Despite never having been a complete devotee of vintage fashion, I’ve been obsessed with collecting photos from 20s-50s magazine shoots (and of vintage clothes, etc) for about 2 years, and I love Jean Patchett.

And looking at this beautiful woman with her porcelain pixie face and tiny waist (which is even more evident in other photos of her) made me think of one of my favourite quotes.

"Humor keeps us alive. Humor and food. Don't forget food. You can go a week without laughing."
— Joss Whedon

I like to think that in this case Joss (the master of all things) was wrong and Patchett lived on humour. I don’t want to think that she’s that thin because she felt she had to be. I was about to say I’m ever the optimist, but that’s certainly not true...


There. I tied together two things I like. How d'you like them apples?


Over and out.

I’ve been sitting here all day with the intention of getting something done – Chemistry notes open in front of me, clothes to be mended hanging behind me, a blue skirt to be made into an ‘Alice in Wonderland’ costume on the floor – but instead all I’ve done is overeat (so I now feel too crappy to do anything, anyway) and sit with my blog open for hours, wishing I had something of interest to say. I haven’t felt this unmotivated for at least three months.

I thought things were changing! I’ve been really getting into swing dancing now, I’ve been juggling lots of jobs and Uni without imploding (not to say I haven’t been stressed of late, but at this time of year, stress is really the norm for me). I really thought that getting into this new rhythm was going to fix all the things I was unhappy with. Oh, the naïveté of youth! Still so much to learn...

See, the thing is, I recognised most of my problems. I thought that by acknowledging things, I could work towards fixing them. Perhaps I am getting there, but thus far I’m yet to see results. In a Facebook note just over a year ago, I said:
“…the next lesson I want to learn is to do things without needing to know how they’re going to turn out. I’m still as afraid as ever to take a chance or embarrass myself; to have people judge me for not being stronger or more responsible.”
“many moons ago, I referred to the Frou Frou song “Let Go” and said that “I see the "beauty in the breakdown"”. I maintain that this is true. Now what I have to get down is the “Let go” part.”
With that realisation, I thought, ‘Shit! This is the turning point.’ Ha-ha-ha. How wrong I was.

If you haven’t closed the browser tab in frustration, sick of my angsty bullshit, I applaud your patience. You're certainly more patient than me. Perhaps I should resolve to only write constructive things on this blog. Not to whinge about my life, but to talk about the things I’m happy with, or how to change things so that I can be happy with them.
Okay…GO!
…Let’s see how long it holds.

With that, I will say that I’m glad about getting into swing as much as I have now. I always cursed my mother for pulling me out of dancing when I was young (though I can’t imagine the idea of hand-sewing 1000s of sequins onto my leotard, one-by-one, was particularly attractive to her) and used my age (“I’m too old to get good now!”) as an excuse for being too lazy to start dancing when the choice was mine to make, but ‘Doggone, I’ve done it!! I’ve fallen in love!’…with swing dancing.

If anyone happens to stumble across this blog for some obscure reason, I will now give a little plug to the Swing Sesh in the hopes that it (or another swing dancing school, depending on where you live) brings a little extra joy into your life as it did mine.

Good evening, Blogger!

My very first post. Interesting.

I've come here from my other, unread blog, hosted by livejournal. Livejournal just wasn't doing it for me, and at least here I can follow blogs I like.

I really can't think of anything substantial to say, nor do I think I ever will; but this page is here, like my livejournal, for me to write self-indulgent wank when I need to put some thoughts to 'paper'.

And here I leave you with my favourite poem by Emily Dickinson, and the namesake of this journal:
"Much madness is divinest sense
To a discerning eye;
Much sense the starkest madness.
’T is the majority
In this, as all, prevails.
Assent, and you are sane;
Demur,—you ’re straightway dangerous,
And handled with a chain."