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Ah sweet sleep
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Feb 1, 2007 3:20 am
695 Views
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I have spent the past four days sleeping off the month. It's one of those things I have to do with the pace my life tends to take. So don't mind me if you're hearing bog-all. I'll return once my brain is back up to speed.
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Meow
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Jan 29, 2007 2:37 am
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'nuff said I think! There are much better photos out there which I'm still waiting for the pro-photographer to put up. Also a few photos which were apparently turning out brilliantly until I realised they were being taken and I blew it. But such is the nature of these things!
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Woot *yawn*
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Jan 28, 2007 12:53 am
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Ball was done, lots of pretty costumes and me feeling weird as being introduced as the person who came up with the idea - thus treatment like a minor celebrity. More awkward than I thought it would be but at least I didn't have to make a smeggin' speech. Still, much fun and pictures were indeed taken. When the pro-photographer gets them done I'll post one up.
It felt a bit weird to be honest. I went there fully intending on getting my flirt on and being freaky. I even chatted with the gorgeous gingerhaired fellow from Newcastle every woman at the ball has been secretly admiring from afar for three years. He waited for a kiss. I couldn't give it to him - completely totally wimped out at the last minute in a way that literally shocked me as I walked away. I loved the dress, I loved my mask, people were brilliant and charming to me, but I just wasn't feeling it. My sexual energy is just utterly nonexistent. I've even considered shutting down my profile here, the Dark Tribe, everything. It's just so much fucking effort, and everyone wants a shag at the end. I'd rather get some sleep. And of course because everyone is so focussed upon sex as the most important thing in the universe for some reason, I'm even more a freak of nature than I was before.
Maybe I'm just tired. Dunno.
Off for a bath, a bit of late breakfast, then I'll putter round the house for a bit (a very SLOW putter, paracetamol isn't very effective for fibro pain), and unpack my stuff.
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Everything I Know About Being a Girl I Learned from Drag-Queens
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Jan 26, 2007 1:59 am
812 Views
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I'm a card carrying fag hag, and I don't blush about it. From my gay uncle who died last year, to very flaming queens or the butch bears, to peformance Drag Queens, I'm there. While I'm packing and preening this morning, I'm remembering all the tips I was given over the years by men who seem to know more about being women than women for some reason:
1) No good queen goes anywhere without the Drag Bag - costumes, false eyelashes, nails, lippy and other accoutrements. You never know when you'll need to make some last minute repairs to yourself or your costume, so be prepared.
2) Plan as if you're going to be in bed with someone that evening, so trim those nails, exfoliate, and shave above the knee.
3) Slutty may get you noticed, but only elegance will get respect.
4) If you're over 30, don't dress like you're under 20. If you're under 20, don't dress like you're over 30.
5) Gold lame only works on certain people - and chances are it isn't you, honey.
6) Any outfit is only as good as the shoes you wear with it.
7) Only drag queens can get away with bright blue eye shadow, darling...and that's because we expect to get laughed at.
8 ) There's a difference between smoky eyes and looking like you've been hit in the eyes with lumps of coal. When in doubt, less is more.
9 )Shower before you bathe, and moisturise before you dry off.
10) Confidence is the best parfum, makeup, outfit, and aphrodisiac. If you feel fabulous, you look fabulous - so never leave the house until you get to that point.
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Curves never went out of style
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Jan 21, 2007 9:08 am
818 Views
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I've been doing loads of rubbish this week; most of it is very unsexy and just takin' care of business. I seem to have no time for anything these days but cleaning, trying to get job things sorted, figure out how to get myself right to land something boring and soul destroying, this thing called a "real job", and how to stay sane while surrounded by people who think watching Big Brother and talking about their diets is the only way to spend a day. And of course my son takes big priority there too. I'm still doing jewelry, I'm still trying to keep some creativity in my life. There's so much I want to do, and so little time to do it. It's like mundane life is interfering with me in some fundamental way. It's beyond frustrating - there's no way for me to write about it which will make any kind of sense, so I don't write at all lately.
About the only bright spot I've had is getting the measurements for this ballgown. It's a long process, but it's coming together. I'm spending a stupid amount of cash on this dress and corset, but as most people in the kink lifestyle have entire wardrobes dedicated to their fetishes, I shouldn't be so apologetic. This is my one big hurrah, when Badkitty gets to play. And considering how utterly unsexy and apathetic I am to meeting anyone lately, I'm just trying to gather up the scraps of my enthusiasm and nurture them until Friday.
The seamstress is very competent - she knows things about the fold and drape of fabric, as if she was reading and translating some kind of secret text. I have no idea what she's seeing when she pins, tucks, scribbles on calico. But all that pinning, darting, humming and cursing under her breath in Afrikaans seems to be working, because this dress is going to ROCK. I've gone on for sizing and resizing, and we've gone from just something cut from a pattern to something that fits ME specifically. If you ever thought custom made clothing was just a bunch of bullshit - let me tell you, you're wrong. Truly, seriously, completely wrong. Get one piece of clothing made for you by a competent seamstress or tailor, and you'll see what I mean.
Finally, when I tell someone my breasts really ARE that large, and my waist really IS that small when corsetted, I don't get pooh poohed and reassured. She actually screwed the mockup corset up in a big way the first time because she undercompensated. Everyone does - her eyes nearly popped out as much as my boobage when she saw how badly the fit was on the corset. I'm not sure whether I should be gratified or embarassed that I've got the biggest bust she's ever tried to corset. Big titties ain't all that when you can't ever find clothes that fit, boys. And gravity isn't so kind, either. But she's done the changes and corrections and good goddamn, you'd never think a bit of fabric sewn together would fit so well!
Now, sure I could put a big dress on and go to the ball. Sure, put all fat chicks in rich fabric with as much elegance as a potato sack and that's what we're supposed to be happy with? I don't think so. She's pinning and tucking the hell out of this black satin, accenting the hourglass shape I have until you'd have to knock your own eyes out of the head to miss it. Add a train, the interior fitted with purple brocade - it will flare out into dramatic colour when I walk down a hallway - and we're talking some wow-factor. I can't even tell you why it looks better than something I could buy off the rack for a fraction of what I'm paying, but it does. It just does.
All the while this woman is doing her pinning, tucking, and cursing, she's enthusing about my shape. "Have you seen Queen Latifah in Chicago?" she pipes up round the pins in her mouth? "My god that woman is just gorgeous! Her shape is divine, she's so lush. Women in this country have no curves - they hide in their clothing, because society tells them all big women are just lumps. You're going to soooo prove otherwise in this outfit, my dear. Knock them dead with this on the ball.
"I don't know who does the fashion mags these days, but trust me, curves never went out of style."
So here I am, with my hair a mess, trying to get my mask put together, and waiting for my still-lurgy infected lungs to clear enough for me to work on my choker. I've got a job interview and an autism assessment to sit through this week, lashings of cleaning and organising and one more fitting on Wed. night. I'm looking at my savings account and wincing as I'm going to have to use that AND my credit card to afford all this going out rubbish. I'm sighing apologetically at my inbox, at contacts and correspondence because my brain is going so many different directions at the moment I have no time to write, hardly any time to think, and meeting anyone for anything is too much energy output.
Saving up my energy right now...saving it up to lace myself up in black satin, to zip up, to clasp on those backseam stockings, put on that mask and Be Someone Else for a change, someone who isn't tired and strung out and exhausted more often that not and just let badkitty Tear. Some. Shit. Up.
So I'll see you after all that.
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Eventually
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Jan 19, 2007 4:05 am
795 Views
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I'll get a decent update in here at some point. This week however is way too manic as I've got another job interview, the beginning of a huge battery of autism assessments for the Archfluke, and the masked ball, of which I am nowhere NEAR prepared for (dress won't be done till that day, had to re order a mask, haven't finished my choker due to being sick and so on).
Off tonight for another fitting session, then yet another on Sunday, need to get a retainer for my piercing...and about 15 other things I'm forgetting. But thanks to everyone for the props and the love. When (hell, IF) things slow down I'll try and catch up with y'all.
Catch ya on th'flip.
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Beyond gutted
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Jan 18, 2007 1:36 am
922 Views
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I didn't get the second interview - it was determined they need someone with more retail experience than I had. Rather jars with the "you don't need experience, only enthusiasm" I've been fed. Gutted isn't the word.
No idea what I'm going to do now, other than take out the piercings, make my hair look as white-acceptable as possible and put on my vacant, mundaneface.
I'd rather slit my wrists to be honest.
Whinge, moan and bitch.
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Blah
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Jan 16, 2007 10:07 am
918 Views
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I am still sick and therefore have nothing brilliant to say.
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Blargh
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Jan 14, 2007 12:18 pm
967 Views
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Had an attack of Something Incredibly Nasty on Saturday morning which had me delirious and hallucinating and running a fever around 40 or so. It was over by late this afternoon. No idea what it was but it sucked. And now it seems the ex and Sprog has succumbed, so I hope it does its business and moves on as quickly as it did for me.
In the space of 48 hours I've had to blow off a meet, postpone a piece of jewelry, reschedule a fitting for my ballgown, and put off all my house maintenance. Colour me unimpressed.
But I'm feeling more or less all right now so I need to take the week by the balls and twist the fuckers in order to get back on track.
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"You can't stamp out individuality - there's too many of us." - Cyndi Lauper
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Jan 12, 2007 12:04 am
1079 Views
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A friend of mine who I love and admire dances to a very different drum; in Orange County of all places, where looking anything other than Barbie will have you ostracised. She goes through a lot of hell, but asking her to change would be roughly equivalent to asking her "Hey, stop being YOU, will you? It's embarassing us."
She and I have both loved the hell out of Cyndi Lauper. She reminded me of the video of Cyndi's where she meets her date in a diner; Cyndi bops in with that bright, cherubic smile of hers, sits down, and takes off her hat; she's got wild red/orange hair. Her date reacts with disgust and everyone in the diner starts to point and sneer. The smile she was wearing slowly fades from her face - all her happiness gone, that childlike happy smile disappearing. I've seen that on the faces of so many children. Apparently this was something my mum hated my father for; but it wasn't just dear old dad who took the smile off my face - her raging born again Christianity had something to do with it, the rampant racism in school certainly didn't help. School wasn't safe, home wasn't safe.
Where else was I supposed to go, but into my mind, and beyond? Honestly, I wish people would do it more, the brain's imagination is a playground. I wish it was more appreciated, rather than spurned. Daydreaming is considered lame and irresponsible...but all the art and music of the world, all the books, all the paintings, was created by someone whose way of working was staring off into space for a few hours a day.
Yes, being "different" is supposedly okay. But it isn't really. It really irks me sometimes watching my son's movies with him, they always make this big point about the character who is different and how it's ok even when he/she is getting teased because sooner or later everyone accepts them and they end up being with the boy/girl/penguin they always wanted to be with. But it isn't true. People still point, laugh, sneer, throw rocks or worse. Still asked to "tone down", "oh you'd look so much better without all that stuff in your face/hairdye/weird clothes/lose some weight". The different-is-okay message seems to be bullshit.
Cyndi has gone blonde and elegant now, more "acceptable". It's been said she's sold out. Maybe she just got tired of the bullshit. Maybe she just knows how to age gracefully, because she still looks unique and freaky if you know what you're looking for, and she's 50 now. She's still dyeing her hair, though it's a uniform blonde now. You can see where the "weird" is, if you're looking for it, it's just stealth weird.
I can relate. I don't do the triple tone hair so much anymore; it's a bitch to try and keep up on when you've got a toddler. I stopped wanting to be an exhibit of weird ages ago because after about a decade, you get tired of trying to swim upstream in a raging river. But the weird is still there, the different is still there, if you're looking for it.
If there's anything I want to teach my boy, it's difference-by-example. He doesn't need to "rebel" by wearing weird stuff solely because he wants to get a reaction, and he doesn't need to sell out in order to get the job done and blend in with the rest of the mundanes. That's a difficult balance. But being a free spirit shouldn't be something that is idealistically praised, but realistically shunned.
All this introspective shit could all be a rationalisation for wanting new dreads installed, however.
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To link to this blog (OyaD) use [blog OyaD] in your messages.
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