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Month: January 2013

Sentiment

Sentiment

I’m biking to uni – people get mad at me when I say school and also when I say uni, so really, it doesn’t matter – and it’s frost-on-your-snood cold. Today is the day of my last lecture. Also, I have to do a presentation on Gender in a Renaissance poem. I love the subject, I hate the talking.

There are only six people: those that have to present. Last lecture means last lecture of the course as well, one that most of my lazy classmates won’t get out of bed for at 9 in the morning. I wouldn’t too, if it hadn’t been My Most Sentimental Lecture Ever. The course is taught by the professor that also gave me my first lecture while studying English literature, I was then scared of him because he knows so much, now I really respect him. And his grandpa-beanie.

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Blue (fiction, short story)

Blue (fiction, short story)

Max

Is it strange that I want to touch  her? To make sure it’s not some sort of mistake? Everything feels so unreal. I will never know what ended her that afternoon, her love for him or his misuse of it. I am lying in bed now and I’m not sure if it’s worth it for me to ever come out again.

And as my family collapsed into a form of togetherness the next morning, I felt I could not be sad with them. I think the mourning part was already half way for me, and I had perhaps come into a state of acceptance, or blank realization. Psychologically, my sister had probably died a few weeks ago, and it had nothing to do with the condition of her pale blue body today.

The idiotic thing is that people actually ask me really intense questions about her and who she was and who he was. I think they want to know more about that day but what do I know? I overheard a few girls talking at uni today, it went something like this:

–           What reasons could she have, to kill herself?!

–           But did she really kill herself then?

And a third one said:

–   Isn’t it impossible to drown yourself?

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Curvy

Curvy

This bugs me: agencies looking for curvy models, and when I reply with ‘how curvy?’, they respond with ‘hips 90+’. What they really mean is: hips about 93cm. How in the world are we to set ‘normal’ or a variety of different body images with people like this ruling the fashion industry?

I am supposed to be a curvy model. ‘Curvy’ in this industry apparently just means anything above breast 80- waist 60- hips 88 cm (the new fashion measurements) and anything below the plus size measurements (starting at a Dutch size 42 or UK size 14). And these curvy gals are not yet in season because they do not belong to a ‘body extreme’.

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Community

Community

I just realised something: I live in a gigantic creative discours. If we would do the Andy Warhol/Edie Sedgwick kind of community, we would be enormous, living everywhere together, observing a thousand visions!

I may have watched too many episodes of Gossip Girl, but honestly, I think we can do better. There’s two girls active in creative management/branding, whether this is fashion or corporate, with boyfriends who are either socialites with full calendars and access to any party or model boys who actually VJ at such parties. Then there’s a whole bunch of Art School creatives, working on film, photography (lots and lots of photographers), applied arts, graphic design, anything! They hang with art directing’ girlfriends and boyfriends who are behind the scenes at indie festivals. The model friends own the networking game and know their way around, basically everywhere, while graduating at uni on subjects like economics and design.

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January

January

Good morning Upper East Siders, I’ve watched too many episodes of Gossip Girl, ate too much ice cream and pizza, received dozens of Christmas presents and now it’s 2013. Weight of the world: back on. Pressure of making this the best year so far: not so much. I’ve grown more optimistic through the years, thinking that this year might be exactly such a succesful year as 2012 was for me, personally. Of course, there are the things that never change, such as:

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