Glitteringly,

M x

Conflict: A Beginners Guide

Cripes! I’ve let my Mess run away with me again. It’s been far too long since my last post- my millions of readers must be devastated! I have to say, in my defence, there’s been a fair amount going on lately. A whirlwind of money crap, jobs applications, interview arrangements, house inspections, crazy relatives and the like. All the hullaballoo had resulted in limited sleep, pretty scary dreams and, most importantly- I started to think about the concept of conflict.

Conflict (con . flict) verb1. To come into collision or disagreement; be contradictory, at variance, or in opposition
2. To fight or contend; do battle. To clash.
Ah, conflict. Where would we be without it? Probably locked inside our own heads, terrified to make decisions for ourselves, putting up with things that make us sad or angry just because we don’t want to come to terms with the idea of making proactive change. As much as nobody likes to fight or argue, facing up to your own problems is an incredibly empowering thing to do. It generates positive energy. It fills you with courage and resonates with an air of infinite possibility. But- where to start?
Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff
I worry a lot. Not anywhere near as much as I used to, and this is something that I intend to keep working on. (One of my best friends considers a moment not telling me to ‘Chill, Winston,’ as a moment wasted.) I know that I worry about little things, I do. And you know what? I’m starting to realise more and more, it sucks precious energy out of my soul. If you can’t learn to accept the little things, like missing a bus, running five minutes late, losing your keys- how on earth d’you expect to be able to cope with the big stuff? The huge stuff? Try to let the little things go. They are not worth worrying about. Chill, Winston!
Be Brave
Facing problems head on is a petrifying thing to do. I can talk and talk and talk and talk for hours about a
problem, why it’s a problem, when the problem started, how that problem is affecting my Mess, why I feel I need to do something about the problem, when I’m going to do something about the problem... but actually facing the problem is something I am just not good at. It demands courage, and confidence, and conviction in your beliefs- all things that I need to work on. But you know what? I’m no doormat either. I don’t believe in lying down and taking crap from someone, for any reason. Why should you have to put up with things that make you sad, or angry, or frustrated? Change, change, change! Let’s make a pact- we are all going to pick a problem, big or small, to face properly in the next week. We’ll report back.
There Are Some Things That You Just Can’t Change
As sad as it is, and no matter how much you try, sometimes we need to learn to accept problems which are beyond immediate repair. Relationships which are broken beyond anybody’s capability to fix. Don’t forget, every single problem in the world is created by human instinct, human error, human judgement. Key word being human. There comes a point sometimes when we all need space and time to grow alone. Don’t see it as a failure. Don’t think that you’re weak. It’s okay to recognise that you need to remove yourself from shitty situations in order to foster positive change. After all... how can anybody love you if you don’t love yourself first?
Embrace your Mess. Live it happily. Live it courageously. If you’re going to fight for anything, fight for your Mess- and keep it beautiful.
M x

Engage Fabulous Style

Good morning darlings! I am in an unnaturally refreshed mood today as I selpt for FOURTEEN HOURS last night. Amazing! I feel like I could take on the Universe! (How appropriate- this blog is about me taking on my own world, after all.) Do you now what I'd love? To find some other people who want to committ to this project with me. We're right at the very beginning, here and now, this project is less than a week old- what better time than to recommend this page to a friend who might enjoy it, or someone who you think is ready to start Cultivating, and doing something new with their Mess.

Begin to Cultivate Your Personal Aesthetic.
Today is my first pay day (!) since deciding to embark on this fanciful journey. I'm filled with almost innappropriate levels of excitement over the fact that I will soon again have real, live money in my bank account. And while that is very exciting, as there are things I really do need to buy such as food, razors, shampoo and these leggings (because let's face it, they are gorgeous)- don't think that your creativity and Cultivation is limited to having a few dollars up your sleeve to bandy about buying fairy lights for your bedroom, or an entirely new nail polish collection. No, no, no. In fact, I'm going to help you out.

* Top 10 Money-Free Ways to Engage Fabulous Style and Promote Positive Change In Your Very Own Mess * 

1. Re-read a favourite book that you haven't picked up in years. Engage with the characters and get back to the roots of what your truly enjoy.

2. Pick some fresh flowers. Stick them in vases, jam jars, coffee mugs, anywhere that will make the whole house smell like a florist. (Just don't let the neighbours see you if you intend to pilfer their award winning roses).

3. Paint your nails in colour coordination with your outfit. Hurray, colours! You may even have a few nail art gems lying around the place- go crazy! Imagine having glittering jewel encrusted nails when you sip on your next triple-shot-latte at your local coffee house. You might make someone's day. And please, please, please wipe off any mistakes with nail polish remover before it dries on your skin. There is nothing that says 'unpolished' (forgive the pun) like a messy manicure.

4. Throw out anything smelly or rotten in your fridge. Have you ever noticed a person's expression when they've opened the door to a pongy fridge? It's repulsive, and yet so easily remedied! Stay on top of it! You know as well as I do, that ham went off two weeks ago...

5. Go through some magazines and tear out pictures and words that inspire you. You don't have to do anything with them just yet- we'll have a look at ways to use these things in the near future- but spend some time collecting and reflecting. Plus- it's fun.

6. Go through your iPhone/iPod/Andriod/MP3 and make notes of music you haven't listened to for years or don't like. Delete. Why take up precious space on your phone and in your Mess on things that don't thrill and excite you? Poo! Be gone!

7. Check out some different Blogs. Sign up for Blogger, or Tumblr, or any other blogging website that tickles your fancy. You don't have to post anything, but you should be granted to use of a 'next' button- once you view a blog, hit 'next' and it'll take you to another random one. Why not? Engage with others and add their beautiful, different colours to your Mess. (Just make sure you come back here evenually).

8. Apply a fresh coat of your favourite lipstick. Drink a coffee. Enjoy the coloured imprint on the coffee mug.

9. Air out your quilt. We spend almost half our lives in bed. We sweat in them, spill tea in them, other people sleep in them (including animals)... stick your nose deep down in your bedding and take a whiff. See what I mean? Not cool. Chuck it on the clothesline, or drape it over some chairs outside in the sun. Make your bed a bedbug free zone.

10. Get off your computer. It's not going to run away. Go outside. Sit on the lawn, or in your favourite deck chair, and get to work on numbers 1, 3, 5 or 8. And that, gorgeous reader, is exacly what I'm going to do.

M x

Flowering Iridescence

These are my favourite, favourite, favourite parts of my bedroom. Yes, they are only mere inches wide, and on the whole, are swallowed and lost in the mismatched assortment of crap that flows freely through my living space- but they are jewels of colour that always catch my attention the second I walk in, or wake up. They are the essence of who I am, and what I love- colour, vibrancy, flowers, crystal, pattern, iridescence. I am starting right here- with these tiny snippets of glorious, riotous colour.

These are a few select images/ cards/ clothing tags I have saved because I loved something special about each one. The postcard is my favourite- I feel like the girl is being absorbed by colour, you know? What a fantastic notion. (How would it feel to have hundreds of flowers covering your body? Glorious, one would assume.)

The shoe (platform wedge with ankle strap, divine) is adorned in fabulous jewels- vibrant, sparkling and multifaceted- all elements that I want to try and incorporate into how I dress every day.

The clothing tag is from a gorgeous vintage store in Subiaco, Perth, called Lucy In Disguise- I highly recommend anyone on a quest to rediscover their personal style check it out, it is fabulous. I, for example, managed to obtain an amazing while lace blouse with fifteen centimetre long cuffs adorned with itty bitty white buttons while I was there, amongst other things. (I'm picturing wearing it with hot pink jeans, or with lots of leather and leopard print Tony Bianco wedges...)

This perfume bottle is empty, but I just can't bring myself to throw it away until I can afford a replacement. It's my delicious everyday perfume. It is, of course, J'adore, by Christan Dior (my favourite perfume EVER-of-all-time-in-the-entire-universe is the enchanting Mademoiselle, by Chanel- I'm sure you've all seen this advertisement with Kiera Knightley, SWOON). However, as it is about a trillion dollars a bottle and I am a poor student, I'll stick for now with J'adore.

The beautiful boxes behind it once contained baby blue and baby pink mugs with beautiful flowers and swirling patterns on them, detailed with gold. I can't drink tea or coffee unless it's in a decent mug, and these most certainly fit the bill.

My talcum powder is a cheapie but a goodie- I love smelling like roses after I shower (well, truth me told, I'll happily smell like any sort of flower after I shower <3 ).

And I can't continue without mentioning the powderpuff my talcum powder is sitting on- it's leopard pring and full of ultra-fine glitter. Is there any powder puff more fabulous?

These pictures feel a bit like teeny-tiny snapshots of my life as I know it. Cool, huh? Why don't you try and condense your life down to three square feet of space, and take some snaps? Work out what you love about each picture. It’s kind of like starting to acknowledge what you really, truly love about yourself.

A Place To Start

I've been sitting here trying to come up with a starting point for the transformation of my Beautiful Mess. It's a fairly overwhelming concept, the idea of changing your Mess. I've decided to pick the top five things that have been bugging me for some time now, and commit to actively making choices to improve them. I want these things in particular to be a sick, iradescent reflection of who I am, and never mind anyone else. Effort needs to be made on my part to engage aesthetic development. Or... something.

1. My hair. I've been growing it out for the past six months from when I had it lightened. As a result, it is now shoulder length, brittle, and appears almost as though is has been balyaged by a stoned, blind elephant brandishing a paintbrush. MISSION- begin regular hair treatments, decide on a colour and make the effort to style it (at the very least, brush it) daily.

2. My diary. I know, I know, as my mother would tell you, I am one of the most disorganised harebrained people on the planet. I don't deny it. In fact, I embrace it (I will continue to attempt to explain over the course of the life of this blog, be it three days, three years or three... well... let's not get carried away). The fact is, my diary is a combination of word vomit, highlighter squiggles and pieces of paper with undoubtedly important information written on them that are slotted in between it's gloriously numbered pages. However, as a diary is an exceptionally useful tool, and one that I am determined to incorporate as a stylish, necessary element of sophistication in my Mess- MISSION- learn how to effectively manage page space, inappropriately continue to use various pens and textas (after all, that's half the fun) and most importantly- remember to check it every day.

3. My liquor intake. I am going to limit it. HA! Just kidding. I am, however, raising the bar of my alcohlic consumption. Down with cheap vodka (it makes me sick and I don't like the taste). Down with white wine (sooooooo over it). Down with Cosmopolitans. Now, this one almost brings a tear to my eye- allow me to explain. I have been ordering Cosmopolitans as my cocktail of choice since I was seventeen, purely because that was the first cocktail I ever learned the name of. Sadly, truth be told, I have probably only ever had three cosmopolitans worth drinking in that time. Time for a new cocktail. MISSION- stop ordering vodka or scotch and diet coke by default. To self: try something new, you boring loser.

4. My wardrobe. Ok. This one I'm not even going to go into, as I would bore you to death and probably incite rage and hatred in all my possible readers due to how pathetic I am. I will settle, therefore, for sharing the following nonesensical words, and be thankkful that in my swirling whirlpool of a brain I can sort of see it working... sparkles, ruffles, fur, leopard print, mass necklaces, chokers, giant rings, new headwear, leather, large bags, crochet, long skirts, new sunglesses, strange shapes, patterns, feathers, flowers... MISSION- work out what I love about my personal style and run with it. No. Not run with it. Fly with it.

5. My room. It's mismatched, falling to bits and awful. There is hardly any reflection of my personality in my bedroom, in it's current state. Think about how much time you spend in your bedroom. It's your sanctuary. Your hideaway. Your creative haven, your study space, your resting room. Given the amount of time that one spends in one's bedroom, I would go as far as to say it's the room of the house that should have the most of your beautiful self boucing off the walls. Mine, sadly, does not. Not for long though. MISSION- get my room pretty. Make it a place I want to be, a place that smells like flowers and sunshine and everything I love in the world. = My Happy Place.

... righto. That's probably quite enough to be getting on with.

M x

Getting A Few Things Straight

Alright. Let's get a few things straight.

I am not a photographer, I do not own a fancy camera or a tripod and have knowledge of photo editing software.

I do not rub shoulders with the fashion bloggers of New York and Los Angeles, and saunter effortlesly down the street sipping triple-vanilla-iced-soy-frappucinos.

I haven't figured out yet how to embed cool pictures and videos in these things, but I will.

I do not profess to be all knowing, all encompassing, all powerful, and do not expect to make a huge dent in cyberspace worthy of a seven-minute spot on The Morning Show.

I am, however, a twenty two year old girl who is fed up with her boring existence, sick to death of the same shoes, the same hair, the same books, the same drinks, the same music. I had a realisation last night- yes, that's right, a realistion- that I want MORE. I want more for my life, for myself. Do you think that's selfish? Because there's a second part to my realisation. Hang on to your seats... I DESERVE more. And the beauty of this little project?

So do you.

Does that come as a bit of a shock? Do you find yourself, as I do, standing on the brink of a gaping chasm of the unknown, terrified to inch forward for fear of plummeting to your demise? How difficult do you think it can be, growing into the person that you want to become? Well, here's the clincher- I'm making it my mission to find out.

I'm going to spend 2012 Cultivating My Personal Aesthetic. More on that later though. Why don't you toddle off, make yourself a coffee and curl up with your cat/dog/book/boyfriend and take a second to actually reflect on yourself. What do you love about youself? How could you push those boundaries? What bothers you about yourself- physically, emotionally, spiritually? What are your favourite things in the entire world? Why? What can't you stand? What makes you want to barf? Why? I think that in order to make major changes to our lives, we need to have a pretty good understanding of why we are the way that we are in the first place. What makes us tick, what makes us laugh, why we like certain colours, why we drink certain teas.

What people think of when they look at you on the street? What's the first thing they notice about you? Are you happy for these thoughts to be their first/ final impression of the person that you are? (No, this is not about 'changing yourself to make others happy', or 'who cares what anyone else thinks'. Humour me, alright? I'm doing it too.)

How about what people say about you after you leave the room at a party? Do they stare after you in awe? Forget you the moment you turn around? Talk about how you seemed distant? Cold? Funny? Sassy? Stupid? Repressed? Seriously- let's all sit down and have a think about it. I'm going to reflect on this peculiar notion in the shower, because I really want to pumice my poor feet (occupational hazard of wearing sky-high heels to work every day), and I'm curious to see if I'm hit by a lighting bolt of inspiration while I practise the meditiative process of washing all the negativity from my skin. Christ, this is my first blog entry after all- wouldn't want to start off on the wrong foot now would we?

M x