Doctor, I think I'm sick.

You know how sometimes you feel in a certain way and you desperately want to feel something different, anything at all, really, anything but the thing you're feeling? Yeah, I tried that this summer. And I figured the best way to feel something different - or to feel anything at all for that matter - was to get myself shit-scared. And so I went through long, long lists of recommendations for scary, weird, eerie, uncanny, shocking, and also plain gross. And you know what, either I am a monster, or this strategy sucks.

First of all, let me admit that this summer I watched The Evil Dead, and then I watched The Killer Shrews. That was, however, before I felt the need to change the way I felt; I watched these, because... hell, I don't know why I watched these. But The Evil Dead helped me understand The Cabin in the Woods a bit better. Oh, I also watched The Shrine and if you need a laugh, I would strongly recommend that one. A whole new perspective on Poland, my friends. Gotta love Canadians.

And then I started watching disturbing things. I went through about thirty titles that were supposed to shake me. They had one job. Things like The Serbian Film, Gruz 200, I Saw the Devil, Cannibal Holocaust, The Poughkeepsie Tapes, Martyrs, Inside, Audition, and yes, The Human Centipede. I did see The Human Centipede. And let me tell you something. Ever since I saw that one, I am imagining anyone who has ever wronged me as the middle segment one of the many middle segments of my very own centipede that I am constructing in my head, and it is one damn long mofo. But apart from that - nothing. "This movie totally stays with you" - it didn't. "It will keep you awake for months on end" - no. "Guys, do not watch this movie, it is sick" - I guess I am sick too. I got nothing. And I am seriously asking myself this question, am I sick? I had medical tests for work recently and they said I was fine, but nobody asked me whether I was imagining human centipedes. Why don't they ask those questions before allowing anyone to go and work with people? 

Anyhow, clothes.

Bershka jeans, H&M cardigan & shoes, Pull&Bear top, Stradivarius bag.

Roar.

Whoa, where did the week go. I am not done cleaning up by a long shot, but the work station is kind of done (and so am I, let me tell you, I hate cleaning with a passion). Also, not sure if the pics for today are decent (I'm talking of quality, guys, I am fully dressed and rocking the asexual trend actually), because as we were taking them, a lady ("lady," that's a good one) whose window was just right above us decided to threaten us with calling the police and shit, because she was absolutely convinced we were taking pictures of doors, so that we could I really don't know, break in later on? Like, at night maybe? Blow up the lock once we prepare an explosive for this particular kind of lock? Which is why we are taking pictures? To know what kind of explosives will work best? I'm at a loss, I am not good at planning break-ins at all, I'm much better at assassinations and mass murders and stuff, so yeah, I did not blow up that lock and to be completely honest, I did not even notice there was a door next to me (not behind me, as the shrew thought) (yes, you heard me, I called her a shrew, I had actually called her much, much, much worse) (in my head) (much worse). The lion tote was a gift and it is too bad you cannot fully see it has 3D ears on one side of it. They stick out. I am so totally taking it on vacation with me, hopefully it will majestically scare off beachgoers within a satisfying radius.

Sweater and pants: Pull&Bear, scarf: Mango, bag: DekumDekum, shoes: no idea.

Urban ballerina.

After a week filled with entomological spawn of Satan fruit flies, disassembling cardboard boxes, headeaches, one or two storms (finally!), book editing, and redecorating, here I am, still. I am currently in the process of preparing a work station for myself, with inspirational quotes clipped onto pin boards and all that shit, let me tell you, if Nelson Mandela cannot help me write this thing, nobody can. Off to proof-reading bibliography tonight, off to buying a desk lamp and mounting tape tomorrow, off to looking like a person at some indefinite time in the future. Maybe. 

Skirt: Reserved, t-shirt and shoes: H&M, bag: Stradivarius.

I was promised a storm.

No, seriously, accuweather promised it would be here at 2 am, that did not happen, apparently the storm has been postponed until 5 pm, dear storm, you have half an hour. Not even.

Yeah, I like storms. I enjoy them immensely, provided I'm inside. The fury of nature speaks to me on a spiritual level, I kid you not. Plus the potential fresh air would be a cherry on top. Of a storm. Do storms have tops? As you can see, I am tired. I am tired of fellow humans. Either all of them are energy vampires (doubtful), or I have been going for way too long without a single day on my own (that's it). The problem with me is, one of the many problems with me is, I cannot recharge around people. So for the last several days I've been basically feeling like I had been stepped on by an elephant. And the elephant didn't even notice it stepped on something, so it's still there. Anyhow, me and the elephant are starting Some Serious Cleaning tomorrow, reassembling furniture and what not, and if it doesn't kill me/make me wanna die, I should report back to you next Monday. Because this is my new plan. This is the new me. Behold The Monday Blogger. Punctual and shit. Fingers crossed.

It is too bad I could not photograph my today's outfit, though. I dressed up as Carrie Bradshaw a hopeless case of kidult affected by a heatwave, and wore a massive tulle skirt to go grocery shopping. We're having a new elevator installed in the building and I accidentally stunned the Elevator People as I swooshed by in my tulle cumulus and a t-shirt which read "I'm lazy and I know it" (there's a sloth on it). But no, the only pictures I got are those in which I am wearing pants that clearly prove bear attacks do happen.

Sweater and shoes: Mango %, jeans: Bershka, top: Cubus, bag: H&M.

#todolist

Dear Diary,

have you died of neglect yet? No? Wow.

Here's a list of things I desperately need to do and I mean it:

• I have to get over my writer's block, which by now is not really a block anymore, nope, it is not a single block, it is an entire motherfucking housing estate of blocks and I have to parkour my way out of it or else what am I really doing with my life? Anyone?
• I have to organize a work environment around myself, which means I have to turn everything upside down first and it sounds far from lovely, but if I don't do this now, I will never do this.
• I need some sort of discipline and regularity in my life, and why not start with blogging once a week (look forward to my pseudoscholarly paper titled "Blogging as a segue to academic work and successful adulting," to be published before I turn forty, hopefully, maybe not, probably not really).
• I need to edit a certain book, which is only slightly daunting.
• I absolutely have to write a long overdue e-mail to a movie director.
• I should eat less candy. 
• I have to man up, grow a pair, and finally make an appointment to have another 25% of my wisdom removed (as of today, I only have 75% wisdom).

But first, dinner.

 Skirt: Reserved Concept, jacket: Bershka, top: Stradivarius, bag: H&M, shoes: House.