Everyone else seems to have some kind of creative space. I am not creative. At all. My abilities extent as far as handsewing bows onto socks or badly stenciling a simple phrase onto a tshirt. Alas, I have found a skill that actually requires very little....skill. It was the idea of a friend, who never took action. Basically, when she mentioned the idea, I very much wanted one. When she never actioned the plan, I grew restless and did it myself. Now, I have found enjoyment from a little superglue. Oh, the satisfaction from a simple gift, or a nice comment on a bad day at work. A conversation point (not a big one, but it gets words flowing onetheless).
Behold: Scarletts new brooch fetish.
I find myself scouring my house for new things to make brooches from. Many things have been held up to my chest, admired, rejected and moved along. Oh yes. In the background there you do indeed spy Harry Potter in lego form. He will adorn my chest soon enough. A linky-monkey from the barrel? Yup. A lego-dog? Of course.
I created a chef-man for a chef friend. She wears it at work, swell. I bid on ninjas, pirates, knights on ebay, but they just get so expensive. It's like bidding on beauty and the beast or alice in wonderland dvds.
ANYWAY. I'm feeling tired and miserable and fat and frumpy and lonely and cold, so I'm gonna go finish the book I'm currently reading.
If you have any interest in a brooch, lemme know. The legomen are $10 and the monkeys are $5. Everything pictured above is for sale (except Harry Potter, he's a little damaged), and I have a whole barrel'o'monkeys ready.
When I have funds, I'll have more men to buy...but for now, this is all I got!
Some people came home from The Great Southern Slam full of excitement and motivation. They couldn't wait to get back into training and work on being the best they can be, new fitness programs, new training schedules and so on.
On the other hand, I came home questioning my love. Lacking motivation. Resenting those motivated people.
I have a few reasons for my lost heart. My constant headaches leave me dazed and feeling unstable on my wheels. Everyone knows that if you feel useless, naturally, you will be useless. I was subbed out of the second bout in the slam for my team, I know there were many subs throughout the tournament for every team, but, I felt as though I did well in the first bout, and I know there were others who were asking to be subbed instead. Not to mention the heartbreak when I was only told just as I was about to gear up... Watching back over the footage, I look like the local retarded kid has been allowed to throw on some skates for the day in pity. I have people who regularly compliment me on different things, but I know those people are ego-strokers, it feels meaningless to this aching heart. If my skills were so complimentable, why did I get subbed out instead of the self-confessed fluey woman? Why do I NEVER get asked to skate for other teams? Why do I never feel included in the league? Why do I always get stuck feeling like a pile of shit? Sometimes I blame it on my league, the cliqueyness. Other times I blame it on myself and my over-working mind. Whatever the reason, I wish it would stop. Normally I would say, fuck it, I just want to skate, but today, I say, I just don't know anymore, is it worth the emotional strain?
I'm a little nutty. Always overthinking. Totally unsure. In love with words, roller derby and pinup girls. Strict vegetarian, not quite strong enough for veganism. I like to tap my feet to tunes and ponder the words I'll never write down. I question too much and tend to forget how short life is. I think snuggles in bed on a rainy day beats doing anything else, ever. I think Autumn is the best season. I collect rubber duckies and have an addiction to buying books. There is much more to know, however it is all just as tedious as this has been...so... ENDx