It's been five years but let's post here again.

 I felt like a couple of things were missing in my life. One was old fashioned blogger-style blogging, and one was Keisha in my MAC collection. 

So, well, it's been five years, but let's catch up.

I've said it a few times, but I don't have these dolls to collect, so I'm a little bit picky about what I do decide to take. And by that, I mean that I want to buy dolls in really bad shape. I don't want to take a nice doll that a collector would want, because I want to have them to tell stories with and make clothes for. It doesn't really matter to me if I have all of Megan's accessories from the 2002 magazine.

So, anyway, I found a Keisha with some chopped up, ripped-out hair, over on Ebay. She's in the mail and on the way to me. While I was doing other things, I also got some wigs. I don't know if they'll fit, because instead of ordering wigs at an appropriate place and time, I ordered them at work, in the bathroom.

It's been five years, so a quick note: I've gone up in the world of entry-level sewing-related jobs. I now work _sales_ and get _commission_ and _health insurance_ and _OVERTIME_.  Turns out the major differences between working part time for the big box fabric store (which we call Green Store over on my other blog) and working for a small business that sells exclusively sewing machines is kind of a lot.

But I still want to come up with characters, and stories, and another world. And I want to make clothes for that world. I spent a long time building a world with my friend a long time ago, and I have been building one for the past few years, and it's time to start another world. As much as a tiny band that accidentally makes it big is fun, and time traveling androids just want to go to high school in the 90's is fun, maybe I can do another one.

You've been in a daydream so long that the dream has eclipsed the day.

So, I got a couple of wigs. One was a Monique Denise in carrot. Many years ago, I decided that the Monique Denise was the proper wig if I was going to rewig my Alison doll. Now, I really want that Alison to keep her thin little remainder of her hair. As a kid, I pulled all that hair out with love. I pulled out all her hair because I was a kid who brushed it, and who left her doll on the floor, and who tangled up the hair, and who harshly brushed it back out impatiently. All of that is part of what she is, like how all her limbs are loose and she can't stand up. However, there's a nice girl on the team who has a fun face sculpt, but who has some really awful saran hair that I hate. So my Megan has a new wig in the works. 

The other wig is for Riley, who was once the wigged Saran version of Alison. This saran hair that was used late in the life of this brand was genuinely awful. I cut all this Alison's hair off, and put on a different wig, but it's not really suiting the doll, and the story needs something else. So, Riley the name is staying. The rest, not so much. 

I'm going to see how this Keisha looks when she gets here. Hopefully, that'll scratch my "gotta buy stuff" itch that I've got going on, but who knows. Maybe I'll make another bad decision.

 

For doll tax, here's Helena right now, lying on my bed. I don't remember where she was before, but she now has a bra and some pantyhose (handmade) and then a very cheap BJD outfit that I got off ebay for $9. Her wig's been dyed a little bit darker, and she has some great and slash or terribly jointed hands. Great because they're wonderful looking and I can do so much with them. Terrible because, no matter how carefully I put her into her cigar box that I store her, she comes out with a minimum of one dislocated finger joint.

Anyway, I'm glad I finally owned up to having her for years and never making her an outfit. I feel like I like her so much better when she's got some simple clothes covering up her knees and elbows. She looks a little lot like Rick Astley, but I can live with that.

There is a map in my room, on the wall of my room
And I've got big, big plans
But I can see them slipping through, almost feel them slipping through
The palms of my sweaty hands....
...You say "I hate you," and you mean it
and "I love you" sounds fake
It's taken me so long to figure that out
I used to love the taste. I would do anything for it
Now I'd do anything to get the taste out of my mouth
And you seem so confident, but I hear you crying in your sleeping bag
But you were broken bad yourself, and you were mad as hell
You felt if you had done anything, with anyone else
it would have worked out so well
But you are an artist, and your mind won't work the way you want it to.
One day you'll be washing yourself with hand soap in a public bathroom
and you'll be thinking
How did I get here?
Where the hell am I?

She sees these visions. She feels emotion. She says I cannot go. She sees my plane in the ocean. And "What about your friends? Don't you love them enough to stay?" I say, "If I don't leave now, then I will never get away. Let me be a blue raft on a blue see. I'll blend right in."

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