Tag Archives: misc

átján

 

A Problem That You Have Had. 

First of all, let it be known that I do not like this one.

But since I am awake and have the time to write something, I’ll rise to the challenge… sort of.

~

Size 8 jeans are a massive struggle for me to get into.

Size 10 jeans are usually too big, by a margin considerable enough for it to be impossible for me to ignore and get over their too-big-ness.

Belts, even the ‘small’ ones, do not  fit me properly; There’s always too much left over, which just looks stupid.

I could eat The World and not put on more than maybe a couple of pounds.

.

My hair grows all wrong, so that there does not exist a style which it will do properly – or a way for it to look remotely attractive. Even when I was little, it wouldn’t do plaits or pigtails or even a simple ponytail properly. I think this is why I decided at some point not to even bother trying to be a proper girl.

.

I had a tendency, through school, to develop undying crushes on guys whom I not only would pretty much never speak to, but whom none of my friends could even vaguely understand my obsessions with.  Silent, Secret Agony.

.

I have no boobies. I would really prefer to have some of those. (I’m not stupid enough to even contemplate getting fake ones, don’t worry). I feel like a lot of years of my life would have been a lot less silently secretly agonizing if I’d just grown a pair of those at some point. (This fact probably played into at least one of the above, too).

.

My list of first world problems probably goes on and on, but I am tired and my brain isn’t working properly.

So, um.

Boobies:

 

 

~xx~

 

 

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There are many things

(that I, would like to say to you but I don’t know how)

… I have thought about/remembered today in an ‘I should write about that in my blog’  kinda way,

but I’m saving them for a later date, because Happy Ducks;

Duck 1: …said the actress to the bishop…
Duck 2: Hahahahahahaha

(not my photo, taken from https://www.facebook.com/duckoftheday)

~xx~


Birds Flyin’ High,

You Know How I Feel ~

.

So today I spent most of my time feeling much better than I have done for a while.  : )

Mostly for no particular reason, but here are a few of the things that have happened today to make me smile;

– I ran just over 3km in 17 minutes, with my younger brother. I have no idea whether that’s anything close to an achievement more generally, but it was my first time running in at least 4 weeks. We also have big plans; Half marathon distance (without walking any) will be achievable in six weeks’ time. Hopefully having D as a running buddy will help me to not give up this time.

– My little cousin said something really cute. After I’d chased her around the house and found her hiding on the stairs, I told her I liked her hair clips; she told me she’d got them for her birthday, proudly declared herself to be seven now, and asked me how I old I was. When I told her (21-and-a-half days ’til I turn 21), she said

‘that’s really, REALLY old!’

It’s ok, I know she meant it in a nice way. :3

– I wrote something for moonproject.co.uk, which hopefully will go on there tomorrow. *fingers crossed*

I’m not sure if anyone will really sympathise with what I was saying there, but even if they don’t publish it/everyone bashes me for it, it made me feel better to have typed it all out.

– I acquired a little black dress (like I didn’t already have enough of those, but… gift horses in the mouth and all that, right?) which pleasantly resembles the one I wore for my 19th birthday celebrations. Let’s just say I felt kinda sexy wearing the original, but it definitely couldn’t withstand the terrible ordeal I put it through that one and only time I wore it. (No, not in that way, Thank God. Definitely not in that way. Ha).

I’m ashamed to say I sank to the level of vain required for there to exist a photo of me wearing said new dress, but I don’t think I could ever quite bring myself down to the level of narcissistic whore required to put it on here.

Instead, here is a photo of a latte with bear-shaped froth (brought to my attention by a slightly lovely friend and which I think at least one other friend will appreciate if reading, too);

Loves,

~xx~


Sometimes,

I Get Really Really Bored.

I kinda can’t deal with it.

 

 

But give me a whiteboard and a pen and the problem is solved, at least for a while.

(Turner Prize, please?)

This is also a bit of a sneak preview of tomorrow’s intended blog post.

 

Next Time: LocoRoco/Night Sky complete with actual constellations.

: )

~xx~


Ed Sheeran Is My Soulmate

Because my Mum said so.

She said he reminds her of me.

And there’s a cat in one of his videos.

True Story.

In other news, I have eaten far too many M&Ms today. I have not written a sufficient number of words of essay, and am consequently feeling like a bit of a failure. I have appeared retarded in the library due to my Ribena carton not having a straw. (I hope you enjoy the image that brings to mind as much as I enjoyed the Ribena). I have pondered the meaning of life, the universe and everything a fair amount. And I have just received some quality advice from a mug:

Referring to ‘Lock your door… every time’, mostly. I mean… Duh.

I like to live life on the edge. I think I will continue to only lock my door sometimes. You gonna stop me, mug?

I repeat; it’s been a less than satisfying day.

~xx~


Life Plan Q

(14:11)

Becoming skydiving instructor. Never have to work hard.

Earn just enough to get by on, for loving life. Otherwise live simple life.

Die happy/Die trying. Die fast.

To fund training, win lottery/marry rich man. (Forget marrying for love, as does not exist).

(14:24)

Can you tell I ought to be doing more useful things? (Writing an essay).

I am in the library. It is sunny outside. I do not feel happy.

*save as draft, continue with essay*

(22:44)

Kill me. Kill me dead. Please.

(22:51)

I give up.

Have a smile:

I left the library at 9pm because apparently that’s what time it closes in the holidays, (angry face) and when I got home two ducks were sitting on the grass outside our house. A man duck and a lady duck. It never fails to make me happy that they always hang out in pairs. Maybe love does exist in duck world. Then again, maybe one duck has been shagging some other duck behind husband/wife duck’s back, or perhaps one duck will abandon the other a couple of weeks from now, for apparently no reason. (Hung-up ex-duck suddenly became appealing again, or something? Who knows.)

No. Let’s not ruin the smile. Let’s pretend Mr. and Mrs. Ducky are forever.

(This photo is not mine; my phone camera couldn’t handle the dark. It was not daytime, the ducks were not beside water and they were a lot closer together and more snuggled, but you get the idea).

xx~


[Instrumental*]

*Because sometimes, the right words just aren’t there.

Things as I see them at this precise moment in time can be pretty well summed up thusly:

I care more than I should about things that I probably shouldn’t even know about. This is what I always do and never wanted to ever do again after the last time. This makes me angry, which makes me antisocial and impossible to deal with. This means that Apple Strudel has a very clean tank complete with new pearly glass stones, and it also means that I am finding myself utterly unable to focus for any length of time in order to write the article that I was supposed to have written on Tuesday or Wednesday, (failed miserably due to Migraine) or to do any reading for my essays.

…*deep breath*.

Because I have little more of any substance to say for myself, here is a minor rant:

Today when I was at work, a woman came to the deli counter with a little girl who looked probably around six or seven years old. The first thing that irritated me in all this was the fact that the woman was wearing fierce fake nails, heavy makeup, high heels and fancy clothes –  for grocery shopping. The little girl was dressed normally (thank god); perhaps the mother had just been/had to go soon to some kind of dressy occasion? I don’t know, but I can hope.  The second thing that irritated me was that all the time as the woman was telling me which and how much (etc etc) ham she wanted, the little girl was repeatedly trying to get her attention and being completely ignored. As I was putting the stuff on the scales, the girl was watching and  trying to read out the weight of it and everything else that she could see on the screen; mother continuing to ignore.

I left the stuff on there long enough for her to read it all out to me, (-One hundred and forty-eight… erm, 148 what? –Grams. 148 grams. *encouraging smile*-One Pound Seventy-Four? –Yep, that’s right-) before wrapping it up and handing it over to the mother. Having said individual goodbyes to both, I watched mother strutting away with her nose in the air, tugging daughter impatiently behind her and still ignoring her intently. (‘Mummy, look at this, mummy. Mummy, look…’).

Mummy. Fucking pay attention to  your child, you self-absorbed, vile bitch. You brought her into this world,  stop treating her like she has no right to be in it. She’s adorable, she’s intelligent and she’s talking to you; just answer her, for Christ’s sake. 

I read somewhere very recently that the parents who listen are the parents whose children keep talking. The children who keep talking are the children who grow up intelligent, confident, emotionally mature and happy. I can believe this.

I’m not saying I know everything (or even anything, for that matter) about parenting, but it just breaks my heart seeing people bringing up children when they probably shouldn’t even be allowed to own a pet. If you spend more time putting on your eyeshadow than you do listening to what your daughter wants to tell you then clearly you have your priorities hideously wrong, and no matter how middle class you are you just should not have children.

Burr.

On a lighter note… Penguin Cafe Orchestra, folks.  : )

Sorry. Happy weekend to y’all.

~xx~


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