I’m not too proud to admit I turned to the internet for inspiration this week. It’s not that I don’t have my own ideas or experiences to chat about but sometimes it’s good to branch out a little and take your lead from someone else. Hence this little bad boy, which was actually fun to fill in. I found it via a blog called A Grande Life. Continue reading “A to Z of Advice”
Your life without a computer: what does it look like? Via The Daily Post (January 27th 2016)
My life without a computer would be a lot slower but I’d probably sleep better.
I’d watch less films and I wouldn’t know anything new-wise very quickly as I never read a newspaper and seldom watch the news. Wrong or right, Twitter tends to be my go-to headline generator (then the BBC News website for the deets).
I’d survive though because if all computers and handheld devices suddenly imploded, what choice would I have?
It’s not so hard to remember my life without a device permanently strapped to my hand. Believe it or not I didn’t really get into texting until about 2000, which admittedly is now sixteen years ago – and ‘Smart’ phones were a long way off then. Facebook wasn’t even a thing until 4 years later.
Thems were simpler times. No #selfies, no Instagram or Twitter, blogs were about but were only just begun (in style of The Carpenters). I went out then, drank and obsessed over boys – and then if I liked a boy I would have to exchange numbers and call him. UGH.
If I didn’t have the internet, my phone, my laptop to entertain me, would I be doing those things now? I don’t think so. Call it an age thing but I’m happy to be ensconced on a Friday night and if not with my techy bits then the television and a good book. I’d still try to avoid the phone.
Would I ‘create’ more? Perhaps. I always need to have something in my hands while I relax, that’s just how I roll. Would I knit/cross stitch or draw? Who knows.
Things have changed so much and I don’t personally want them to go back to the way they were. Sure, we could all do with having time off the grid but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with moving in the same direction as technology.
It baffles me when people of my generation and older struggle with social media, or actively avoid it. I love new apps and new stupid crazes. I love a phone upgrade.
Most of all I love my blog and I wonder truthfully where I would have been without it all these years. Sometimes it doesn’t bear thinking about.
Writing 101 – Day 20 (Friday 2nd October 2015) – The future
Okay so I skipped out on half the Writing 101 prompts in this series because I’m a bad and lazy person.
It did get me writing on the reg though so I can’t say it’s been a waste of time, and it has had me snarking a lot with Jill (seriously, some of the prompts have been so corny)! So I’m chalking this one down as a success, why not?
The future though? Hmmm.
All I really know about that is that it’s coming (if I can avoid double-decker buses and flesh-eating toilet dwelling spiders) and I haven’t the slightest idea what the fudge I’m doing in it.
Is it okay if I just plod along as I’m doing now and hope for the best? I can tell you with certainty that I won’t be having a baby or running a marathon.
I can tell you that I hope in say, a year, to be in a better place fiscally, my husband still likes me (obvs he will) and that I’m feeling healthier. Maybe that I’ve finally gone on holiday and don’t feel bad about it.
I’d like to tell you by then, but anytime soon is grand, that I’ve learnt not to be so stressed about everything (literally everything) and that I’ve learned to bat away as much anxiety as possible.
I’d like to have muscles, to maybe be doing another job or if not that then be writing, in a more professional capacity. I’d like to have finally seen Southpaw. I’d like to have at least started Mad Men.
Go on then, Cheri, I’ll do one of your prompts.
I believe that my future looks . . .
Happy.
I choose happiness. Sure, curve balls are always thrown and pure shit happens but I’m ready to take all that and still choose happiness.
I deserve it. We all deserve it.
Writing 101 – Day 10 (Friday 18th September 2015) – Update your readers over a cup of coffee
I was going to write a long thing about how boring my life is in comparison to my friends’ who all go on dates, have scandals and generally live the dream any which way they fucking like (in the good way) and then I stopped myself. I mean, so sue me for being a boring old fart.
Sue me for picking reading a book over dancing in a fountain. Sue me for not having ten holidays a year and spending my money on dresses instead.
Sue me for staying in on a Friday night with Gogglebox instead of going out for dinner.
I’m free-writing this and can you tell this is an inner monologue? I battle with myself all the time, ever since a friend made me cry because I thought she thought I was boring. I’m sure she does think I’m boring – I am boring.
But ever since, I’ve looked at my life the way others might, and it’s making me paranoid. I feel I have to justify everything and I’m not going to do that anymore. It all goes back to comparing yourself to others. Don’t do that.
Focus on your life and the things that are important to you. My family is important to me, and so are my friends – so are naps, pizza and crime novels. Films. Hula hooping. Tom Hardy’s lips. My cuticles. And Netflix.
This morning I watched a video of a squirrel trying to bury an acorn in a dog’s fur, while the dog looked on, too polite to stop him.
We had a collective discussion about the internet and how good/bad it is and I had to explain to Tom who Technotronic are/were.
Then I listened to Neneh Cherry’s Raw Like Sushi while trying to write some uninspiring copy. Don’t dare tell me I’m not living my life!
You guys seen Broad City? If not, I think you should get on it. If for no other reason than so you get all the gifs I’ve used for the last three posts. Ilana is my heart but I feel as though I’m definitely more Abbi.
This weekend I intend to spend several hours with my BFF in her new house (which she’s just bought, on her own, at the age of 30!), eating baked breakfast goods and christening it by viewing YouTube videos under her new roof.
Then I’m going to eat some more and try and get through The Good Girl which is thus far a little slow, not going to lie.
On Sunday I’m reviewing Whiplash (2014), finally, with Jillian. We each have a free pass before Halloween and the Big Fat Horror Collab 2015 begins.
And that’s me.
Writing 101 – Day 9 (Thursday 17th September 2015) – Reinvent the letter format
I’m reinventing nothing this morning. But I will do the assignment.
Dear Neighbour,
I’m sorry you saw me naked.
Actually. No.
You’re welcome.
Love from 1A
I couldn’t be arsed with today’s Writing 101 assignment (something about expanding on comments).
I stayed off work because I felt shitty and all I really wanted to do was watch Monsters University and loll about in my pants, wishing there was someone around to douse me in sympathy.
So sorry about that. Instead I give you this image:
How true is it though?
Writing 101 – Day 7 (Tuesday 15th September 2015) – Hook ’em with a quote
Today’s assignment is pretty cool. Big fan of the written quote. But what to use and why? That is the question. My first instinct was to use this one:
“Comparison is the death of joy.” ~ Mark Twain
I like this quote because it’s so true, and I drop it a lot, although I thought it was the ‘thief of joy’.
Compare yourself to almost anybody else and you’ll find yourself lacking. “Oh god, look how much she’s achieved!”, you might cry as you look down on your own life; 37 years of absolute nothingness, despite the fact that someone, somewhere is probably envying something of yours.
I compare myself to people I know and love all the time and it has to stop. We’re already conditioned as women to compare ourselves unfavourably to models and actresses and minor soap stars, or anyone for that matter. If we didn’t, perhaps we wouldn’t be so insecure and then what? The beauty industry (and the rest) might topple to the ground.
Imagine if we loved ourselves without question and didn’t feel the need to eyeball every female within spitting distance (God, I hate that!). Which leads me to my second quote, inspired by this amazing image:
“I really love me. I adore myself.” ~ Japanese artist, Yayoi Kusama*
That quote is everything. We can all pack up and go home, Yayoi has shut down the internet. Fucking outstanding isn’t it?
“I adore myself” is the mantra we should all chant in the mirror as we bodge up our winged liner/decide against brushing our hair/squeeze spots.
“I adore myself” is the tiny tattoo we should all have inked discreetly, or not so, about our person. I couldn’t love it, or her, more.
Then I thought of my ultimate favourite quote and I thought, why not, eh? It’s relevant to my current state of mind, and to my every day. So here it is:
“Out of the ash I rise with my red hair and I eat men like air.” ~ Sylvia Plath
Yas Queen! This couldn’t be more relevant to me if it tried. I’m still cross about an incident at work with an aggressive (and stupid) male and this rage is coursing through me like poison.
It probably wouldn’t be if it hadn’t been swept under the carpet and he wasn’t acting like nothing’s happened. I’m good at moving on when I’ve been able to get it out of my system but this pussy hasn’t even got the balls to apologise.
The thing is, I’m not exactly what you’d call an alpha female. I’m beta and absolutely fine with that. I genuinely believe for every leading lady (or man), there’s an equally as important Director of Photography, Sparky or Screenwriter. Not everybody can be bolshy. That doesn’t make betas weaker or any less important. I have strong opinions, I just know when to voice them and when not to waste my time on battles that don’t matter.
Strength comes in many forms and sometimes it’s just about getting up again and again, and getting on with it, rather than shouting as loud as you can. Still, every so often I fantasise about being more of a warrior. If I were, that pathetic tool at work would currently be a smoking pile of ashes. But, professionalism, innit.
And I’ve just realised that I’ve given you 3 for the price of 1. You’re welcome.
*Kusama also said this, which is wonderful:
One day I was looking at the red flower patterns of the tablecloth on a table, and when I looked up I saw the same pattern covering the ceiling, the windows and the walls, and finally all over the room, my body and the universe. I felt as if I had begun to self-obliterate, to revolve in the infinity of endless time and the absoluteness of space, and be reduced to nothingness. As I realized it was actually happening and not just in my imagination, I was frightened. I knew I had to run away lest I should be deprived of my life by the spell of the red flowers. I ran desperately up the stairs. The steps below me began to fall apart and I fell down the stairs straining my ankle.
Writing 101 – Day 6 (Monday 14th September 2015) – The space to write
I have terrible writing habits. There’s no cute corner desk with Cath Kidston stationery and a pretty flamingo shaped lamp to cast me in the best possible light, I’m afraid. I write on my lap with my laptop while I’m watching TV, and I usually have a cup of tea resting on the arm of the sofa, which 9 times out of 10, gets spilt. In more dramatic times it has toppled over completely, soaking me and the upholstery.
I should probably try and forge myself a little spot by the window, but then where would the rescued arm-chair from the street go? What would we throw all our clean washing upon?
I’m no domestic queen, you may have noted. Nor do I have a writing process per se, or even a routine. I write when I want and when I can, or when the mood takes me and I simply have to. Sometimes I write in my lunch hour at work, sometimes I start typing an outline when I should be doing something more pressing. Generally I’m too busy at work, but one can always find a window.
The only think I do regularly is the Sunday/Monday film review with Jillian, or an assignment (see: today’s).
In an ideal world I would have a quiet writing nook, but quiet only in the sense that there’d be nobody asking for my attention. I can’t bear being pulled out of the zone when I get going. Background noise is fine, preferably Netflix or some music.
Writing 101 – Day 5 (Friday 11th September 2015) – Let social media inspire you
I’m not doing today’s assignment because frankly, I haven’t the time nor the inclination. It’s a bad attitude to have perhaps, but *shrug*.
I’ve chosen instead to post a picture of some local graffiti that I love, that I have shared on social media. There is a tenuous link there somewhere and I’m sticking to it.
How bloody good is this piece (above)? Not only it is bold and beautiful, it’s also incorporated the lyrics of one of the greatest songs of the eighties. More than that it just has a lot of heart.
I mean, is the woman biting her fingers out of pure frustration? I’ve certainly been there in the throes of rejection and heartache before. When you just want to hurt yourself to stop the real pain in your heart. To momentarily distract yourself from the biggest, more painful picture.
Maybe I’m reading too much into it, after all only the artist’s can possibly know what they’re saying. But that’s the beauty of art, innit? It can be whatever you want it to be and give you whatever you need at the time.
Writing 101 – Day 4 (Thursday 10th September 2015) – A story in a single image
Don’t tell me what to do, WordPress!
Kidding. Obviously WordPress has been given free reign to boss me around as it sees fit for the next four weeks. However, I didn’t like any of the pictures showcased in the assignment so I chose my own. What of it?
I like this picture above because it makes me smile. Look at my silly husband with his eyelashes, so long that they brush against the lenses of his glasses. Look at him grinning like a loon. Look at me caught unawares by the flash, trying to comb the dreadlocks out of my bird’s nest.
We had a series of old school pictures taken in an Automatic booth in the open market last week and to say I was unimpressed with how old and chubby cheeked I looked in the finished articles is an understatement. It was not a good discovery for me, to learn that vintage B&W makes me look twenty years older than I am (I was envisaging a more Liz Taylor aesthetic, if I’m honest) but it was also a shock that I cared so much.
I try not to be vain, especially when I’m goofing around with my loved one. I mean, who cares if you look like shit when you’ve laughing your tits off? It couldn’t matter less in the grand scheme of things. I’m not militant about being tagged in Facebook pictures, and if I take 88 shit selfies before I land on the perfect one, I tend to blame my surroundings. Obvs.
But this made me want to cry. “I’m an ancient moon face!” I wanted to shout into the face of anyone who walked past me. I didn’t but that was the general mood. For about a second.
Glynn told me to pull myself together and we got on with our day. I destroyed the evidence of course, but on second viewing I rescued this one. It’s great because he’s laughing at me being a twat in front of the camera. I’m combing out my hair because I do care how I look sometimes and my tattoo looks freaking great.
A Voluptuous Mind 