A Very Special Kind

I'm sorry I've been away so long, but I enjoyed my break in the form of no work whatsoever. Plus, I didn't really exit my pajamas. Making style fairly difficult. However, now I'm back to normal life. Meaning more exercise, work, clothes, social life. I'm so glad I have a routine again!
And I'm glad to have my work ethic back, I really missed you. Ahh my better self, how did I survive without you? Hmm, I think this makes me a very special kind of narsisist. 

In the top photos I'm rocking a tank dress from Bluenotes, thrifted jean button-up and jewelry, and zipper shorts from H&M
And further down I'm wearing a vintage blazer, shorts and belt, and American Apparel t-shirt, random tights and scarf, shoes from H&M

The Right Word

Is so hard to find. At first I tried to sound witty so I used a sort of play on words, but it didn't really work properly. But now, I feel as though I've finally found a home, all I need now is some cute little doodles superimposed on a quirky picture. THAT or I could just use a picture of Enid from Ghostworld.

That is the most magnificent t-shirt I've ever seen. I could I guess, she is all about blitz, but it feels like stealing if I use her image. Going to keep thinking about the blog logo, for now I think simplicity is best.

Ghostworld

This might not be surprising, actually it's kind of obvious. I'm a nerd. An art class nerd, who likes reading comics and watching old movies and sitting around listening to podcasts. It really is a sad, indulgent existence. But I love it. The only change I would ever make, is I'd like to study people. Just sit around a public place all day and study people. Like the girls do in my favourite movie, Ghostworld. I can't really explain it, other than, in this film the characters do things normal people only thing about doing. They're teenagers controlled completely by their ids.

wearing American Apparell shirt, vintage slip boots jacket and watch, topshop tights and garage scarf

Ten Years Later

He didn't exist. That's what Norah's boss had been telling her for the past year. All of her stuffy, bookish friends agreed that the mysterious messiah had to be fictional. This rendered Margarete's story a lie, a useless lie. Norah knew they were right, but she would always believe Margarete. The man had existed, she knew so. This was always her focal point when speaking. Show the audience that you trust the story and believe in it's truth.

"Eventually, we'll convince them all," Margarete had said. Norah pleaded with fate, hoping she was right.

And then she was out of her head, and back inside the spacious hotel lounge. Nick leaned his head against her shoulder while he relaxed into the red and gold satin sofa. He had trust in Margarete's story, and this worried Norah. Only the great unwashed masses would believe, that wasn't enough.

They had been fighting constantly, it started one month after they married. Norah knew it was her fault, but she couldn't help talking down to Nick. His indifference was everywhere, in every sentence he uttered an example. As Norah thought this, Fedor and Margarete walked into the room. This couple was graceful, as if they were one person. Margarete had never told her anything about Fedor, not even how they had met. Norah thought the secrecy was romantic, a concept Nick had never understood.

The old woman sat down across from Nick, while Fedor sat beside her. Now the two couples faced each other, looking into the eyes of a different generation. Norah was scared for the next step, they had taken it so smoothly.

Norah's thoughts were interrupted by Margarete's thick accent, "I have something to tell you both," Fedor placed his hand over hers, "I am so deeply sorry."

"Margarete, we have to get ready soon can it wait?" Norah cut in.

There was a long pause. Margarete was frustrated.

"The man isn't real. He was a dark character, a figment of my own imagination, made real by the passing of time."

"You promised me, I've been looking for him for years," Norah was in tears.

"I'm truly sorry, at the time, I believed as well."

They got up to leave, emotionless. Later, the couple would take a cruise to the Mediterranean, using Margarete's cut of the book's royalties. Their love was all that mattered, so they left a path of destruction wherever they went. Or at least that's how it appeared to Norah, as she sobbed on the thick hotel carpet. Nick pulled her close, taking Norah's breath away. She felt everything collapsing, even as he held her. Then suddenly the wave hit, and her life fell apart.

A Couple Months Later

Prompt 2

"It was there, and now it's gone," Nora explained to Nick.

They were sitting alone in the vegetarian thai restaurant up the street. Nick picked up his lifeless pad thai noodles one by one, balancing them on one chopstick before eating. When they had first started dating his pointless eating habits had annoyed Norah. She considered them flaws, but now, it seems futile to try and change them. Every couple had to make sacrifices like that.

"What's gone? I thought the story was goin' great."

Norah looked up at him blankly. This man had at one time been her intellectual equal, he used to really think, explore his own thought processes. Now he was just a good looking short order cook. Norah had always thought money would never be important to her, now, it seemed relevant. All the waitresses wanted him; Norah didn't anymore. She still loved Nick, but only because he was human. She couldn't bear to leave him.

She was frustrated, so much so that over the past couple of weeks Norah had considered moving out. She could escape, work on the project that had consumed her life.

"Do you realize that I'm writing a non-fiction? I mean, I'm a history writer for Christ's sake. I don't have these, creative juices," she dangled her fingers over her head, exhaling, "Margarete's dictating her life's story."

"What's wrong with that?"

Honestly, Norah had no idea what was wrong with it. Margarete's story was enchanting, mysterious. A guaranteed bestseller. The characters were easy to connect with. The words she was dictating seemed more alive than any other article she had ever written, or read. This book was going to reinvent historical writing, if only she knew who this mysterious messiah was. What was his name, the man who had changed Margarete Petrov's life?

"This book is going to consume years of my life. Years of our lives."

"I don't think you mean that," Nick replied.

Norah looked up from her green curry.

Nick and Norah Minus Playlist

Prompt 1
He would gather up the soft pieces of Norah. Her hair was spread across the sheets as Nick looked down at it. She was downstairs, waiting in front of Margarette's door. Nick sealed her hair with a thick purple ribbon. He slid along the cold floor, with an odd grace. He was showered, dressed, bidding his time before the day. Every so often, someone's whole life feels like a single day, in slow motion. That was Nick's life.

Norah smoothed out her newly cut hair, taking out stray pieces as she styled the sharp bob. She'd already knocked twice with no answer, but this time the door seemed to magically open. Margarette stood in the doorway, swaying a little as if she was imbalanced. They didn't speak, Norah just went inside, carrying her small notebook and polite smile. They knew each other from years of small talk, but this was the first of many true encounters.

"Where is most comfortable for you?" Norah annunciated slowly.

She spoke quickly, "Well, I've lived here for nearly fifty years. You'd assume it's all very comfortable," the words rolled off her tongue, making them appear more dramatic.

"Sure... I understand."

They walked through the entrance hall, and into the apartment's small living room. There was dust everywhere, creating a layer of faintness. There was something comforting about that faintness, it was ancient. Red, green and purple light was shining into the space making interesting patterns along the furniture. Norah sat down first with her back to the light, creating a silouette against the floral wallpaper. Meanwhile Margarette had placed herself in the darkest corner of the room. Suddenly, she was no longer an elderly, imported citizen. Anyone could be hiding within that mysterious shadow.

"Do you need anything before we be-"

"I was born in a small village, near St. Petersburg, I forget it's name. That's of little consequence really. My life was eventless, empty, until I turned fourteen. A man came from the city."

"Do you remember his name?" Norah looked up from her abrasive writing.

"No, I don't. He was glamorous, extravagant. We had never seen such a person, everyone loved him. He told us he was a messiah, delivered to save us from the Soviets.

"When I was seventeen, he brought me to the city, along with five other girls."

Norah was inscribing vigorously. This story was meant for her. That she should live in this apartment, meet this woman, was fate.

Ahh The Quiet

March. Finally. I can't say I'm sad to see february go. Firstly, I find it hard to spell, a very embarassing fact. Or maybe I just can't spell today. Also, that month was my least creative, and most stressful month. Also, every so often I have friendless months. No matter how amazing my life is (not saying it is btw) I just get really depressed and think I'm going to die alone. Everyone has these days, so the fact that I'm announcing it isn't really personal. You know what I'm talking about.
This is why I'm so happy it's March. Things are starting to look up, my b-day is in a couple of days, and I can feel my creative juices starting to flow again. Also, I've decided to start posting work from my creative writing class.

wearing garage scarf (it's an AA knock-off, but to be fair if they'd open up a store where I live, I would make the effort), Bluenotes t, thrifted belt, h&m pants, Doc Martens