Monday, 31 March 2014

I'm so cliche at times... but I'm choosing to roll with it.

I know that it's ridiculously cliche of me, but I am a gal who lives in London and genuinely adores this city more than anything else I know. I'm like the British version of Carrie from Sex and the City, except without the money to buy fashionable clothes... or the sex with rich men... but the city bit is pretty accurate. I love this place. I love how I can leave the house and go to all the best places of London in 30 minutes. I love that there is literally somewhere for everyone here, no matter what you're into. I see tourists walking the streets and sometimes I just want to point at them and go "Ha! Suckers! I live here 24/7. Enjoy your eventual flight home." ... I'm not saying that I would do that, but the impulse is pretty high.

This is generally how I feel most days, but today I'm feeling exceptionally patriotic. You see, yesterday I met up with a gal who had just moved here from Australia and needed to be shown around. Naturally, wanting to be a good host, I did the classic tourist route. This is the route down the River Thames, starting at Big Ben, walking past the London Eye, continuing past many a street entertainer and classic British Pub (where we stopped for food and a look across the Thames), passing London Dungeons, Tate Modern Gallery, National Theatre, Shakespeare's Globe Theatre, the Cutty Sark and then hopping on a short train ride to finish the tour at Buckingham Palace. Oh yes, you want me to show you around London? I'll fit it all in one day, ladies and gents... For anyone who might not be aware of where it is that we just travelled, imagine, if you will, the opening credits of Sherlock. Everything you see in there? That's where we went... except Baker Street, ironically.

Anywho, I've done this tourist tour quite a few times when friends have come to visit, and each time it just makes me love this City until I want to throw up all over it... Not to mention, we began the day in London's West End (where the majority of our theatres and culture is based), and accidentally stumbled onto the UK Divergent premiere. Now I haven't read the books, nor do I know anything about the films, but I did see Kate Winslet and a lot of teenage girls dressed up in ball gowns with tickets to see the show... clearly hoping that if they dressed up really nice, they would get picked up by this man:

20f88988a6302ae5c85c653caeb0064b.png (350×350)

Apparently this is the new teenage crush? I'm not sure. One-And-Only-Daniela has read the books but got so pissed off with them that she has told me I'm not allowed to read them, and everyone knows I do exactly what she tells me. Anywho, he was there and this was apparently a big thing. I didn't get much time to dwell on it however as I got distracted trying to explain to my new Australian friend why Leicester Square is spelt that way but pronounced Lester Square... I left it a while before I told her about Gloucester Road, or about the London "ghetto" speak of 'blud', 'fam', and 'allow that.'

Guys, if any of you have never visited London before, you need to. I've done London puff pieces on this blog before, but I couldn't help myself from doing it again. You ever find yourself in the area, you need to call me up and I will show you around this shizzle, I will show you around it hard.

Also, if you don't want to do the tourist thing, we can do the nightlife. You name it, I'll find a place for it. Because that's how awesome London is. Now excuse me whilst I go and attempt to get a job writing for a London Tourist Guide. You guys know I'd be all over that.

Peace out my lovelies.

Friday, 28 March 2014

Fancy Things Friday: My most Fanciest Fancy of all Fancies; Flight of the Conchords

Welcome to Fancy Things Friday, where I talk about things on a Friday that I think are fancy!!

It has occurred to me that since starting this feature, I have only really talked about the things that I have recently found fancy and not anything that has been fancy in my life for a long time. Today, I shall rectify this. Today, I shall talk about two men who have been fancy in my life since I found them when youtube was invented and it was only fan videos of them singing live. Back then, there were no albums, no TV shows, no 'available to purchase' songs. All we had was fan-made recordings of concerts from 20 rows back, sneaky downloads of unofficial recordings of songs, and one BBC Audiobook they did that was so wonderful, I must have listened to it 100 times... on repeat... daily. 

I am, of course, talking about Flight of the Conchords... my own personal reason for high expectations in men during my late teens and all of my 20s. Yes, when people were obsessing over finding perfectly sculpted men who sparkled in the sunlight and wanted to kill you, I was refusing to settle for a guy who had anything less than these following attributes: 

1. He had to have a best friend who he duetted with and harboured an unspoken deep down attraction for. 
2. He had to have a completely laid back, 'don't care', almost bored tone to his voice, even if he did care very much about what was being said. 
3. He had to have an uncanny, yet unending ability to come up with whimsical and awesome tunes about cutlery, racist dragons, making love for 2 minutes, the fear of robot domination in a time that has already passed, a woman called Jenny, or how everything just goes Boom whenever I am near... or, you know, something similar. 
4. He had to be able to play many instruments, including some that might not be as popular in today's society.
5. He had to love Flight of the Conchords. 

That's pretty much all I have ever been looking for in a man... Still haven't found him by the way, but if you are reading this and tick all of the above, I would love to hear from you. 

Anywho, when I Fan something, I Fan it hard. It's always been the way. From the moment of being introduced to them by my brother, who sat me down and made me listen to "Think About It, Think Think About It" all those years ago, I have been on a one woman crusade to get the world to know all about them. 

Of course, that was a completely different time, when there were a lot of people in the world who hadn't heard of them. Nowadays, they are much more popular and awesomely adored by the majority... or at least, if they aren't adored, they are known of. But as that was happening, I had one mission in life and that was to make sure that everyone I met loved them as much as I did. 

Now, due to them being the awesome people that they are, it happened to become one of the more easier missions to complete. Pretty much everyone I forced them upon had the opinion of, at worst, "Yeah, they're pretty funny, now what was I doing before you shoved this computer in my face?" or, at best, "These two are my soulmates and my life is so much better now I have them in it."

For those of you who (for some unfathomable reason) might not have heard of the awesomeness that is Flight of the Conchords, here's a quick rundown of who they are and what they do:

1. They're a two man folk band from New Zealand. (Fourth most popular folk band in the whole country, actually).
2. They're names are Bret McKenzie and Jemaine Clement
3. They sing amazingly funny songs
4. They have a fondness for animals on clothes
5. They are awesome
6. Their faces look like this: 

They sort of blew up in America after doing a live show on One Night Stand on HBO. Naturally, they rocked it and were awesome. Out of that, they got their own show. This is where most people recognise them. They basically did two series of awesome where they incorporated their songs into a sitcom type show about two guys called Bret and Jemaine who had travelled from New Zealand and are trying to make it in America as a band called Flight of the Conchords... I don't know where they get their ideas from. Amazing. 

The TV show used the already popular songs they had done, as well as mingling in some new ones created just for the show. Some of my favs from the series are: 

The Most Beautiful Girl in the Room

I'm not crying (It's just been raining on my face)

I've got hurt feelings

If you're into it

Leggy Blonde

I have to stop myself. There are so many more, so many many more. But then I'd just be listing all of them, and you might as well just go and watch the thing instead... something which you all should be doing anyway this weekend. In fact, I'd go as far to say that if you haven't seen their TV show, then take this weekend to do it. I don't care if you already have plans. Nothing can be as important as this. Also, in these episodes, you not only get to enjoy Bret and Jemaine but you get to meet their manager Murray and their number one fan Mel... and believe me, you need to know who these people are. 

Throughout my recruiting mission, I managed to find one friend in particular who became as hardcore a fan as I was. Together we managed to score tickets at their last UK tour and, although we were stuck in the rafters of the arena, and they both looked like ants to us, the whole evening was the epitome of  happiness. 

(Look how close we were!!)

... Now we reach the sad part of my tale. As it stands at the moment, both Bret and Jemaine seem to have put Flight of the Conchords to one side and are getting on with their own things. Amazing things like writing the music for The Muppets movies and winning an oscar (Bret) and starring in Hollywood movies such as Dinner for Schmucks and Men in Black 3 (Jemaine) but still, there is a massive Flight of the Conchords hole in my life and they are currently refusing to fill it... Sigh. 

Okay, so this has probably been the most manic of all of my Fancy Thing Fridays... which, in hindsight, is probably why I should stick to only writing about things I've recently found Fancy, you know, before it has time to manifest into an unhealthy thing, so as to at least seem like I'm not five seconds away from becoming a full time stalker who goes around collecting my favourite celebrities shredded hair and skin and keeping them in matchstick boxes underneath my bed... which I'm not. I haven't even thought about it. Not at all. 

If you are a lover of the Conchords, I thought I'd leave you with some videos that are equally as awesome as what has been mentioned, only maybe not as well known. You are welcome and enjoy. 

Feel Inside (and Stuff Like That)

Woo a Lady (from their last tour)

Have an amazing weekend. 

Peace out my lovelies.

Thursday, 27 March 2014

My subconscious is cleverer than I am... also more excitable, so it balances itself out.

My brain never stops liking to be surprised.

I had this real "Oh my days, I cannot believe it is already Thursday" moment earlier. Seriously, I saw the date and had to stop what I was doing to sit and marvel at how fast this week has gone for at least 30 seconds. It was a magical time. It filled me with joy, especially as I have so much planned for this weekend and am very much looking forward to it. I then continued with my day with that extra little skip in my step.

However, about an hour later I noticed that I had begun to make plans in my day as if it were a Friday, which meant I had to once again bring myself to a halt, although this time I was sad. It would appear that my subconscious had gotten so excited about the whole "it's later in the week than I had thought", whilst I had carried on with other stuff, it had gotten carried away and changed my thinking too far... stupid subconscious.

... Although, I can't be too hard on the ol' noggin. Last Friday, it did something so shockingly impressive that I'm still suitably marvelled by it. I was working out my budget for April, like the awesomely cool person that I am, and had found my mind to begin to wonder. I believe I was considering what food to eat, if I remember correctly. When I zoned back into the budget I had in front of me, I had noticed that, during this time of momentary brain procrastination, I had done some mental arithmetic and worked out the sums I had needed. I giggled to myself, convinced that this then meant that the whole thing was a mess. I grabbed the calculator to check my sums and gaped in absolute wonder. They were correct. All three sums. I had worked these out, without even concentrating on them, and I had got it correct.

Guys, something you may not be aware of when it comes to me is that, for all of my educational achievements, of which I have done okay, maths has never been a strength of mine. After the age of calculator on the phone began, I officially gave up on it altogether. Whatever sum, however small and inconsequential, must always be solved on a calculator. Should I be expected to come up with an answer without a calculator, I will most definitely find my brain to be completely empty and the more I try to think about it, the more empty it becomes. This is the case for any kind of sum. I can usually just about add up small numbers but I will most definitely have to use my fingers for the exercise. As for times tables? If it isn't the 9 times table (for which there is the finger trick) or the 10 times table (for which there is the "just add zero" trick) I will most certainly stare at the person asking me with a blank expression for so long they will inevitably roll their eyes and say "I'll work it out myself."

Due to having somehow worked out the sums that that Friday had required, mostly to do with multiplying high numbers, I actually found myself woot out loud. And then, finally, after over a decade of not knaowing why I don't fully understand maths, I realised the thing that I had been doing wrong all along... I had been thinking! So simple! How could I not have thought of this before? Well clearly because I was thinking and to not think is the way things get done... stupid thoughts.

However, now that I have found the magic solution to the reason why I am not, at this point, a kick arse mathematician, I am still no closer to working out how to rectifying it... I don't know if anyone has ever tried actively not thinking about something... but the very act of trying to purposefully not think about something usually means that you will be thinking it... It's like that stupid The Game phase that went around about 8 years ago... remember that one? The object of The Game was not to think about The Game. If you thought about The Game then you had to announce to everyone around you that you had lost The Game, usually leading to a large amount of annoyed groans as everyone around you also lost The Game. If someone external to you announced they lost the game, you are allowed a 1 minute grace period. If, after that, you are still thinking of The Game, then you too need to announce you've lost The Game. And so on and so forth.

It was massive in my particular group of friends. We would take the whole thing very seriously. One friend and I took it to such a level that, whenever we lost The Game, we would text each other. However, we began to do this so regularly that the mere act of getting a text from this friend would make me lose The Game before I had even opened it.

You never really stop playing The Game, so for all of you people who haven't thought about The Game in about 8 years and have now lost The Game by reading this... sorry. Don't worry, you'll forget about it soon...

Anywho, I believe that demonstrates how hard it is to actively not think about something. I have decided, therefore, that I will try falling asleep holding a pen and a sheet of some unsolved maths equations tonight, then see if, when I wake up, I am actually secretly the genius I've always suspected myself to be.

Awesome plan. I shall keep you posted.

Peace out my lovelies.

Wednesday, 26 March 2014

My Tina Fey T Shirt. Should be a success.

I massively OD'ed on 30 Rock last night... and then again this morning before work... I'm still reeling from the high.

I am of course (Mum and Dad) talking about the TV show and not some form of mind-altering drug that has entered the streets... although, some might say that laughter is the most mind altering drug of all??? Yes, those people are people who haven't partaken of illicit drugs before, but as I am one of those people, I choose to believe their tales.

Basically, I just wanted to start my post by saying I think Tina Fey is a genius in everything she does and the above is how I chose to do it. I think I've made my point... "Don't do drugs, do Tina Fey." I would totally wear that T Shirt... although I fear for the negative connotation on Tina Fey should the T shirt be misunderstood, if being read out of the context that it was first created, therefore I probably won't make the T Shirt any time soon... unless I wrote something underneath that made it clear what I was intending. Perhaps:

Don't Do Drugs. Do Tina Fey.

I don't mean in a sexual way. Just in a drugs way, like injecting her into your veins. 

Of course then that might lead to a bunch of people taking it literally and heading to Tina Fey's house with needles and syringes, begging for her blood like some kind of blood junkie. Not like a Vampire who settles for drinking blood... noooo, that wouldn't give this junkie enough of a high, they need to inject the blood. I don't want to be responsible for setting a bunch of junkie blood injectors on Tina Fey as she walks home from work one night. That was never my intention. Therefore:

Don't Do Drugs. Do Tina Fey. 

I don't mean in a sexual way. Just in a drugs way, like injecting her into your veins. 

However, please don't inject Tina Fey's blood into your veins. It's probably not even where her genius is stored. 

But then I face the problem of not exactly being clear with what it is that I want the people reading my T Shirt to do in the first place. All I've really done is tell them a bunch of things they shouldn't do. So I would probably have to clarify myself. 

Don't Do Drugs. Do Tina Fey. 

I don't mean in a sexual way. Just in a drugs way, like injecting her into your veins. 

However, please don't inject Tina Fey's blood into your veins. It's probably not even where her genius is stored. 

To be clear, it's Tina Fey's essence you're after. What I'm asking you to do is find her essence and then ingest it somehow.

... Yes, I have made it worse. Hold on.

Don't Do Drugs. Do Tina Fey. 

I don't mean in a sexual way. Just in a drugs way, like injecting her into your veins. 

However, please don't inject Tina Fey's blood into your veins. It's probably not even where her genius is stored. 

To be clear, it's Tina Fey's essence you're after. What I'm asking you to do is find her essence and then ingest it somehow.

Although only do this in a way that doesn't affect the real Tina Fey in any way. I can't afford the mass of law suits that would occur if any of you are confused by my words. 

Reading back, I fear this has become all too confusing and not at all what I was aiming for. Therefore: 

Don't Do Drugs. Do Tina Fey. 

I don't mean in a sexual way. Just in a drugs way, like injecting her into your veins. 

However, please don't inject Tina Fey's blood into your veins. It's probably not even where her genius is stored. 

To be clear, it's Tina Fey's essence you're after. What I'm asking you to do is find her essence and then ingest it somehow.

Although only do this in a way that doesn't affect the real Tina Fey in any way. I can't afford the mass of law suits that would occur if any of you are confused with my words. 

Watch 30 Rock.

There. Done and done. And, in case you're wondering, yes, I do plan on keeping all the above text on the T shirt but crossed out. Makes for a more interesting T Shirt. I shall begin to order them in now. Let me know if you want one.

Peace out my lovelies. 

Tuesday, 25 March 2014

It's like that moment when you find a £10 note in an old pair of jeans but 100 times better.

Well hello to you this Tuesday afternoon. How are things going so far? Can anyone tell that I've just made my way through the Miranda series and am highly influenced by the things I hear? What's that? You don't know who Miranda is? Rude... (again reference to the programme, not that I really find you rude... I fully appreciate that not everyone would have heard of it. Although if you haven't watched it, your life is remarkably less awesome because of it... check out the link to see what I mean.)

Well, now that that plug is over... without further ado, on with the blog...

 Firstly, I thought I'd update you all on the leg situation after yesterday's account of my drastic and most shameful fall. The bruise is looking particularly spectacular but the limping has stopped. I know you all probably lost a lot of sleep last night, worrying about that one, so I thought I'd put you out of your misery.

My reason for watching the Miranda series recently is because I accidentally stumbled across a treasure trove of goodies the other day that, put simply, filled me with such glee, there was a brief period of time where I lost all ability to know what to do with myself.

You see, I was on another of my many train journeys, due to being a daily commuter, and found myself reaching a state of boredom that tends to occur when I find myself underground and therefore don't have access to internet. As such, I was scrolling through my phone and thought I'd check out some old apps that I have on it and haven't used for a long time. One of them was the standard app that comes with all iphones. It was the video app, where it stores any videos you have bought from itunes at any point. I remember looking at this app and thinking to myself that there would be nothing on this, as I had no memory of ever buying films or tv shows on itunes, thanks to my need to have the solid DVD case to make my wall of DVDs look exceptionally flash so that people can look at it in marvel and say "oooh" and "aaah."


Anywho, because I had nothing else I really had to do at that particular moment, I thought I'd spend a moment to be redundant and see if there was anything on there, thinking that there might be a couple of music videos from albums I'd downloaded from itunes (I do not hold the same principles for music).

What I found when I opened the app however, was something so overwhelming, the above glee/loss of knowledge on self happened... So apparently my memory of my purchases of TV programmes isn't all that solid. Apparently, in a time when money was more available to me, I went through a period of life where I got a little crazy... I had quite a collection... it's probably best if I just show you...

Yeeeaaaah... so that happened. Let me ask you something. How does a person buy a total of 702 episodes, spanning over 26 different shows, and somehow completely forget that she had them? I'm not kidding. When Sherlock season 3 came out, I scraped around desperately, trying to find someone who had seasons 1 and 2, so I could rewatch them before it began. There was a lot of effort involved, and all along I owned it! And when I think about it, and how much I love that show, why the hell wouldn't I own it? Guys... I own EVERY SINGLE EPISODE of 30 Rock!! WHO FORGETS THAT???????????????????

Thankfully, this forgetfulness has all occurred at a time when I have also had no money, so no double purchases have happened. Now that I see the amount of series I have bought, I do have a vague recollection of buying them. It was at a time when I had gone back to live with my parents and money was something I happened to have an abundance of... *sighs longingly* I miss those days.

However, now that I have made this little discovery, it has felt like I've just been given this massive gift from someone who has too much money than sense and has decided to buy me hours of possible procrastination.

Oh and in case you're all marvelling at the ultimate memory my phone seems to hold... they're all on my icloud, not my actual phone. That would be ridiculous. Needless to say, I have made my way through series 1 and 2 of Miranda, watched Scandal in Belgravia from Sherlock Season 2 because, in my opinion, Sherlock's ability to get revenge on the guys who attacked Mrs Hudson is some of the best moments of Sherlock... not to mention the line "Mrs Hudson leave Baker Street? London would fall." ... Shivers, every time, and then began on the marathon of all marathons by starting 30 Rock from the beginning. Tina Fey, you are so awesome, I can't even... Wow.

The prospect of having so many different shows to make my way through... not to mention, the incomplete series on the above list, such as Supernatural, Smallville and Desperate Housewives, are actually complete because I own the missing series in solid DVD form.


There was a moment when I felt that I should probably feel a little bad that I sold out on my mission to only own hard copies of all DVDs, but then I saw all the fun I could have in rewatching them, and also remembered that those morals went completely out the window the moment I signed on to Netflix, and I ignored all qualms.

Sidenote: Since I've started reviewing TV shows lately, it has come to mine and LucysFootball's  attention that we are of one mind in our TV taste. It strikes me that the above photos will be the ultimate test... I can't wait to hear how many series from the above she also likes... literally waiting with baited breath here LucysFootball, the suspense is killing me.

Excuse me now whilst I go off to daydream about my evening plans of non stop Tina Fey and even more excuses to fire up my popcorn machine. Man I love fiction... whoever came up with that shizzle was a genius.

Peace out my lovelies.

Monday, 24 March 2014

A One-And-Only-Weekend with Michael Jackson, a shameful confession, and my own clumsiness causing more injury once again.

I know! It's been a while since I devoted an entire post to the wonders of One-And-Only-Daniela but never fear! The time has come again when I talk about her and we all marvel at her awesomeness and bow down before her in wonder.

So, I spent the weekend at One-And-Only-Daniela's this weekend. It was fun. She lives with her mum and three much younger sisters, and I love spending time with them all. She also has a cat, which was the one downer on the weekend, as I am allergic and as such, am feeling a little under the weather at the moment due to allergies making me feel all groggy. You see, due to not having a single friend who doesn't have a cat, I've learnt to suppress my desire to have eyes that don't swell to twice their size or the ability not to sneeze every two minutes when visiting them, and just trying to avoid close contact with those little furry death creatures.

Having said that, on Saturday night at around 1am, I made One-And-Only-Daniela change the bed sheets as I was close to no longer being able to breathe, and it's about at that point that I start putting my needs above the cats. The cat wasn't with us at the time, but had clearly chosen a point earlier on to sit on the bed and spread all its fun little allergy cooties all over the sheets, leaving me in quite a mess after laying down on it for more than 20 minutes. One-And-Only-Daniela was awesome and obliged, although proceeded to redo any of the things I did in the bed making process, as clearly I wasn't doing it correctly. This involved my packing of a pillow in the case, and her noticing that I had done it without turning the case inside out first, which is apparently the only way of doing it, and so she took the case off and did it again. She hadn't noticed that I had done another pillow prior to this, without following her clear system, but ssssh don't tell her. She slept on it without any issue... and now, even if she reads this and realises that that was what I had done, she's not going to know which pillow it was that I had done, and so she won't be able to "fix it" because, let's face it, the pillow looks exactly the same as all the other ones, MWOAH HA HA HA HA HA!

Ahem... little things.

We also played a lot of Michael Jackson 'The Experience.' Which is basically dancing your butt off to all of Michael Jackson's songs. It's not until you hear them all back to back that you realise that man did a LOAD of freakin amazing songs. I mean seriously, I got my groove on so bad, I was working it.

Of course, One-And-Only-Daniela beat me for the entire weekend... Until one glorious moment, on Sunday afternoon, after One-And-Only-Daniela and I gave a particularly dramatic performance to The Earth Song, (which consisted of solely dropping to your knees, raising your arms up and back down, and then doing the same thing standing up) and she still  managed to beat me, I felt a resolve form within me unlike anything else. I got my game face on, I did a few lunges and I selected one of Jackson's more competitive songs. Yes, ladies and gents, I naturally selected "Beat It" and proceeded to give One-And-Only-Daniela my most challenging stare.

Naturally, she was suitably scared... or had begun to feel sorry for me, and we begun. Guys, I danced like I had never danced before. I got each and every one of those moves DOWN. I reached for the sky, kicked like my life depended on it, and as for thrusting? Oh I thrusted... I thrusted hard. (Just had a mini debate with someone on the past tense for Thrust. It apparently is Thrust, but we both agreed that Thrusted sounds better, so I'm sticking with it... because I'm just that kind of person).

Guys, I won. I won to the song Beat It. I then went on to win to Black or White. Which One-And-Only-Daniela said wasn't a real win because she was dancing the wrong moves throughout half of it, but I'm taking it as a win, because I hadn't had many that weekend, and so needed all the pick-me-ups I could get.

... There was something that we did on Sunday. It's something that fills me with shame, and I have debated with myself on whether I should admit to it. But confession is good for the soul, so I'm going to get it out there. After adamantly refusing to ever watch Disney's Frozen on the basis of pure principle, I did it... I watched it... and I freakin' loved it as well... I'm such a sell out!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'm so sorry people, but One-And-Only-Daniela found out that I had made the statement of not watching the movie and got the mischievous gleam in her eye that she always gets when she's met with a challenge. She also enjoys to be a bad influence on me at times, and so when she sees that I've made a decision based on my morals of not succumbing to peer pressure, she likes to be the ultimate peer to pressure me... having said that, of all the things that she could have chosen to use as peer pressure, I feel that I got off lightly with her forcing me to watch a Disney movie... I suppose it could have been worse.

As I said, I did love the movie, but will talk about it in more detail later in the week, when I do an actual review as a sort of 'before and after', contrasted with my first one (see link above).

The weekend ended with a severe flaw developing in my ability to keep my balance. After almost falling down One-And-Only-Daniela's stairs (something I had only ever done previously under the influence, and was most put out to realise I was also prone to doing this sober), I then managed to hurt myself even further on my way home. Looking back, I am certain of two things: 1. I am incredibly glad that One-And-Only-Daniela wasn't there to see my spectacular second fall, judging by the laughter that emanated from my first one; and 2: It's the cat's fault. He made me all disorientated and allergified and I clearly shouldn't be running with a suitcase for a train when under the influence of allergies.

So here's what happened. I reached the train station on my way home from One-And-Only-Daniela's and saw that the train I needed was arriving. However, it was on the other side of the platform, so I had to run up the stairs, across the bridge, and back down the stairs to reach it. I was already feeling pretty nervous about this prospect, as I had a suitcase full of DVDs (of which we only watched one... naturally) and a slightly fuzzy head consisting of swollen eyes and a bunged up nose.

However, I managed to get across said bridge and up and down said stairs with no incident whatsoever. So happy was I about this whole thing, I just leapt for the train door. It was still open when I was heading for it, however, at some point in my climbing onto the carriage, the doors began to close, trapping my suitcase and the lower half of my body in between them. The hold on my lower leg sent me flying forward and onto my knees. Suddenly terrified for my suitcase I found myself swivelling and pulling simultaneously to pull both leg and suitcase onto the train. However, as the door couldn't close completely, it naturally opened again and the lack of trapping associated with my new pulling technique sent me flying onto my bum instead, my suitcase landing on top of me.

I considered sitting there for the majority of the journey. I mean, I'd already embarrassed myself to enough of a degree that there really wasn't much else I could do to make the situation worse, and I had my music on in my earphones that suitably shut the rest of the world out, so if I closed my eyes, I could just pretend that the carriage was empty. However, I figured that I needed to face the music, so scrambled up and turned my attention to the rest of the passengers. Each and every one of them carried the exact same expression, outward concern marred with an inner suppressed desire to fall about laughing... I did not blame them. So naturally, I decided to do the most British thing I could think of, defaulting to the normal suppressed politeness we all seem to hold. I smiled at them all, let out a small embarrassed laugh and... apologised. Yes you heard me, I fell over and then felt the need to apologise to the other passengers for what? I don't know... possibly the tragedy of them all having to witness such an appalling display of entering a train... or the most spectacular perhaps?

Once I sat down, the pain in my leg really hit in. This was to a point that I became convinced I was bleeding badly. But, even though I feared it would be a gaping wound that would result in massive blood loss if not dealt with immediately, I refused to even acknowledge my leg for the remainder of that train journey, determined to not draw any more attention than I already had to what I had done. In fact, due to ending up sharing the next train with someone from that carriage, I wasn't comfortable checking my leg until I got home and was safely away from all witnesses. Ladies and gents, there was no gaping wound, just a nasty looking bruise... to my leg and ego. Just in case you were worried.

And that was my weekend. Eventful, no?

Peace out my lovelies.

Friday, 21 March 2014

Fancy Things Friday: James Acaster

Welcome to Fancy Things Friday, where I talk about things on a Friday that I think are fancy!!

Okay, before I start this week's Fancy Things Friday, I just wanted to say a massive thank you to everyone who has been so supportive of my post yesterday. I'm not kidding guys, the love that I received after I uploaded yesterday's post was so beautiful, I have been grinning like a Cheshire Cat all day. You are all beautiful and wonderful people and make my world that little bit more stunning just by being in it. Seriously, depression could be cured worldwide just by people having the same group of friends, both Internetual and Real-Life, as I do. Love you. 

Oookay, now I've got that out of the way, it's time for this week's Fancy thing! Today, it takes the form of a person. I've referred to him before in a Fancy Thing, but have yet to give him the centre spotlight that he deserves. So today I'm going to talk about a guy who is fast becoming my favourite comedian. I don't mean to oversell him at all, but there has yet to be anything I've heard him in, where I haven't laughed out loud at least twice at something he said. 

His name is James Acaster. As far as I can tell, he's fairly new to the whole comic scene, certainly the televised aspect of it. I first heard of him when I started in on the backlog of the Xfm Josh Widdicombe Show podcasts. He shows up for the last half of the show most weeks and, for the majority of them, talks about his 'Classic Scrapes' which involve all the times that he's managed to get himself into trouble in life, and how he managed to get out of them. They're all awesome and make me laugh heartily. More recently, he's been doing different things, such as offering advice in an Agony Uncle type role, and most recently, giving tourist information for different parts of the country... He's only done Brighton so far, but he suitably sold it. Anywho, if you want a good podcast to wile away the time you spend commuting... or procrastinating at work... whatever floats your boat, then give these podcasts a listen because they tend to brighten anyone's day. 

He's done a few televised appearances, as far as I have seen. For anyone who is reading this and are avid James Acaster fans, please don't be offended for the inevitable TV appearances I am now going to miss in my sell of him. If James Acaster himself is reading this... um, Hi? Please read this post as the puff piece it is intended to be, rather than any weird form of stalkerish and obsessive post... of course, if you hadn't thought that up to this point, you probably think it now... please don't. I'm not anything weird, just a fan. You're funny. Congratulations. 

There, I came off well then. Yes, having read it back, I'm confident that I sound completely normal and even slightly cool. And I'll continue. 

So, in terms of clips of his televised work. I'll give you the brief stand up he did on Russell Howard's Good News. Please ignore any misconception that there is a miss-spelling of his surname in the background. It is an e, not an o, and if you see an o, you clearly have some form of letter disease. 

Oh, and yes, he's ginger. No, that isn't the sole reason for my liking him. I am capable of forming opinions outside of that fact. 

My reasons for finding his general word area funny, is probably because of the Britishness of his humour. Small town guy from Kettering apparently means hilarity falls out of his mouth. For more stuff on his work, youtube is always a good site to check out. He also has an official website, which I've linked to his name above. 

He's done a few panel shows, which is my favourite thing. I LOVE panel shows... maybe I could do a Fancy Thing Friday on that one week... oooh, I'm getting excitement chills just thinking about it. Okay, back to the Acaster. I've put below two particular shows that I've seen him in. One 30 mins and one 35 mins, which gives you plenty enough to go on whilst you pretend not to work on a Friday afternoon. You are very welcome. 

First: Never Mind the Buzzcocks (Music based quiz)

Second: 8 Out of 10 Cats (News based quiz)

If you are thinking after watching that, "James Acaster is funny" then yes, you would be correct. If you are thinking either "That man isn't funny" or "I don't get him at all" or "Why is this a Fancy Thing Friday?" then bad person, bad bad person. You are clearly wrong in your thinking... or you are someone who is capable of having their own opinion about things and don't find something good just because I say it despite the fact that the things that you find entertaining aren't the same to mine, and I should learn to stop being so closed minded and accept that this is a way of life and not everyone is going to appreciate the same things I do, regardless of how certain I am that the things I find Fancy clearly are the correct things to find Fancy.


I think I've said all I need to on this subject. I'll see you all at his next gig, because you'd all be fools not to go... or just unable because you have to look after the kids or something. For those people, I'll see you at the one after that... if he does new things, I don't know how interested I'd be to see the same show twice. Unless it's really funny, then I could probably watch it again... although I'm not made of money. But then, from all the clear advertising I've done today for him, I'm sure he'd consider comping a couple of the tickets every now and again. I mean, come on, at least 6 people read this blog regularly... that's a lot of monies coming his way... I'll wait for my tickets in the mail. 

Peace out my lovelies

Thursday, 20 March 2014

Climbing out of the fog

I've been meaning to write my story for a while now. I even have about 6 different drafts in my blog post section. The problem with all of those drafts is that they were written at a time of either illness or recovery from illness and, although this post is predominantly about my 12 year run of battling with depression and anxiety, I wanted to be able to put the focus on the recovery I made and not the pain that I experienced.

All in all, I want this post to be one of inspiration and hope. Although it is about depression, it's not governed by it. I have spent too much of my life ruled by that disease and, now that I am finally free of it, I have no desire to dwell on that time again.

Having said that, possibly as a way of closure, but mostly as a way of encouragement to any of you who might be experiencing similar issues, I wanted to share my story with you all here. Mainly because, in my humble opinion, what has happened to me in the past year has been so miraculous, there has been a small part of me who has been waiting for the other ball to drop. I feel confident enough now however to believe that that time is behind me. I have moved to a new place in my life and achieved a sense of happiness that I have little to no memory of experiencing before.

Up until the end of last year, I had been on various types of antidepressants and sleeping medication since I was 18 years old. I saw several therapists, psychologists and specialists, as well as had regular fortnightly appointments with my GP. I would classify the beginning of my depression being from around 16 years old. Throughout the course of my depression, I have experienced self-harm, suicidal thoughts, feelings of worthlessness, a lack of interest in anything around me, anxiety attacks, drastic weight loss, drastic weight gain, self-isolation from friends and family, over-clinginess to friends and family, and, the one constant thing throughout it all, an all-consuming and completely crushing weight on my chest, pressing down morning, noon and night.

Depression has been a part of my life for so long that I simply don't remember a time when it wasn't the only thing that I could focus on. It was there, even in happier times. It ran my body and emotions completely. It left me knackered and frustrated, convinced that there was no way out. Throughout it all I managed to find two things that I could cling to, to make it that little bit more bearable, and that was comedy and writing. At first I coped through watching countless comedy shows and films. I can quote any episode from That 70's Show, as for about 2 years, it was the only thing that could put me at a calm enough mood to be able to get to sleep at night. As the years went on, it became more about creating my own stories. I wrote plays, short stories and novels, and then, in 2011, I created this blog which has proved to be more therapeutic to me than any of the other things combined.

Everything has been about my goal of reaching a state of content within my own skin. I remember trying to explain to a friend, a few years back, what depression was like. We were sitting in his car, and I was trying to explain to him why it was that this had been the first invite in a series of about 8 that I had accepted. I hadn't made up excuses for my previous declines, I had simply said that to be around large groups of people would have made me so anxious and on edge, I would have just had to escape out the back door five minutes in, anyway. That day, I had accepted his invitation, feeling a little more comfortable with leaving the house. However, I was still battling with this overwhelming need to just crawl into a ball and not talk to anyone. The weight on my chest was exceptionally heavy that day, and it had only been down to a fear of losing this friend if I declined him once more, that I had brought myself out. I explained to him that I was going to try really hard to be sociable but things felt particularly crappy, and I wasn't sure how well I was going to take everything.

My friend asked me what had happened to make things so crappy that day. I told him that there wasn't any particular thing. I explained that, as I understood it, most people would wake up of a morning and feel generally neutral about their day, and it would take an outside source or incident to determine how their mood is. For me however, I tend to wake up and already feel lost and sad. My day usually consists of trying to achieve that neutral feeling that most people start with. I remember my friend looking at me, completely baffled. He said that he couldn't imagine that, and that it made no sense for someone to feel sad without a reason to feel it. I simply smiled at him and said "That's what I've been telling myself for the past 10 years, but there you are."

The problem that I have had with writing this post is that there is so much to cover, it's been hard to limit it all to one particular article that's easy to read. I wanted to make it clear that things sucked for me for a long time, and without any real reason, if you look at my outside circumstances. My actual life has always been a generally happy one. I have an amazing family, amazing friends, and although money has never been something I've had a lot of, I've always had just enough to get by each month. It doesn't suck at all, in fact it's pretty great. The friends aspect of my life has changed the most throughout the last decade, and has been the most heartbreaking for me, but I have always had others to fall back on, and have learnt so much from the mistakes I have made. Despite all that however, having depression meant that I was not only unable to fully appreciate these things, but that I wasted  and even abused them, regularly. I look back at my 20s and I get angry to think that depression has stolen the majority of it. I made good decisions and have happy memories in this time, but any big decisions that should have been made, ones that would have improved my life for the better, were not made. Every time I started on a path that might bring me some form of happiness and move me forward in my life, I quickly went off road and found something else to do.

A very good example of this is this blog. When I started writing in this thing regularly, in 2011, I slowly but surely managed to pick up a steady and loyal following. I adored it. I got involved with other blogs and talked to people all over the world. I even heard from a publisher, interested in turning my blog into a book. Things were happening for me, and instantly I stopped. I backed out and refused to let it continue. I wrote occasionally, but nothing to the extent that I was doing before. This was the attitude that I took for my entire life. I had no problem dreaming, but the moment the dream looked at all like it would happen, I would back out before it could become a reality.

Looking back, I know that a lot of it had to do with my insistence on being the one to put a stop to it, before it had a chance to disappoint me. The first 6 years of my depression, I found myself to be needy, desperate for love and attention, and wore my heart constantly on my sleeve. This opened me up to so much disappointment that, following a particularly nasty breakdown 6 years ago, I started to harden. I hit rock bottom, and found all those heightened emotions that were always all over the place for me, had disappeared. In its place was a level of nothingness that lasted for a very long time. I became incapable of looking forward. I took each day as it came and focused on making every part of me as protected from the outside world as possible.

Outwardly, I became a lot easier to be friends with. I wasn't constantly looking for attention and needing to be around people, creating a seemingly laid back and fairly sarcastic demeanour instead. It was at this time, I met One-And-Only-Daniela and we became friends. Her way of being so awesome and accepting, not to mention ruthless with forcing me to socialise with her, restored my faith in my ability to form relationships with other people. Out of that, I found that I was able to go out and build a happier and more sociable life. We formed a good friendship group at the place we both worked and, out of all the periods of my depression era, that was the most manageable and, dare I say it, happiest.

I moved away from these people after only two years and began my life in London. That was when I started this blog. Things became hard again and, in the most gradual way possible, I found that I was isolating myself from everyone around me. Over the course of the following three years, I stopped socialising with anyone, I stopped writing on this thing, I started going to bed at 7:30pm every night, including weekends, and only ever interacted with those I worked with, and even then it was minimal. I continued down this road until I hit a moment of realisation on 6th May 2013, that completely turned my life around.

On that day, I watched a documentary called Dreams of a Life, on Netflix. It is about a woman called Joyce who lived 10 minutes away from where I live now. She was found in her flat 3 years after she had died. What's more, she was only in her early 30s. Carol Morley, the lady who put together the documentary, was intrigued by Joyce's tale, when the discovery of her body was published in the local paper. The most intriguing things surrounding her death were the following:

1. Despite being dead for three years, the TV was still playing.
2. No one had come to check when bills and rent weren't being paid.
3. There were a pile of wrapped Christmas presents surrounding the body, with tape and extra wrapping paper. Suggesting this had been the last thing she had done before she died.
4. Not one person had reported this woman as missing for the entire three years.

Due to the above facts, Morley decided that she would try and figure out who Joyce was and what her life had been like prior to her death. She began a campaign through advertisements on the sides of taxis and in newspapers, asking for anyone who knew Joyce to come forward. Soon people began to come out of the woodwork and her life was formed.

As shocking as all of this is on its own, what was uncovered next was the bit that terrified me into a need for change. Basically, it was uncovered, that not only was this woman well known by many people, but that she was known as being a highly popular and very likeable woman. Large groups of people came forward and talked about how she was always the life and soul of the party when she was around and how she had always been so friendly and involved in their lives. However, she was also a person who would show up in a certain friendship circle for a period of time quite suddenly, completely immerse herself in their lives, and then, just as suddenly, disappear again for years at a time. Due to this way of living, although people enjoyed her company and couldn't find a bad thing to say about her, she was still able to rot in a flat, on her own, for three years, before anyone even noticed that she had gone.

I watched that documentary, (one that I recommend all people should watch, by the way, follow the link above) and, being the ego-centric person that I am, I couldn't help but see the similarities between her and myself. I have done nothing but move all my life, I jump in and out of social circles all the time, and at that point in my life, I had distanced myself to such an extent that the same fate could very well happen to me. I wasn't quite there. I mean, I lived with people at the time, who would have noticed the smell emanating from my room should I have started to decompose, plus Marmie called me at least once a week, and she would definitely notice if I stopped answering, but if I kept my social pariah act up much longer, this could most definitely be a possibility for me. That concept scared the crap out of me to such an extent, I genuinely couldn't stop shaking for a week after. I became consumed by the fear that I had nothing to show for my life. That I was heading down a road where I hadn't achieved anything worthwhile, both in other people's lives or in my own. And then I became determined that I would not let that happen to me.

Coincidentally, the watching of this movie happened at the same time as I started a new course of therapy. I soon began a weekly session with an awesome therapist, focusing on Cognitive Behavioural Therapy. A really quick rundown of this type of therapy is as follows.

1. It looks at behaviours that you might have that are detrimental to you.
2. It looks at the thought pattern that causes these behaviours.
3. It challenges that thought pattern and suggests a new thought pattern to spark off a different behaviour.

That's basically it. It seems really simple, but believe it or not, this entirely simple method is the thing that brought me out of 12 years of depression. I met with this therapist for a total of four months, once a week. I cried, I argued with her. I would tell her something I had done, she would ask me why I felt the need to do it, I would explain my thought pattern and then she would suggest a new way of thinking about it. This was almost always followed by my adamantly arguing against her idea for a whole hour, and then a day later thinking about it and realising "Damn, she's right." Guaranteed, every week that would happen.

She set me goals and I worked really hard to make sure I did them.

1. I had to start making plans to see people, which included staying up later than 7:30pm. 
I made plans once a week to see One-And-Only-Daniela after work. I began accepting her invites to go shopping and have barbeques in the weekend. All of which, she couldn't quite believe as I'm certain she was about five seconds away from giving up on me altogether, and I don't blame her. Out of that, I found I was waking up of a morning with a smile, I had good memories forming in my life and funny jokes to remember.

2. I had to begin to make active plans in favour of my dreams, forcing them into reality rather than just fantasy.
I decided that I would stop talking about publishing my book and publish it. I did it and was overwhelmed by the positive feedback I received from people who read it, automatically feeling affirmed in my writing, which is my biggest dream.

3. When a rubbish thing was happening, I had to try and consider a possible solution, rather than focusing on all the reasons why it sucked in the first place. 
I decided to give up on my plan to go to America. I had made the plan to leave for 6 months and do a course over there, based on the success of someone else doing it. However, it was never really my dream and was an idea that was formed out of a time where I was grasping at straws to find something to aim for. As I reached closer to the time of leaving, it wasn't working out financially for me and I was beginning to freak out about the whole thing. I was afraid that cancelling my plans however would be seen as a failure, which was unacceptable to me, so I was afraid to do it, even though staying in England made far more sense to me than anything else. But I finally made the decision to do it, and the moment I announced to everyone that I wasn't going anymore, I had never felt more relieved in my life.

4. And most importantly, I had to stop being so freakin' hard on myself all the time. I had to stop thinking that guilt was my go to reaction for any of my faults. I had to make mistakes and not freak out after I made them, but rather shrug my shoulders and say, 'Oh well, it happens'. 
The overriding factor throughout my depression, and the thing that has ruled my emotions, is guilt. I could find ways of feeling guilty over anything. I would pick apart every conversation I had and obsess over each and every one of my responses in it. And that was all when I hadn't done anything wrong. When I did do something wrong, oh holy crap did I fall hard. I had no problem excusing all the people around me for anything they had done. I found it really hard to hold a grudge against anyone. But for me to do anything that might be offensive to any way of living? That was completely unacceptable. I had grown up in a Christian household and, although they were accepting of my mistakes, I had somehow managed to warp the rules of the bible and church in general into the be all and end all should I ever disobey them. Looking back, the only person throwing condemnation on me was myself. And when others had, it was usually because I had forced them to look at me that way. The worst part about it all was that most of the things I managed to feel guilty for weren't anything that anyone should feel guilty for. It was only my own high standards of myself that determined that. So I began to allow myself to be imperfect and make mistakes, and when the tirade of guilt began to fall in, I would force myself to look at the situation as if I were looking at someone else doing the same thing, and realise that there is nothing to feel guilty about. I would then shrug and say "Oh well, it happens."

Obviously, this only works for things that actually aren't really detrimental to other people, and more to do with us being human. I'm pretty certain that should I do something awful like chop someone's leg off just to watch them bleed, I would allow myself to feel suitably guilty over that.

And that's how I did it guys. I know it seems small and inconsequential. I will never be able to portray the gratitude that I feel towards my therapist and that CBT course. I also am a full advocator for it. I believe that anyone who is governed by their own thoughts, and is letting them rule their emotions, needs to just try it out. However, you also need to be ready to really try what they suggest. If I had gone and listened to her suggestions, then never put them into actions, I'd still be living the same life that I was living this time last year. However, because I was open to the change that needed to happen, my life has changed monumentally.

I wanted to tell people about my story because, although I can pinpoint the beginning of my recovery to the day, and also document the exact things that caused me to be able to recover, I think we can all agree that nothing really that spectacular had to occur in order for it to happen. The hardest part of my recovery was the initial gearing myself up to do the things that changed me. When I actually did them, I found that I was able to do them easily. I was also amazed by how much they changed my life.

I spent 12 years in a fog that ruined my 20s. I look back and it looks muggy and sad. I think of the opportunities I didn't grasp hold of and the friendships that my illness caused me to ruin, and it saddens me. It also maddens me. However, as of September 2013, I stopped taking medication for the first time in 10 years. I waited for the backlash of this, and found nothing. I began to see the world around me clearly and worked on striving for positive things in my future. I actively searched for friendship and put myself out there, knowing full well that I could be setting myself up for disappointment. I have made mistakes. I have done stupid things and I have not been perfect. I have also found that this is okay. I wake up in the morning now with that neutral feeling straight away. When I do something that is leaving negative imprints on myself, I actively change it.

Most importantly, I have also had bad days. Sad things have happened and I have been affected by them. But instead of letting that sad feeling settle within me, I have immediately thought of ways that can pick me up. My sad days, as crippling as they may still be, only last a couple of days, and then my happiness is back. It's in these moments that I am most grateful. I don't know if people who have found happiness an easy thing, ever take it for granted, (probably not, as they see it as another thing to be happy about) but for a person who had looked at those people with such envy for all of her adult life, I don't think I will ever take for granted that happy feeling again.

Also, as a way of inspiring those who are waiting for their lives to start before they will feel the happiness they need, don't wait. My life is probably the most stagnant it has ever been. I am living in a room completely filled with boxes because I have too much in it to unpack, I barely have enough money to get by every month, I spend the majority of my free time watching sci fi programmes on netflix... there really isn't that much going on for me at the moment. But I'm happy. And out of that happiness, I'm finding the determination to make plans for the better. I'm writing more, I'm getting more involved in social activities and am looking at finding more and more things that will enrich my life. All it takes to start making changes in your life, is you. I appreciate that it seems hard, I know how hard it is. I also realise that the way I found to get better is not one that would necessarily work for you.

However, I wanted to share my story as a way of inspiring hope into any broken hearts. It is possible to get out of this. It can be done. All that is needed from you is the initial ask. Seek help, most effectively from professionals, and find the therapy that works for you. There will be trial and error involved. Goodness knows, I've tried out a few before I found the one that works for me. But the most important thing is never ever suffer any of it in silence. Don't allow your demons to be the only thing that you have to confide in. Bring others in and find happiness anywhere you can. Be it through a secret love of yours for puzzles, music, writing etc, or in the joy of escaping to a happier place in watching comedies. Whatever it is, find it and use it. Get through your day as well as you can, and make plans for your tomorrow. Don't focus on the end result as it could be too big to contemplate. Focus on today, focus on this week. Make plans for a weekend and give yourself something to look forward to.

I don't know if this helps. I hope it does. I want anyone struggling to know that I had no hope I would ever be able to live a life without depression. I thought I would only be able to find a way of living it despite it. Somehow, I've done it though and the joy it's brought me, the confidence and happiness and want to go out and make something of my life as per how I want to do it, rather than what is expected of me, is something I thought I'd never experience. Please don't despair. Don't feel lost. There is always hope, no matter how long you've struggled with it, I should know.

Peace out my lovelies.

Wednesday, 19 March 2014

Eye seem to have done something Eye am unsure about...

When I typed the above title, I won't lie, I sat there for a good 20 seconds afterwards, looking at it and nodding smugly whilst I mentally congratulated myself.


As is standard for my life, it would appear that all the exciting things that happen to me, happen when I'm sleeping. Sometimes, these things suck... such as 12 years of nightmares, sometimes they rock... such as coming up with an idea for a book that has now led me to be a published author, and then there are times that they are just annoyingly mysterious... such as last night.

So, it would appear that I have managed to hurt myself whilst sleeping. Clearly my subconscious is annoyed at me for something, I don't know what though. At least I think this is something that I've done to myself, either that or I've become infectious to the world, which gives me far more power than I am comfortable with...

Okay, so I woke up this morning with a small but nasty pain in the corner of my left eye. Basically, it hurts whenever I blink. Can I just take a moment to say that you really don't realise how much you blink until you receive a jolt of pain every time you do... tis highly annoying.

Initially, I thought I had managed to punch myself in the eye whilst sleeping. Surprisingly, I wasn't all that annoyed by this. If anything, I was a little excited. I found myself looking forward to when the bruise would form and I could walk around looking like a kick arse woman, using the awesome come back line, whenever anyone asked me what happened, of "You should see the other person." Then I would throw them the wink at the gun and strut away as if I owned the place. I don't often get the chance to look like a hard-nut, so when it accidentally falls into my lap like this, you can be damn sure that I will milk it for all it's worth.

However, as the morning progressed, and I was on my way to work, I noticed that the pain felt more internal and under the skin, rather than something bruise worthy. That was when I made the connection between the pain coming from the inside of my eye and my rather long nails. I realised then that I've probably not just hurt myself whilst sleeping, but I've been meticulous with it and really dug my finger nails into the lid to do maximum damage. To scratch the inside of the corner of your eye is something that can be easily accidentally done whilst awake, but to do this when your eyes are shut takes real planning and determination. Especially as this scratching didn't then cause me to wake up.

I've now been dealing with this pain for the entire morning and I'm beginning to think that this isn't something I've done to myself, but rather something I might be infected with. This is mainly to do with the increase in pain as the day has continued, coupled with the fact that people have been commenting on how red it is all morning...

I do have to take a moment to say that this is the most baffling thing about the whole ordeal. Every time I look in the mirror, I cannot see any signs of redness or inflammation. My eye looks pretty much normal. However, there appears to be something others are seeing that I can't, maybe that's a symptom of the infection, the inability to see certain shades of red. I say certain shades as, in a moment of panic, I just googled the colour red to see if I could see it, and I can confirm that I am still capable of seeing it. Breathe everyone, it's only part horrific.

In a way of confirming that I'm not going crazy on my checks of my eye, I thought I'd upload a picture of how it looks for your professional opinions, as we all know if the Internet believes it to be true, then it is.

Can you see it? Am I infected??? I appreciate that there is red in the corner of the eye, but I was under the impression that that is the normal colour to expect in this particular region of the face. WHAT IS THE WORLD SEEING THAT I CAN'T????

Personally, I'm still hoping for the bruise to appear, even though it's beginning to feel more conjunctivitisy than anything else. I know it's probably more likely that I'm going to end up looking more pathetic than hardcore, but until that happens, I'm holding out hope for the unlikely. It's how I operate. You should all know this about me by now.

Peace out my lovelies.

Tuesday, 18 March 2014

My review of Frozen... as a woman who hasn't actually seen it but spends an unhealthy amount of time on the internet.

Guys I have to say it, I am feeling well and truly peer pressured and I'm not too sure how I feel about it. Over the past couple of months, the internet has become this place that seems to only accept people who have seen the movie Frozen. It.Is.Everywhere. I'm seeing it on Twitter, Tumblr, Facebook, Youtube, Google Searches... I can't get away from it! I've been waiting for it to eventually die down, but it just seems to be getting worse and, being a woman who hasn't seen this movie, I'm beginning to feel like some kind of sad loser outsider who just doesn't get any of the jokes the cool kids are making...

I have been picking up a few things along the way about the movie, and this is what I've concluded it is about:

1. There are apparently some Gay-friendly undertones throughout the movie that has the internet either loving it or getting morally outraged by it. 

So apparently it's all accepting of love regardless of gender. Not through clear gay relationships, but through something more subliminal?? I did ask Younger-Brother-Daniel about this, as he has seen it, and he said that he didn't notice any of these secret friendly messages, but apparently they are there. There are articles and debates in every social networking place I go to on the Internet.

I'm beginning to think that this is nothing more than it not being against gay relationships. This is good, of course, and quite clearly a direction Disney is currently keen to go down, but I am a little lost as to the extent in which this is being shown. I'd like to be clear that I haven't read any of these articles as I plan on watching the movie at some point and so didn't want to uncover any spoilers on it. As such, when I've seen these articles circling my news feed, I've resorted to reading the title and then the first paragraph before covering my ears and hitting the back button the moment they begin to reveal something about the plot of the movie... It's starting to become more and more clear to me why there is a real necessity to actually watching a movie in order to do a worthwhile review, but anywho, I shall continue.

2. Somewhere in the movie, it suddenly becomes very important for people to 'Let it go.'

This song is everywhere. I cannot seem to get away from it. If it isn't the original, then it's renditions of it, or parodies. And then everyone's commenting on these videos with likes and fond memories of when they first saw it in the movie, as well as opinions on whether this rendition is better or worse than the original. Also there are links to other renditions and parodies because clearly the world cannot get enough of this song and how life-changing it is. Ironic, given the title. I would assume at some point people would take it literally and apply it to their own obsessions with the song. But no. It just gets bigger and bigger and I feel sadder and sadder for being all alone in my plight of being the only person in the universe to have not seen the movie.

I do have one love for this song. It has less to do with the song, more to do with how the singer Idina Menzel was announced and yet another reason to love John Travolta.


3. Apparently it's a lot more supportive of women being awesome and not following men around.

Apparently there's some form of resistance to the man and lack of wanting to get married in the movie which makes young girls not think that marriage is the be all and end all of life. This makes me happy and give them a thumbs up. I have applauded the links to these articles, although again not looked into it in any detail for fear of spoilers.

So that's it. All every Internetual person seems to know about the movie, regardless of  whether they've seen it or not. There are countless other links to jokes about lines in the movies, these are the links that make me feel all alone and sad for not seeing it. I do like to laugh, but apparently I'm not allowed to because I haven't succumbed to worldly peer pressure and watched the movie.

Now, I know what you are all thinking. Why don't I just give in and watch the movie? Yes, that would be the sensible option, and it certainly was a viable one about a week ago. However, such is the level of my stubbornness, I now feel that to watch the movie would be a way of just following the crowd, and so I am beginning to get adamant  that I won't see it. I don't mind if I actually wanted to see it, but at the moment, it would only be because I hate feeling all left out of the in joke.

... Thing is, I think I do want to see it. Everyone I've spoken to is pretty much in love with it, but unfortunately for them, there is one exception to this rule and it happened to be the first review I heard. Younger-Brother-Daniel went to the see the movie and felt that it was trying too hard to be like Tangled, which he happened to adore, so wasn't a fan overall. This has been the reason I haven't watched it so far. It's not like I do everything that my brother tells me, but no matter how many people tell me it is magical and fun and the best thing that Disney has done in a while, his comment will always be the first one I heard about it, and so my opinion has been forever marred and thwarted by this.

I'm pretty certain that, if I were to watch it, I would love it. I'm a Disney freak. I grew up on that shizzle, as I'm sure most people did, and I cannot get enough of music based cartoons. But there is something there now that tells me not to... be it the voice of my brother, or my own stubbornness not to be a sheep, I don't know.

Chances are I'm massively overthinking it and will inevitably get drunk one night and think 'what the hell?' Then come back on this blog to talk about how much I adored the woman power and underlying acceptance of all types of gender attraction, then spend a couple of paragraphs complaining about how I completely gave into peer pressure and how this is the beginning of a long sliding slope of other peer pressure based vices to win over in my life. Cut forward to this time next year when I'm lying in a gutter somewhere, high on crack, with nowhere to live. At this point, in a moment of bitter clarity, I turn my face to skies, open my arms out wide and scream "Why did you do this to me, Disney?? WHY???????????????????"

 And that's why I won't watch Frozen. You can't make me.

Peace out my lovelies.

Monday, 17 March 2014

Coffee has ruined my brain today

I have had faaar too much caffeine this morning. As such, I'm feeling slightly weird, buzzed and not totally with it. Or maybe, I'm too with it. I can't decide, on account of having too much caffeine and my brain buzzing around my head too much.

Friday night I went out with a friend of mine who, before this month, I hadn't seen since we were 16 and at school together. This Friday was the second time we had seen each other in the month and I'm currently loving the catch up time. We went to see the new 300 movie which, I've realised, is something that can be hard to focus on when you spent the two hours previous in a bar drinking. I hadn't had loads to drink but I was at the point where I was suitably sleepy and so couldn't really focus on it... which I guess means that this was the ideal movie to see as really it only consists of people digging swords and arrows into other people until they die. There was this kick-arse woman in it who was a General or something. I got all enamoured with her within the first half hour and, after seeing her command an army, turned to my Friend TJ and proudly announced that I wished I was like her. I even began to think of ways to change my lifestyle so that I could be as awesome as she was. Shortly after I made this announcement however, she proceeded to cut a man's head off and then kiss the decapitated head. It was at this point that I feared I spoke too soon.

Very aware that TJ and I were still in the throes of getting to know each other again and he might very well assume that this is something I secretly wanted to do, due to not knowing me well enough to know that kissing corpses wasn't exactly my idea of fun, I felt I had to backtrack on my previous statement. Luckily, he seemed to accept the fact that, although I'd like to be an awesome woman who could lead an army, I drew the line at getting frisky with heads with no bodies and so didn't hold my first statement against me... talk about dodging a bullet there... I'll probably wait until we've hung out a few more times before revealing my previous interest in friendly cannibalism.

The night was fun, despite my almost nodding off during the movie, and I even managed to get home at a decent hour, which definitely had not been the case the first time we had gone out... *cough* 6:30am *cough*.

The rest of my weekend consisted of my new weekend marathon, which was Big Bang Theory as I was three series behind with the show. My love for it once again grew to the obsessive level it usually gets to when I'm overly exposed to its episodes. I have yet to find a single person who doesn't find that show awesome, especially since the introduction of Bernadette and Amy. Also, my suspicions that my ideal man is a man who holds sociopathic tendencies, based on my love for Sherlock and the Doctor, was once again confirmed as I found myself being drawn to Sheldon... I don't know what it is about that man, but I kinda love him.

I fear I'm beginning to come down from my caffeine buzz as I'm writing this. I'm not enjoying the experience at all. Although my mind is still racing around at 100 miles per hour, the rest of my body is beginning to feel knackered from it all. Moderation is not something I am any good at, at all.

Ooooh! I've hit the final day of my second book. This is the last day that I'm going to write about, although it is a long day and I've only just begun it. I spent Sunday having a roast dinner in a pub and working on my book in that way that suggests I'm all pretentious because while everyone else has come out to the pub to enjoy the beautiful weather and converse with people, I'm sitting there with my lap top, on my own, Ed Sheeran's 'I See Fire' playing on repeat on my headphones and completely isolating myself from any form of social interaction because it would just distract me and who needs that?

Yes peeps, if you are thinking of buying and reading this second book when it's published and want a song to listen to, to set the mood, just know that the majority of it was written and edited to the song 'I See Fire.' Amazing song and just one more reason for me gape wordlessly at Ed Sheeran, whilst I wonder how the hell it is that he manages to not do a single thing wrong in every song he's ever written or performed and how awesome he looks. I mean that guy isn't just ginger, he is ginger. Amazing and so perfect.

Okay, my brain has now stopped completely because it's sad from having been forced to work overtime and has now had the sense not to listen to the caffeine in my body, but instead fall asleep whilst it recovers from being abused by drugs. Once again, just another reason why I never do anything stronger than Caffeine for drugs. In light of this, I'm going to go now and try not to fall asleep for the afternoon... it would be about this time that I would make myself a cup of coffee but the very thought of it has my body protesting and refusing to move from my chair.

As I said, not totally with it today, which is why this post has been a little weird and not really of the sense making variety. Sorry about that. Less coffee based drugs tomorrow, I promise... possibly.

Peace out my lovelies.