Blogging has been sparse since the wonderful #blogtober wrapped up and I don’t really like that, so I’m setting myself some writing goals for the next couple of months.
November is half done of course so I’ve been slack as usual but it’s never too late to pull it together. I’ve got plans for #blogmas too, my own take on bloggers fave #vlogmas. Continue reading “Plan B”
Autumn is my own version of Spring and when the days are bright and crisp, I’m inspired. I thought I’d let you in on one of my favourite ongoing projects and how my partner and I have been working to streamline everything for our brand new season.
I’m talking about the podcast I co-host with my friend James – it’s called All Out of Bubblegum and we’ve been doing it for two years now. I love doing it as much as I love my blog because I get to watch movies for a purpose: to talk about them with my friend to my hearts content.
We recently took an extended Summer break and have just recorded two new episodes for Season 2. The break illustrated just how much work the podcast had become in addition to our other commitments (full-time jobs, social life, other creative undertakings). Since we both love doing it so much, we never want it to feel like a chore – so we’re making some important changes.
We’re going to start splitting the podcast into seasons. Each Summer we’ll take a long break and when we return we’ll start in on a new Season. We’ve never done this before but I think it will break things up a bit. Season 2, Episode 1 will drop very soon – and even though it’s still the same as before, it feels like a fresh start, which is always a plus for any creative project.
Instead of recording two episodes every two weeks and posting weekly, we’re moving to monthly and posting fortnightly. This gives us more time to do our homework and actually have a life. Nobody wants their hobbies to feel like an obligation, God knows we have enough of those.
I’ve been really bad about managing our marketing ‘strategy’. I share the episodes on Facebook and Twitter but that’s the bare minimum required – and I’ve forgotten about everything else.
The plan was always to pad out the episodes with opinions on films and blog posts so I’ve just set up the All Out of Bubblegum Hub. It’s still a work in progress but I’ll get there – and we’re not putting too much pressure on ourselves. We want to beef up our content but there are no rigid rules or expectations – we do what we can, when we can – and we do it ‘cos we love it.
We don’t have to love all the things we talk about – you win some, you lose some when it comes to art – but if we’re both on the same page about something that isn’t working for us, instead of enduring it, we’ll let each other know. Life is too short to sit through boring TV and films – especially when there’s so much good stuff to discover.
We’re been asked to contribute a film column to a friend of James’ zine which is exciting. It may only be quarterly and we’re not sure when but still, could be interesting…
We’ve always said we’re doing this for ourselves and that it the truth. It’s lovely when someone listens and comments on something we’ve done – but we’ll never be concerned about viewing figures (which is just as well). In fact, we’re both on the same page about what it would be like if we did have the added pressure of a decent following – it would probably freak us right out.
So for now we do this for ourselves and if anyone enjoys it – then I’m grateful.
I’ve got some annual leave this week. While I’ve made a few plans – dinner with a friend, cinema, tattoo on Thursday – let’s not pretend I’m not spending the majority of it on the sofa with The Handmaid’s Tale and various films, while my tea kettle works over time.
My intention is to also blog as much as I can because it’s one of the first things neglected when I’m busy or not feeling it.
While I was considering what on Earth to talk about, I landed on the idea of raiding my Drafts folder and running with some of those unfulfilled ideas, there are hundreds of them. Some are just one word titles too, like ‘Confidence’. Cryptic, huh?
I wonder what I was thinking when I made the effort of label that post, with no further comment? No matter, let’s see what I can do with them this week, shall we?
I’ve started writing for my work blog and the results have been interesting. I’ve had some really genuine and lovely feedback from people I don’t know very well (as well as close colleagues and friends) – and I’ve had more than a couple of moments of pure and utter anxiety about whether I’ve said too much.
I never want to hide who I am, even in a work environment but laying it all on the table, for instance talking about anxiety or telling an anecdote from my adolescence is different.
That’s who I really am, no messing, it’s me laid bare and it takes a lot to say you don’t mind sharing it with people you pass daily on the stairwell, who might stand behind you to buy a cup of coffee in the morning, knowing you’ve never really grown out of your teenage insecurities. (I greatly over exaggerate how many work mates read my words!).
It might make me second guess myself but it also feels real and that’s a weird one to define. I think it feels good to say you know yourself enough to share it with others. To write a post about your life long journey to accepting yourself for what you really are: perfectly imperfect, fucked up, damaged but still crawling, sometimes back up on two feet, sometimes running as fast as you can without looking back.
So yes, it feels good but I still have the fear. I guess I’ll either learn to put that aside or die trying*.
*Stop writing.
People can be really huffy about resolutions and I get it when we’re bombarded as soon as Boxing Day is over with spam emails from Weight Watchers and gym groups. But I kind of like them myself.
I feel like I’m quite a pro-active kind of chap when I want to be and I respond well to being held accountable, even if it’s just to an old Blog post, written and viewed only by myself.
So I am the kind of person who thinks about resolutions and goals as the NY starts undulating toward us. Of course I’ve already set some goals but I’ve been thinking of some more. Here they are:
Right. Happy New Year all, I’m off to achieve some of these bad boys. Starting with… maybe buying a sketch book?
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.
A Voluptuous Mind 