Entrepreneuress

My Violonjello plans are coming along nicely; I’ve shocked myself with how much work I have done over the last few days. Designing coupons, working out shipping pricing structures, arranging to be sent samples of various papers, filling out all sorts of application forms at the bank, buying various size padded envelopes to measure against things, et cetera. It’s all happening. Except for the actual making of products – seems you need money to buy paper and get things printed, so I guess I’ll just keep drawing and painting. Money I do not have, especially since Send-a-drink (Centrelink) have decided not to process my application until the 30th. There is a certain microbusiness loan that I simply need, but I can’t apply for it until I’m part of a particular program, but I can’t be part of that program until I’m classified as unemployed and receiving benefits, so ahhh!

So, that brief summary encapsulates the entirety of the things that have been on my mind in the last few days. Red tape is ridiculous. It’s kind of funny that people who aren’t unemployed can’t get any access to the program to help start up small businesses – it’s like they’re saying, “You already have a job, go and be a drone, and let’s give a million and one opportunities to everyone who wasn’t willing to go through that kind of hell.”

Grrr.

And another thing – why do print, paper and art shops employ people who don’t know the product? I went to at least four different places in my town, looking for something specific but (you would imagine) readily available. I wanted a heavyweight, cotton rag fine art paper, such as Crane or Hahnemuhle. I also wanted to know at the printing shop whether they could accept other stock, or whether you could only print on their papers. Nobody could answer my questions, and even a shop that is specifically for the sale of paper didn’t have any cotton rag fine art paper.

But I am calm.

Ish.

Pleasurable Events

Right now I’m dabbling in some cognitive behavioural therapy to help me get back on my feet; my doctor gave me this to think about. Probably boring for everyone who already has themselves sorted out, but it blew my mind when I first saw it. I guess I’d never considered things like this before.

Everything is connected. I can’t do something, think something or feel something without it impacting on the other two. I think things are starting to click.

The other thing is that I’m meant to be seeking out ‘pleasurable events’ to include in my every day. This could be as simple as going outside and throwing the frisbee for the dogs in the sunshine. Or it could be going to the theatre. Whatever pleases me. I adore making lists, so I suppose this will be a ‘pleasurable event’ – I’m going to write a list of pleasurable events that I already do and should do! Please feel inspired and do them too; everybody deserves a bit more pleasure.

  • Cruising Etsy for lovely things that I can ooh and aah over, and maybe buy one day when I’m feeling rich. Right now the wishlist includes vintage red and gold brocade shoes, a very chic red apron featuring skulls and roses, a bookmark featuring not only Lady Lovely Locks but also Duchess Ravenwaves and a little baby’s outfit emblazoned with red matroyshka dolls, for one day.
  • Drawing pictures of trees, teacups, sugar skulls, mermaids, strange girls, matroyshka dolls, flowers, socks and umbrellas, or whatever else is beautiful.
  • Singing loudly when nobody is home; best song for this is I Will Survive, whilst dancing in one’s underwear.
  • Drinking hot, sweet, milky tea from my special cup; holding the cup in both hands to keep them warm.
  • Wearing warm socks and writing lists.
  • Hosting picnics on Sebastian’s bedroom floor. Sandwiches taste better if they are carefully cut into dainty triangles and eaten in tiny bites, followed by a very slowly peeled mandarin.
  • Looking at the real estate listings and imagining myself into my dream home, then daydreaming over how I would decorate it, et cetera (warning: this can be counter-productive sometimes – when there is nothing vaguely nice in your price range, it can lead to feelings such as “Woe, I’ll never have a place to call home”).
  • The anticipation of putting your clothes in the washing machine, waiting for them to wash, hanging them out, waiting for them to dry, then smelling the gorgeousness of dry sunshine and freshly washed cotton.
  • Making this. Then eating it.
  • Listening to the same old music and enjoying it again in a new light.
  • Napping.
  • Plotting enjoyable excursions in the none-too-distant future, such as a trip to the Arts Centre to see Matthew Bourne’s Edward Scissorhands followed by late night coffee and cake at the European Cafe.
  • Imagining what sort of tattoos I will get one day. Something gorgeously feminine, slightly rockabilly, full of rainbow splashes of loveliness. Possibly over my shoulders, like a little cardigan of colour.
  • Snuggling under a blanket, with Sebastian, a puppy or just by myself.
  • Learning more and more about printing techniques, like hot foil stamping, and figuring out that things I thought were impossible are actually quite easy.
  • Playing Age of Empires II.
  • Eating things that stain my mouth and lips, like raspberries or blue icy poles.
  • Normal kisses, eskimo kisses, butterfly kisses, toe-curling kisses, sleepy kisses, hungry kisses, polite kisses, stealth kisses, lift-me-off-the-ground-and-twirl-me-around kisses, and hugs too.
  • Watching the reflected half-light dancing like the northern lights through the blinds onto Sebastian’s wall before I get out of bed.
  • Planning my first ever business trip (!) to Adelaide.
  • The warmth of falling asleep in the arms of someone you love dearly.

The last one seems particularly nice right now; it’s a bit cold. I think I’ll jump into bed now, and wait for Sebastian to come home.

By September

I do this every year, I know, but it seems particularly pertinent now. Things have to change, otherwise I’m out of the game. In September, I’ll be 21… officially grown-up in a much more mature way than being 20. I want things to be different when I am 21. So, a list: things I will do, and things I won’t. More for my own sanity than yours, so ignore if you were looking for something entertaining.

  • I will have a home of my own, decorated as I like. I will feel safe and happy there; it will be clean, ordered, beautiful, and a nice place to come back to. I won’t allow myself to hide in it – it will be my temple, my salon, rather than my cave. If I want to cry, I can cry; but I will cry in a beautiful bedroom, between crisp sheets, rather than isolating and cloistering myself in a toxic environment away from the things that could make me feel better.
  • I will take care of myself. I will make myself take my medication, wake up in the morning, go for walks, wash my clothes, eat regularly.. all the things that I currently let slip when I am feeling like rubbish.
  • I will get some sort of pet. As much as I would love a puppy, I think it may be difficult finding a place to live that would let me have one. So, even a goldfish or a canary. Just something that depends on me for its existence, something to love and take care of.
  • I won’t let negative influences touch me; whether it is taking a job that I know is too much for me, or answering phone calls from people I don’t particularly want to speak to.
  • I will base my opinion of myself on what I want to be, rather than what other people want me to be.
  • I will wear pretty dresses, try interesting recipes, listen to beautiful music, watch soul-moving films, tell Sebastian what he is to me, draw, paint and sing every single day.
  • I will make Violonjello brilliant; I will work on designing and marketing every single day to help it grow into something small into something big and exciting.
  • I will find a job that I enjoy and work enough hours to sustain myself and save a little; I will not work full time just because my parents think I should. I have no dependents, I do not have kids; there is no reason why I should sacrifice my sanity for a couple of extra bucks.
  • I will stop apologizing for myself unless I have actually done something wrong. My existence is not something that needs to be apologized for.
  • I will be happy.

Orphanage

I suppose if you don’t really have a family, you just have to make one. In my case, my family probably consists of Sebastian, Elle and my dog Xiao-Gui.. the people I feel most comfortable with, who I share mostly everything with, who I know I can trust. Even though my ‘real family’ are pretty much a total waste of time, I suppose I should be glad that I have any sort of family.

Have had a little bit of a breakthrough with Violonjello. I have decided to sell on Etsy; it seems like it would be just to complicated and expensive at this point in time to organize e-commerce, ssl, credit card processing et cetera for my website. I would rather just get things moving and go out on my own later on. So, my main project now is actually to get enough money together to order supplies and start producing things! It’s a little bit exciting, but on my income (i.e. $0), it may take a little while.

Tonight I’m making risotto for Sebastian’s family. Very nervous; I’m doing this (along with cleaning and other things) as a sort of ‘repayment’ for them letting me stay here. My plan for the risotto is just the traditional Milanese way (parmesan, pepper, saffron, butter, et cetera) with some finely chopped pumpkin and some wilted spinach leaves. Or I might make a sort of salad with the spinach leaves, and maybe a crushed tomato vinaigrette , I’m not sure yet. I hope I can decide before I have to make it..

It is strange being here. There is so much tension in this house already; I feel like I just make it a million times worse. Sometimes I get this overwhelming urge to just leave – I just want to go home. But where is home? I suppose it’s here for the moment. I just want so badly to have a little place of my own. Where nobody is allowed except me, unless I invite them in. A place that I can decorate as I like, and indulge in my secret single behavior (i.e. eating toast over the sink so I don’t have to wash a plate, flicking my head around like a helicopter after towel drying my hair, taking off my bra while lying on the couch watching television). I’m not very good at being at ease with people; being surrounded by people constantly is stressful.

Enough.. I’m still sitting in my pajamas, because all my clothes (all the ones I brought with me) are hanging on the line, wet. Maybe they’ll be dry, but in any case, I should probably start this risotto.

Private Things

I’ve heard through the grapevine that there are people I know in real life who are reading this without being invited; perhaps I should password-protect everything? I don’t think so, then I’d be driving away potential kindred spirits who I don’t know yet.

However, last post needed a password. There are certain things I don’t want to tell people unless they’re sure they can deal with it. Certain people I know can’t deal with it, and even if they ask, no password for them. But if you’d like to read, email me at just_like_marie_antoinette[at]hotmail.com[dot]com and we’ll see about this password.

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Boys Are Stupid

Throw rocks at them.

I am shocked and amazed at how stupid two people are: a) my misguided, egotistical former paramour, and b) his spineless idiot hate-mongering droog.

Conclusion: If I hadn’t already discovered one of the few rare and precious individuals from the other sex, I would seriously consider lesbianism.

My Crush

“Ewww! Elle, you’ve got all these little white dots under your eyes! You have huge dark circles under your eyes, and lots of tiny little white dots. Oh, Rose, you have them too… ewww!” – our mother, this morning

I wish I was a golden child; I wish I was one of those children whose parents can’t stop bragging about them, who want to do everything they can to ensure their child’s happiness. There were a lot of horrible little comments flying around at my Aunt’s estate over Easter, mostly from my mother and aunt to me. About my looks, my weight, my personality, my work prospects, my goals, everything. I hate it that my own mother actually thinks I’m a disappointment, and isn’t afraid to let me know it. It’s just so encouraging..

Sebastian, on the other hand, is encouraging beyond belief. I have such a crush on my boyfriend; he is amazing. After everything that has happened recently, I had no idea that a person could be so supportive and absolutely loving. He is the best. The best.

Why am I posting this?.. Shouldn’t I be shouting how wonderful he is from the rooftops?

Easter Schmeaster

Thank you for all the concern last post; it wasn’t very nice at all, but at least he has taken the blog down so no more people can read it. I could take legal advice, and what a laugh that would be, but it would be much much more trouble than he is worth.

It’s Easter… for somebody who is not Christian, what a lacklustre affair. Good Friday started at Sebastian’s house, spending the day “pottering around”. At lunchtime we decided that a steak and onion pie (for him) and a toasted ham and cheese sandwich for me sounded ideal, but were greeted by protest! “You can’t eat meat on Good Friday?” Sebastian’s Mum, Dad, Grandmother and other assorted guests asserted.
“Why?” we asked, munching on sandwich and pie.
They could not remember or figure out a symbolic or logical reason why we were not allowed, so we kept eating, despite being told by everybody that we were going to hell. Well at least we won’t get cold.

I also found a particularly brilliant website; Offbeat Bride. It’s a companion blog to a book by Ariel Meadow Stallings, which I will definitely have to buy. Basically the blog offers advice as well as photos of people’s non-traditional weddings. For someone who has been quite gamophobic in the past, it somehow introduces “getting married” more gently into my demographic. I have always, always been more than a bit scared of getting married*… only in very recent times have I been able to stomach the fact that I may want to one day. Seeing people wearing leopard print shrugs, having Lego bride and groom cake toppers, or even having an astronaut wedding… it seems more like something I would do if I got married than the standard formulaic wedding. I also love reading Etiquette Grrls, and I love figuring out ways that you could have a brilliantly unique wedding while still adhering to other social niceties. One section of Offbeat Bride is called “Wedding Porn”, and I just drool over all of it. Even Sebastian does.

Moving soon. There are home issues and money issues too big to be mentioned, but it looks like I will be out all by my lonesome. There are some very lovely places and some absolute dog-boxes – there is one in particular that I have my heart set on though (yes, I know it’s a bad thing and I’ll just end up disappointed, but I can’t help it!). A two bedroom flat with polished floorboards (essential!), leafy surroundings, gas cooking (also essential!) that is walking distance from the CBD of my town, thus easy public transport**. Sebastian is facing an absolute storage crisis at the moment, so it will be very easy for him to store stuff at my new digs. Excitement – it’s incredibly stressful, and due to some other things going on, it won’t be smooth sailing or easy by any strenth of the imagination. But it has to happen, and everything will feel better when it is done.

So, Easter Sunday tomorrow.. or the day I always referred to simply as ‘Easter’. I got chocolate on that day, so it was really the only one that I would remember. It just feels like such a non-event of a holiday; after the masses of chocolate I have consumed to console myself in recent times, the taste triggers memories that I am trying hard to suppress right now. Woe. ‘Easter’ when I was little was so much more fun; we would get slippers along with all the usual eggs and stuff. Functionality! Colder weather is starting to set in, so who even needs an excuse to get their child a pair of slippers? Ours all came at Easter, lined up at our places at the kitchen table, and filled with chocolate that spilt out over the placemats that we had made. One year I got a pair of slippers that, for some unfathomable reason, were simply the best. I couldn’t get enough of them, and thought they were the most beautiful things I had ever seen. I even wanted to wear them out and about. Looking back, they were actually kind of hideous – little velvety slippers with a print of pastel patchwork, pale pink fluffy lining and hot pink rubber soles. No slippers this year… I think I’ll be waiting a very long to buy anything like that now.

*Famous childhood quote -

“Don’t you want to get married and have children of your own one day?” (My Mum)
“I don’t want to waste my life. I have better things to do than clean up after other people.” (5 year old me)

** I don’t even have my learner’s permit, despite being twenty. And a half.

I Hate Everything!

I shouldn’t be letting this hurt. Six months after the fact, this shouldn’t be getting to me. The opinions of people who mean very little to me shouldn’t have any sway on my state of mind. Why has this hurt me so much then?

Last post I wrote a brief paragraph on the discovery of a slander blog by Lucien – it seems that he had intentions of blogging simply to get his feelings out, but the comments received ended up turning the whole thing into a bitch-fest. I feel angry, hurt, sad, sick and I still can’t believe it all – even conversations that I had on MSN have been copied and pasted for all to read. It appears that conversations I had with my own sister were promptly relayed to Lucien, simply to provide more fuel for the fire. Seeing as he has no qualms about quoting people without their permission, I suppose I’ll share with you some of my favourite snippets – written by Lucien and his droogs. Yes, this is unethical, but this hardly compares to the essay of hate he and his friends have written.

Seriously, i didn’t realise how used to her fringe I was until i saw her without it, it was all i could do not to gape at the size of her forehead. (Lucien)
She just looked like anyone else, and an overweight someone else at that, particularly in her face around her chin. (Lucien)

HUZZAH for making the dumb slut sad. (A supporter)

What makes someone like me, a self confident 24 year old soon-to-be lawyer with the world opening up at his doorstep, bend over backwards to accomodate a childish, impulsive, selfish girl with a penchant for self-delusion? (Lucien)

The worst was a poll down the bottom of the page, asking “If Rose said she wanted Lucien back, your advice would be…”. The most popular response was “Don’t take her back, you could do better.” I can’t believe that he could be this cruel. Everybody who commented has disguised themselves with pseudonyms, but there are hints as to who they are. People who pretended to be my friends. People who told me wholeheartedly that they didn’t want to get involved on either side. People who let me cry on their shoulder before forwarding everything I said to the enemy camp.

I feel utterly betrayed and detested. I never publicized some of the less savory things he did and said to me and I still won’t, but now I wonder how things would have panned out if I had have launched an offensive like his. Break-ups are so hard and there is so much hurt in them without everybody else in the world getting involved. I am not the only one to blame… I just have a touch more class than to throw all the dirty details (tainted by more than a touch of bias and spite) out there for everybody to dissect.

This little discovery, combined with everything else that has been happening lately, is a bit too much to bear. Yes, it’s not even 7pm, but I think it might be drug-induced bedtime.

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