I’ll Watch You

I feel like this could be a bad omen for me as I’m going to be in an airport tomorrow to go away on holiday! I’m desperately hoping there won’t be any delays, at least not a 6 hour one anyway.

If I was stuck in an airport with no electronic devices I’m sure I’d find plenty to keep myself occupied with. One of my favourite things to do when I’m waiting somewhere is to people watch. I think an airport is the perfect place to do this because you’re often sitting around waiting for long periods of time and there’s always such a variety of people milling around! People fascinate me and I love to watch them going about their daily lives. I like to make up stories in my head about what they could be doing and what they’re thinking and so on. I’d love to actually find out things about these people. Plus, people watching in an airport I have an excuse to wear my sunglasses so I can watch without looking like I’m creepily staring at someone from across the room.

It’s why I love Humans Of New York so much, because I get a tiny bit of insight into someone’s life. The information that Brandon, the guy who runs it, manages to get out of a person in just a few minutes is amazing. I guess you could say I’m just a nosey person but I like to think of it as more just interested in the world around me!


Losing At Sports Day

When I was in primary school, we had a sports day every year. I wasn’t a sporty child so I’d usually be in the egg & spoon race or the three legged race or maybe the skipping. I specifically remember one year when my mum had said she’d come to watch me (she always came to these sorts of things if she could) but I think she had work that day and so was trying to get off early.

Now as I already mentioned, I was not sporty – I’m not particularly sporty now but back then I was worse. And this sports day was going terribly for me. I can’t remember all the details of why, but I probably lost a race and my friends maybe disappeared somewhere? But mainly, I couldn’t spot my mum amongst the sea of parents. Where was she?! So there we were at the starting point for the skipping race and I was remembering exactly how much I did not want to be in the skipping race. I think I was on the verge of tears; I was never far from tears when I was young.

They blew the gun or the whistle or whatever it is that signals the start and off I went, skipping terribly along while all the others skipped off into the sunset. I wanted so desperately to do well but it was never going to happen. I got about halfway (if I was lucky) down the track when I glanced over to the parents, probably hoping for a glimpse of my mum even though I was convinced she had ditched me for some unknown reason, when who should I see walking across the playground? My mum. Obviously she was here. As if the angel Gabriel himself was coming towards me I couldn’t think of anything else. I thought “fuck this race”, but in more P.G tones of course, and I dropped my skipping rope and ran across the grass, across the playground, tears now streaming down my face and into the glorious arms of my waiting mother. What a moment.

I mean, obviously I lost that race. I didn’t even finish that race. At the time, I think I felt like an idiot for a) dropping the race halfway through, b) making a scene in front of all those people (didn’t like that much attention; still don’t), and c) crying in front of my classmates – although they were very used to that happening. But all these years later, it literally means nothing to me that I lost the race. I hadn’t even thought about it in ages until I saw the writing 101 idea for today, but it’s funny story so I might have to wheel it back out. See if my mum remembers it.

It’s weird to me that I thought something I was doing at maybe 10 years old was so important that I cried like a baby about it! Full on sobbing. Did I think sports day would matter 10 years later? I was only young I know, but it’s still strange to me when I think about it. Anyway, the moral of my story is that sports day means nothing (I’m looking at you, boys who treated it like the Olympics) and my mum can make everything better, even just by showing up.

Happy skipping/egg & spooning/sack racing to all!

The End Of The World (As We Know It)

This week I started reading a new book (The Twelve) which is set in a mainly post-apocalyptic world. It got me to thinking about how I’d fair at the end of the world as we know it. I’ve thought about this many times, usually weekly while The Walking Dead is on.

I’ve come to the conclusion that I would not do well at the end of the world. Zombies, monsters, barren land, what have you, I don’t think it’s my scene. I would be terrible in any kind of fight, be it between humans or if I had to go around removing the head or destroying the brain of something. It makes me a little squeamish just thinking about it. I love watching these sorts of films, but I guarantee I’ll spend half the time squealing and hiding behind my hands. Pretty much says it all.

Also, I’m pretty sure I couldn’t hunt for survival. I have no aim so gun/bow and arrow is out of the question. I’m too clumsy to follow something around and stealthily take it out. The only reason I can eat meat is because I don’t have to kill it myself. Take me back in time and I’d be a vegetarian for sure. Although I’m not sure you had that option back in the hunter-gatherer times.

Even the thought of having to sleep rough is off-putting. I realise that’d be the least of my worries in a post-apocalyptic world but I hate camping and life would definitely become one big camping trip in this scenario. Not for me. I’d moan, I’d cry, I’d complain. I’d very likely be a victim of murder at the hands of my own friends and family, or whoever I ended up with – losing my friends and family would be enough for me to say “I’m out”.

I know people say stuff like “oh you never know how you’ll react to these situations; you might step up”. Let me be the first to say, I don’t think this is a situation where I’ll be ‘stepping up’. You can sacrifice me as zombie food as long as you kill me off quickly and just leave my corpse for them to devour.

Now to get back to reading my book where I can live vicariously through the characters without actually having to experience it myself (my type of apocalypse).

5 Things That Make No Sense To Me

I love a list. I have notebooks all over the place filled with lists of what I need to do, what I want to do, what I need to see. I have lists in progress and completed lists. I’m currently making a list of everything I need to do before leaving my student halls. Right now though, I want to list things that don’t make any sense (to me, anyway).

Excessive hashtagging. I use hashtags, on instagram and from time to time on twitter. I get what they’re for and blah blah blah; I don’t have a problem with hashtags as a whole. I just don’t understand people who post a picture of themselves and hashtag it as so: #me #myself #i #girl #selfie #person #woman #[insert own name here]  #picture #photo #hat #dress #shoe #sock #bra #knickers. You get the idea. Another thing that makes no sense where hashtags are concerned is this: you post a picture of you and your best friend, it’s very nice. You add hashtags, because why wouldn’t you? But they go something like this: #best #friend #love #you #friends #forever. Now to me, that misses the point of hashtagging. Surely it should be #bestfriend #loveyou #friendsforever? Am I missing something here?  Where will the madness end?

Being mean to people who are only trying to help you. Possibly my biggest pet peeve, because it makes absolutely no sense to me, I can barely understand the mentality of it. Oh, you don’t like your food? Well yeah, attack the waiter because they were the ones who cooked it, not the ones who simply brought it to you. Oh, you’re having a bad day? Obviously it’s the nice sales assistant’s fault who’s only trying to help you, please continue to shout at them.

Spencer MatthewsFrom Made in Chelsea. If you don’t know what it is, it’s a TV show that follows the lives of some rich people and it’s the most awkward show I’ve ever watched, and I only watch it from time to time. Anyway, my brother loves Spencer and I’m sure there are other people out there who do too but I do not get it at all. He went on holiday with I think 3 of his exes and the girl he was currently seeing (which is insane in the first place) and he ended up sleeping with one of his exes. Not the girl he’d brought with him, a girl who he’d previously treated like shit and who apparently “hated him”. Right there on the holiday! This is one of many reasons he makes no sense to me and I will continue to be baffled by him probably forever.

Why people say they wish they had hair like mine. Trust me, you don’t. Yeah it’s occasionally fabulously wavy. But mainly it’s thick and it’s frizzy and I only brush it before and after it’s washed (to keep the occasional waves the rest of the time) so it’s usually knotty.  And sure, maybe if you had my hair you wouldn’t be as lazy as I am and would do something like straighten it every day so it looked good always. But guess what? Doing that every day would mean you don’t actually want this hair, you want luscious straight locks that don’t look so thick.

People who ditch their friends as soon as they get a boyfriend/girlfriend. This literally makes zero sense to me, I can’t get my head around what must go through their minds? I lost my very best friend because of this. I mean, it can’t be blamed solely on this but it was a very big contributor. She never had much time for me when she had a boyfriend but she got together with this one in particular at a time where our lives were going in different directions and it was worse than before. Even almost 3 years later it breaks my heart thinking about it because I genuinely thought we would be friends, if not forever then certainly for a long, long time. This girl was my soulmate and now the only interactions we have are generic texted happy birthdays, merry christmases and happy new years. We had other problems in our friendship yeah, but I genuinely believe we could’ve at least tried to sort them out. But it just got too hard for me to keep trying to make the effort to see her, so I had to let it go.

There are many, many (many) other things that don’t make any sense but it could just turn into a rant and I need to finish packing up my room so I’ll leave it at these!


When I Grow Up

“What do I want to do when I grow up?” is something I asked myself quite a lot at the moment. When I was a kid I went through quite a lot of different phases of what I wanted to be, but there were a few I kept coming back to. I never really had any crazy job dreams, the list is fairly standard of what a lot of little kids want to do I think, as I was a pretty vanilla child.

Ballerina. Yeah, I think a lot of little girls have dreamed of that. I took dance lessons for years but in the end it wasn’t meant to be because a) I could never quite get it like some of the other girls (i.e. I used to copy more than I care to admit) and b) I’m far too lazy for that kind of commitment.

Vet. I wanted to be a vet for years and years, on and off. I love animals so much but now the thought of having to save their lives and (sob) not always succeed makes my insides shrivel up a little bit.

Doctor. Specifically, a paediatrician, most of the time. I think I mainly wanted to be a doctor because my dad is one and I guess I idolised him and the job. When I think about being a doctor now I have a similar response to when I think about being a vet.

Teacher. Oh how I loved the thought of being a teacher. But then I realised I’d have to literally stand up in front of ~30 people every day and talk to them oh holy shit no not public speaking. So I rapidly went off that idea. Interestingly for the last couple of months I’ve been considering being a teacher for real so I guess my life has come full circle.

At one point I did want to be a dog and spent a day or so “being a dog”; I crawled around the house, curled up on the furniture and barked at my mum. And tried to eat off the floor, with no hands. Somehow that one didn’t work out in the long run, although sometimes I look at my actual dog and think maybe it wouldn’t be a totally crazy idea to join her. But that’s just my laziness talking!

It’s funny thinking of myself as a little kid, dreaming of what real adult life would be like. Young me probably thought I’d have it all figured out by this age. I wonder if I’ll check back here in a few years and will still be asking myself what I want to do when I grow up, or if I’ll actually be grown up?


We Must Break The Silence

I thought today’s daily prompt was very appropriate considering the #YesAllWomen movement that has exploded over social media (mainly twitter I think) the last day or so.

I’ve read through many, many, of these tweets; women sharing their stories and experiences and telling truths – and it is the truth – that I 100% agree with always, and expressing it in such powerful ways that I could never begin to do.

A part of me wanted to get involved with it, but I was too scared of being judged by others for doing so. What gave me the strongest desire to get involved was when I saw some tweets slating these women, slating feminists and feminism and of course, bringing it back to being about something else entirely. I absolutely know that, for example, men are also the victims of domestic abuse, and it’s a very serious, legitimate issue. However, it doesn’t take away the fact that what all these women are saying is also a very serious, legitimate issue. And the thing about women being victims of sexual abuse/harassment is that it doesn’t shock us. Again, I’m not lessening it, but people tend to be shocked and surprised when it comes to male victims of domestic abuse.

One of the things I took away from #YesAllWomen is that no other woman seemed to be surprised that this was happening to pretty much every woman they know. It’s been said repeatedly, but we live in a world where people have sympathy for a man who killed several people, for no good reason, and apparently no sympathy for the victims. In case you haven’t heard about this, Elliot Rodger posted a video condemning women for not having sex with him, for being attracted to assholes instead of him, the fantastic gentlemen. I don’t know the exact details but I believe he went on about how he was going to kill or eradicate women because he’d had enough of them not wanting to have sex with him. And then he shot and stabbed several people, some who died, and then killed himself.

I’ve seen several comments of support for this man’s “cause”. Comments about how none of this would’ve happened if one of us girls had just “gone there” or “given it to him”. Yes well I don’t know the details of Rodger’s life but he seemed beyond the point where sex could have “saved him”.

Which brings me back to #YesAllWomen, which started after the shootings happened. To defend women. For not having sex with every person who felt they were entitled to sex. For “friendzoning” men. Which, I have to say, is one of the most ridiculous concepts I have ever heard of. I’m sorry (except I’m not) that not every girl you find attractive feels the same way about you and chooses to exercise her right, her personal fucking right, to say no to having sex with you and that makes you feel like you’re being used by her. And it feels to me like most of these “friendzoned” guys who claim to be, among other things, “nice guys” (you know, not like all those other jerks you associate with), turn out to be the worst guys. They attack women for, what? Not having sex with them? That to me does not make you a nice guy. It makes you the worst kind of guy. You are not entitled to anything from a woman. Anything.

I saw one tweet – by a girl – that said something along the lines of “I hate feminists, what c*nts #YesAllWomen”. I do not understand how she can have such hate for people who want to make her life better, easier, who want her not to have to suffer abuse and harassment. People who don’t actually have anything against her and she slates them in the worst way. The ignorance blows my mind.

I wish I’d said something, spoken up, to these ignorant people, especially that last girl. But I think the best thing I could’ve come up with would be “what’s your fucking problem?” which doesn’t exactly help these situations; it tends to exacerbate them more than anything else.

I’d love to be able to fully vent my anger about the fact that we are still, in 2014, teaching girls how not to get raped, blaming women for being attacked, not taking it seriously. But we’re apparently not teaching boys to not rape. Like how hard can that be to teach young, impressionable boys? Hey, don’t go out and rape girls. Done.

I wish I had the guts to tweet my support for #YesAllWomen but sadly I know I won’t. And I haven’t been able to get it out as well, or as eloquently as many others have but I do support it. And I support all other women, women braver than me who show their support openly, women who constantly experience harassment and abuse, all women everywhere.


This pretty much sums up the whole thing:

Men are afraid that women will laugh at them. Women are afraid that men will kill them. Margaret Atwood


Nothing is permanent in this wicked world. Not even our troubles.

I’m using my annoying lack of sleepiness to share one of my favourite ever quotes. I love collecting quotes (mainly, as with this one, from the start and end of episodes of Criminal Minds; lame I know) because words cheer me up when I need them to and they can also put things, like my life, into perspective.

So this is for anyone else struggling like I am with work and exams at the moment, and just anyone having a bit of hard time.

The wise words of Charles Chaplin.