Cement Girl

I feel like i'm being pulled into this stereotype of young, hip twentysomethings who are confused about who they are. Which is no fun, because I actually like myself and I don't want to drive a VW, nor do I want to buy things at Ikea, and I don't drink coffee. I don't want a high paying career, I don't want the brand new car. I don't want to figure everything out so that the rest of my life is comfy cozy and i never ask any questions when I reach the age of 30.

All I want is an old house, old furniture, my old lovely car (Willis, who i want to keep forever), some books and some music.

Maybe it's my mother in me, but I have a huge fascination with all things old. Cars, houses, furniture, knick knacks. I adore old cars much more than new cars. I like old style rather new, modern, twisted stuff. I'll take old, black and white schoolhouse pictures from 1929 over some picture of a stupid flower from Ikea any day. I cannot even fathom buying a pre-fabricated-everything-picked-out-for-you room, selected from a store and delivered the next day. How boring, how uncreative, how bland.

I don't know if I appreciate old because I think I missed out some great eras or because I'm grateful for what we have now. I'd like to think it is the former.