64 posts tagged “life”
Hi folks.
I apologize for my once-a-week posting, but, there's a lot going on at the moment; most of which can't be talked about. A lot of it is because there is far too much cross-over between my "real life" and my "online life", and although the whole "neighborhood only", "friends only", "friends and family" settings on VOX are fantastic...if I feel like I need to constantly downgrade, upgrade and kick people out of my neighborhood just so I can have some expression and release...I can't really decide if it's worth all the effort or not.
There are all of 2-3 people that I can really talk openly and honestly with about all that's going on at the moment, and for that I'm grateful - but I truly do miss being fearlessly open online. Of course, I always had my boundaries (no personal family talk, no airing out my dirty, marital laundry online) but I've felt all muted and censored lately. There's nothing wrong with having to watch what I say, as I know I'm making the right decision, but I just being able to FUCKING TALK.
It's like, there's so many companies and organizations and bloggers and journalists that I just want to rage on about...but I'm in such a vulnerable position I can't really afford to piss anybody off.
Does that make me weak and subservient to The Networking Gods? Or just smart?
Does anybody else feel like the Internet is just claustrophobic lately? It just kills me that I used be in this fantastic little bubble where I could slag off some idiot journalist who did something shitty and laughable one minute, and now I do the same thing and realize that we have 8 "mutual friends" on Facebook and follow the same people on Twitter and have high music compatibility on LastFM. SERIOUSLY?
Am I losing my balls or and caring too much what others think? I wish I had the clarity to know for sure at the moment.
I have a feeling it's just this awkward transition period that I'm in the middle of. Or maybe it's that fucking Mercury Retrograde everyone on here is always banging on about. Can I blame it on Mercury? Is he retrograding at the moment? What does that even mean?
Thanks to everyone for their job suggestions and concern for my ability to afford food in the next few months. I really am okay, and I've accepted the fact that a Magical CEO is not going to email me and offer me the most fantastic blogging job of all time that allows me to work from home whenever I want, and get paid £500 a day AND get paid ON TIME!
The Universe is leaving me to figure this out myself. I'm up for the challenge, it's just just a shame my mojo is only running on half power at the moment.
Dear Internet/Silicon Valley/San Francisco,
Hi! It's me. Cate. CupCate. Of the London CupCates.
Here's the thing, homie...
I was made redundant at my job last week.
I'm there for another month, as I've agreed to do some very limited freelancing work on ye old Dollymix in June, and then after that, I'm broke, I mean, 100% open and available for new freelancing work.
Shit like this happens when you're freelance. The economy's bad at the moment (so I hear) and things are looking a little dull over here in the UK blogging industry. For example, please observe what happens when you Google "UK Blogging Jobs":
While there are no hard feelings and I understand that the company I worked for for the past year and a half "feel that we can no longer pay your incredibly inflated salary and support your extravagant lifestyle", it still sucks.
It sucks like...
...when you know you're in a relationship that is eventually going to end because either one of you doesn't want kids and/or you haven't had sex in 3.5 years and although you didn't want to marry the guy or even get a cat with him, when he looks at you over over half melted Jamba Juice, and says, "You know...I just don't think this is going to work. It's not you, it's me. It's been great, "
You're sort of relieved because you know how it's going to end, but then it just sort of pisses you off that HE BROKE UP WITH YOU and he gets to keep the apartment and YOU'RE THE ONE who has to start Googling BLOGGING JOBS and thinking about how you're going to be able to afford your next root canal...or something.
Does that make sense?
So, that's how I feel. I understand, I'm cool with it, I see how it's better for both of us in the end...but finding enough freelance work to float me for the next few months is my main concern at the moment.
Please, let me explain how.
See, while you're sleeping, I'M AWAKE. You're site will be guaranteed to have fresh content on it by the time you and all those returning visitors go back to your site first thing in the morning. PLUS, how IMPORTANT and SERIOUS will you look by having INTERNATIONAL CORESPONDENTS??
TRES. IT WILL LOOK TRES/MUCHO/A LOT IMPORTANT.
So, all I'm saying, San Francisco, is that you're very wealthy. You've got a lot of blogging jobs, but it would be better for you if you just shelled out the cash to pay some hot ass bloggers in sterling and let them telecommute from London Town.
Just think! I can get you all the latest news on what drugs Amy Winehouse did last night, who Russell Brand is boning this week, and what Heather Mills is lying about lately BEFORE all of your other US based bloggers. Time is on my side! You're 8 HOURS BEHIND ME. Do you know how many hits you could be getting in those 8 hours!?!?
TRES. YOU COULD BE GETTING TRES HITS.
I know I'm American and all, but all this means is that I know shit about TWO cultures! TWO! How many do you know about? It's probably like one and a half. I can talk about Richard Hammond and Miley Cyrus with equal ease. If you want me to be British, I can be British! I sleep with a British guy on a regular basis! I'll even lie and say I like Marmite. I'll throw in random 'u's in my spelling.
Liouke Thious
But in all seriousness, Silicon Valley...San Francisco...California...The United States of America....
We have some fine bloggers in the UK.
But!
There is only ONE in particular that has not only participated in a rather bland, awkward debate over WAGS live on Sky News, and managed to become a sex and relationships expert for Yahoo just months before they fired thousands of people, and (AND!) was misquoted in a grid about feminism in The Observer Woman, complete with an unflattering embarrassing photo.
Where the hell else are you going to find those kind of qualifications?
I may not be whorish enough, *ironic* enough, or have a strong enough love for cocaine to be a part of Gawker, or perhaps friendly and perky enough to be a part of Sugar....but god dammit, I am all for settling and deal with disappointment and low pay very well.
Please. CALL ME.
Cate
xx
PS. In all seriousness, if you have any blogging or freelance writing work done, please get in contact. PM me or my email is in the links on the side. Please? I'll send you a photo of my bra.
Today was our day in Japan, and I have to say, today has been one of the best days of my life. We didn't try to jam in a whole bunch of touristy things into our schedule, we simply walked through the Shinjuku district of Tokyo, with the simple goal of sitting under the cherry blossoms in Shinjuku Gyoen National Park.
Hanami means "flower viewing" in Japanese, and tons, and tons of families, friends and couples gather in parks, like Shinjuku Gyoen, to picnic, drink, and admire the cherry blossoms.
Now, I had of course heard that this time of year was the best to go to Japan because of the cherry blossoms. I've seen pictures of them. I've seen them in movies. I've read about how the blossoms look like snow when they get caught in the breeze and flutter to the ground.
However, nothing can compare to actually seeing it in person. I was so moved and so taken aback when I stepped foot in Shinjuku Gyoen, that I have to admit I teared up every now and again.
I am forever thankful to whatever ever good karma I sent out in the world to that allowed me to be in Japan this morning. The feeling I had while standing under the cherry blossoms, having those tiny pink and white petals falling gently fall down to the earth around me - catching in my hair, and softly brushing past my skin - I will never forget it.
We're totally going on the Vox World Tour next month. Does anyone know a good way to learn Japanese and brush up on my French in just over a month?
*squeals*
Hi everyone! How are you? You good? Good! I'm glad. [I'm glad you're good]
This week I finally got over The Sickness that I had last week. All I know is that I had flu symptoms, and my glands (in rather awkward places...) swelled up so badly I resorted to Googling my problems, which, let me tell you, was a bad idea. So bad in fact, I called Iain in a flood of tears explaining that I may have:
a) Sleeping African Disease
b) AIDS
c) The Plague
d) The Clap
e) Cancer
d) all of the above and would most certainly die or/and become infertile
These were all actual answers as to why my gland were swollen, paired
with my other symptoms. Apparently swollen glands equals cancer and
untimely death on the internet, so that's why I was more than glad when
a nurse at the NHS informed me that no, I probably wasn't dying, and
no, I more than likely didn't have African Sleeping Disease.
So, to celebrate my newfound health, I attended a rather boring
conference with the sole purpose of wanting to sit through an hour of a
rather intensely geeky Masterclass, put on by a certain "University".
Said Masterclass was useful, but the "professors" were the most dry,
unfunny, robotic people I've ever seen in my life. (Which is why I would much rather have attended this Google Talk in Mountain View, aka The Place Of My Birth.) They didn't even
attempt at making a joke, yet they were kind enough to provide us with a
plethora of goodies, including a bottle of water and a packet of candy
with a Google sticker on the front. However, I have a sneaking
suspicion that they were not actually Google candy, but simply an
assortment of sweets from another company and simply passed them off as
their own. I'M ON TO YOU.
Yesterday's traditional festivities are something I generally prefer to ignore and not acknowledge. I had an angry post all ready to go in my head, and I realized that hating Valentine's Day is just too hip this year, so I decided against it.
Iain and I had planned about a month ago that this year, we would finally celebrate V Day together properly, and maybe do a dinner and a movie thing, and finally go see Cloverfield. No presents. And then about Sunday last week we realized we just couldn't be bothered, and that maybe we'd just go to the movies this weekend...but probably not. (Staying home and watching Top Gear reruns whilst eating pizza is so much better.)
Come 6 o'clock last night we met on New Oxford Street, ready to do our usual walk/shove to the Tube station when we decided to pop into Jessops ( a camera shop) and lust after some of the JVC camcorders we've been drooling over for the past couple weeks...
...and then we wandered up Tottenham Court Road to all of the electronic shops just to look at the other cameras that are out now and to "let the tube crowds die down"...
And then some man showed us the most glorious camcorder I've ever touched. It was blue. It was shiny. It was lightweight. It could fit in my hand bag. It was recorded purely on SD. IT WAS LOVE.
Then, some sort of wildly erotic exchange happened when this man said
the magical words of "DISCOUNT" and "SPECIAL PRICE JUST FOR YOU" and
next thing I know, Iain and I were walking out of the shop sweating,
shaking, and giggling with ecstasy.
Iain got me the Sanyo Xacti VPC-CA65EX in the prettiest blue color I've ever laid eyes on. AND IT'S WATERPROOF!!! Plus, all the cool kid Bloggers in the states seem to think this is pretty nifty, too.
THEN we bought a 4GB SD card that you can fold and plug directly into your USB port. *quiver*
AND THEN he took me to the Eagle Bar & Grill were they serve ANCHOR STEAM...AND MACARONI AND CHEESE.
We sat there playing around with the Xacti and drinking and stuffing our face with American style food. It was probably one of the best moments that I've had in a long time. I was relaxed. I was content. We didn't intend on having a date on Valentine's day. Nor did I expect such a fabulous gift that pulls my face into some drooly, geeky smile whenever I think about it.
Last night was so much better than any Hallmark commercial or romantic comedy could have portrayed. Don't give me roses. Don't book us into some fancy restaurant where we'll feel obligated to be in good moods and enjoy the food and stare into each other's eyes longingly because we have to and because god dammit we payed good money for all this *romance*!!
Take me to a bar with good beer! Serenade me with the cheesy beats from some z-list DJ with a mullet! Seduce me with spontaneity! Shower me with 4GB SD cards, mini USB cables and waterproof cameras. *SWOON*
After last night, I think we're found that the best way to find romance...is on accident. (And with some really fucking cool gadgets.)
Politics has always be en one of those things that I've shied away from.
I was still in high school when this war started. I was only 16 when the Twin Towers fell.
I knew I was angry. I knew I felt sick to my stomach what was happening. All of the sudden that crap that went on in the mystical, frightening "middle east" was on our soil. I didn't understand it, and mostly, I think I still don't understand it.
In 2001, I was thankful that George Bush was our President. He was our savior. Our cowboy. He stood in front of us all, and said that he'd get the bastards that did this to us. To our people. To New York. To all of us. I wore MIA dog tags for a missing New York firefighter. His name was Peter Lagone. My mom wore one with his brother's name on it, Thomas Lagone.
In my simple, young mind, I though that we should just trust the President. I was angry, we were all angry. Bomb the bastards. I truly felt that way. Bomb them. They can't touch us. Better them than us.
We went to Afghanistan. The Taliban. Osama Bin Laden.
Then, almost two years later, I remember sitting in my Economics class, and our teacher turned on the TV so we could all watch the Shock & Awe. The song "Bombs Over Baghdad" popped in my head. The bright, lime green flashes of light reminded me of when I was 5, watching what was happening in the Golf War.
I tried not to think of the people that were dying in all the fireworks. Then the bell rang and I was over it. We walked out of the classroom, more concerned with how many credits we needed to make up so we could graduate.
When I was 18 I registered as a Repuiblican at the same time I signed the petition to get Gray Davis out of office...outside of a Target.
After we had been in Iraq for over a year, and it became clear that maybe there weren't those WMDs after all, I became a little suspicious.
We were at war. I wasn't quite sure why anymore. The anger I felt because of 9/11 had faded away. I supported the troops. I knew that much. It wasn't their fault, they were doing their job.
Come 2004, it was time to vote for Bush or Kerry. I felt like we needed to be out of Iraq. However, Kerry was a jackass. Edwards seemed like an overpaid weather man with bad hair. When they spoke, I didn't believe them. Was it the Republican in me that hated them, or did I just not trust them?
I voted for Bush. I voted for him on the notion that this was his mess, his war, and he was going to have to fucking clean it up. I didn't want Jackass and Weatherman coming into office with their fake hair and lies, and try to clean up something that was far greater, and had far more secrets than they knew about.
Slowly I really began to wonder about Bush. The troops. Rumsfeld. I got tired of being a Republican.
I think was really did it for me was the gay marriage issue. How in the fucking world did they not see that denying gay people the right to marriage was unconstitutional? It still blows my mind. How, HOW do you DENY someone ANYTHING because of WHO THEY LOVE? Do you really care THAT MUCH where someone's dick goes? How they get off? Who they cuddle up to at night?
And why do you care about that?? OH. That's right. Some mythical guy who can turn water into wine and wore Birkenstocks. Sure, he was a lovely guy, but I thought he taught people about love, and peace. And I'm also pretty sure that old ass book that tells you one man is not suppose to lay next to (or in) another man is just that: OLD AS FUCK.
Don't talk to me about being Green and Global Warming and tell me that the "state of the union is strong" and expect me to take you seriously when you still tell people who they can and can't fuck. Or try to tell me what I can or can't do with my uterus.
I eventually registered as "Decline To State".
After moving to London, and after really getting involved and realizing how much I cared about feminism, and just equality for everyone (except stupid people) I realized what a fucked up mess all this Republican, Democrat, Bill O'Reilly, Ann Coulter bulllllshit is.
On my way home from the fucked up Feminism conference I went to in Newcastle, I started really thinking about politics. I was on fire. I didn't agree with everything those hardcore, ridiculously hardcore feminist said...but I knew one thing. We need a change.
Desperately, desperately need a change.
I walked into a bookstore at the Newcastle train station. I looked for any magazine or book that wasn't about Britney Spears or the confessions of a hooker...and then I saw Hillary Clinton's smug little smile staring at me from across the aisle.
Growing up, I was taught to hate Bill Clinton, and to hate Hillary even more. I remember thinking that he was slime after the whole Lewinsky, cigar incident, and thinking that Hillary was a moron for staying with him. Now, I realize that I don't give a shit. I don't care about who people fuck or what their relationship is like. I think in politics people tend to care too much about that stuff. ("I FUCK MY WIFE!"...5:45 in the video. The rest of is is Bill Maher being a misogynist asshole.)
I started to read Hillary's book, and realized that she was much more human than everyone thinks. I read about her family, how she grew up, her time in law school. I read about her views on Medicare, and how involved she was in Bill's presidency. I'll be honest and say I haven't finished it, I'm about half way through Bill's first term, but I had read enough to know I believed in Hillary.
I decided to vote for her back in July.
I had to ask myself if I wanted to vote for her because she was a woman, or because I thought she would be the right person for the job. The answer is both. As I said before, we need a change. A big one. It's absolutely RIDICULOUS that we haven't had a female leader yet. Hillary is the closest we're going to get for a very long time, and I know that she's the right person for the job. I feel it in my bones.
On the contrary, if Condi Rice was running, I would NOT vote for her. Yes, she's a woman. No, I don't think she's right for the job. But, you probably just think I'm racist, and that's why I'd chose not to vote for her, right?
My politics have changed dramatically., but I changed them on my own. There are things that I care very much about. I care very much about womens rights, and you know there's no way in HELL Hillary is going to reverse Roe vs Wade.
I know she made some lame voting decisions in the Senate. I've been told everything about Hillary from the fact that she's a criminal and a fake, to a communist. For the record, I'm not a moron. I know politicians are dirty, and I don't expect any less than that from the Clintons. They've probably killed people and hid their bodies somewhere at Camp David. To be honest, I don't care. I suppose this even gives them street cred. Maybe they even have their own gang signs.
I've been told Bill Clinton was a horrible president, granted I was very young while he was in power, but I don't recall any wars, any drastic financial crisis...only a stain on a blue dress.
At the end of the day, I trust that Hillary is going to go in there and kick ass. It's the best of both worlds for me, she's going to tackle the issues I care about (universal health care, civil unions -not the same as gay marriage I KNOW-, getting our troops out of Iraq, stem cell research) and she'll be breaking the highest glass ceiling there is by doing it.
I'm sure Obama's a great guy. I'm sure he's a great politician. I'm sure he'd probably do well as the President. But just not now. Not where our country is at the moment.
I've seen him talk, and I just don't believe him. I don't get excited by what he has to say, or how he says it. Call me stupid, but I need to feel something when someone who wants my vote talks to me. Obama talks...I feel nothing.
On the contrary, when Hillary talks I get goose bumps. I get excited. I BECOME SEXUALLY AROUSED at the thought of her giving a State of the Union speech.
I suppose the bottom line for me, is that I've made up my mind who I want to be my President.
I don't feel the need to swap statistics, or voting histories, or secret facts with you. I don't want to hear about some book that was written that proves why Hillary is a commie or why Obama is inexperienced. I don't care. In politics, I really don't believe there is any truth. I don't take anything for fact. I go with my gut, and take in as much information as I can understand, and try to form an opinion about something, which I feel is as close to the truth as I can get.
This is why I am voting for Hillary Clinton in 2008.
This is why I'm Decline To State.
I am not Democrat. I am not Republican.
I am simply an American, who has seen and experienced how the rest of the world sees us. It's not pretty, at the moment. We're in a bit of a mess. We need a clean up crew. We need a change.
We need some ovaries. Women get shit done.
If nothing else, I've realized that I would look horrible with bangs that short, and that Iain would look fucking awesome with a pompadour.
Dear Fellow Commuters,
Hi! I'm not sure if we've met properly, but I'm sure you must know who I am, seeing as you somehow manage to dry hump me, sneeze on me, slice my flesh open with the corners of your newspaper, and jab your gargantuan handbag into my rib cage every morning on the train.
For the record, my name is Cate.
I know most of the time I dress like a broke college student, but really, I'm not just going to London to shop or to catch my 9am Art History class. I have a job. A real live one. I have emails that I need to answer, phone calls to return, and a boss to fire me if I'm late - just like you!
So, I know how important it is that you get on this train promptly, as I need to, as well.
But the one thing I have that you don't, is consideration.
Ah, yes! Consideration!
Consideration: con·sid·er·a·tion [kuh
n-sid-uh-rey-shuh
1. the act of considering; careful thought; meditation; deliberation: I will give your project full consideration.
2. something that is or is to be kept in mind in making a decision, evaluating facts, etc.: Age was an important consideration in the decision.
3. thoughtful or sympathetic regard or respect; thoughtfulness for others: They showed no consideration for his feelings.
I know this is a difficult concept to grasp, but trust me. It works.
For example, girl with the ugly skirts that are that are the wrong length and cut for your body type that waits for the 8:19 train with me. Look. I'm not sure if you realize this, but every single morning you practically shove me under the train so you can get in the doors before me, so that you can be sure find a seat for your ass and the massive log that's shoved up between your cheeks. And whyyyyy do you need a seat every morning? Because you're too lazy to get up 20 minutes earlier to do your FUCKING makeup at your FUCKING house like the rest of the FUCKING women in the world.
Can you imagine how many lives you would change by doing your makeup in the privacy of your own home? You would change mine, because you wouldn't be raising my blood pressure so early in the morning. You would also change the people that have to sit next to you on the train, by not getting your shitty Wet & Wild eye shadow all over them, and digging your pointy elbows into their love handles, reminding them that they really shouldn't have had that extra helping of risotto last night. See? Right there? That's like 4 lives! Just but having a little consideration.
And the rest of you, well, you're no better. I know you're important. I know you've got somewhere to be. I understand that if you don't get on this train you will more than likely die, but seriously. Let me help. Help me. Help you.
1.) A vagina and a set of ovaries does not entitle you to a seat on the tube/train.
Girlfriends, you are not senior citizens. You are not old. You are not disabled. Look. I know that second X chromosome gets pretty heavy and that sitting down on the tube is lovely privilege, but it's just that, sister. A fucking privilege, not a right. Therefore, do not trample me or shove me on the train just so you can HAVE A FUCKING SEAT.
2.) If you see someone who is pregnant, give them a seat. (Even if part of you thinks that they're just fat.)
Pregnancy sucks. It sucks even more if you have to walk up and down the stairs at a train station, and get shoved on a smelly, stinky train with all the mother fucking media people that work in the West End. If you see a lady with child, offer her your seat. Yes, she may decline, but chances are, she appreciates the kind gesture. Would you rather be the asshole who let a pregnant lady stand for 5 stops, or be the polite gentleman/woman who offered her a seat?
3.) "Would you mind taking your handbag out of my armpit?"
Here's an idea. If you have a massive handbag and you're in a confined space underground with lots of people surrounding you, take your It Bag off your shoulder, and hold it it front of you. No. Not like a baby, like a grocery bag. See? See how much space that just made? Look at you! Your growing up! And that bitchy looking art student has stopped hexing you!
4.) It's not your right to READ on the TRAIN
The Metro, The London Paper, The Financial Times, The
Guardian...they're all fantastic papers, aren't they? And that book
you're reading! It's awesome! However, you may notice that there are
quite a bit of people around you. Therefore, if you just sucked it up,
and put away your book./newspaper, see how much more space you created?
I know all you want to do is stare at pictures of what Girls Aloud did
last night. However, poking the woman standing next to you in the eye
with the corner of London Lite isn't exactly considerate, is it?
5.) If you've been sitting on the train, this doesn't mean you also must get off the train first
How great for you! You've been sitting comfortably for the past half
hour, checking your Facebook page on your Blackberry. However, you see
all those people standing by the doors and in the aisle? Yeah. They're
not so comfortable. They've had some weird guy rubbing his crotch on
their backs for the past 30 minutes. Therefore, when the train stops,
it's rather rude to hop up and shove past everyone, and try to get off
the train first. Let all those suckers who weren't crafty enough to
shove old ladies onto the tracks in order to get a seat off first.
Jesus sees all!
6.) Get off your fucking phone.
You're not funny. No one cares what you did last night, or what you ate for lunch. (Good for you for only eating rice all day.) Your voice is irritating. No one cares how many sales you made at work. No one cares how much you hate your boss. You know what we care about? PEACE AND QUIET. We've been at work all day, too. Therefore, we all just want you to shut up. Shut up. SHUT UP SHUT UP.
7.) "Can you move down, please?"
No. No I can't move down. At least once a day, I'm standing on a packed train, under or over ground, and then some asshole jumps on the train 2 seconds before the doors shut for good and shouts, "Can you MOVE DOWN please?" Here's the thing, love. There ain't no fucking room. NO. WE CAN'T MOVE DOWN. TRY THE NEXT CARRIAGE. Or better yet, THE NEXT TRAIN.
I know these may sound like crazy suggestions, but trust me, they're just basic common sense. I'm writing to you, because I am sick and tired of getting pissed off and angry at every single person who practically shoves me on the escalator shoves me on the tracks so they can get by or get a seat on the tube. Yes. I know I need to center myself and realize that I don't need to get mad at everything.
But after I got hit in the head with the tube doors, last week, when some important jack ass needed to hop on the tube FOR ONE STOP, and not ONE PERSON asked me if I WAS OKAY. I've just had enough.
Therefore, I implore you. I beg of you. Please, next time you're on any form of public transport, try to pull your head out of your ass, and be a little more considerate, eh?
Love,
That angry girl who shouts at everyone and calls them cunts and yells I HATE PEOPLE in the middle of Waterloo Station
xoxo
A couple months ago when I was having a hard time, I sent a desperate email to my old therapist and was like, "O hai, how can I make everything and everyone around me suck less?" She kindly reminded me that everyone around me doesn't exactly suck, and is probably trying the best that they can, and that maybe, just perhaps I could try to have a little more compassion for people.
My immediate reaction was, "Okay, but like...there are totally some people who are not trying their hardest. I HATE THAT."
And then I realized that the people who are not trying their hardest don't really affect me, as I've said peace out and moved on. I realized there are some people who do suck, but it's not my problem. Somewhere between having these people make me write seething "FUCK YOU!" posts and me getting to spend some time away from all that jazz, I started to see those situations a little bit better.
For example, some people are so small, that they feel the need to put on this giant show every single waking hour that THEY'RE BIG! THEY'RE MIGHTY! And you MUST RESPECT THEM. It's easy to get sucked into the show and to start to feel that freakish fear they are so desperately trying to inflict in you. Those fuckers want to make you crazy, and make you question everything from your confidence, to your way of eating, to why it is you do that whole breathing thing so incessantly.
However, if you adopt a different way of thinking, and dare question the mighty wizard of oz, you'll figure out all they are is some old dude with white hair behind a curtain.
Anyway.
I suppose that was my longwinded way of saying that I'm trying to be a bit more positive and a bit more grateful lately. I tried keeping a Gratitude Journal, and even bought the book Simple Abundance from Amazon and PAID EXTRA to have it rushed to me...but I got bored.
One of my new years resolutions has been "Try to hate less things", so, here is my attempt at being less hateful. I won't get sappy and start thanking the academy or anything, but the fact of the matter is, I should be grateful for all the things I have, and for being a Westerner, and that I am able to buy and consume some very exciting things. So here it is...
(or things I don't hate)
Let's be honest, I don't even know how to pronounce that word, and the first time I saw these at Boots, I laughed. How preconscious do you have to be to get Evian spray for your face? However, whilst browsing for things to take on the plane with me, I recalled how disgustingly dry and nastified my face gets cruising at 35,000 feet above the ground. All I can say is that using this baby is like spritzing your face with purified angel tears.
Now I know last year I fell in love with Old Navy's cupcake slippers, but this year my mom got me these, and I love them. They look very, I dunno, Dutch to me or something and I like to pretend I got them in the Netherlands when I wear them. (And also pretend that not every third person within driving distance to an Old Navy has them, too.) Favorite part? The pompoms. Sadly, one of the poms fell off and died, but I still have 3 others.
For some reason I have a hard time finding lotion I like. Partly because I'm cheap, and partly because a lot of the lotions in the UK don't come with those nifty squirty tops that I must desperately have. I'm no good with twist offs. However, I finally tried this. It's about £5 and when you put it on, you can feel your skin drink it up and say thank you. It absorbs super quickly, and it doesn't smell like a baby's ass, flowers, or "fresh" anything.
This was my fantastic present from Iain for Christmas, and I have to say, I have a crush on this phone. I am scared to death of losing it/getting mugged for it, but am even more scared of using it. The typing thing I've almost got down, but it's just so different than my other phones that I still don't have all it's nifty tricks figured out. I'd liken it to having sex with a really hot person for the first time. You're not sure what the heck you're doing or what it wants, but you know once you figure it out, it's gonna be haaaawwt.
Yeah, I know this isn't 10th grade and that I'm not doing school projects all the time, but oh lord do I love me a good Sharpie. I recently discovered that the UK have STAPLES, and I nearly came just from looking at the big red sign. I found me a pack of colored Sharpies, and they help me stay organized. I find that if I do To-Do lists in bright, sassy Sharpie colors, I actually will get shit done...but mostly so I can have the satisfaction of crossing things off in different colors.