Sometimes, I marvel at how lucky I am. Today was one of those days.
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.
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.
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?
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.
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. Stupid.
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.
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.
Mx
http://www.mariecurie.org.uk/en-gb/who-we-are/services/?gclid=CMvYw_Gduq4CFUsMtAodimYR_Q
http://leukaemialymphomaresearch.org.uk/
http://www.cancerresearchuk.org/
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
Saturday, 25 February 2012
Wednesday, 22 February 2012
Flamehead
So, 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!"
A la my new years resolutions, I had a strange and "bad taste" dye job, just, you know, to build character!
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.
Love, Peace and Silly Little Things,
Mx
A la my new years resolutions, I had a strange and "bad taste" dye job, just, you know, to build character!
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!
Also, as promised, here is a picture of my tattoo...
Love, Peace and Silly Little Things,
Mx
Sunday, 19 February 2012
“To change one’s life: Start Immediately. Do it Flamboyantly. No Exceptions.” – William James
Recently, 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.
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.
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.
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 life 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.
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 every 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?
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.
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.
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.
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 life 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.
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 every 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?
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.
Wednesday, 8 February 2012
C-c-countdown
Days until my "valentine's day surprise." Yep, that's right. Me. Celebrating Valentine's Day. Bring it.
...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 oh my gosh will you just look at the girls attendance?! 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.
Love, Peace, and For Christ's Sake's don't go do A-Levels,
Mx
Sunday, 5 February 2012
So 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.
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.
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.
1. English Rose - The Jam
2. Far Away - Wolfmother (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!)
3. Higher Love - James Vincent McMorrow (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.)
Love, Peace, and February Fun,
Mx
P.S. Note the lack of mention of V-Day, the 14th. That's a whole other blog post, folks!
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.
Outside my window.
1. English Rose - The Jam
2. Far Away - Wolfmother (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!)
3. Higher Love - James Vincent McMorrow (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.)
Love, Peace, and February Fun,
Mx
P.S. Note the lack of mention of V-Day, the 14th. That's a whole other blog post, folks!
Saturday, 28 January 2012
Ska-ky out of her comfort zone
I 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...
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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."
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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."
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.
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.
Saturday, 21 January 2012
Some film and TV that I like
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...
1. The Welly-boot Wankers
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 ladette?!
2. The Suburbus Populus
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.)
3. The Old Eccentrics
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 http://www.kingblues.com/, 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.
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 here. I think Woody and Lol are one of the most overlooked couples of film.
Ohh, sorry, shitty GIF!
One more for the road folks, sorry if it looks like you've accidentally tuned into a FanGirls tumbr...
Booties.
Mx
1. The Welly-boot Wankers
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 ladette?!
2. The Suburbus Populus
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.)
3. The Old Eccentrics
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 http://www.kingblues.com/, 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.
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 here. I think Woody and Lol are one of the most overlooked couples of film.
Ohh, sorry, shitty GIF!
One more for the road folks, sorry if it looks like you've accidentally tuned into a FanGirls tumbr...
Booties.
Mx
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