Friday, 11 January 2013
Tuesday, 6 March 2012
Me being arty.
I'm going to bore you with photos, because, if I'm honest, it makes my blog look prettier.
If you're reading this you're procrastinating.
Right now I should be writing a dissertation, but my good friend procrastination has decided to take me swiftly by the hand and lead me into a world of endless YouTube video watching, Facebook trawling, and tweeting.
There are several reasons as to why I procrastinate.
1. To stick a middle finger up to society. No, I will not comply to the rules and regulations. Society, stop trying to take away my free will. I am an independent woman, shouldn't I be spending time trying to communicate with my inner self like Julia Roberts in Eat Pray Love? Shouldn't I be meditating in a barn somewhere, claiming I'm 'getting back to nature' and 'finding my inner calm'? I would quite happily take part in a hard-core tai-chi lesson on the top of a hill if it meant avoiding my dissertation.
2. Because suddenly tidying my room and organising my clothes into a coloured tonal spread in my wardrobe suddenly seems a lot more appealing. I mean, its life skills. Aren't I supposed to have a de-cluttered work space to help my creativity/motivation flow seamlessly on to the word document that currently has a word count of 0?
3. My favourite TV programme just happens to be on the telly and if I miss it I will probably have some kind of nervous breakdown about being behind in society and on the twitterverse. Also if I don't watch the TV programme, I will have to force myself to avoid twitter, as it will probably be trending, and I will find out the ending which will take away my ultimate enjoyment of the programme. And I don't want to avoid twitter. I am officially a Tweek. Is that an official term yet? Who cares, I'll make it one. Get your Tweek on.
4. Dissertation is boring. Therefore my quality of life goes dooooowwwwwn. Is that not compatible with religious/utilitarian/humanist/MY views?
5. I just can't be fucked.
I probably ought to get back to my dissertation now.
There are several reasons as to why I procrastinate.
1. To stick a middle finger up to society. No, I will not comply to the rules and regulations. Society, stop trying to take away my free will. I am an independent woman, shouldn't I be spending time trying to communicate with my inner self like Julia Roberts in Eat Pray Love? Shouldn't I be meditating in a barn somewhere, claiming I'm 'getting back to nature' and 'finding my inner calm'? I would quite happily take part in a hard-core tai-chi lesson on the top of a hill if it meant avoiding my dissertation.
2. Because suddenly tidying my room and organising my clothes into a coloured tonal spread in my wardrobe suddenly seems a lot more appealing. I mean, its life skills. Aren't I supposed to have a de-cluttered work space to help my creativity/motivation flow seamlessly on to the word document that currently has a word count of 0?
3. My favourite TV programme just happens to be on the telly and if I miss it I will probably have some kind of nervous breakdown about being behind in society and on the twitterverse. Also if I don't watch the TV programme, I will have to force myself to avoid twitter, as it will probably be trending, and I will find out the ending which will take away my ultimate enjoyment of the programme. And I don't want to avoid twitter. I am officially a Tweek. Is that an official term yet? Who cares, I'll make it one. Get your Tweek on.
4. Dissertation is boring. Therefore my quality of life goes dooooowwwwwn. Is that not compatible with religious/utilitarian/humanist/MY views?
5. I just can't be fucked.
I probably ought to get back to my dissertation now.
Monday, 26 December 2011
Merry Christmas and that
I hope you had a good Christmas and you have a happy new year.
May the year ahead be filled with rainbows, sunshine and happy times. DARE TO DREAM or whatever.
Okay now we've got that out of the way, I thought I'd take this opportunity to eventually upload some of of my photos and show off my new camera lens - Canon f1.8 !
There. Merry Christmas.
Sunday, 4 December 2011
The art of slyly meandering your way to the front at a concert
Last night, I went to see Coldplay. It was incredible. There was confetti, balloons, light-up wristbands, lasers, and of course Chris Martin and the gang, who at one point, were no more than a mere three metres away from me. Exhibit:
And there's a pretty picture of some confetti.
As you can see, I was in a pretty good spot at the end of the walkway, however, to my surprise, gaining this position wasn't down to waiting for hours and hours in the freezing cold. Even if you arrive a little later than others, say, 15 minutes after the doors open, it is still perfectly possible to get a good position, if you play your cards right.
1. Try and look as young as possible. For me, wearing glasses and tucking my hair behind my ears allowed me to play the part of the vulnerable teen girl. Yes, it did make me more of a target for rapists. But, when attempting to make my way through the crowd by sweetly saying "sorry, excuse me", I was faced with less aggression than say, the loud middle aged woman with sun-transition glasses.
2. Always attack the crowd from the side. People will not move if you try and work your way up to the front. Go for the side and squeeze through the gaps in a line. Move swiftly and efficiently.
3. Talk very loudly on your mobile phone. People will be glad to let you through to stop the verbal diarrhea.
4. Pretend you are looking for someone "over there". For me and my troops, we actually WERE looking for a few friends, and had the advantage of being able to see and wave to each other, making our case for moving forward in the crowd valid. If in doubt, combine steps 2, 3 and 4 and move through the crowd talking to whoever you are trying to find very loudly on your phone. This triple-point tactic is always a winner.
5. Once you have your prime spot, stay rooted. Don't let someone purposely breathing very heavily on your right shoulder make you move. This happened to me, it was not pleasant.
Bear in mind, these tactics will not guarantee you a place right at the front, but a good place all the same. Also, if you are in a crowd, make sure you are hydrated. Last night, I was a keen bean and refrained from drinking fluids so that a toilet break would not be necessary. I ended up almost fainting at the beginning of Charlie Brown. I would like to clarify this was not because I am an insane fan and was overcome with emotion. STAY HYDRATED.
Sunday, 2 October 2011
Five things that will make your life complete
There are lots of small things in life which just make every day that extra little bit more awesome. Here is my extensive list of these extra fabby dabby things that continue to grace my life with happiness.
Number One: a Waltzer ride.
If you have not experienced the thrill of a Waltzer ride at a fairground I urge you to POP ON AND HAVE A SPIN. You will not regret it.
For those of you that have had deprived childhoods, here is a Waltzer.
Waltzers are quite simply beautiful. Picture the spinning teacups, take them and put them on a moving up and down platform, add several crazy lights including a blinding strobe, some bangin' beats blaring at top volume, and there you have the greatest invention known to man. An added bonus is watching your pal's strained facial expressions as they grip onto the safety bar for dear life, looking like they are having a minor stroke as they are hurled round at life-threatening speeds. Well, life threatening for a Waltzer. Regardless, the Waltzer is a blur of lights, thumping bass lines, euphoric screams, and of course, a shaky disposition when you get off.
Number Two : A good cup of tea
Few things come close to a caffeine-filled concoction of a good golden brew. Having a cup of tea is not merely an action of survival to keep your bodily fluids topped up - having a cup of tea is a personal, suspended moment in time. The brew teases you as you slowly stir in the milk, watching the two substances collide, creating a magical compound of pure bliss and sanctuary. Then, once it's ready and has been tailored to your perfect colour, there is simply nothing more satisfying than taking the steaming cup of tea to your lips, swallowing the golden liquid and feeling the warm substance filtering through your body. At that moment, it is perfectly acceptable to make an "Ooooaaaaaaaaft" noise to show your appreciation for the tea. Worship the tea. Tea is life.
Number Three : Going absolutely insane to your favourite song in the privacy of your own home.
We all need a moment or two to let off inner frustrations. Acting like a total nutcase to what you consider to be the best song in the universe complete with a hairbrush or air guitar while genuinely believing you're at Wembley Arena, well, its a pretty good way to release any pent up energy. Of course this act takes place whenever one has a free house to enable maximum space and potential, and also to avoid any embarrassing collisions with other human beings, who may think you're having some kind of epileptic fit. Also, by being alone, you have absolutely no shame. If standing on the kitchen counter holding your cat up to the sky while singing "Circle of Life" floats your boat, then hoist that sail. Or if you fancy jumping on the sofa to a bit of ABBA, or Bohemium Rhapsody, well, don't break the sofa.
Number Four : Appreciating the Bed.
My philosophy is that my bed is my best friend. Your bed is always there to welcome you when you're about to drop dead from exhaustion, or have had a shit day and need to collapse in a dramatic manner crying out "WHY!?" while pretending you're in some sort of god-forsaken teen movie. The bed will never reject you, but will wrap you up in its cosy feathery warmth, much like a mother, and soothe you, as if it is going "there there, settle down love". You can kick and punch and beat the bed all you like when you're having a tantrum, and the bed will always welcome you back with open arms. You can sob into the bed, or jump on it up and down with great happiness, but the bed will never complain. I appreciate the bed. You should appreciate the bed. But don't break the bed. The bed won't be happy if you do.
Number Five : This man:
Number One: a Waltzer ride.
If you have not experienced the thrill of a Waltzer ride at a fairground I urge you to POP ON AND HAVE A SPIN. You will not regret it.
For those of you that have had deprived childhoods, here is a Waltzer.
Waltzers are quite simply beautiful. Picture the spinning teacups, take them and put them on a moving up and down platform, add several crazy lights including a blinding strobe, some bangin' beats blaring at top volume, and there you have the greatest invention known to man. An added bonus is watching your pal's strained facial expressions as they grip onto the safety bar for dear life, looking like they are having a minor stroke as they are hurled round at life-threatening speeds. Well, life threatening for a Waltzer. Regardless, the Waltzer is a blur of lights, thumping bass lines, euphoric screams, and of course, a shaky disposition when you get off.
Number Two : A good cup of tea
Few things come close to a caffeine-filled concoction of a good golden brew. Having a cup of tea is not merely an action of survival to keep your bodily fluids topped up - having a cup of tea is a personal, suspended moment in time. The brew teases you as you slowly stir in the milk, watching the two substances collide, creating a magical compound of pure bliss and sanctuary. Then, once it's ready and has been tailored to your perfect colour, there is simply nothing more satisfying than taking the steaming cup of tea to your lips, swallowing the golden liquid and feeling the warm substance filtering through your body. At that moment, it is perfectly acceptable to make an "Ooooaaaaaaaaft" noise to show your appreciation for the tea. Worship the tea. Tea is life.
Number Three : Going absolutely insane to your favourite song in the privacy of your own home.
We all need a moment or two to let off inner frustrations. Acting like a total nutcase to what you consider to be the best song in the universe complete with a hairbrush or air guitar while genuinely believing you're at Wembley Arena, well, its a pretty good way to release any pent up energy. Of course this act takes place whenever one has a free house to enable maximum space and potential, and also to avoid any embarrassing collisions with other human beings, who may think you're having some kind of epileptic fit. Also, by being alone, you have absolutely no shame. If standing on the kitchen counter holding your cat up to the sky while singing "Circle of Life" floats your boat, then hoist that sail. Or if you fancy jumping on the sofa to a bit of ABBA, or Bohemium Rhapsody, well, don't break the sofa.
Number Four : Appreciating the Bed.
My philosophy is that my bed is my best friend. Your bed is always there to welcome you when you're about to drop dead from exhaustion, or have had a shit day and need to collapse in a dramatic manner crying out "WHY!?" while pretending you're in some sort of god-forsaken teen movie. The bed will never reject you, but will wrap you up in its cosy feathery warmth, much like a mother, and soothe you, as if it is going "there there, settle down love". You can kick and punch and beat the bed all you like when you're having a tantrum, and the bed will always welcome you back with open arms. You can sob into the bed, or jump on it up and down with great happiness, but the bed will never complain. I appreciate the bed. You should appreciate the bed. But don't break the bed. The bed won't be happy if you do.
Number Five : This man:
Need I say more.
Monday, 1 August 2011
The Etiquette of the Swimming Pool
Despite my blog being called "I'm not a morning person", yesterday I had an epiphany. Yes, an epiphany. I decided I was going to get fit. I was going to wake up in the morning, get my arse out of bed, and exercise.
There is only one sport that I remotely enjoy, and that is swimming. No sweat patches, you can get that anti-gravity effect thing going on, and not to mention it exercises every bit of your body.
So I decided to pay a trip to my local swimming baths at 10.30 sharp. I would get up at 9, eat a nutritious breakfast, flush out all the anti-toxins with several gulps of water, perhaps even warm myself up with a few sit ups, before finally heading out the door in high spirits, eating an apple, radiant and glowing.
In reality, I got up at 9.42, slobbed around in my dressing gown for half an hour drinking tea and eating crumpets while watching 90210, before finally heading out the door, looking haggard, exhausted, and without an apple. Note to self : Don't stay up all night watching Lord of the Rings.
When I finally dragged myself to the swimming pool, I realized there are certain unspoken rules, or guidelines if you will, that every swimmer unintentionally follows;
Rule 1: Try not to look like a pervert in the changing room cubicle.
I know it sounds ridiculous since you are assigned your own cubicle, however, there can be complications. For one, I had stupidly put my money in my pocket of my skinny jeans, and while writhing around like a worm trying to wriggle out of them, my coins went flying everywhere. In a moment of panic, with my trousers still around my ankles, I dropped to the floor, and began scanning the floors of the cubicles. Cringe to the absolute maximum when I heard a "Pouf" sound, and jerked my head round, only to see an old man's wrinkly foot with his trousers around his ankles a couple of cubicles along. With no sign of the coins anywhere, I stuck out my hand into the next cubicle to have a feel around, but instantly retracted it when I heard an "EXCUSE ME." I soon realized how utterly perverse and awkward I looked, trousers down, peering under the cubicle separators with my fingers out-stretched. Not wanting to be branded with the status as the "Pool Pervert", I had no choice but to leave my money and retain my dignity, and pray to God that a pool attendant wouldn't come banging on my cubicle door mid-squat. So take my advice. Just act normal.
Rule 2 - Get the awkward walk from changing room to pool over and done with - fast.
When you emerge from the cubicle, all swimmers feel a moment of vulnerability. There is a simple solution to this. Hastily shove your bag into the nearest locker and bolt. Try not to slip up on the way to the pool. Not only will you be injured, possibly bleeding, but you'll have to deal with the humiliation of being in a swimsuit in front of others for at least another 2 hours. Also, when actually getting into the pool, don't panic like I did and bomb into the pool arms and legs sprawling. You'll only attract more attention to yourself. Just simmer down and keep it casual.
Rule 3 - Claim your lane.
In every pool, there is an unintentional "kids half" and a "serious swimmer half". While there will be no clear lanes marked out, make sure you get a good clear runway where you aren't bumping in to old people, (trust me, you know something's up when you pass one and you swim through a strange patch of warm water) or knocking out children while trying to do front crawl. Own that lane girlfriend. Take a stretch of water for the hour and command it. No-one enters your lane. Travel up it fast and fluently, this is your spot.
Rule 4 - Don't make eye contact with anyone.
Especially if you think you know someone. I had the awkward experience of trying to work out if it was my English teacher swimming up and down the pool in the lane along from me. This is cringey in itself for two reasons : 1. It was possibly my teacher. Isn't swimming in a pool wearing next to nothing illegal or something? 2. I must have looked like I was checking out my English teacher, contributing to my overall unintentional perverse presence at this pool. I decided to swim on, and not look back. I was never going to get an A anyway.
Rule 5 - Always try and prove to the posh professional swimmer guy in speedos you are just as good as him and under no circumstances can he overtake you in your own lane.
There is always going to be a guy there who thinks he owns the pool. He's pretty easy to spot. Swimming cap, poncy goggles that look like they've been beamed down from outer space, special "speedo endurance" swimwear. Thrashing around in the water trying to beat his own personal best, and taking pleasure in over taking everyone. Exhibit:
Show this guy what you're made of. Especially if he crosses into your own lane. Challenge him, swim up parallel to him and assert your authority. Just because he has a cap doesn't make him better. Just because he has bigger muscles doesn't make him superior. (Even bend Rule 4 a bit and make eye contact - a ferocious stare). Just make sure you win the race.
Rule 6 - Pick your timing wisely.
Today, I was unfortunate enough to pick the time to go to the pool when all the children in the whole town would be there, thanks to the council's "All children free from 11AM" rule, the pricks. I was doing a casual breast-stroke, when suddenly, the next time I looked up, children were swarming from the changing rooms, screaming and laden with rubber-rings and arm-bands, shooting off into the pool in a mass frenzy. It was an invasion. Already half the pool had been taken over. Posh-Professional-Swimmer-Guy was down, the children crashing through the invisible boundaries that was his lane with their floats and plastic balls, and I knew I was next. I bolted to the end lane and started doing a violent front crawl which would repel any living thing, let alone a child. I claimed my lane like I'd never claimed my lane before. It's life and death - if you don't assert yourself, those children will bring you down faster than a pinata, they are a force to be reckoned with. Exhibit:
There is only one sport that I remotely enjoy, and that is swimming. No sweat patches, you can get that anti-gravity effect thing going on, and not to mention it exercises every bit of your body.
So I decided to pay a trip to my local swimming baths at 10.30 sharp. I would get up at 9, eat a nutritious breakfast, flush out all the anti-toxins with several gulps of water, perhaps even warm myself up with a few sit ups, before finally heading out the door in high spirits, eating an apple, radiant and glowing.
In reality, I got up at 9.42, slobbed around in my dressing gown for half an hour drinking tea and eating crumpets while watching 90210, before finally heading out the door, looking haggard, exhausted, and without an apple. Note to self : Don't stay up all night watching Lord of the Rings.
When I finally dragged myself to the swimming pool, I realized there are certain unspoken rules, or guidelines if you will, that every swimmer unintentionally follows;
Rule 1: Try not to look like a pervert in the changing room cubicle.
I know it sounds ridiculous since you are assigned your own cubicle, however, there can be complications. For one, I had stupidly put my money in my pocket of my skinny jeans, and while writhing around like a worm trying to wriggle out of them, my coins went flying everywhere. In a moment of panic, with my trousers still around my ankles, I dropped to the floor, and began scanning the floors of the cubicles. Cringe to the absolute maximum when I heard a "Pouf" sound, and jerked my head round, only to see an old man's wrinkly foot with his trousers around his ankles a couple of cubicles along. With no sign of the coins anywhere, I stuck out my hand into the next cubicle to have a feel around, but instantly retracted it when I heard an "EXCUSE ME." I soon realized how utterly perverse and awkward I looked, trousers down, peering under the cubicle separators with my fingers out-stretched. Not wanting to be branded with the status as the "Pool Pervert", I had no choice but to leave my money and retain my dignity, and pray to God that a pool attendant wouldn't come banging on my cubicle door mid-squat. So take my advice. Just act normal.
Rule 2 - Get the awkward walk from changing room to pool over and done with - fast.
When you emerge from the cubicle, all swimmers feel a moment of vulnerability. There is a simple solution to this. Hastily shove your bag into the nearest locker and bolt. Try not to slip up on the way to the pool. Not only will you be injured, possibly bleeding, but you'll have to deal with the humiliation of being in a swimsuit in front of others for at least another 2 hours. Also, when actually getting into the pool, don't panic like I did and bomb into the pool arms and legs sprawling. You'll only attract more attention to yourself. Just simmer down and keep it casual.
Rule 3 - Claim your lane.
In every pool, there is an unintentional "kids half" and a "serious swimmer half". While there will be no clear lanes marked out, make sure you get a good clear runway where you aren't bumping in to old people, (trust me, you know something's up when you pass one and you swim through a strange patch of warm water) or knocking out children while trying to do front crawl. Own that lane girlfriend. Take a stretch of water for the hour and command it. No-one enters your lane. Travel up it fast and fluently, this is your spot.
Rule 4 - Don't make eye contact with anyone.
Especially if you think you know someone. I had the awkward experience of trying to work out if it was my English teacher swimming up and down the pool in the lane along from me. This is cringey in itself for two reasons : 1. It was possibly my teacher. Isn't swimming in a pool wearing next to nothing illegal or something? 2. I must have looked like I was checking out my English teacher, contributing to my overall unintentional perverse presence at this pool. I decided to swim on, and not look back. I was never going to get an A anyway.
Rule 5 - Always try and prove to the posh professional swimmer guy in speedos you are just as good as him and under no circumstances can he overtake you in your own lane.
There is always going to be a guy there who thinks he owns the pool. He's pretty easy to spot. Swimming cap, poncy goggles that look like they've been beamed down from outer space, special "speedo endurance" swimwear. Thrashing around in the water trying to beat his own personal best, and taking pleasure in over taking everyone. Exhibit:
Show this guy what you're made of. Especially if he crosses into your own lane. Challenge him, swim up parallel to him and assert your authority. Just because he has a cap doesn't make him better. Just because he has bigger muscles doesn't make him superior. (Even bend Rule 4 a bit and make eye contact - a ferocious stare). Just make sure you win the race.
Rule 6 - Pick your timing wisely.
Today, I was unfortunate enough to pick the time to go to the pool when all the children in the whole town would be there, thanks to the council's "All children free from 11AM" rule, the pricks. I was doing a casual breast-stroke, when suddenly, the next time I looked up, children were swarming from the changing rooms, screaming and laden with rubber-rings and arm-bands, shooting off into the pool in a mass frenzy. It was an invasion. Already half the pool had been taken over. Posh-Professional-Swimmer-Guy was down, the children crashing through the invisible boundaries that was his lane with their floats and plastic balls, and I knew I was next. I bolted to the end lane and started doing a violent front crawl which would repel any living thing, let alone a child. I claimed my lane like I'd never claimed my lane before. It's life and death - if you don't assert yourself, those children will bring you down faster than a pinata, they are a force to be reckoned with. Exhibit:
If you are like my friend who is scared of children full stop - never venture into any pool of some sort - they WILL find you.
Well there you have it, the unspoken rules and etiquette of the swimming pool. Just remember to not look like a pervert, be wary of the children and be assertive and you should survive. Apart from these minor complications, swimming really is an enjoyable sport. And, if you keep doing it, you may even end up looking like this:
Just a little bit of motivation.
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