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Monday, 16 September 2013

Feeling a little lost...

Recently I've been feeling tired, drained...a little lost. I just started uni last week and can't help but wonder, am I truly ready for this new-found independence? Finding my way around a new building, familiarising myself with not only new teachers (or 'lecturers' as they're now called) but also introduce myself to, and hopefully at some point become friends with, the most varied group of people I've came across. For example, in one of my classes there's a guy who believes Hitler's policies were brilliant, and a woman who has 5 kids , but yet still manages to find the time o be a full time student.

Maybe I'm just not cut out for all this hard-work. Is it bad that all I want to do is curl up in my bed and watch a sex and the city marathon? It may be down to the fact that my mind had switched off for what seems years over this summer, when in reality it was about 3 months. 



Tuesday, 3 September 2013

Worry, Worry, Worry...

As much as I know it shouldn't, it really bothers me when people don't like me. It's almost as if I have to please people, or go out of my way just to make sure they're alright and that I'm not offending anyone. I'd love to life my life carefree, being oblivious to what others opinions of me were...but it's hard.

When I read a piece of criticism I can almost feel my body sink , I really wish I didn' know, that I was one of the people who could brush a snide comment off. Considering I want to become a journalist, this is something that I know I must snap out of, but I guess I am a sensitive person.

I can dish out the non-stop critique...but can I take it? No. I'm a complete bitch when it comes to this, but once someone hits a sensitive spot, that's me...crumbled. My comments are meant as a joke with no harm intended, and I'd like to think the opinions I receive are too...but how can we ever be sure? This over-analysing sense of attitude I have however, allows me to stand up for myself, to work on the things that other people do not necessarily agree with.

With no real point to this post, I just wanted to share my feelings... that sometimes it is alright just to care a little about what other people think. Just as long as we don't live to please them.

“You wouldn't worry so much about what others think of you if you realized how seldom they do.”

― Eleanor Roosevelt


Monday, 2 September 2013

Receipts vs. Bank Statements

Today I realised where my priorities lie, and not in the good sense. A rainy Monday morning with nothing else to do other than clean out my diary which seemed like it would explode if I ever tried to open it. Rummaging through I found scrap pieces of paper with random numbers on it, messy lists that I wrote myself on what to do that day, and most importantly- receipts. Mountains and mountains of receipts. All with varied colours, all from different shops, and all showcasing the items I had bought. As I was clearing out my black abyss of a planner, the post came through in the form of a bank statement. I quickly scanned it trying not to focus too much on the ridiculous (and may I add, sometimes unnecessary) amount of money I had spent that month, while tossing it underneath my bed. You know, where one always keeps important documents. (Like I said, 'organised scatterbrain.')

Let's way up the value factor here; who would prefer to look at a looooong and dull report of all the money you had thrown away in 30-odd little days, rather than collect shiny pieces of paper that reminded you of the rush you received when purchasing said item. Not me, that's for sure. I'm sure we've all been there, having a crappy day and then turning round mid-walk and been mesmerised by a pair of shoes. Now I don't know whether I had been watching too much Sex and the City at this point, and my Carrie was trying to burst through, comforting me that THESE shoes (and only these £60 shoes) would lift my spirits. So I bought them. And did I feel guilty? Not one little bit. That rush of buying and shopping is indescribable... to try the item on, strike a pose in and (although it is my least favourite part) hand over the money. When you finally lift the bag off the counter, collect your change and clasp that shiny beacon of proof...the receipt. These shoes are yours, no one else's.

So, it got me thinking. What would happen if every time I was feeling down or a bit sad, I just bought things. Don't get me wrong, in the long run it would take its toll, mountains of money being spent on impulsive items. But really I''m not buying the item as such, I'm spending the money to get that rush. The rush of excitement that only shopping can buy. As crazy as it sounds though, my fellow-shopaholics will be able to relate to my shallow pick-me-up.

"Cinderella is proof that a pair of shoes can change your life"


Sunday, 1 September 2013

The Competition of Perfection

As I slap on my make up for what seems like the 50th time this week, I started to contemplate over the image of perfection in this world. One minute we’re claiming that we all ‘love curvy woman who don’t care what they look like’ but when guys are faced with the decision over some skinny supermodel and your everyday average girl, who is he really going to pick?

I continue to look at my face in the mirror trying to fathom out which category of ‘girl’ I fit into… a pretty girl, an ugly girl, or one of those in between ones where you’re told ‘you have a nice personality.’ I continue to tell myself that I’m not ugly, that when I angle the mirror so that it’s looking down on me, it accentuates my cheekbones…when in reality I’m disguising a multiple of sins, especially every girl’s worst nightmare- the killer double chin. Now, I know I don’t fit into the first category (only stuck up bitches fit into the ‘pretty girl’ one, or so I tried to delude myself with anyway.) Which leaves me with the latter- a ‘nice personality…’
Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with being one of these girls, but when standing next to a beautiful woman we just blend into the background of a society where we’re obsessed with looks and opinions. But in reality, we don’t dress ourselves for guys, we dress to impress other woman. There’s nothing worse than walking around town in your brand new outfit, feeling like a million dollars (well, let’s face it we should…it near enough cost it) and seeing someone else wearing the exact same thing…looking a million times better.

We all magnify the flaws of ourselves to no end, until we start to believe that we do have ‘tree trunk thighs’ when really, a size 14 pair of jeans is not exactly obese-size material. In this society we continue to change ourselves from the person we are underneath all the layers… but wiping away the nine coats of mascara or taking off the high-heels, there is always a girl feeling self-conscious of herself. That’s the thing about society nowadays; we continue to change our perception on what is regarded as ‘beautiful’. One week it is Marilyn Monroe- style girls, the next it is shaping your eyebrows somewhat to the shape of Cara Delevinge.And do guys change these fashion trends or come right out and ask us to mould into someone else? No. Like I said ladies, we dress to look good for one another. And, as shallow as it may seem, it’s a competition. A very harsh one at that.

So there we have it, my preaching for today. "Love yourselves as you are…" and all that crap. No seriously, love those tree trunk things, love that double chin, and love whichever category you fall into. It’s all very well saying this though,when I know for a fact tomorrow I’ll be growling the face off the next bitch who decides to wear the same Topshop dress as me. It's my catwalk, not yours. But, negative thoughts aside, I take a deep sigh and continue to blend in my foundation, ransacking my brain for what outfit will make me look skinniest today.

It really is a vicious circle in this materialistic world.