tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30185870260790818522024-02-18T18:16:43.560-08:00SérendipicitéSerendipity: N. the effect by which one accidentally discovers something fortunate, especially while looking for something else entirely unrelatedAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03479376121486049462noreply@blogger.comBlogger47125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3018587026079081852.post-50212328348145933472012-06-26T14:09:00.001-07:002012-08-04T15:56:33.314-07:00"If a June night could talk, it would probably boast it invented romance." ~Bern Williams<div>
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Well, most of June has sped by at a rate of knots, and I haven't got all that much to show for it, except a couple of pictures... I'm trying to take photos on my disposable camera, mostly because waiting for them to be developed is so fun.<br />
Some Aussies have just arrived, and although we couldn't have one (we had other guests) it has been rather nice to have a little chat with them. Australians have a reputation for looking like this:<br />
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(I am aware that's Matthew McConaughey on a surfboard)<br />
Sadly, they didn't quite live up to my standards, but their accents were still endearing.<br />
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I re-gingered my hair! Its lovely to be back as a redhead, people do look at you differently, I think. This is my bath after I first washed my hair... yummy.<br />
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I went to see Razorlight! Briiiiilliant band, they sound absolutely flawless live, however although I do like them, I was annoyed that:<br />
a) They didn't play Fall, Fall, Fall<br />
b) Johnny Borrell didn't smile<br />
c) Johnny Borrell didn't take his clothes off<br />
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I saw my very lovely and very gay friend Jordan for a shopping trip involving many shoes... this isn't really relevant, I just wanted to include a ginger picture of myself.<br />
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I've had many cooking urges this month, one of my many creations being this gorgeous-looking pea soup. Recipe on request *winks*<br />
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I have resorted to frankly rather shocking emotional blackmail tactics in order to get my friends/family/bloke to take me crabbing. If you've never been, get down to Norfolk immediately. God knows we need the tourism.</div>
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After a horrific day of being ignored by bus drivers several time, I decided to make a giant chocolate fudge brownie to cheer myself up.</div>
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I succeeded.</div>
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Megan's go-to tracks of this month are as follows:</div>
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Alex Clare - Too Close (horrifically catchy, please forgive me)</div>
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The Only Ones - Another Girl, Another Planet</div>
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House of Pain - Jump Around</div>
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Jeff Buckley (the man, the LEGEND) - Yard of Blond Girls</div>
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Mx</div>
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<br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03479376121486049462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3018587026079081852.post-19249496891480229452012-06-03T08:28:00.000-07:002012-06-03T09:15:31.358-07:00People who say Coldplay are boring, have never seen them live...<b>"You know how I know you're gay? You listen to Coldplay."</b><br />
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This is a popular quote amongst my crew, (I can't even remember what film it was originally from!) used to describe someone who likes Coldplay.<br />
Coldplay, for anyone who doesn't know, are a British band made up of Chris Martin (who's married to Gwyneth Paltrow) (also, when I went to a really posh pre-wedding party a few weeks ago (I couldn't go to the actual wedding, because Pippa Middleton went to that), the bride-to-be said that she used to go to school with Chris Martin, and that he was a super-musical, super-religious boy with white blond hair) Chris Martin's friend, a hairy guy, and a hot guitarist. They're commonly liked by Mums, homosexuals and Guardian-readers - in short, they are a boring band.<br />
HOWEVER that said, Mr Megan is a massive, massive fan (what this says about my taste in men, I wouldn't like to say.) So massive, in fact, that not only did I have to buy him a <i>Keep calm and listen to Coldplay</i> t-shirt for Christmas, (he was mobbed my a group of girls last night, begging to take a picture with the t-shirt) but he also got a Coldplay tattoo. I know what you're thinking, oh my word Megan, why are you dating this guy, he sounds like a bell-end, but it actually doesn't look TOO bad...<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It says "DREAMING PARADISE" if you can't read it.<br />
Don't copy it, he'll kill me.</td></tr>
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So, as he is a massive fan, all the albums, t-shirts, tattoos, naturally he wanted to see them live... having said that, when he told me he'd bought me a ticket, I was not excited in the least. I didn't tell anyone, the shame and embarrassment (and ensuing abuse) would have been too much to bear.<br />
Yesterday, we arrived at the Emirates stadium in London - two true country bumpkins in the big city was not as disastrous as I thought it would be, however I did see Mr M looking a bit confused at the lack of tractors on the roads, and our short walk through King's Cross was accompanied by "would you look at that ceiling structure! Incredible!" (he's a carpenter.)<br />
We queued up for EVER AND EVER outside the Stadium, then a bit longer for the loo, then loads longer once we were in before the support acts came on. We were neither impressed by Rita Ora nor Robyn, whatsoever, however as soon as Coldplay came on, the atmosphere completely changed!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGcqdhYh4mi9HkOdH6dorg1sMsi6icpE2hyphenhyphenxUDR30spr8gFmb9mJ4ZXToJ78H2cItOBliSOTNDFCNdyLehRbtGAm_VOZmeEZAP7FTTitucFYXsl2ZxWb7F2WLNsvr71jy9uVCkfIkXawM/s1600/coldplay7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGcqdhYh4mi9HkOdH6dorg1sMsi6icpE2hyphenhyphenxUDR30spr8gFmb9mJ4ZXToJ78H2cItOBliSOTNDFCNdyLehRbtGAm_VOZmeEZAP7FTTitucFYXsl2ZxWb7F2WLNsvr71jy9uVCkfIkXawM/s320/coldplay7.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Since I can't really explain why it was so good, apart from ALL THE LIGHTS AND THE FIREWORKS AND WRISTBANDS IN THE CROWD AND ALL THE TINY PAPER BUTTERFLIES THAT SHOT OUT, AND THE RAIN, WHICH KIND OF MADE IT BETTER, oh it was really, really good, so you can just look at the pictures... the first half are Mr M's, second half are from the Coldplay website, creds and dat.<br />
If you haven't seen them and you get the chance, don't be a fool, go!<br />
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Love, Peace, and Viva La Vida,<br />
MxAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03479376121486049462noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3018587026079081852.post-19761691600116094972012-05-27T13:02:00.000-07:002012-06-03T09:18:56.510-07:00Is there anybody in there? Just nod if you can hear me...Seriously, if you have ever read my blog, favourited it, followed it (hello, 5 followers!) or a post just made who smile (even just the corner of your mouth) then this is me, begging you all: please leave a comment!! My view count is pretty high for petty musings, but I have a sneaking suspicion they may all be my own, or Aleks', or even Mr. Megan secretly reading (if so, stop reading now before you realise your girlfriend is a misanthrope) so if anyone, ANYONE could comment on a post, it would make me quite happy.<br />
THIS IS A CRY FOR ATTENTION, Y'ALL!<br />
We'll finish with some Elvis, thank you and goodnight.<br />
Mx<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03479376121486049462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3018587026079081852.post-80402218831747918622012-05-24T05:36:00.000-07:002012-06-03T09:18:29.260-07:00Feminism: an outdated idea?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuA4-U8B_kU-vXavt7PVnXxF5ogD8YIIbYDp7MYWsqzc9wujRiwmFjqTDl6jGvmSHp3zeqrBR4GKXMIJrLpkAkHJVr_5F2PtszDCrDXs226XIadLj3b_FZYMVDpyO4btn6aZrod69jlDw/s1600/tumblr_m3nxhdCj371qzgy7wo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuA4-U8B_kU-vXavt7PVnXxF5ogD8YIIbYDp7MYWsqzc9wujRiwmFjqTDl6jGvmSHp3zeqrBR4GKXMIJrLpkAkHJVr_5F2PtszDCrDXs226XIadLj3b_FZYMVDpyO4btn6aZrod69jlDw/s400/tumblr_m3nxhdCj371qzgy7wo1_500.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">I've been a feminist for as long as I can remember, "feminist" here meaning a person who believes men are dominant and powerful in society, whilst women are oppressed and controlled.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">However, looking at some feminist blogs, I can see why some people attach negative connotations to the word "feminist," because of statements like these:</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">1. <i>"<span style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 20px;">As long as women’s natural body hair is called disgusting and inappropriate while men’s isn't, I am a feminist."</span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px;"><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Whilst I agree that nobody's natural state should be called "disgusting," as that's a full-on insult and more than anything else, rather rude, I can't bring myself to look at a hairy woman and think its attractive. Women have been removing their body hair for hundreds of years, and men don't - that's the way it is. Men and women don't have the same description of attractive; women that look like men aren't attractive, and men that look like women aren't attractive - there's no inequality in that. Men that remove their body hair (I'm talking leg or armpit hair here, as not all men grown hair on their chest) get just as much abuse for it as a hairy woman, trust me - I've been inside a footballer's changing room.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 20px;">2.<i> "</i></span></span><i><span style="line-height: 20px;">As long as misogyny exists </span><span style="line-height: 20px;">in any country</span><span style="line-height: 20px;"> in this world, I am a feminist."</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px;"><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">This is so much bigger than inequality in gender. This is about religion, poverty and general cultural differences. You cannot profess to going to a foreign country, "teaching" the ways of feminism to the women there and changing their culture without doing more harm than good. By asking these women to put their head above the parapet and rebel, you are, in some cases, asking them to put themselves in a very great danger. The ideas concerning gender roles should be modernised thoroughly, through all aspects of a society, and this sort of change is going to take time. Reblogging a stupid phrase on tumblr isn't going to make that happen.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px;"><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">3. <i>"As long as there are places where women have to pay more for health insurance than men, I am a feminist."</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px;"><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Of course women are going to have to pay more for health insurance. WOMEN HAVE BABIES. It's not a nice thought, but it's true! Just console yourself in the knowledge that in most countries, women are going to live longer.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px;"><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">4. <i>"Oh, you're a feminist? So you're a dyke then?"</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px;"><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">It's not just some men who think this! Radical feminists believe that in order to move towards an gender-equal society, women should dominate relationships... and the only way to make sure of this, is to isolate them form men. This is all well and good, and I have no problem with lesbian feminists, but I do think it would be refreshing to find a man, or a radical feminist, who doesn't expect "feminist" to be synonymous with "lesbian."</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px;"><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">5. "<i>I'm a feminist, therefore I love football, rugby, Guinness/pink, sparkles, bunnies and loadsa fucking hairslides."</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px;"><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">It seems to me most feminists presents themselves as either butch, or super-girly (the super-girly ones are usually the one's just waiting to scream "WHY DID YOU GIVE ME A BARBIE?! GENDER-ROLL TOYS ARE DISGUSTING!!") Think outside the box, for fucks' sake.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px;"><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">However, the following things keep remind me that feminism is actually a good cause:</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px;"><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">1. <i>When you scroll through Twitter/Facebook, and see comments like these:</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span style="line-height: 20px;"><i><b> </b></i></span><span style="line-height: 14px; text-align: left;">boys fuck things up, </span><span class="highlight" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(255, 226, 34); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 14px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 1px; text-align: left;">girls</span><span style="line-height: 14px; text-align: left;"> are fucked up.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 14px; text-align: left;"> if they int lesbians they swing both ways haha ;P</span>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">What is it will all the girls turning into lesbians!!</span>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">Girls and football just no! No no no no no. They should just advertise teams with there thong and tiny tight top on</span>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">Girls moan at football but you would all love to be married to a footballer so please give it a rest.</span>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">Could use a girlfriend asap ... Any offers?</span>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">"All the boys around here are knobend's" No love, just nobody wants to shag a girl who's had more cock than they've had hot dinners.</span>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span style="line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;">...which actually makes me feel a bit sicky. I once saw a boy tweet "girls wonder why lads knock them about, its because they're all slags, you make us this way!" and I had to say something, I don't care if he thought I was a twat.</span><span style="text-align: justify;"> It's that sort of attitude that can make me lose my temper in a second.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">2. When even the most liberal lad says things like this...</span></i></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">"You like cars and rock music... you'd be quite a good butch lesbian, right?"</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">"I know marriage is outdated, but I'd like to do it, it would just make me feel like you were mine, there was no getting out of it."</span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">"Girls can't play football."<br />...and laughed when you told them about your childhood ambition to be a builder.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">"Why are you wearing that rugby shirt when its not a game? You look like a lesbian."</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">"Let's talk about sexism or racism, she gets to wound up!" < Dad.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">3. When you ask the careers advisor about how to go about getting into Journalism, and they tell you it's a man's game... go for something like secretary jobs instead, if you like typing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03479376121486049462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3018587026079081852.post-83033249533148817492012-05-18T14:49:00.001-07:002012-05-18T14:49:22.099-07:00Sometimes, I wonder why I am going to get up after writing this and turn of my light and walk to the shower and brush my hair and shower and wash my hair so that I can go to bed and sleep to have energy for tomorrow, and also clean hair, so that I can then get the bus into town and buy my dad a birthday present to uphold traditions and routine, and then I wonder why dad will drive me home so that I can get changed to go to work, so that I can earn money to spend to support a failing economy and an unethical global network that I will one day become part of by getting a full time job to support myself and possibly my family, and why am I doing all this and what gives me motivation, and do I really think it will make me happy one day?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03479376121486049462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3018587026079081852.post-32669928915351736372012-05-08T13:27:00.000-07:002012-06-03T09:28:43.108-07:00Drip drip drop, little April showersI have been shit at blogging this month. However, my stats are at an all-time high... are you trying to tell me something?!<br />
I am currently living on 4 hours sleep and 7 expressos a day, so please excuse me if this post is a little bit wank, I'm trying to fit April into one post, the lazy way.<br />
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It rained. Lots.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtcSD0gDeUZPuJ7RlOQ5zHWvY-O4EedcDGTSjg1QWJY0-yxQk6Ny5w5ugh6eE8A7kYINFgiuNXwAyiiAJ9Rumwcjt_2yA6yR5mFDuv-5-FINy2oGlKr6gCfKI5CAMWQQA_AZVzXJ7OhYE/s1600/577263_2057059361455_1693762528_1025899_810106175_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtcSD0gDeUZPuJ7RlOQ5zHWvY-O4EedcDGTSjg1QWJY0-yxQk6Ny5w5ugh6eE8A7kYINFgiuNXwAyiiAJ9Rumwcjt_2yA6yR5mFDuv-5-FINy2oGlKr6gCfKI5CAMWQQA_AZVzXJ7OhYE/s320/577263_2057059361455_1693762528_1025899_810106175_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I became obsessed with my current art project, a 1960's spanner advert featuring, shock horror, a woman. I shot this photo, featuring my rather gorgeous friend Steve.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDubzazYluGBvv4oG0frxMnDOahXT2-U6XkA-29RZjGlB5A1DB7zY4cZ7QMralDHAYgeq4uQHnywL-jLzH2TYqpkpQcESC0hz1Ie1meCf2lgxC26ejX8yMPBCpm53XMowreNNGucl6TqQ/s1600/398838_10150758943756108_636301107_9418043_512133970_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDubzazYluGBvv4oG0frxMnDOahXT2-U6XkA-29RZjGlB5A1DB7zY4cZ7QMralDHAYgeq4uQHnywL-jLzH2TYqpkpQcESC0hz1Ie1meCf2lgxC26ejX8yMPBCpm53XMowreNNGucl6TqQ/s320/398838_10150758943756108_636301107_9418043_512133970_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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The tickets for Coldplay arrived, which is one of the many things getting me through the horrific revision period at the moment...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHzdbQ8oEselsFYwkBV_Vs1q2EAzkaMhwENpO50g9no3MdMqSr9AqRsNNtpSOCVdcvdxPRq69vb6wIiGhO4PxLWjN_LuSiCSkpVuX1DCjxR47AJt_6uAPZ88KRYQRNIJwCk5zXe-czNQk/s1600/578457_2087445521090_1693762528_1039014_991746520_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHzdbQ8oEselsFYwkBV_Vs1q2EAzkaMhwENpO50g9no3MdMqSr9AqRsNNtpSOCVdcvdxPRq69vb6wIiGhO4PxLWjN_LuSiCSkpVuX1DCjxR47AJt_6uAPZ88KRYQRNIJwCk5zXe-czNQk/s320/578457_2087445521090_1693762528_1039014_991746520_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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...which causes me to feel like this. These are my Intelligent Revising Spectacles.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSFpjEn5iHv_e8kKfcM9TdpCO9SH81TWG6Zwmt5tWY9EK85BrAQoV1ZGtUbBZ2oLS-Pvw3_bkMj_JNb7tpzzmcbvF2aPKtagDzZUggKA08fEDuZ_gL-PDlgPu2aiEoW1hXGwfm3hv9eJ4/s1600/394312_1974895307405_1693762528_987512_1907847291_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSFpjEn5iHv_e8kKfcM9TdpCO9SH81TWG6Zwmt5tWY9EK85BrAQoV1ZGtUbBZ2oLS-Pvw3_bkMj_JNb7tpzzmcbvF2aPKtagDzZUggKA08fEDuZ_gL-PDlgPu2aiEoW1hXGwfm3hv9eJ4/s320/394312_1974895307405_1693762528_987512_1907847291_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Mr Megan also took me out many many places, including this little fjord thing during a rare sunny spell. It was quite cute, but he'd say "coot" because we're from Naaarfolk.<br />
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I managed to have a wild illegal party, where loads of things, including my house and my friends, got trashed. The 'rents weren't very happy, so Mr M bought me some flowers to cheer me up. They are sunflowers, so you know, kudos to him there.<br />
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Made this lovely-looking cake for my friends birthday, because I am skint, too busy saving up for Reading (woop an' holler!) It's got rainbow drops on the top and gay bacon around the edges, but I don't know if you know what gay bacon is... it's like bacon only multicoloured and made of sugar. Regular feed for the average poor student, at 38p a packet, or 3 for £1.<br />
Why am I so poor?<br />
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We went to see One Night Only for the fella's birthday... credit where credits due, they weren't bad, but I was confused as to where the mosh pit was, until I was informed there wasn't one. What do you do at gigs with no pit???? Nod your head, I found out.<br />
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And lastly, two of my favourite men, Salvador Dali and Andy Warhol. Didn't that just make your day?<br />
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Love, Peace, and Mother-fucking A Levels,<br />
Mx<br />
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P.S. Megan's songs of the month...<br />
Fall, Fall, Fall by Razorlight<br />
You Wish You Were Red by Trailer Trash Tracys<br />
Sheila by Jamie T<br />
Time to Pretend by MGMT<br />
Cherry Cola by Eagles of Death Metal<br />
High Five, Swan Dive, Nose Dive by Pulled Apart By Horses<br />
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That'll put hairs on your chest.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03479376121486049462noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3018587026079081852.post-14937462253117647142012-03-21T13:58:00.001-07:002012-06-03T09:22:24.245-07:00What's in a kiss?<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">CUE SOPPY POST</span><br />
So today I've had a day off, and stayed at home due to my near-fatal strain of man-flu I have contracted. Being confined pretty much to my room alone, I started flicking through coffee table photography books, and I rediscovered a photo that I have always loved.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ36g0M16SqiQFTJQwhF-56uczUcn8eExtZbWmRlp1QzlEG9XN1Dt4eeGPu95I4NScPqR_yrvXzKRQWL8uSJ8TBkqUR40c7EqJ6X1wtD6g0077mGqMAn-XIKNjciwCG89pUit4CndFQzg/s1600/doisneau4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ36g0M16SqiQFTJQwhF-56uczUcn8eExtZbWmRlp1QzlEG9XN1Dt4eeGPu95I4NScPqR_yrvXzKRQWL8uSJ8TBkqUR40c7EqJ6X1wtD6g0077mGqMAn-XIKNjciwCG89pUit4CndFQzg/s320/doisneau4.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The Kiss at the City Hall, by Robert Doisneau</span></td></tr>
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This photo has always held a kind of fascination to me. I know it was staged, but it somehow doesn't matter - the way the man just takes the woman for an impromptu, <i>spontaneous</i> kiss... to me, this is just absolute definition of romance. Call me old-fashioned, but this is how it should be.<br />
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So I started looking at some more Doisneau photographs. He took lots of photos of couples kissing in Paris (some might say cliche,) but they proved to be incredibly popular. Just what is it about a kiss that fascinates us so intensely? </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgioUbOGH6Kt7xHqh3UWujOfFX3EjKYf7lE3PQCTG7eUTJABf7lqDCJGxRKUXHuWpda7IT-Vjm3RxNpXfvxKGWizOEUQ-m4v9uVR75S4rznvi7ROmN6FzHBELs6EzM04_aduiP_jOqgXVo/s1600/doisneau-the-kiss-at-the-opera-house.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgioUbOGH6Kt7xHqh3UWujOfFX3EjKYf7lE3PQCTG7eUTJABf7lqDCJGxRKUXHuWpda7IT-Vjm3RxNpXfvxKGWizOEUQ-m4v9uVR75S4rznvi7ROmN6FzHBELs6EzM04_aduiP_jOqgXVo/s320/doisneau-the-kiss-at-the-opera-house.jpg" width="312" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The blurred people in the background on this are lovely - the shutter speed must have been so slow!</td></tr>
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They even hold an almost sacred place in films - for what would Spiderman be without MJ's upside-downy kiss, or Lady and the Tramp without the spaghetti shenanigans? I put together a wee shortlist of the best kisses in film (not exhaustive.)<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL4SbroxdeWbM5PmAfTB1A4v6kp3FkMzVhQIfM0YXZqVKyGXdkcuOdBMjPsA6g_5evAbNzV1H9IcjuCNk-7pCZ0_fABVss3Xxgdh1bTVBSAK99W7BczPIYIeLMK_EL2nfkGIf6IJG3uLA/s1600/blogy+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL4SbroxdeWbM5PmAfTB1A4v6kp3FkMzVhQIfM0YXZqVKyGXdkcuOdBMjPsA6g_5evAbNzV1H9IcjuCNk-7pCZ0_fABVss3Xxgdh1bTVBSAK99W7BczPIYIeLMK_EL2nfkGIf6IJG3uLA/s320/blogy+3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Breakfast at Tiffany's (1961)</td></tr>
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A kiss in the rain never fails. Definite brownie points for that trench coat, too.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Y8Gb5oZqjXKZpaxEp1o3zzvPJ2itywZTGmHbmhjbtr-8PoPjXXoWwj20e9ozSK_9FPgIre7zrZuPLcQ9HfljKJMFaaZAZDKwbSWb-mW5DKBIFobmvc-vPajnCjuzDf0dirR7kLpHOUk/s1600/Spider-Man-Kiss.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Y8Gb5oZqjXKZpaxEp1o3zzvPJ2itywZTGmHbmhjbtr-8PoPjXXoWwj20e9ozSK_9FPgIre7zrZuPLcQ9HfljKJMFaaZAZDKwbSWb-mW5DKBIFobmvc-vPajnCjuzDf0dirR7kLpHOUk/s320/Spider-Man-Kiss.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spiderman (2002)</td></tr>
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Well, it solved the "where do I put my nose?" question. If you have a big nose. Like me.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf_s77hbvG4e_8iJm5nB-XEeHfe2kRgt4tp1WajHEnO7-PFCIMsnvzYI3qYDtpDrEY1U336jsYYTGvvHyvxN4ZwpDpQZ7k8Gpfgf3N1MtQvExUug86ABO0vsyTKbnqo4h2Cf61UzRitBk/s1600/thnotebookkiss.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf_s77hbvG4e_8iJm5nB-XEeHfe2kRgt4tp1WajHEnO7-PFCIMsnvzYI3qYDtpDrEY1U336jsYYTGvvHyvxN4ZwpDpQZ7k8Gpfgf3N1MtQvExUug86ABO0vsyTKbnqo4h2Cf61UzRitBk/s320/thnotebookkiss.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Notebook (2004)</td></tr>
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I'm a girl, ok? I'm allowed to like this. I'm allowed to like a muscular, sodden Ryan Gosling holding his childhood sweetheart in the rain. I am.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinXTakL1zVjb-9UMe7zPwGkyHil8biQgw_aJ20R1EaIgBKSic4OnmkqwYPYxDNdvGc9ONsnB_T-hSKy7s2Pxb1R-UXPjPa-rkQ0g6B7ej_G5C82YVt3jkjmrnjj1iTUbg5HYGr1uiftaU/s1600/122509-bigthumbnail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinXTakL1zVjb-9UMe7zPwGkyHil8biQgw_aJ20R1EaIgBKSic4OnmkqwYPYxDNdvGc9ONsnB_T-hSKy7s2Pxb1R-UXPjPa-rkQ0g6B7ej_G5C82YVt3jkjmrnjj1iTUbg5HYGr1uiftaU/s320/122509-bigthumbnail.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lord of the Rings: Return of the King (2003)</td></tr>
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Yay! Elf love!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimucMFmf7Npw1ukwCkxi7dl5h8xixf1rrOPTzqPhD92vBCuHzJh5a5bqFxWCLetIgLh45090JALIfK3qlFY9oeN6Ihdd_Cc2ePXnE4-XagmOBpf2PC3SytsBntnUTwx6BT0Kl-ywNyJFU/s1600/267814_202419019807482_100001181555852_523820_2085408_n_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="137" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimucMFmf7Npw1ukwCkxi7dl5h8xixf1rrOPTzqPhD92vBCuHzJh5a5bqFxWCLetIgLh45090JALIfK3qlFY9oeN6Ihdd_Cc2ePXnE4-XagmOBpf2PC3SytsBntnUTwx6BT0Kl-ywNyJFU/s320/267814_202419019807482_100001181555852_523820_2085408_n_large.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2 (2011)</td></tr>
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Everyone knew it was coming. Everyone knew it would be awkward. It did not disappoint!</div>
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Whilst searching for the pictures, I came across a series of photos taken by a photographer in Central Park... I'll let you fill in the gaps yourselves.<br />
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Oh, God. Am I going all soft?! What a worrying prospect.<br />
Mx<br />
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</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03479376121486049462noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3018587026079081852.post-58323855851554875022012-03-16T14:32:00.000-07:002012-06-03T09:30:37.770-07:00Things that men should knowI apologise in advance - this post will be a little bit Owl-flavoured. The Obnoxious Owl (she's good, have a butchers) does little posts to her male readers occaisonally, instructing them, generally on matters involving their appearance, manners, sexual health and/or relationship ettiquette. Some of these points would be helpful for Mr. Megan, but he will never read this blog... never! <br />
<br />
1. IF YOU SMELL NICE, GIRLS WILL LIKE YOU<br />
I honestly do not think it is too much to ask for a lad to shower daily, apply deodorant (but don't give me any of this Lynx overdosage) and maybe a bit of aftershave... if you shave. If you don't shave, please go back to whatever cave you came from until you can grow a beard.<br />
<br />
2. STUBBLE IS NICE<br />
But bear in mind, if you're a little rougher around the face, you're going to have to go a bit gentler, or your bird is going to wake up looking like she tried to drink Cherryade and missed her mouth.<br />
<br />
3. THE STATE OF YOUR BED/BEDROOM DIRECTLY LINKS TO YOUR SEXUAL PROWESS<br />
If you can't make your bed, there's no way you can make babies. Also, you know that feeling you get when you're freshly showered and slip into fresh sheets? Yeah, we like that too. So you know... fresh sheets + fresh smelling fella = happy lady.<br />
<br />
4. WEARING MORE THAN THREE BRACELETS AT A TIME WILL NOT MAKE YOU JASON MRAZ.<br />
Nor will it make you attractive. Unless you <strong>are</strong> Jason Mraz.<br />
<br />
5. IT'S KIND OF HOT TO BE A BIT JEALOUS<br />
Ok, this one is <strong>directly</strong> stolen from the Owl herself. But seriously - a LITTLE bit of jealousy means you'll probably be getting laid that night.<br />
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6. THIS IS A TEXT THAT WOULD PRODUCE AN INSTANT FLACCID<br />
hi babe :) saw you the other day! :P looking good ;) haven't seen you in ages! :( meet up sometime? <3 xxx<br />
Oh look, I can see the exact facial expressions you're pulling from your emoticons. It looks like you just had a facial spasm in my inbox.<br />
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7. NEVER COMMENT ON A LADY GARDEN<br />
You cannot crush pride in a more spectacular way. Don't even say you like it. Especially don't say you don't like it. Don't even comment - if you're significant other is British, she will appreciate your sense of decorum in the face of what is most likely a carefully-manicured garden. <br />
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8. NEVER REFER TO THE FEMALE GENITALIA USING ANY OF THE FOLLOWING WORDS:<br />
Cunt. Fanny. Poonany. Axe-wound. Pussy. Winkie.<br />
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9. IF YOUR FAVOURITE BAND IS ALL TIME LOW/ENTER SHIKARI/SNOW PATROL, YOU CAN NEVER BE SEXY<br />
But if I've seen you in a mosh-pit, it's hard for you not to be.<br />
<br />
10. JUST BECAUSE A GIRL HAS HAD OTHER MEN, IT DOES NOT MEAN SHE IS A SLAG<br />
And under no circumstances can you refer to the time she was seeing more than one man as "the slag phase."<br />
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11. TREATING ME LIKE I AM 3 YEARS OLD WHEN I'M DRUNK WILL NOT WIN YOU ANY BROWNIE POINTS<br />
It might get you a pint in the face though.<br />
<br />
MxAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03479376121486049462noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3018587026079081852.post-17247343720014418182012-03-06T12:26:00.000-08:002012-06-03T09:32:12.569-07:0006.03.11So, today came around all too soon, I guess. I can't believe it's been a year, I still feel just as much of a mess as I did this time last year, I've just learnt to contain it better. It makes me really sad to look back on what I've done in the year since, how royally I have screwed up and how close I came to just losing it, but it also makes me a little bit proud to see that somehow, in some areas, I've managed to pull it back. It's also comforting to know that I do have some friends that really care about me, no matter how unexpected that seemed, I know that they're the ones I should hold onto. I suppose I've really known that all along.<br />
Anyway, today isn't about me. <br />
I tried really hard to find a good poem that could express loss properly, but they were all to religious and figurative, so in the end I thought I'd go with this. He really loved this song, <strong><em>well</em></strong> before Adele covered it, and he was absolutely mad on Dylan, so I thought this was appropriate. <br />
<br />
When the rain is blowin' in your face<br />
And the whole world is on your case<br />
I could offer you a warm embrace<br />
To make you feel my love.<br />
<br />
When the evening shadows and the stars appear<br />
And there is no one there to dry your tears<br />
I could hold you for a million years<br />
To make you feel my love.<br />
<br />
I know you haven't made your mind up yet<br />
But I would never do you wrong<br />
I've known it from the moment that we met<br />
No doubt in my mind where you belong.<br />
<br />
I'd go hungry, I'd go black and blue<br />
I'd go crawlin' down the avenue<br />
No, there's nothin' that I wouldn't do<br />
To make you feel my love.<br />
<br />
Though storms are raging on the rollin' sea<br />
And on the highway of regrets<br />
Though winds of change are throwing wild and free<br />
You ain't seen nothin' like me yet.<br />
<br />
I could make you happy, make your dreams come true<br />
Nothing that I wouldn't do<br />
Go to the ends of the Earth for you<br />
To make you feel my love.<br />
<br />
Hope I'm not depressing you too much of late. I'll be back on form soon. <br />
MxAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03479376121486049462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3018587026079081852.post-42293956703037187192012-02-25T15:06:00.000-08:002012-02-25T15:06:47.177-08:00Today is a SaturdaySometimes, I marvel at how lucky I am. Today was one of those days.<br />
I woke up to every teenage girls dream; sunlight shining through the curtains, birds singing, big muscly arms around me, to be followed by unlimited cups of coffee and breakfast in bed. Empty house, hot shower, more coffee, and then back into bed with Mr Megan to hide under the covers for a while. I then went home to my family; my sister has just learnt to swim underwater, my dad has just been invited to a second interview for his new job. Then I made pancakes and watched the rugby. Little things like these make me happy.<br />
Not just cliche moments like this morning, just the fact that my family is all happy and healthy, even if they're not quite right in the head, sometimes irritatingly Tory, and embarrassingly racist. My friends might not be flawlessly supportive, or without their own annoying quirks, but I love them to pieces and I think (and hope!) that they care about me too. I have a house to live in and financially, we might not be cracking but at least we're fairly solid now.<br />
It's times like these, when we feel as though we should be truly thankful, that our minds automatically drift to the best times we can remember. It might seem strange, but is it not so? When we go to a good party, do you not compare it to the best one you can remember (or the better ones you can't?) When we're on a first date, do we not compare the poor fella to that One That Got Away?<br />
I know I always think back to a time when life seemed (GAYYYCRINGECLICHE) a bit magical, when I first realised that I was lucky and had pretty much the whole world open to me, when I first tested the waters of what was to come. I think of the crazy times, the times I can hardly remember, and the moments I will remember forever, because they seemed to stretch out seconds into little pockets of nostalgia.<br />
This is a seemingly unrelated introduction to my main point; that the loved ones that we lose can seem all the more lovable for what more they could have shared. You'll always remember the one you couldn't have for the love you'll never know - for the depths you never knew it could reach, and the things you never knew they could teach you. The truth is, the people we lose in life teach us the more about ourselves than anyone else, and yet this is the love that is the most pure and unselfish. The moments we share with them become the most treasured, and the ones that you replay over and over again in your mind, fighting with your memory to recall the smallest details, and keep them tattooed in your mind forever. They are the conversations that you will kick yourself for having, or worse, for not having. They are the goodbyes that will seem the most callous and unfeeling on your part, and the remarks the most flippant and stupid. <em>Stupid.</em><br />
You could torture yourself with "what if I had said this?" and "why didn't I just tell him that?" and no, it probably wouldn't have driven him away and yes, you are the reason the goodbye was so painful. But at the end of the day, the worst pain is knowing that they're not there, and never will be.<br />
If you have time today, do something for somebody else. Donate some money to the Leukaemia and Lymphoma Society. Donate blood. Tell that person you love them. Stop being afraid, and too proud, and stubborn, and cold. Yeah, you'll seem like a cock, but I know I wish I had.<br />
<br />
Mx<br />
<a href="http://www.mariecurie.org.uk/en-gb/who-we-are/services/?gclid=CMvYw_Gduq4CFUsMtAodimYR_Q">http://www.mariecurie.org.uk/en-gb/who-we-are/services/?gclid=CMvYw_Gduq4CFUsMtAodimYR_Q</a><br />
<a href="http://leukaemialymphomaresearch.org.uk/">http://leukaemialymphomaresearch.org.uk/</a><br />
<a href="http://www.cancerresearchuk.org/">http://www.cancerresearchuk.org/</a><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">This post is dedicated to Emma Donald, whom I did not know well enough. She triggered, but did not inspire, this post. R.I.P. x</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03479376121486049462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3018587026079081852.post-55855667054881680212012-02-22T11:07:00.000-08:002012-06-03T09:32:59.289-07:00FlameheadSo, I finally dyed my hair, after realising my roots were actually horrific, as pointed out lovingly by my younger sister - "Megan, you're hair is black at the top!"<br />
A la my new years resolutions, I had a strange and "bad taste" dye job, just, you know, to build character!<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnf_0Ikg6UWsGeeL4L9iOz1ZnR8EbxPeXKs9FaM9W7qkfbD2FiJTUGs7ISpD6vPVkjA-f2MqUhxokgqRLeJDIYUn9BmiuW3NZxLa_ZD6pRPUZj56hsZVsXrb-O8z6fOghl2Y6Zj5HGazk/s1600/Snapshot_20120222_5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnf_0Ikg6UWsGeeL4L9iOz1ZnR8EbxPeXKs9FaM9W7qkfbD2FiJTUGs7ISpD6vPVkjA-f2MqUhxokgqRLeJDIYUn9BmiuW3NZxLa_ZD6pRPUZj56hsZVsXrb-O8z6fOghl2Y6Zj5HGazk/s320/Snapshot_20120222_5.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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It's sort of red at the top, fading to strawberry blond, rocking that whole "ombre effect" thing - it is much, MUCH, brighter than it appears here, but I can't get good sunlight in February at a time when I feel awake!</div>
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Also, as promised, here is a picture of my tattoo...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_CkBETMI7ZnW9JgWRcb56Ce0c-QoR2SA0fKIFc7kBV83rrqxYHdy6-qbP468AxrUKeikvufdCXRPXpn23mJpZ1S0hlcil-k46E2Tg0EhbNn1c9-XQo8LPYuseYjmX8hq87OpAd40ok0A/s1600/1329436751251.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_CkBETMI7ZnW9JgWRcb56Ce0c-QoR2SA0fKIFc7kBV83rrqxYHdy6-qbP468AxrUKeikvufdCXRPXpn23mJpZ1S0hlcil-k46E2Tg0EhbNn1c9-XQo8LPYuseYjmX8hq87OpAd40ok0A/s320/1329436751251.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>
YES, THESE ARE MY BOOBIES. However, I am not flashing them, or pushing them together with a wry little pout, it is purely for the illustration of da tat, init. So don't judge me, please.<br />
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Love, Peace and Silly Little Things,<br />
MxAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03479376121486049462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3018587026079081852.post-40894304344283626762012-02-19T22:30:00.000-08:002012-06-03T09:35:22.940-07:00“To change one’s life: Start Immediately. Do it Flamboyantly. No Exceptions.” – William JamesRecently, I've been thinking. And you know what? More than anything, I think I am sick of fitting in. I'm quite fed up of living my life one way, a certain way, because that's how you're supposed to do it. It might well be the best way, but I'd rather find that out for myself.<br />
This is how life for a person like me goes: you go to school. You learn to work. You do sixth form, go to university, get in incredible amounts of unneccesary debt, go into a low paid, unfulfilling job straight away to start paying them off, holiday in Majorca, get married, have babies, holiday in Menorca. Die.<br />
I'm sorry, but fuck that. This is what everyone expects me to do, and what everyone wants me to do. Insane amounts of hard work and effort seem to go into producing a standard of living which is frankly morbidly average, and it depresses the hell out of me.<br />
Maybe there are other ways. Maybe you can take a massive jump outside your comfort zone and - and this is hugely corny - carve your own path out. I don't want to have the same experiences, same values, same <em>life</em> as my mother, my grandmother, and my great-grandmother before me. I see no fulfilment in that. Its just that kicking out on my own seems like such a frightening and lonely prospect - but I don't want fear to keep me stuck to this shitty path to disenchantment.<br />
I don't know if you've ever heard of Yes Man. It was an experiment by Danny Wallace, who said yes to every opportunity that came his way, everything, and it enriched his life. Lately, I've been saying yes. Yes to a tattoo, yes to crazy hair, yes to a free 60's makeover. I was asked to a ball the other night, and I said no. Everyone else went, and seemed to have a fantastic night. What would have happened if I'd have said yes? What would happen if I said yes to <em>every</em> opportunity, however remote and far-flung? What if I said yes to the Australian work placement scheme laying at the bottom of my bed, or the lone trip to Ireland that's been forming in my mind all year?<br />
Urgh, I feel horribly neurotic and teen, moaning about how humdrum my life is, and I do apologise. It's been almost a year since I lost someone who taught me everything I know about "carving my own path," doing whatever I want to do and having the self-belief to think, "you know what? Fuck you and your entire existence." And to be perfectly honest, I'm still as lost as my first day without him.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03479376121486049462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3018587026079081852.post-57932617814621799352012-02-08T13:41:00.000-08:002012-06-03T09:36:06.480-07:00C-c-countdown<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Days until my tattoo... only a tiny one, but I'm still nervous! I've watched youtube videos of people basically blacking out, vomitting and DYING on encountering their first.<br />
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Days until my "valentine's day surprise." Yep, that's right. Me. Celebrating Valentine's Day. Bring it.<br />
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Days until I see the Kabeedies live... if you haven't heard them, have a cheeky little browse on YouTube, Spotify orrrr <a href="http://thekabeedies.bandcamp.com/">http://thekabeedies.bandcamp.com/</a> have a butchers on there.<br />
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...and who knows how many days until I get busted for just generally failing at Sixth Form. Yeah, so I'm getting A's, but who the fuck cares about my grades when <em>oh my gosh </em>will you just look at the girls <em>attendance?!</em> HOW SHOCKING. 86% people. And I am in NON-COMPULSORY EDUCATION. I'm not asking for the Earth hey, just a bit of slack. Je suis humane.<br />
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Love, Peace, and For Christ's Sake's don't go do A-Levels,<br />
Mx<br />
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</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03479376121486049462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3018587026079081852.post-85105771793216711212012-02-05T03:53:00.000-08:002012-02-05T03:53:26.304-08:00So long January, we didn't get on...So now it's February, hey? Took it's time really, I can't say January was a particularly enjoyable month. But since I have combed my hair (a remarkable feat, I can tuck it into my high-waisters now, and it takes a good 45 minutes just to get the knots out) and olive oil-ed it, completely tidied my house, completed that irritating 1,000 word story that needs to be in Monday (I cannot get it below 1,601 words. Shite.) organised my wardrobe set everything straight, I feel so much better.<br />
I've booked my crazy bad hair do, and my tattoo is booked for Friday (eek!) Now I'm just chilling on my laptop, watching the snow fall outside and waiting for the boyfriend to arrive so that we can go, errr, play in the snow.<br />
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</div>Also, just wanted to share a few February songs with you, They're quite chilled, so don't worry about the screaming alerting your parents to your sudden death.<br />
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1. <strong>English Rose - The Jam</strong> <br />
2. <strong>Far Away - Wolfmother</strong> (I adore this band, they remind me of my dad's 70's pyschadelic rock! They're tipped to play at Reading this year as well - yay!)<br />
3. <strong>Higher Love - James Vincent McMorrow</strong> (this bloke is Irish, a little bit like Bon Iver, but has a really sweet voice. He used to do all the rock shit, before he like, found himself and all that. A bit mellow for my tastes, but I really like this song, I think it's a cover.)<br />
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Love, Peace, and February Fun,<br />
Mx<br />
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P.S. Note the lack of mention of V-Day, the 14th. That's a whole other blog post, folks!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03479376121486049462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3018587026079081852.post-90763928602668037722012-01-28T11:18:00.000-08:002012-01-28T11:18:10.711-08:00Ska-ky out of her comfort zoneI love rock. I love ska. I like metal and glamrock, I listen to everything from indie-rock to hair metal, so when I was asked to review a drum and bass album, the results may not quite be as expected...<br />
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I am sceptical about Chaseand Status’ second album. Their first, MoreThan Alot, won several prizes onthe drum and bass scene, from Best Album to Best Track and Best Video, but it seemed too edgy, with too much of a die-hard, pure drum and bass following for the average mere mortal. For this reason, No More Idols was the first Chase and Status album I’ve listened to, and far from being hesitant, I was actually quite curious. <br />
<br />
With its now iconic Bulldog image album cover, with thatheavy acid-yellow lettering, No More Idols promised more hard and fast,Prodigy-esque anthems. What it delivered was a far more ever reaching taste ofeverything from drum and bass to dubstep, to reggae infused prog rock with anicy shot of 90s trance. Nothing about this album was done by halves, and evenif there is a suspicious amount of appearances from other popular artists (somewould say in an attempt to break into the mainstream) there is more than enoughto justify an almighty progression of Chase and Status’ sound.<br />
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No More Idols kicks off with No Problem; a snaking, synth-led tune with some surprising elements - a slightly awkward Jamaican vocal (have you ever heard "it's no problem for me, but it's a problem for you" said in such a polite manner?) and a smattering of African tribal drums. By the time you've heard Fire In Your Eyes (held up by Maverick Sabre) and the distinctly flat Let You Go (which relies completely on Mali's rasping vocals to bring this stale dance tune to life) you think you have this album sussed - it's bringing a bit more dubstep to Prodigy's tried and tested raver anthems, squeezing their formula into a more modern setting, which a heavy dose of talented feature artists.<br />
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Then you hear Blind Faith. I spent five minutes and 49 seconds of my life watching the impressively brave video - a home-grown, camcorder-filled documentary of the 90s rave scene. Labelled "groundbreaking," this song and video did not disappoint; it has the youth of the UK chorusing "TUUUUUNE!" every time the iconic "sweeeeeet, sensation" main line filled Radio 1's airwaves (which, let's be honest, was an awful lot.) Indeed, one of the few flaws of this song was the fact that it was horrendously overplayed on mainstream radios... a fate that did not befall the next standout track.<br />
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The climax of No More Idols comes during Fool Yourself and Hypest Hype. Plan B's mincing vocals contrast with the thrashing beats and angry chanting of "you can only fool yourself for so long" - it's not difficult to forget the lyrics of this track, as this is the only line. You get the impression that this track would be brilliant live, a real crowd-pleaser, as is Hypest Hype. In name as in nature, this track received a lot of coverage from music press, due to the fact that included samples from the Doors "Been Down So Long" and vocals from Tempah T - a sumise that would put most people off. However, this is in the minority of tracks where the vocals are carefully matched and bring something new to the song, without merely propping it up - although Prodigy has had this covered for about 100 years.<br />
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Unfortunately, this is most definitely the peak of the album. Hitz features Tinie Tempah, and tries painfully hard to be alternative and gritty; the video shows shots of grimy council flats, rasta-style graffitti and red-lensed, wild-eyed shots of gangly men with huge pupils and baseball caps. Heavy follows, with the help of Dizzee Rascal, overdosing on dubstep and grinding into one long noise. The lyrics also take a turn for the worse, with deep, meaningful lines such as "there aint no category, I'll just do ya."<br />
<br />
Thus the album progresses, in a blur of filler tracks like Brixton Briefcase and the dreary effort from indie rockers White Lies, Embrace. Although these provide a welcome respite from the constant thrash and thump (apart from the technically brilliant Hocus Pocus, which alas lacks the soul and passion of other tracks) they really are nothing to write home about, with the drum and bass duo failing to showcase their featured artists vocals, and instead synthing over them. <br />
<br />
The album ends on the track that bought Chase and Status their most mainstream success - End Credits. Plan B's silky, soulful vocal carries the wistful undercurrent throughout the song, with the relatively tame backbeats holding back to showcase the tender string section, striking a chord with every rebellious teenager or troubled twenty-something - proof indeed that No More Idols is an anthemic album for the youth, bringing technical brilliance to the Prodigy's passionate blueprint, bringing drum and bass bang up to date, and showing flashes (sometimes cunningly disguised as noise) of true talent.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03479376121486049462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3018587026079081852.post-46814687914113693982012-01-21T07:37:00.000-08:002012-01-21T07:37:35.239-08:00Some film and TV that I like<iframe allowtransparency="true" frameborder="0" id="twttrHubFrame" name="twttrHubFrame" scrolling="no" src="http://platform.twitter.com/widgets/hub.1326407570.html" style="height: 10px; position: absolute; top: -9999em; width: 10px;" tabindex="0"></iframe>The English have a terrible reputation. We used to drink breakfast tea, wear bowler hats, place importance on manners and men... in essence, we used to be gentlemen. Now the English fall into three categories...<br />
<br />
<strong>1. The Welly-boot Wankers</strong><br />
This breed of Englishman has a very distinct appearance; he will wear a Jack Wills gilet, perhaps a navy sports jacket, or even a "hoody" on his down-time days (N.B. this hoody cost over £60, or its not even worth buying.) On his feet, wellingtons, or perhaps boat shoes. The female W-BW is likely to be dressed in much the same gear, perhaps a pair of jodpurs or cords, or a Cath Kidson apron if she is in the kitchen, cooking on the Aga ready to serve organic food onto her Emma Bridgewater crockery (sexism intended.) They clip their vowels, but sprinkle speech liberally with the word "mate" or "banter." They play rugby, tennis and polo, unless their on a shoot or trying to find their way to the exit in the gloom of Hollister. Lads are likely to drink Ruddles or Magners ("pear?! Oh mate, they sell PEAR MAGNERS here! I didn't even know pears were, like, alcoholic!") whilst the ladies are prone to the odd glass of wine, perhaps a cheeky WKD at a party, but not the blue one, who do you take me for, some sort of <em>ladette</em>?!<br />
<br />
<strong>2. The Suburbus Populus</strong><br />
Your average Joe. Joe also likes Hollister and Jack Wills, as he does not like to appear too chavvy, innit, but likes to mix it up here and there with some Adidas, and obviously, OBVIOUSLY, Topman chinos. Do you think One Direction get theirs from River Island?? Well? DO YOU? No. If you want to get the laydees, you've got to go Topman bruv. The average Joe-ette likes her burgundy leggings, gilet and Abercromie and Fitch shirt, complete with a ginormous scarf, to give the impression that one's head is balanced precarioulsy upon one's shoulders. Typical music tastes can range from One Direction and JLS to general Top 40, to your generic Arctic Monkeys and King's of Leon for the truly edgy (ahem.)<br />
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<strong>3. The Old Eccentrics</strong><br />
Truly rare, this species of Englishman is dying out. To quote a favourite ska band, this category is "for the soldier in contempt of court, cause he believed in freedom of thought. This is for the baby who struggles to talk, but can manage to gargle the language of God. This is for the origami swan, who dared to soar up to the sun. This is for the outcasts, the freaks and the schemers, this is for the last of the dreamers." Um, so maybe that wasn't entirely relevant, but if you are interested, I'd have a butchers at their website <a href="http://www.kingblues.com/">http://www.kingblues.com/</a>, their shit good and brilliant live if you can get manage it!Back to the eccentrics, these are the one's who don't quite fit in, the Susan Boyle's of this world, if you like. Taking a sociological stance, these people are often labelled, fail society's institutions, and form subcultures in order to belong. This brings me neatly (well, not neatly, I fitted this entire blog post around this point) onto the subject oooof... This Is England.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqhkTwv5HzuGDi12odR31TbEmm_HQ775XcBEgqGsMUFGUshCVx2WREELvIN37Js5DyrgZJTKfvJNWwCDs9p9dzdANm_hAo7lutbRzPyN9jWi77tVdrH6BhWalIPnUgjx4clCyFaImb_3I/s1600/This-Is-England.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqhkTwv5HzuGDi12odR31TbEmm_HQ775XcBEgqGsMUFGUshCVx2WREELvIN37Js5DyrgZJTKfvJNWwCDs9p9dzdANm_hAo7lutbRzPyN9jWi77tVdrH6BhWalIPnUgjx4clCyFaImb_3I/s320/This-Is-England.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Now I don't want you thinking, oh here we go, another teenage girl trying to be edgy by watching a gritty old Shane Meadows - I genuinely do love this. I love Northerners; I think they have so much more spirit that us down South! If you haven't watched either the film or the two Channel 4 spin-off series' yet, then get on it! You can watch it <a href="http://www.channel4.com/programmes/this-is-england/episode-guide">here.</a> I think Woody and Lol are one of the most overlooked couples of film.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQzNtxdbQIgNtJUXMHZqB2_TBc4B2DKU9Ok5b8Qj78tsqZgEomtTDYY0Rzwm7CN8vYd_HfyjkXgCju9c_HFYhUMwi2OMJgM8dBEHTIXZMXChbgyw4AfKo9A3-lWeBzAJkHG1xgQTgl7lk/s1600/lolandwoody.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQzNtxdbQIgNtJUXMHZqB2_TBc4B2DKU9Ok5b8Qj78tsqZgEomtTDYY0Rzwm7CN8vYd_HfyjkXgCju9c_HFYhUMwi2OMJgM8dBEHTIXZMXChbgyw4AfKo9A3-lWeBzAJkHG1xgQTgl7lk/s1600/lolandwoody.gif" /></a></div><br />
Ohh, sorry, shitty GIF!<br />
One more for the road folks, sorry if it looks like you've accidentally tuned into a FanGirls tumbr...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXdKFDehU6J_2Hr0gGux5bpjM2m6MIiqyq78u_4ip8s1-e1-AtqSI_MNX3gs_G6f0pOoq8aanh9Kuk7NHi3QC7tJxNU7i13D9HL_bcdm9dpienLPkMV4m5M84wrn0G-6_lS8O7RNFe24E/s1600/this-is-england2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXdKFDehU6J_2Hr0gGux5bpjM2m6MIiqyq78u_4ip8s1-e1-AtqSI_MNX3gs_G6f0pOoq8aanh9Kuk7NHi3QC7tJxNU7i13D9HL_bcdm9dpienLPkMV4m5M84wrn0G-6_lS8O7RNFe24E/s1600/this-is-england2.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Booties.<br />
Mx<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03479376121486049462noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3018587026079081852.post-80585372983969775762012-01-12T10:28:00.000-08:002012-05-27T13:09:50.247-07:00Two thousand and twelveIt's rolled around again folks! Unbelievably, I managed to complete all of last years resolutions/bucket list, apart from "achieve a flawless, all-over even tan"... but then being an of the albaster persuasion, this was never really going to happen. 2012 (<em>not</em> twenty twelve, we're not in the military) is a little bit further out there, but I don't think any of them are <em>un</em>achievable...<br />
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<strong>1. GET A TATTOO</strong><br />
Yes, this is silly. Yes, it's irresponsible. Yes, my mother will hate me forever if she finds out. But I'm getting a wee little cross, on me chest, for personal reasons innit.<br />
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<strong>2. HAVE A DODGY HAIRDO</strong><br />
Not a life-changingly, cringe cringe kill yourself cringe bad hairdo. Just one that I'll look back on in a few years and think, what the prick was I thinking?! It's character building.<br />
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<strong>3. DO A RUN FOR CHARITY</strong><br />
<a href="http://raceforlife.cancerresearchuk.org/">http://raceforlife.cancerresearchuk.org/</a><br />
I know its only 5km, but I really feel like this could raise some money, and its something I want to do, especially for Leukemia and Lymphoma. However, as I am incredibly unfit, I will be undergoing insanely intense preparations (stay tuned for painful updates...)<br />
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<strong>4. TAKE A PHOTO EVERYDAY</strong><br />
I will be posting these. Apologies.<br />
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<strong>5. GO ON HOLIDAY WITHOUT THE RENTAL UNITS</strong><br />
The boyfriend is quite keen on Tunisia at the moment (fool! Little does he know, a week alone with me and my semi-obsessive suncream habits, and our relationship will be toast!) but I am swinging the way of an Ireland road-trip with the girlzz. This way we can visit some Uni's out there as well as hitting the pubs, <em>and</em> appreciating the sound of raindrops on a cottage window in the land of the Leprechaun.<br />
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<strong>7. ATTEND A MINDBLOWING GIG/FESTIVAL</strong><br />
So far, I have tickets for The Kabeedies, Sum 41, Coldplay and Reading Festival. Yeah I know. My life rocks.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPe8EN7WFeXtV13oBdXaa00Gth5DvSZOBn6E8s0wAlQDcoXNY0nl1cliCbBA-hwOdG2fyJ8Bm294-XEpJREUdcZZXWuU5ntFXPoX17GUBj4_kq9PpCZ_V3Edpw5-XP5OodpslqLpqzzxk/s1600/sunnyfest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPe8EN7WFeXtV13oBdXaa00Gth5DvSZOBn6E8s0wAlQDcoXNY0nl1cliCbBA-hwOdG2fyJ8Bm294-XEpJREUdcZZXWuU5ntFXPoX17GUBj4_kq9PpCZ_V3Edpw5-XP5OodpslqLpqzzxk/s320/sunnyfest.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<strong>8. SURVIVE A-LEVELS</strong><br />
This is providing trickier than I first thought. Speaking of which, I have a pile of essays waiting, that aint gunna write themselves...<br />
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Love, Peace, and 2012 Lovin',<br />
Mx<br />
<br />
P.S. Oh, and my number 1 new years resolution? Be tasteless. Be rash. Stop thinking things through. Be rebellious. Do stupid things. Get hurt. Get over it. Get too drunk. Eat crap food. Cut all your hair off. Hair grows back. Circumstances change and people leave, but (and I know its a cliche) the one thing that is truly limited in life is the time that we have, and at the moment, I'm not sure if I'm making the most of it.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03479376121486049462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3018587026079081852.post-44998247047388232172011-12-12T15:49:00.000-08:002012-05-27T13:09:50.242-07:00Bollocks, this is tricky.I am trying to be a good blogger and sort out my blog so that it looks prettier, and write something that makes sense, rather than these emo rants that I seem to be into nowadays. The thing is, I used to have a life, then I started my A-Levels. Then I took on two jobs, and started volunteering for the hospital radio. Then I started chasing people up for work experience, and being shot down (twats.) Then I developed a boyfriend (yes, me! In a committed relationship! Shock, horreur!)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_g4Gg1LFT1JyE6YeZzejLfTTDQd8W7IwvCNY14_606o23Aqj1Bxmw-tnupEDKS8Ie-GSYStpntFGsabFPmrglD4UJAoSnTpA-vkfnSB5xSsYM3kn3l31H_2-oNkdwEVexaqZasDiNPTk/s1600/kateandjohnny.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_g4Gg1LFT1JyE6YeZzejLfTTDQd8W7IwvCNY14_606o23Aqj1Bxmw-tnupEDKS8Ie-GSYStpntFGsabFPmrglD4UJAoSnTpA-vkfnSB5xSsYM3kn3l31H_2-oNkdwEVexaqZasDiNPTk/s320/kateandjohnny.jpg" width="208" /></a></div><br />
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Like Kate and Johnny, only less cool. So I'm transferring to <a href="http://www.tumblr.com/blog/meganraccoon">tumblr</a> for a while (I know, hipster faggot) to see if thats easier. Please bear with me!<br />
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Mx<br />
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<a href="http://www.tumblr.com/blog/meganraccoon" target="_blank">Do it. DOO IT.</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03479376121486049462noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3018587026079081852.post-75625260674906098432011-10-06T07:25:00.000-07:002011-10-06T07:25:07.079-07:00An evangelistic post on faith and shit.<span style="font-family: inherit;">Don’t you just look at people sometimes and wonder; what drives them?</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">What is it that, no matter how many times they’re knocked down, no matter how many times their spirit is crushed and their dreams shattered, always manages to pick them up and help them to start again?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">You see people all too often in horrific accidents that lead to a loss of mobility – they are put into an induced coma and it is all but their sheer strength of mind that helps them to open their eyes, learn to move, to speak, to walk, to start to put their lives back together piece by piece.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Of course there are always those unfortunate ones who will be left behind, those who cannot move on and rebuild.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are not to be pitied, they are not the weak, they are merely ones who believed so strongly in the element of their life that failed, that they cannot comprehend life without it. Again, you see them all too often; those who have taken their life because they can’t cope with the changes, those who rely so heavily on others for support you wonder whether they are really alive at all. Then there are those who, like my grandmother, never truly recover, but go through all the motions – a shadow of their former self.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">So I come back to my question: what is it that some people have that drives them on? Is it religion? Or just faith, perhaps not in a God, but in some sort of divinity, a way of life. Is it their belief in themselves, the conviction that only you can truly determine what you will be? Or is it their belief in someone else, their absolute certainty that this person is their life, their reason for living? Is this love? Or just devotion?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Have they never experienced loss, experienced the feeling when all has been taken from you? Or does this conviction just lie in the hope that this something will never go away? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">This reminds me of a Doctor Who episode a couple of weeks ago (don’t judge me, I have unbounded love for this show)where a creature fed on the faith that others had. At the end of the episode, the Doctor had to save Amy from the creatures clutches by breaking her faith in him. She survived, but it was like something inside her was broken without this faith.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Whatever “it” is, I envy and admire those people who can have such <span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">unwavering faith in something. They show the rest of us just how beautiful it can be.</span></div><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"> </span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03479376121486049462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3018587026079081852.post-86525144535562095112011-06-08T05:51:00.000-07:002011-06-08T05:51:16.634-07:00Would you Adam and Eve it?I haven't written a post in a whole month. That's pretty bad, I know how much I hate it when I'm getting kind of into a blog, and then the blogger is all "weell, I just fancied a holiday and let this whole telling-you-every-step-of-my-life thing tail off."<br />
I had this totally interesting article coming your way, about different types of males, but half way through I got quite depressed at the prospect of categorising every man on the planet, so... don't hold your breath for that one.<br />
ANYWAYYY... look at these thrilling and strange things that have happened to me this month!<br />
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1. I LEFT SCHOOL<br />
Oh yeah. That one. The big one. Except, y'know, I'm coming back for Sixth Form next year, but the prospect of a nine week summer is just - mm mm mmmm, tasty.<br />
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2. I BOUGHT MY PROM DRESS<br />
Yeah! Me! I CHOSE one! A conscious decision from the non-decision maker! And it's red!! My grandmother says it makes me look like a hussy, but I am willing to let that slide, as she also once said that I'm single because I'm too skinny to bear babies, and no man wants a girl who can't have his babies. Which is wrong on so many levels, really.<br />
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I'm not showing your a picture.<br />
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3. I GOT ABSOLUTELY WANKERED<br />
Am I allowed to say that word?<br />
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Again, there will be no picture for this.<br />
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4. I GOT TONSILLITIS<br />
And am consequently now really into soup.<br />
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5. I WENT GINGER<br />
But it came out purpley, and I don't like it. I'll get it lightened and then unveil it on here.<br />
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6. I'VE DECIDED I WANT TO GO TO ABERDEEN UNIVERSITY<br />
Because it sounds lovely, and the countryside is beautiful, and I love Scottish people.<br />
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So that's everything really. I'm now on study leave, feeling quite humdrum with my soup and my studying.<br />
Love, Peace and The Difference a Month Makes,<br />
MxAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03479376121486049462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3018587026079081852.post-17893908138392462542011-05-06T11:56:00.000-07:002011-10-06T06:58:35.888-07:00Stars hide your fires, these here are my desires, and I won't give them up to you this time around...<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Pardon the extraordinarily long title; it is (if you don’t recognise it) from a Mumford and Sons song, Roll Away Your Stone. If you haven’t listened to it yet, I really think you should, because the lyrics are ambiguous but beautiful, more like poetry really. They’re written in iambic pentameter (nerrrrrd!) and have a Macbeth reference in there… that’s what I like to hear!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I’m trying to get back into the normal swing of things, but obviously things are a little crazy here in Megan-ville, so instead of writing something meaningful I think I’ll write about…tattoos!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Tattoos are baad. They’re for bikers and bad girls and general commoners. Celebrities glamourize tattoo-ing their other half’s name upon their body (I always wonder why they don’t have a list as long as they’re arm, each one crossed out every time they break up.) Your middle class parents think they’re crass and tacky, and if you dreamt of bringing home a boy with sleeves of naked girls and sailors he’d be out of the door before you can say “tramp stamp.” Therefore, they’re the obvious choice of rebellion for this teenage rebellll!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I have given this quite a good deal of thought (as I’m studying for my GCSE’s and obviously have a lot of time on my hands…? Idiot!) and after choosing and then rejecting barbed wire inked around my upper thigh (two words. Cheryl. Cole. It’s out.) I have settled on a short shortlist (is that possible?) of possible tattoo choices.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">1. The Vitruvian Man</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I am an immense fan of Da Vinci and I have done a rather pathetic amount of research on the Golden Ratio, so this means quite a lot to me and represents my love of both art, history and conspiracies. Also, I think it would be kind of cool to have a naked guy with his junk out tattooed on my butt-cheek.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">2. Irish Serpent Knot</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I love everything that this stands for - love that reflects the eternity of life, loyalty towards the person one loves, and the four sections representing the four seasons.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Or maybe both? In the words of Mrs Charleton, who knows???<br />
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Mx</span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03479376121486049462noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3018587026079081852.post-63566792855243090512011-04-27T09:37:00.000-07:002012-06-03T09:36:44.434-07:00Note to self......Posting pictures of attractive Italian men really boosts your page views.<br />
I hope you had a lovely Easter.<br />
MxAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03479376121486049462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3018587026079081852.post-54434732960430840902011-03-30T09:46:00.000-07:002012-06-03T09:37:49.763-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9CD_voQehZas5kOwwbqQ24U12-YytFmmN1XYnhQd1D8BNxPnOYI3LBJWnwwh67C6zmqGtviLdE1XyEE8YCzSKrd1B0hHHJLJWRhDGxe30A8XL_BSYu7BQdiSAWNfvaztSrGxbuXCmWng/s1600/IMG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="375" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9CD_voQehZas5kOwwbqQ24U12-YytFmmN1XYnhQd1D8BNxPnOYI3LBJWnwwh67C6zmqGtviLdE1XyEE8YCzSKrd1B0hHHJLJWRhDGxe30A8XL_BSYu7BQdiSAWNfvaztSrGxbuXCmWng/s400/IMG.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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This is a fairly shit sketch I did it a little while ago. It's a drawing of a statue that currently stands in Rome. The artist's name was William Wetmore Story, and it now stands at the grave that he shares with his wife. I'm not particularly fond of this drawing, but I thought it was quite topical.<br />
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I realise I haven't written in a while, and I'm sorry that my first post in about two months is going to be depressing, but I'm not going to write a cheery, petty little post at the moment.<br />
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Grief is a shitty, shitty thing. One might say that pain is something that unites each and every person on this planet, as they're all going to feel it sometime. Pain is also something that isolates you, that makes you different from everybody else. Your pain is never going to feel the same as anybody else's. Type "grief" into Google images and you'll find lots of pictures of people weeping in despair, head in their hands, a comforting hand on their shoulder. But that is not my experience of grief. Grief is what's left behind. Grief is a mother and father having to bury their son. Grief is the brother that is left behind trying to hold his family together. Grief is a business in ruins, a house in disrepair, a family revolving around a hospital ward. Grief is not knowing where to put yourself, not wanting to cry or think or break down. Grief is a pile of papers and sketches, of memories pushed under the bed where you don't have to see them. Grief is the relief that someone you love can finally feel no pain. Grief is the numbness that follows, the <i>anger, </i>the sense of injustice. Grief hides itself away and feeds on you like a parasite, and it rips families apart.<br />
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Sorry for being a bit of an emo fag here, folks.<br />
My prayers and love go out to the people who need it most.<br />
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Mx<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">O 's follas gur líon do chroí d</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">om grása, a stór.</span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03479376121486049462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3018587026079081852.post-79076404207926820882011-01-27T09:12:00.000-08:002012-06-03T09:38:13.006-07:00Something wicked this way comes...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I have just given my first performance as Malcolm in the Kinetic production of Macbeth - two more to go and I have to say, despite not being a "drama person" the buzz you get afterwards is unbelievable!<br />
We are doing a slightly modernized, industrial version, where Macbeth is set in some sort of warehouse or old factory, we fight with broom handles and beat dustbins for rhythm, and the witches are "druggies." My costume (obviously forefront in my mind) is all black, with red braces and a red corset belt. And yes, I am playing the part of Malcolm, the King-to-be and lead soldier. In a corset belt...<br />
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In other news, I've been hit on by a twelve-year-old, and may or may not have indulged in some extra-activity in the interval of Macbeth, the repercussions of which I have a feeling I shall feel for quite some time.<br />
Apologies for my lack of post of late, but it has been really difficult to access a computer (due to obvious reasons for busyness.)<br />
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Love, Peace and All things Shakespeare,<br />
MxAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03479376121486049462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3018587026079081852.post-3451079616218796072011-01-08T04:41:00.000-08:002012-06-03T09:39:15.171-07:00What's on my mind this month, in pictures<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdgiitbwOi7fzVkF27Ld8JMRnRNiOH_imTozyVWJJq-AZmxE4-z1d7qG2kcPtLVwsQS39300Jsttb_xkPbjzgW5HxYoqj54MuaUOSQoIoo43eZdBg9QZxEhmKobKyv-nnl7h0NJ0h5gtg/s1600/92410Adrianna_7372W.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdgiitbwOi7fzVkF27Ld8JMRnRNiOH_imTozyVWJJq-AZmxE4-z1d7qG2kcPtLVwsQS39300Jsttb_xkPbjzgW5HxYoqj54MuaUOSQoIoo43eZdBg9QZxEhmKobKyv-nnl7h0NJ0h5gtg/s320/92410Adrianna_7372W.jpg" width="195" /></a></div>
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This picture was taken by Scott Shulman, a.k.a. <a href="http://thesartorialist.blogspot.com/">The Sartoralist</a>. If you haven't seen his blog, DO IT NOW. It's a who's who to the best dressed in Europe. Anyway, I adore this picture. I love her dress, the fact that she's still using a notebook, but most of all I love her hair. I would desperately like to be ginger, and dyed my hair a chestnut last month.<br />
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I am participating in a production of <i>Macbeth</i>, playing the part of Malcolm, so if my posts are a bit sketchy and patchy then do forgive me, I am likely to be rehearsing or learning lines, as the first performance is on 19th January. Gulp.<br />
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These two represent how I feel in the New Year - kind of like I'm going somewhere else, but I'm not really sure where yet. I know that sounds awfully cheesy, but I can't think of a better way to put it. I don't buy into the whole "new year, new start, new me" business, but I do think this year will be quite different from the last one. Judging by this week alone, it will be.<br />
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I don't usually put anything too personal on here, lest someone untoward sees it, but this is something else that's been playing on my mind.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03479376121486049462noreply@blogger.com2