a meaningful article on a meaningful topic with a meaningful conclusion

What you are reading here is supposed to be the start of a well thought through article on a meaningful subject of my choice I researched extensively and am now going to present to you in bearable bits and pieces, made sure there is not


much text, and that I insert enough

paragraphs, since it is very stimulating for the human brain to keep scrolling in search of new

information, for the thrill of feeling achieved, for the thrill of having read something the author so whole heartedly made sure to remind you off, is surely thought through and therefore not a waste


precious, precious time. Leaving you in a cognitive dissonance (“the state of having inconsistent thoughts, beliefs, or attitudes, especially as relating to behavioural decisions and attitude change.” -Google search the first thing that came up) by telling you that time spent on the internet is a waste in itself , especially since I could just so very


this caption underlines the point this witty collage is making

spontaneously decide to tell you that really, I have nothing to say at all, leaving you with …nothing… but the realization that ‘argh, fuck that author, I have just been tricked to waste 2 minutes of my precious, precious time on here.’. But that I wouldn’t do. Because

I do

have something to say. In fact I’ve been saying it throughout this little journey of wildly adventurously ┬áspread paragraphs. Maybe you’ve missed it, just there..






time warp – flea market lookbook and how to style doc martens

I recently came across the glorious frenzy of flea market shopping. It was a rather small, suburban one in which older people go to sell all their weird possessions their husband can’t see them wearing anymore or is just old and weird. That is usually the style I seem to opt for so me and the old lady’s always seem to establish a magical bond on these events.

Since I got quite sick the past week, where I made big promises for this blog to become somewhat more than its superficial surface (oops) I really tried to cover up my red nose and go without feeling like dying for a solid 10 minutes to shoot this lookbook ( I know you guys all couldn’t live without) .

Everything is either vintage or my actual grandma’s except for the shoes, those are Doc Martens.








isn’t it rather pointless?

Audrey’s dance is playing in the background and I salute to everyone who knows what I am referring to fellow black lodgers.

I write to you because I’ve been in a weird mindset these days. The past month I’ve spent studying for my end of term exams for uni. I dedicated all my time to it and hence cut back on social inquiries or just what other people would call ‘life’ in general. Every time I am stuck in that automatic mode of just doing, blacking everything else out I seem to fall into a deep self dug hole of nothingness once exams are over and time is available to be spend in freedom.

It seems silly and a little sad to be calling one out as being overwhelmed by time and possibility up to a point where you just sit and stare and do nothing. Yet this seems to be the exact thing happening to me. I am asking myself, well what is it that is missing, what is it that differs life from existence?!


Am I not alive sitting at home reading, telling my dog one too many times he’s the absolute cutest? Or is it rather that person sitting in their city apartment planning another night out in a sparkly attire and loop earrings?

When do you exist and when do you start living? It’s a phony and rather childish request but still it’s present.

I’ve been offered a job recently and I took it just to turn it down startled by fear of failure and misery. It really hurled me back in time making me realize I really wasn’t over so many things I thought by now I should be. It’s rather embarrassing to post this on the internet but I just want to be honest with whomever on here (hi!). By now I am still too upset to pull wise words out of this incident.

Today I’ve spent almost the entire day reading ” Amityville Horror”, which satisfies my need of 70s horror stories just right. It may keep me occupied enough for a while, occupied enough to not have to face what’s really bugging me. Isn’t it rather pointless telling you all this? I have a few ideas for this blog which I will try working on in the following weeks…until then the crisp air of Amityville will keep me busy.