Sasha Darling & The BellJar Blog

Ok Ok I was one of the many silly girls sucked into the whole Ryan Gossling craze. After I saw the notebook I found myself unusually occupied with his chest in a way I usually reserve for boys I have actually spent time with. I rarely get celebrity crushes and honestly I can't stand being around or meeting famous people. They are just too famous...and it makes me uncomfortable, jealous a little maybe and mostly just like I need to exit the room and conversation pronto. But dear Ryan, I spent hours daydreaming about you and I and your sexy beard hanging out on my couch drinking tea, reading Rilke poems to each-other all the while ticketing each-other and screaming with happy laughter. I went there. I joined in with the rest of the over sentimental female population and dreamed about us recusing puppies together. I felt bewildered when you did not win sexiest man of the year...and then fell even deeper in love with you when I heard that you actually turned the title down. I mean I just knew you were too cool for all that and it made me obsessed with you even more. You and I got closer as we shunned holly-woods cheesy, tabloid attention. But Ryan I have to tell you, something happened. You just got too Ryan.It was more than I could take. All the things that you are, have just become too amplified to the point that I have grown tired of our love affair. You have become too cool and sensitive, too charming and confidant, and just too hot. I've grown tired of seeing your photos plastered all over girls blogs and pinterest accounts. I used to feel exuberance when your face popped up on my screen and now I'm just like, "oh yeah, it's you again, whatever." It's all just been over kill. You know I'm not the kind of girl that likes the mundane and you darling have become mundane. Too much of a good thing. So could you ask your people to get your face off my computer? Can you ask them to take you off the cover of every magazine? Can you see if they can get the hype to die down a little? I mean I can stay away from your films...but please stop forcing yourself on me and popping up on every damn page I open. I would really appreciate it. I mean it kinda feels like you are obsessed with me and Darling it's really just over. You need to move on. If you really need something you will have to go through one of my new boyfriends whose photos I posted bellow for your reference. k? Thnkx

I wish I had fallen in love when I was a teenager. I wish I had been one of those rare special humans that found her missing piece just as life begin to rise and grow and change. I wish I had allowed people in to see all my disgustingly horrible, dark, hollow insides seated comfortably beside my sunshiny goodness. I wish I had grown, and learned and become wise with another humane by my side, both of us wandering aimlessly or twisting around like two massive oak tress swaying gently on a northern skyline. I wish I had been naive, and pure of heart. I wish I had been both simple and complex. I wish I had not taken so long to work out my kinks. Sometimes I fear it's just too late. I endured too much, I adapted to being a hidden character piling on masks to shield myself from the audience. I'm resigned to my existence. I'm happier sitting here alone, with my books and colored pencils. Away from the outside. I don't want to let it in. It might be time to run away and hide in the trees. Smothered and sweating...sometimes I just feel too old. All those dreams of everlasting love and soul mates; let's leave it for the kids with their cotton candy dreams and naive hearts. Just leave it alone. And let me be. I had too adventurous of a heart. I spent my days gobbling up life, lusting after the unknown with a terrible unquenchable thirst. I dreamed so big, I could hardly contain my thoughts; I've been an overflowing cup, a fountain to rival Trevi. My insides moved so swiftly I got lost inside my own head. I felt as if I could never allow someone else to keep up. I collected experiences like a child collects stickers and places them in a book to fade and curl at the edges. And now here I am safe and warm. I'm almost comforted by knowing that I may have missed my train. I'll see you in the next life and "we" will try harder next time. Or maybe tomorrow I'll wake up and see the world through the eyes of the 13 year old me full of hope and passion for life. Maybe the rain is just getting me down. I'm probably just being melodramatic. I've been known to be that way. Maybe I'm just full of it. Yeah that's probably it. Just ignore this post. Thanks.

The beet is the most intense of vegetables. The radish, admittedly, is more feverish but the fire of the radish is a cold fire, the fire of discontent, not of passion. The beet is the murderer returned to the scene of the crime. The beet is what happens when the cherry finishes with the carrot. The beet is the ancient ancestor of the autumn moon, bearded, buried, all but fossilized; the dark green sail of the grounded moon-boat stitched with veins of primordial plasma; the kite string that once connected the moon to the Earth, now a muddy whisker drilling desperately for rubies. The beet is the most intense of vegetables. The onion has as many pages as 'War and Peace', every one of which is poignant enough to make a strong man weep, but the various ivory parchments of the onion and the stinging green bookmark of the onion are quickly charred by belly juices and bowel bacteria. Only the beet departs the body the same color is it went in. Beet consumed at dinner will, come morning, stock a toilet bowl with crimson fish, their hue attesting to the beet's chromatic immunity to the powerful digestive acids and thoroughgoing microbes that can turn the reddest pimento, the orangest carrot, the yellowest squash into a single disgusting shade of brown. At birth we are red-faced, round, intense, pure. The crimson fire of universal consciousness burns in us. Gradually, however, we are devoured by parents, gulped by schools, chewed up by peers, swallowed by social institutions, wolfed by bad habits, and gnawed by age; and by the time we have been digested, cow style, in those six stomachs, we emerge a single disgusting shade of brown. The lesson of the beet, then, is this: Hold on to your divine blush, your innate rosy magic, or end up brown. Once you're brown, you'll find that you're blue. As blue as indigo. And you know what that means: Indigo. Indigoing. Indigone. Tom Robbins

I have been in LA nearly two months now. I'm getting settled, feeling sure footed, figuring my life out. It's strange, in a very outwardly way, I feel as if not much has changed and that this was not a very drastic thing to do; to run away to LA. I have a ton of really great friends down here, I adore the weather, my apartment is lovely, the dogs and I love the hiking and nature it all seems to be falling in place. But then, I have been suffering from my not knowing exactly what I'm doing here. I have felt a little lost and I'm not used to that. I'm generally very clear in my direction. I know exactly what I want to do and then I just do it. But I have gone back and fourth since I've been here. Do I open a store? Do I get a full time job doing design? Do I start working full time as a stylist. The more and more I searched for the answer the more stressed out I have felt. And then all these personal issues started to come up. The holidays are generally a hard time for everyone, but all of a sudden I was having this huge massive sadness over the failure of my marriage and how damaged I'm afraid I have become. Emotionally cut off. Distant...and I just have been have these late night's of self analyzing and just thinking way too much about so many things. Things that at this point, are rather insignificant in my life. But it was just easier to stress on the past than deal with my now. I even called my ex husband and cried on the phone to him for like an hour. It was cathartic and I feel relieved that after everything we went through (and believe me it was bad), that we can still have a real conversation and be there for each-other on some level. Meanwhile I have been working nearly full time doing some assisting work for a well known stylist down here. It's been so long since I have been accountable to someone else and also away from my dogs for like 10 to 12 hours a day. I'm also so used to being the boss...everyone knows I like being in control. It's not a power thing. I think I'm more creative and have a clearer vision when I'm able to make my own decisions. This is why I give my employes so much freedom. As long as they deliver I'm pretty hands off. I know this is how creative people really get inspired to work hard and do a great job. With all this change and new experiences and self analyzing and being in unsure situations, all of  a sudden this week it all just came to head and I spent two days crying every time anyone asked if I was ok. On my drive to work I had tears streaming down my face. But the good news is...not only do I feel better, I know what I want to do. I always have to uproot myself a bit, push myself into difficult situations, become somewhat emotional and lost feeling to find answers. This seems to be my process. But after an exciting adventures and somewhat stressful few months I have decided what I was meant to do! I am going to start a product line! Home decor to start. Candles, pillows, gadgets etc. So come January me and my new business partner will start development! I'm so excited and I feel so inspired once again. We had dinner last night and talked about everything and brainstormed. So fabulous. We will have a new studio to work out of come January and I'm seriously so excited to cover one whole wall with cork board and just start pinning all my inspiration everywhere! It feels so liberating to have a dream again. It's been a while and I'm so relieved I ran away to LA in search of new opportunities. Anyway Merc retrograde just ended...yeah yeah I know I'm such a silly hippie...but so glad it's gone. It always hits me so hard. With open arms I welcome the age of Aquarius. Things are going to be ohhh so lovely.