PICS
and.... GO!
Not only did I get my driver's license today:
(yes, I had to be 30 before I got it (better late than never) and yes, I realize I look like a complete dork. I was aiming at "respectable".)
... but also this super awesome project I am modestly speaking of is going into the final phase!
If you want to support my work, get rewards (that are nothing to sneeze at) and receive two new collections suiting men and plus size girls, then click here:
Not only did I get my driver's license today:
(yes, I had to be 30 before I got it (better late than never) and yes, I realize I look like a complete dork. I was aiming at "respectable".)
... but also this super awesome project I am modestly speaking of is going into the final phase!
If you want to support my work, get rewards (that are nothing to sneeze at) and receive two new collections suiting men and plus size girls, then click here:
By the way, I passed both the written and the driving test very well. Which I'm proud of because I worked hard at it. I didn't really have a second chance with it, not only due to finances but also because tomorrow, Eric and I are debarking on a new kind of journey and our only little vacation: A road trip down to switzerland to see Eric work on the steam train in our brand new (old) Scirocco from 1984:
(I'm certain better pictures will be shot when we set off tomorrow. 
)
All in all: So busy, so happy, tons of things to do and happening, as usual! New pictures I shot will follow after our couple days off. Now go and support!
♥
Welcome To Gutterpunk Journalism
"I love that, but I don't think it would look good in my size..."
"I really wish you did menswear!"
I hear both a lot. With your help, both is possible.
I have created a startnext project to create two brand new collections:
1. A plus size line for girls with boobs and butt
2. A line of solid, wearable menswear
Link German
Link English
Currently we are in the start phase, in which there is no financing yet, but the need to gather "fans" in order to be eligible for the next phase. As fan you have no obligation to finance later on but can, of course, if you wish!
While I have always strived to make clear that I do not wish to exclude anybody from wearing Anthracite based on their sex, gender or body type, I do realize it may be hard to imagine oneself in it when it differs from what is shown in the product images. And that simply giving the option to state one's measurements (boy or girl) on every item might not be enough.
I have been wanting to do this forever, but considering the magnitude of the projects it has always held a waiting position due to lack of time and funds. But with the help of you and your friends, it's doable!
I cannot stress how important positive body image is for me. Those who are in contact with me on social network sites might now that I do what I can to promote feeling good about yourself and speaking up when others are discriminated against due to their size, sex or orientation.
Creating these two collections is a project which is very dear to me and which is, truthfully, for you guys and everyone. I want to promote a variety of body types and, frankly, shoot more pictures of Piper.
Because she's the one I'll ask to be my model once this has worked!
♥
"I love that, but I don't think it would look good in my size..."
"I really wish you did menswear!"
I hear both a lot. With your help, both is possible.
I have created a startnext project to create two brand new collections:
1. A plus size line for girls with boobs and butt
2. A line of solid, wearable menswear
Link German
Link English
Currently we are in the start phase, in which there is no financing yet, but the need to gather "fans" in order to be eligible for the next phase. As fan you have no obligation to finance later on but can, of course, if you wish!
While I have always strived to make clear that I do not wish to exclude anybody from wearing Anthracite based on their sex, gender or body type, I do realize it may be hard to imagine oneself in it when it differs from what is shown in the product images. And that simply giving the option to state one's measurements (boy or girl) on every item might not be enough.
I have been wanting to do this forever, but considering the magnitude of the projects it has always held a waiting position due to lack of time and funds. But with the help of you and your friends, it's doable!
I cannot stress how important positive body image is for me. Those who are in contact with me on social network sites might now that I do what I can to promote feeling good about yourself and speaking up when others are discriminated against due to their size, sex or orientation.
Creating these two collections is a project which is very dear to me and which is, truthfully, for you guys and everyone. I want to promote a variety of body types and, frankly, shoot more pictures of Piper.
Because she's the one I'll ask to be my model once this has worked!
♥
Welcome To Gutterpunk Journalism
Dull throbbing ache. Aching dull throb. Throbbing aching dullness. That about sums up my feelings about Stu's death by now. I've stopped grinding my teeth but I still have nightmares.
I can only thank you guys again and again for all the kind words and overwhelming love and sympathies, thank you for sharing your thoughts and your own stories.
I need to post about other things again since every new comment or every click on my profile brings everything back and even though I feel guilty about his death and now guilty about "moving on" and startling myself in moments in which I haven't thought about him, which makes me feel even more guilty, I just need to actively seek other things to post about, and thus other things to think about.
Taye was here and will return after her travels around Europe. We had a great time, she's a wonderful guest. We drink wine and talk about fashion and photography and men. It's perfect!
We are planning a collaboration of sorts, and even if it's only a few snapshots, I know it will be magnificent.
Otherwise, I'm a horrible tour guide, but I provide her a couch and some bullies. This is Horace waking her up:
(And with that, Stu's deathbed isn't the most recent photo in the My Babies Album. It's guilty relief, relief, guilt, relief.)
Horace constantly forgot we had a guest and barked at her when she returned from her nightly escapades. Because, you know. OMG A BURGLAR! Then he realized who she was ( OMG the nice friendly dog voice cuddly woman!) and wanted to be her best friend again.
Eric needed some pictures, If you know what I mean. Here are some that are kind of work safe:
And I'm hardly ever excited about hopefuls (or SGs anymore... actually, I'm just rarely excited about models, period) but recently, there were two which I find really appealing:
Macabra
and RazorCandi:
I'll have to keep an eye on those two.
Ok, that's all for now. 10 days until Eric is back for two months! ♥
Dull throbbing ache. Aching dull throb. Throbbing aching dullness. That about sums up my feelings about Stu's death by now. I've stopped grinding my teeth but I still have nightmares.
I can only thank you guys again and again for all the kind words and overwhelming love and sympathies, thank you for sharing your thoughts and your own stories.
I need to post about other things again since every new comment or every click on my profile brings everything back and even though I feel guilty about his death and now guilty about "moving on" and startling myself in moments in which I haven't thought about him, which makes me feel even more guilty, I just need to actively seek other things to post about, and thus other things to think about.
Taye was here and will return after her travels around Europe. We had a great time, she's a wonderful guest. We drink wine and talk about fashion and photography and men. It's perfect!
We are planning a collaboration of sorts, and even if it's only a few snapshots, I know it will be magnificent.
Otherwise, I'm a horrible tour guide, but I provide her a couch and some bullies. This is Horace waking her up:
(And with that, Stu's deathbed isn't the most recent photo in the My Babies Album. It's guilty relief, relief, guilt, relief.)
Horace constantly forgot we had a guest and barked at her when she returned from her nightly escapades. Because, you know. OMG A BURGLAR! Then he realized who she was ( OMG the nice friendly dog voice cuddly woman!) and wanted to be her best friend again.
Eric needed some pictures, If you know what I mean. Here are some that are kind of work safe:
And I'm hardly ever excited about hopefuls (or SGs anymore... actually, I'm just rarely excited about models, period) but recently, there were two which I find really appealing:
Macabra
and RazorCandi:
I'll have to keep an eye on those two.
Ok, that's all for now. 10 days until Eric is back for two months! ♥
I need to update just so my heart doesn't break again each time I click on my profile and see his last picture.
I'm still not over Stu's death. I have nightmares and my jaws hurt because I relentlessly grind my teeth at night. I talk to him and bring flowers to his grave. I desperately try to unlearn the innumerable habits created by his presence - double checking before opening the window, closing the bathroom door before going out, checking if he has enough food and water, whether he pooped under that one corner of the cage again, if he disassembled the little dog figure with the wobbly head or stole my thimble. He's still everywhere. I stil miss him like crazy.
I'm still not over Stu's death. I have nightmares and my jaws hurt because I relentlessly grind my teeth at night. I talk to him and bring flowers to his grave. I desperately try to unlearn the innumerable habits created by his presence - double checking before opening the window, closing the bathroom door before going out, checking if he has enough food and water, whether he pooped under that one corner of the cage again, if he disassembled the little dog figure with the wobbly head or stole my thimble. He's still everywhere. I stil miss him like crazy.
Stu died yesterday.
I woke up today to total silence. Ordinarily, Stu would sense when I woke up and increase the jumping around in his cage and calling.
I have never had a death affect me like this. I have cried myself into a migraine, a sore throat and nausea and I am typing through a stream of tears. Horace knows something's wrong and tries to be extra goofy and kissy, but for the moment I am inconsolable.
I am inconsolable not only because from the very beginning, when I found him alone on the street, he was fragility and the necessity to be taken care of personified, not only because from the first day, I didn't need an alarm clock because I sensed rather than heard his minute, hungry chirps and woke up to feed him at every hour of the night. Not only because I knew him so well I recognized exactly what every one of his many different songs meant and every little change in body language, and not only because he was with me all the time, jumping around on me, brightening my day, annoying the dogs, being his sweet and boisterous self.
I am inconsolable because it was my fault. Because in essence, I killed him.
It was a household accident and those around me say I'm not to blame, it could have happened to anybody. Right, but it didn't. It happened to me and only because I wasn't careful enough.
It doesn't matter whether that which killed him was a regular thing that was around a lot, I knew it what dangerous and no matter how often he did not choose to engage with it, I shouldn't have relied on that and just taken the time to put it away.
It was my responsibility to take care of this tiny creature, who was so small he easily fit into my lightly closed hand. I should have taken the precautions. And I failed him.
WHY did I use it that day? WHY did I not put it away? WHY did I take the dogs out just then and leave him alone? WHY WAS I NOT THERE TO HELP HIM?
It sounds like a tired old clichee, but I can't explain HOW MUCH I wish I could turn back time, how I wish I could at least hold him one last time, feel his breezy 13g body weight, his cool little feet, hear his affectionate litte sounds and smell his beautiful, warm, powdery scented feathers.
I want him to curl up in the nape of my neck after arranging himself a little nest in my hair just one more time, I want to see his silly little wings puffing out in that infantile "please feed me!" gesture he was actually too old for.
Because he wasn't just some bird.
The first reaction of everyone who met him was an involuntarily large smile when they saw him flying around. When he actually landed on them to check them out, it turned into intense child like wonder and awe, just by the contact to such a wondrous little creature. Wild birds are always all around us but never in close proximity, never with physical contact while the bird is healthy and approaching because he wants to. You could never catch Stu, you could only suggest he come to you. And when he did, even when he did it often, it was almost as though some fairy or little mythical creature had, just due to the rarity of such a precious moment. No one left unchanged by him. Everyone was suddenly silent, careful not to hurt him, amazed, wanting that moment of contact to last.
I visited his grave this morning and was relieved to find it undisturbed, with a dusting of frost.
When I was 13 and buried the baby bird I had brought up by hand, the next morning I went to find him dug up. Not to be eaten, but to be played with, with her body lying a few feet away from her head. I am relieved that this will probably not happen to Stu. And I know he's warm despite the frost because he's lying on his little faux fur bed I made him when he constantly fell asleep on the jacket prototypes and I couldn't find him because he was just a tiny little feathery ball curled up in a mountain of faux fur twenty times bigger than him. He loved his little bed and slept in it every night.
He was a fighter. He was the littlest creature but had the biggest personality. He was afraid of nothing and thought he was bigger than the dogs. He fought to stay alive when I found him as a baby, he fought after Horace once tried to carry him and broke his wing, he fought for that piece of tissue paper you had in your hand and for the cricket you gave him to eat.
The thought of his last battle and my stupid, horrible, unforgivable mistake and utter failure to help him are almost driving me mad. I have never cried when someone around me died because whether human or animal, they were always old. They had lived their lives (or chose to end them themselves) and it was their time. There is nothing wrong with death when it is timely, but he was only 1 and a half. His death was premature and when I found him, I also found the traces of his last fight. He fought to stay alive but just didn't make it. He needed my help and I wasn't there. And I am literally beating myself up over it, I took his little body and held him, I placed him down on the table and wailed and repeatedly slapped my own face, hard, because I had been so stupid, stupid, stupid.
While I was outside with the dogs and taking pictures of them, there was just one moment of intensely warm, lucid sunlight. You can call me crazy for grieving over a bird and you can call me crazy for what I'm about to say, but I know that wasn't just sunlight, it was Stu's ascension.
I debated whether to post the picture of him in his final bed. But I want to remind people of how precious life is. How every little being is precious and full of its own personality. I don't know how to say this without sounding, again, clicheed, but... life is so fleeting! And every being is special and worthy of life, of dignity and unconditional love. SO many animals are in need and helping them is a wonder in itself. Everyone can do something to help an animal, even if it's only one, and will be rewarded with such happiness. Because even if the pain I feel right now is excrutiating, I know it is directly proportionate to the joy I felt every day while he was there.
Of course I sometimes thought: "Oh, if I didn't have the animals, I'd have more money and could go traveling and such." but the worth of what I received from him (and the bullies and all animals I ever had) is immeasurable. And I am so grateful. And everyone could experience this if they just made a tiny little bit of room in their lives for a little creature in need.
I know intellectually that this pain will subside and that another animal will find me to be adopted. But Stu is irreplacable. And he is finally in the park outside my house where he always truly belonged.
Stu, you were such a rockstar. Show all the chickadees in heaven how to deal with those bully dogs. I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I love you.
I woke up today to total silence. Ordinarily, Stu would sense when I woke up and increase the jumping around in his cage and calling.
I have never had a death affect me like this. I have cried myself into a migraine, a sore throat and nausea and I am typing through a stream of tears. Horace knows something's wrong and tries to be extra goofy and kissy, but for the moment I am inconsolable.
I am inconsolable not only because from the very beginning, when I found him alone on the street, he was fragility and the necessity to be taken care of personified, not only because from the first day, I didn't need an alarm clock because I sensed rather than heard his minute, hungry chirps and woke up to feed him at every hour of the night. Not only because I knew him so well I recognized exactly what every one of his many different songs meant and every little change in body language, and not only because he was with me all the time, jumping around on me, brightening my day, annoying the dogs, being his sweet and boisterous self.
I am inconsolable because it was my fault. Because in essence, I killed him.
It was a household accident and those around me say I'm not to blame, it could have happened to anybody. Right, but it didn't. It happened to me and only because I wasn't careful enough.
It doesn't matter whether that which killed him was a regular thing that was around a lot, I knew it what dangerous and no matter how often he did not choose to engage with it, I shouldn't have relied on that and just taken the time to put it away.
It was my responsibility to take care of this tiny creature, who was so small he easily fit into my lightly closed hand. I should have taken the precautions. And I failed him.
WHY did I use it that day? WHY did I not put it away? WHY did I take the dogs out just then and leave him alone? WHY WAS I NOT THERE TO HELP HIM?
It sounds like a tired old clichee, but I can't explain HOW MUCH I wish I could turn back time, how I wish I could at least hold him one last time, feel his breezy 13g body weight, his cool little feet, hear his affectionate litte sounds and smell his beautiful, warm, powdery scented feathers.
I want him to curl up in the nape of my neck after arranging himself a little nest in my hair just one more time, I want to see his silly little wings puffing out in that infantile "please feed me!" gesture he was actually too old for.
Because he wasn't just some bird.
The first reaction of everyone who met him was an involuntarily large smile when they saw him flying around. When he actually landed on them to check them out, it turned into intense child like wonder and awe, just by the contact to such a wondrous little creature. Wild birds are always all around us but never in close proximity, never with physical contact while the bird is healthy and approaching because he wants to. You could never catch Stu, you could only suggest he come to you. And when he did, even when he did it often, it was almost as though some fairy or little mythical creature had, just due to the rarity of such a precious moment. No one left unchanged by him. Everyone was suddenly silent, careful not to hurt him, amazed, wanting that moment of contact to last.
I visited his grave this morning and was relieved to find it undisturbed, with a dusting of frost.
When I was 13 and buried the baby bird I had brought up by hand, the next morning I went to find him dug up. Not to be eaten, but to be played with, with her body lying a few feet away from her head. I am relieved that this will probably not happen to Stu. And I know he's warm despite the frost because he's lying on his little faux fur bed I made him when he constantly fell asleep on the jacket prototypes and I couldn't find him because he was just a tiny little feathery ball curled up in a mountain of faux fur twenty times bigger than him. He loved his little bed and slept in it every night.
He was a fighter. He was the littlest creature but had the biggest personality. He was afraid of nothing and thought he was bigger than the dogs. He fought to stay alive when I found him as a baby, he fought after Horace once tried to carry him and broke his wing, he fought for that piece of tissue paper you had in your hand and for the cricket you gave him to eat.
The thought of his last battle and my stupid, horrible, unforgivable mistake and utter failure to help him are almost driving me mad. I have never cried when someone around me died because whether human or animal, they were always old. They had lived their lives (or chose to end them themselves) and it was their time. There is nothing wrong with death when it is timely, but he was only 1 and a half. His death was premature and when I found him, I also found the traces of his last fight. He fought to stay alive but just didn't make it. He needed my help and I wasn't there. And I am literally beating myself up over it, I took his little body and held him, I placed him down on the table and wailed and repeatedly slapped my own face, hard, because I had been so stupid, stupid, stupid.
While I was outside with the dogs and taking pictures of them, there was just one moment of intensely warm, lucid sunlight. You can call me crazy for grieving over a bird and you can call me crazy for what I'm about to say, but I know that wasn't just sunlight, it was Stu's ascension.
I debated whether to post the picture of him in his final bed. But I want to remind people of how precious life is. How every little being is precious and full of its own personality. I don't know how to say this without sounding, again, clicheed, but... life is so fleeting! And every being is special and worthy of life, of dignity and unconditional love. SO many animals are in need and helping them is a wonder in itself. Everyone can do something to help an animal, even if it's only one, and will be rewarded with such happiness. Because even if the pain I feel right now is excrutiating, I know it is directly proportionate to the joy I felt every day while he was there.
Of course I sometimes thought: "Oh, if I didn't have the animals, I'd have more money and could go traveling and such." but the worth of what I received from him (and the bullies and all animals I ever had) is immeasurable. And I am so grateful. And everyone could experience this if they just made a tiny little bit of room in their lives for a little creature in need.
I know intellectually that this pain will subside and that another animal will find me to be adopted. But Stu is irreplacable. And he is finally in the park outside my house where he always truly belonged.
Stu, you were such a rockstar. Show all the chickadees in heaven how to deal with those bully dogs. I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I love you.
Welcome To Gutterpunk Journalism
I'm living such a weird sexuality these days. It all revolves around Eric - when he's there, I can't contain myself and when he's not, which is most of the time, my entire sexuality is dormant.
I sometimes see people who I rationally recognize as attractive and my usual prey pattern. And it does nothing for me. I can look at them but it doesn't translate. For the first time in my life, sex is not important to me, and only because it's become so pointedly important to me. Because it only makes sense with him.
We've always had an element of power dynamic in our sexual relationship, in fact, some of you may remember that one outrageous, long term power game of intense magnitude was what brought us together in the first place. First apart, with our remote and separated worlds revolving around each other without having physical contact and then together, ever since we've been inseperable in a weirdly true and desperate way.
But the dynamics have shifted and while I was the clingy, helpless mess and he the understatedly genteel, poised, confident and utterly superior one, there have been some changes. And I remembered how much I like having boys suffer.
And slowly but surely, with tiny steps, by stringing a web of gluey, inescapable lust and perverted kink and providing absolute trust, I'm totally making him my bitch.
When I tell him what to do, forbid him to do and conduct this arrangement of filthy smutty greasy depraved and panting sex acts, is the only time my sexuality is resurrected. And it returns with a vengeance.
Alas, I can't go into details of what I do to him and make him do because he asked me to not disclose it publically. Which is a fair request.
I just wanted to let you know my current thoughts on sex.
October 2nd was the last time I saw him. The date is very dear to us (information regarding this is classified though, as well) so I booked a flight to see him. He didn't know. I left the dogs alone for a night, boarded a plane and just showed up.
So. Besides that, here are two pictures of Manko in a ponytail belt I made for her a while back:
(Leggings by Charles of London.)
Here are two pictures I shot of me the other day:
On my social network pages I am actually using those for a little competition in which you can win an item for up to 65$ in the shop.
I'm living such a weird sexuality these days. It all revolves around Eric - when he's there, I can't contain myself and when he's not, which is most of the time, my entire sexuality is dormant.
I sometimes see people who I rationally recognize as attractive and my usual prey pattern. And it does nothing for me. I can look at them but it doesn't translate. For the first time in my life, sex is not important to me, and only because it's become so pointedly important to me. Because it only makes sense with him.
We've always had an element of power dynamic in our sexual relationship, in fact, some of you may remember that one outrageous, long term power game of intense magnitude was what brought us together in the first place. First apart, with our remote and separated worlds revolving around each other without having physical contact and then together, ever since we've been inseperable in a weirdly true and desperate way.
But the dynamics have shifted and while I was the clingy, helpless mess and he the understatedly genteel, poised, confident and utterly superior one, there have been some changes. And I remembered how much I like having boys suffer.
And slowly but surely, with tiny steps, by stringing a web of gluey, inescapable lust and perverted kink and providing absolute trust, I'm totally making him my bitch.
When I tell him what to do, forbid him to do and conduct this arrangement of filthy smutty greasy depraved and panting sex acts, is the only time my sexuality is resurrected. And it returns with a vengeance.
Alas, I can't go into details of what I do to him and make him do because he asked me to not disclose it publically. Which is a fair request.
I just wanted to let you know my current thoughts on sex.
October 2nd was the last time I saw him. The date is very dear to us (information regarding this is classified though, as well) so I booked a flight to see him. He didn't know. I left the dogs alone for a night, boarded a plane and just showed up.
So. Besides that, here are two pictures of Manko in a ponytail belt I made for her a while back:
(Leggings by Charles of London.)
Here are two pictures I shot of me the other day:
On my social network pages I am actually using those for a little competition in which you can win an item for up to 65$ in the shop.
If you want, participate. 
I also shot pictures of my friend Marcel, who has grown a rather magnificent beard. I'm not particularly beard-affin but it seems that all the girls around me are. Sorry ladies, he's gay.
There have also been TONS of improvements on the shop, you can now choose colors, measuring is explained, etc., etc., but I'm too tired for a sales pitch right now. It's good though.
Some other random pictures I shot:
And here is an excerpt of an interview I did once:
Q: A lot of your designs remind of the costumes and clothing in Blade Runner and The Girl of the Dragon Tattoo, where do you draw your inspiration from?
A: Thanks!
I feel ambivalent about costumes, since on one hand, escapism is a crucial part of what Anthracite is, on the other hand, its purpose isn't to obscure or disguise. It's not about dressing for a part, it's about visually representing what is a defining part of you to begin with. It's identification, a lifestyle in the best sense of the word.
I can only inadequately answer where my inspiration is drawn from since I fail to grasp what inspiration actually is. It has these fluttery, random connotations that aren't congruent with my work method. I'm not a nucleus surrounded by swiveling sparks of ideas.
I just have an image in my head, an intangible mixture of visuals and the way it should feel. That's just there, suddenly, and what makes me a professional is that I can summon it. I'm not an artist who works only when inspiration strikes, I'm a worker and things need to get done. I'm assuming this idea comes from the many impressions we are exposed to every day, architecture, nature, clothing, photographs, atmosphere. It's weird what the brain choses to subconsciously remember and use.
But the main part of creating an item comes later, when physically constructing it. The garment has its own dynamics from the start, and often I feel like the tamer of demons who, with sweat and tears and desperation, tries to force the item to follow the form I want it to, while it goes all over the place and has a will and character of its own.
The only time I follow my gut is when I, in an instant, get a sudden punchy feeling of elation and relief. Then I know its right.
And here is a picture of Gina walking determinedly:
The FAQs:
A non make up picture (I chose the classic Dirty Bathroom Mirror Self Portrait, except I don't have a smartphone) to hold you over until next real entry.
Short interlude: Newsletters always reek of dust, boredom and desperation, but mine are actually really neat. No, really. Subscribe!
It's because of fashion and specials and offers and new stuff. It's good.
It's because of fashion and specials and offers and new stuff. It's good.
Welcome To Gutterpunk Journalism
Thank you so much for all the kind words on my last entry! They must have helped, because I'm feeling pretty good again.
As usual, I just can't keep up with blog entries... I don't even feel my life is that fast paced but I can't ever seem to condense it enough. That sentence even is too short, shorter than the line of thought that preceded it because I'm too impatient and already at the next step and what it should've read was: "... condense it enough to become somehow aligned and congruent with the written word in my SG blog." and I'm not sure if I'm making sense but too impatient to go back, reread, check and possibly correct.
Something I never told you about: I actually learned to be a Mensch-Hund-Beraterin back in June, it makes me somewhat of a dog trainer / behaviorist. I now know why dogs do what, what they mean when they do what and how to get them to do what you want.
See? That's me, back row, 2nd from the left:
The following are the most unflattering pictures of me ever (I swear I don't look 80 in real life), but nevertheless, I shall uncloak them for your eyes to see what else we did:
(^^ Gina ♥ )
(^^ Horace ♥ )
And in the end it got me this:
Yay!
Most importantly though, it totally enriched my life and I learned so much, which I'm thankful for. My incentive was just to have a solid basis for adopting bullies the rest of my life, but should I ever want to drop fashion, I now have another job to fall back on. Which can't hurt.
Oh, and thanks also for the birthday wishes! It was a pretty sweet day. I never celebrate my birthday, really, so for the 30th I deliberated going out and partying and doing drugs but decided that was just lame. Then I debated staying at home and inviting people (god forbid) or joining my twin sister and her friends (dear lord) or just staying at home and doing nothing, and all of that was outrageously lame.
So I called everybody and we went go cart racing and OH MY GOD IT WAS THE MOST FUN I'VE EVER HAD IN MY LIFE.
And then we got drunk. Best birthday ever.
Really, this go cart thing? Have to do it again. How did I ever live without doing that? Also, I nearly won. Kind of.
Okay, I didn't nearly win, I was fourth, but everyone in front of me has 15 years of driving experience and they're all super automobile sport freaks. So, considering, I did really well and learned enough to blow them to smithereens the next time.
Sadly, no pictures. We were driving. But I'll leave you with a snapshot from a few weeks earlier at the Rummel of my friend Boehm and I.
Don't be fooled. Those things were about as powerful as lawnmowers so I with my weight advantage actually got in front of him immediately, overtook him again, laughing, and then pushed him for like eight laps before wanting to overtake him once more, which is when he pulled that silly triumphant face as if it meant anything.
So besides that: OMG my grandmother was a knockout:
Here's a cute picture I shot:
and guess what your Iphone was always missing? Right, me:
The FAQs:
Thank you so much for all the kind words on my last entry! They must have helped, because I'm feeling pretty good again.
As usual, I just can't keep up with blog entries... I don't even feel my life is that fast paced but I can't ever seem to condense it enough. That sentence even is too short, shorter than the line of thought that preceded it because I'm too impatient and already at the next step and what it should've read was: "... condense it enough to become somehow aligned and congruent with the written word in my SG blog." and I'm not sure if I'm making sense but too impatient to go back, reread, check and possibly correct.
Something I never told you about: I actually learned to be a Mensch-Hund-Beraterin back in June, it makes me somewhat of a dog trainer / behaviorist. I now know why dogs do what, what they mean when they do what and how to get them to do what you want.
See? That's me, back row, 2nd from the left:
The following are the most unflattering pictures of me ever (I swear I don't look 80 in real life), but nevertheless, I shall uncloak them for your eyes to see what else we did:
(^^ Gina ♥ )
(^^ Horace ♥ )
And in the end it got me this:
Yay!
Most importantly though, it totally enriched my life and I learned so much, which I'm thankful for. My incentive was just to have a solid basis for adopting bullies the rest of my life, but should I ever want to drop fashion, I now have another job to fall back on. Which can't hurt.
Oh, and thanks also for the birthday wishes! It was a pretty sweet day. I never celebrate my birthday, really, so for the 30th I deliberated going out and partying and doing drugs but decided that was just lame. Then I debated staying at home and inviting people (god forbid) or joining my twin sister and her friends (dear lord) or just staying at home and doing nothing, and all of that was outrageously lame.
So I called everybody and we went go cart racing and OH MY GOD IT WAS THE MOST FUN I'VE EVER HAD IN MY LIFE.
And then we got drunk. Best birthday ever.
Really, this go cart thing? Have to do it again. How did I ever live without doing that? Also, I nearly won. Kind of.
Okay, I didn't nearly win, I was fourth, but everyone in front of me has 15 years of driving experience and they're all super automobile sport freaks. So, considering, I did really well and learned enough to blow them to smithereens the next time.
Sadly, no pictures. We were driving. But I'll leave you with a snapshot from a few weeks earlier at the Rummel of my friend Boehm and I.
Don't be fooled. Those things were about as powerful as lawnmowers so I with my weight advantage actually got in front of him immediately, overtook him again, laughing, and then pushed him for like eight laps before wanting to overtake him once more, which is when he pulled that silly triumphant face as if it meant anything.
So besides that: OMG my grandmother was a knockout:
Here's a cute picture I shot:
and guess what your Iphone was always missing? Right, me:
The FAQs:
life hasnt been so good to me this past half week. after a severe three day migraine a dog injured my hand and tore up ginas ear. So excuse my awful spelling, my right hand is unusable.
Also, ginas first aid and stitches cost every penny i had, I am now broke. After waiting forever for a payment that was due (after tons of other expenses), I received that money and gave every cent of it to the emergency vet a few hours later. And no, theres no way the owners of that dog will pay and no, my insurance wont cover it.
The worst is this inertia, the inability to do things. Nothing frustrates me more than stagnation and not being able to change my situation right now. I hope I can resume work the next days, but right now, im having trouble even washing my hair.
So if youve always wanted to order something from me, now is the time because I wont lie - I really need it. Shop
Unrelated (but coincidentally pertinent), I am offering my photoshopping services for SG sets. My work so far:
Aenn - No Time To Sew
Myra - Konterfei
Tie - Bellevue
My other photography work can be found here: http://anthracite.de/ (or in my blog and picture folders )
I charge the common SG non-staff price of 100$ for the improvement of the images, removal of blemishes, resizing, logos, thumbnails and previews fo 40-60 images, all the general requirements of an SG set. The price is negotiable if less work is desired.
ok, I need to stop now since Im typing only with my left hand, more news and fun and pretty pictures next time!
Also, ginas first aid and stitches cost every penny i had, I am now broke. After waiting forever for a payment that was due (after tons of other expenses), I received that money and gave every cent of it to the emergency vet a few hours later. And no, theres no way the owners of that dog will pay and no, my insurance wont cover it.
The worst is this inertia, the inability to do things. Nothing frustrates me more than stagnation and not being able to change my situation right now. I hope I can resume work the next days, but right now, im having trouble even washing my hair.
So if youve always wanted to order something from me, now is the time because I wont lie - I really need it. Shop
Unrelated (but coincidentally pertinent), I am offering my photoshopping services for SG sets. My work so far:
Aenn - No Time To Sew
Myra - Konterfei
Tie - Bellevue
My other photography work can be found here: http://anthracite.de/ (or in my blog and picture folders
)I charge the common SG non-staff price of 100$ for the improvement of the images, removal of blemishes, resizing, logos, thumbnails and previews fo 40-60 images, all the general requirements of an SG set. The price is negotiable if less work is desired.
ok, I need to stop now since Im typing only with my left hand, more news and fun and pretty pictures next time!
