If there’s one single word in the dictionary that is over-used, sometimes abused and often misunderstood it is this one: success.
Success seems to be the one thing that everybody in the world wants. Everybody wants to walk away from the great exam of life with a decent grade, and this ambitious attitude in itself is no bad thing, but it becomes a problem when we begin to lose sight of what success really means, and what it’s truly about.
We live in a society which has poisoned itself with superficiality, a society which has become so obsessed with beauty, status and the acquisition of material goods that it has left many feeling inferior and self-critical that their achievements do not compare to those of others. All too often, life seems akin to a big race or competition in which everybody wants to be a ‘winner’ and, most certainly, nobody wants to come last.
But despite what we are so often made to think: success is not about money. It’s not about status. It’s not about power. It’s not about having model-looks and it’s not about mass popularity – in other words, success is not about the factors from which others often tend to judge us.
Success is simply about being you and being happy with you. It’s about spending your life doing the things you love both in your career and in your free-time. It’s about being a good friend, and making true friendships. It’s about having fun. It’s about believing in yourself and the way in which you conduct things, it’s about being at peace in your own company, it’s about having a loving mindset, a respect for everybody and above all, it’s about having enough respect for yourself that you can resist any pressure to change into what you think other people think you should be.
Real success comes from pursuing true passions, not from trying to impress anybody with your power or status. It is most certainly not a race, and it is most certainly not a competition. If it is viewed that way, we will constantly be left wanting more rather than enjoying what we already have. Success is deep within all of us, and it’s just waiting to be discovered. It is not something which is found only by being the best at something, it’s found by being our best, and that is something we can all achieve, without exception.
Song of the Day: British Sea Power – Carrion
Classic British indie-rock. These guys go from strength to strength, but it is their earlier releases that seem to be the best.
This week marks a whole year since I moved down to Canterbury. The past year has been… good, difficult, but at the very least – interesting.
We humans are a fickle bunch, aren’t we? Hating monotony, yet shirking at the prospect of changing the routines we’ve become so accustomed to. ‘Change’ seems like either a sunrise on the horizon indicating a new dawn, or a thunderstorm in your back-garden when you’ve locked yourself out of the house. When we need change, we never have enough in our purse, but when we don’t need change we are aggravated by, and just can’t seem to get rid of, all the copper-coins which litter our desks and pockets.
The move to Canterbury is a change which seems to have provided all weathers, certainly a year of four-seasons. At this one-year point I look back and truly acknowledge that.
I grew up in Watford always knowing that one day my parents would move back down south to Canterbury – back to their childhood, back to their identity. Fortunately, I’d always liked that sweet little town on the River Stour, recognisable instantly by it’s looming cathedral spires, visible from the A2 motorway. Whenever we went to Canterbury, the sun shone and colourful pansies on the riverbank of the Westgate Gardens would greet us as we walked through the medieval archway of the city Towers into the main streets, so cobbled and cute. I loved the presence of history, and how the vast amounts of tourists gave a walk around the city the warm feeling of being on a vacation of your own. By contrast we’d later return to the grey, congested streets of Watford, a town recognisable not from a World Heritage site like the Cathedral – but from a YMCA, a few kebab-houses, and a ginormous Tesco in which I once had the great fortune to work. It’s true, I’d grown to take the place for granted, it’s well-oiled cogs falling asunder to aesthetic displeasures.
When my parents revealed that they’d sold the house that had been the family home for 22 years and were moving to Canterbury, I was delighted. Great, I thought. Pretty town. Lots of culture. Lots to do, I can go sunbathing next to the pansies! Lots of nice places to eat. Not too far from the sea. I’ll never get bored living in Canterz! I didn’t plan on living with my parents for much longer, anyway. (That’s still something I’m working towards!)
We moved down and for a few weeks I was enjoying not only the great weather, the wealth of new places to discover and the pleasure of living somewhere green as opposed to grey, I was also enjoying the novelty of not having to get up for work every morning. I’ll have another job soon anyway, I thought to myself, a thought which wasn’t arrogance, just bare complacency from the fact that there had always been plenty of jobs in Watford. That place had the London factor. More businesses, more job opportunities – very different, I would discover, to down here, where tourism, catering and academia are the most prominent sectors. It actually took me several months to find paid work down here, but the wait was worth it, I ended up with exactly the kind of job I was looking for, and a volunteering opportunity I love too. I am thankful for this, but by this point, the arduous search for employment had made me realise that lovely though a place may be, there are so many other important factors involved in really settling in to somewhere new. Pretty pansies on riverbanks are of little solace if you are dissatisfied with the other aspects of your life, and being in work is important to me. It’s what gives me a purpose. Life without work may sound luxurious when you’re waking up to catch a train at 6am, but in reality it is one of the hardest, most soul-destroying ways to live. I never want to be unemployed again. Because of this, the first few months in Canterbury were exceptionally difficult but I kept myself busy through exercise and sitting around in parks reading spirituality books which would drum into my head that everything happens for a reason! And they do.
There were other things that were stopping me from feeling at home. I hadn’t met anyone new and was depending on my old life too much; going back to London in order to socialise with friends and constantly thinking about the past; putting too much emphasis on good memories rather than seeking to create new ones. Meeting people in the area, and having lots of visitors, has helped give my new life it’s new identity. So too has seeing my parents settle in here so well and get so involved in the local community. Finally, I’m focusing on the present as opposed to missing the past. All that’s left now is for me to make my first trip back to Watford itself, my real home. Once that has been done, and the two lives overlapped, the move will really be complete, and I really will be fully settled here. Not to mention, of course, one of my best friends moving into a house just a few doors away from mine.
When I think back to the difficulties that have arisen at points in the past year I remind myself that if things never change, they just stay the same. Would I want to have stayed in Watford forever? Well, it would probably would have made life easier, but where’s the fun? Where’s the challenge? I often bleat on about wanting to live abroad but that would be even more dramatic a change than moving a couple of hours down the M2.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned from all of this, it’s that the more changes we make in our lives, the easier that ‘change’ becomes to deal with. When things are difficult, we just deal with them, and when we’ve dealt with them once, we know how to deal with them again. I doubt this will be the last place I ever live, and next time I move, I’ll be a lot more prepared.
So – year 2011/2012, you have probably been one of the most difficult years I’ve ever experienced, but I’m glad I have.
Song of the Day: The Pixies – The Navajo Know
I wish I’d been a lot older in the late 1980’s/early 1990’s. That is all.
This song is so New Mexico.
A cup of tea and a pen, and a Sunday afternoon. The call of seagulls filtrate through my bedroom window. I look outside to spot them and my eyes are instead met by the calm of a clear, white sky. Lighter evenings. Longer days. Spring has arrived and with it has come a new chapter in this incomplete novel of life for which we compose our own storyline . As the smell of roast lamb makes it’s way up the stairs, I look at my work and remind myself that it’s time to focus, Sophie, focus.
Sunday afternoons are the chill-out time of the week, the time to relax, the time to focus within, to inhale-exhale, to light some candles, to listen to instrumental tracks, to feel at peace.
Every other day of the week is usually so busy, so frantic. Our time to reflect is lost in the constant movement and pushed further and further down our list of priorities, below the likes of ‘create that spreadsheet‘ or ‘buy those train-tickets’.
But Sundays. They make me think about everything that’s really important in life. Family. Friends. Life experiences. Travel. Adventures.
Sunday is the day when all the negative things in life become irrelevant. A day to let go of our worries, a day to acknowledge and walk away from that which is holding us back, a day to shelve any anger and a day to forgive. The horizons in front of you are broad and bright when the body is free of negativity and full of love and passionate desire.
Sundays are for getting nostalgic for the past but excited for the future. A day of appreciation and anticipation. Fond memories twinned with the birth of new dreams. New targets and ideas.
A sense of exuberant spirituality.
Life is here and we are living it.
I love them all, on Sunday afternoon.
Happy Sunday, my friends.
Song of the Day:Jean-Michel Jarre – Computer Weekend
A classic piece from the French master of electronics. One of my favourites for a Sunday afternoon.
I received a lovely surprise gift from my parents today. A silver-ring into which are inscribed the words, ‘follow your heart’. I’m sure my parents wish that somebody else was buying me a ring…you know, somebody nearer my age with an xy chromosome who wants to spend the rest of their life with me, but that doesn’t matter, because those three words around my finger have never seemed as important to me as they do right now.
I believe that if we follow our hearts, we will eventually always end up exactly where we want to be..or at least, somewhere in the vicinity. The journey may be harder. We may trip on plenty of stones along the way. There’ll probably be tears. There’ll be times when we look across the central reservation of the motorway in envy of the nice, shiny cars zipping along in the opposite direction whilst we sit in the lay-by, sipping coffee from a thermos flask and waiting for the AA to arrive and fix our punctured tire. But whilst we wait, at least we can look at the road ahead and know that despite the potholes, every metre we transcend is a metre closer to our dreams. If we were to follow our heads, no doubt there would be a helpful bypass or two en-route, ones that could make our journey that little bit easier and faster, but once we were to reach our destination, would we even feel pleased to have arrived there or would it just be considered a means to an end?
One of the biggest dilemmas in life is knowing whether to choose between your head and heart. When the two are in conflict, it can be very difficult to make any decision at all.
But for now I’m going with my heart, simply because it knows what makes me smile, and even if it takes me down shady back-alleys and across bridges constructed of frayed rope and damp wood, at least every single step will have a purpose, a step closer to the dream.
It is down to us to firstly believe in the things we want to achieve, and then take the steps to get them, even if it means taking the riskier of the two routes. No worthwhile lessons were made from the things we already knew.
At a time when technology dominates and we’re more likely to be looking at our phones as opposed to out of the window it’s becoming easier to be blind to the beauty which surrounds us. It’s especially easy to do this when you’re living in a country like England. Grey clouds. Office-blocks. Litter. Viscous traffic jams. The angry honks of road-rage. Ugly, rain-soaked 1960’s architecture. These are the things we’re used to seeing on a daily basis when we’re making our way to work, or heading into town to buy a new pair of tights and some milk. The metal-concrete infrastructures are unsightly but they keep our country economically afloat and so we have to accept them. You can’t run a country from a muddy-field… as much as I wish it were possible.
But sometimes, it’s just nice to have that wonderful soiree with nature. It’s the one thing that’s always been there, even when recession hits and companies submerge into liquidation, there’ll still be a fresh sunrise each morning reminding us that life goes on, and what’s more important? Nature is more powerful, more valuable than anything and it makes me sad to see people abuse it. Earth is seldom more beautiful than in it’s most natural state; because nature is real, raw and magical. It’s no surprise that we often look to nature when we need a bit of time-out from the rest of the world.
Still trees seem to listen – they have centuries of experience, and glistening rivers seem to advise – no matter what the obstruction, they never cease to flow, flowing on until they reach the ocean.
Below are just a couple of photos, taken locally, when nature has put a smile on my face. It really is a beautiful world.
View from train on way home from work, February 2012
High-tide at Epple Bay, January 2012
Snow in the Westgate Gardens, Canterbury – February 2012
Valentines Day is coming up and we all know what that means – the lonely-hearted feeling like lepers whilst the lovers compare what wonderful gifts and surprises they’ve received from their other halves and maybe even upload the photographic evidence on to Facebook.
Splendid…
As somebody who is currently so much a single that I could probably be eligible for chart-release, I’m very much aware that to write anything anti-Valentines would likely be perceived as an unconvincing and possibly jealousy-fueled attempt to try and justify to myself why I’m currently so far from joining the growing party of peers whom have recently acquired a diamond ring on their finger. But, I’m not here to bash relationships or romance or deny that I want those things. I admit I would love to have that, if the right person came along… only if the right person came along.
But he hasn’t yet, so right now I can’t enjoy all the wonderful things that relationships can bring.
So what to do? Sit and cry into a cup of commiseration coffee? Stare at myself into the mirror until I find a million reasons to understand why I’m single? Walk around feeling inadequate to everybody else because they managed to find somebody and I didn’t?
Of course not, because let me tell you something boys and girls – being single isn’t such a bad thing.
I know what some of you may be thinking when you read this, “Aww, poor wee lamb is only saying that because she’s single” and I guess to some extent you’re right – if I wasn’t single, I wouldn’t be writing a whole piece on why it’s not a bad thing. Though, the truth is – there have been times in the past when I have done all the above things: detested my appearance, picked apart my personality to see what was wrong with it, and yes at times I have even felt inadequate around couples. We live in a society which loves it’s love stories, afterall. A lot of people who are single probably feel or have felt the same way at some point.
***“What’s wrong with me?“*** those of us without long-term partners ask ourselves as we notice the middle-aged couple several rows in front of us on the bus, squeezing each others cheeks and giggling like geese as the bus meanders through the streets of London.
But for quite a while now, I’ve begun to look at matters from an entirely different perspective. I realise now, that the one and only reason I’m still single is simply because I haven’t met the right person yet. I like to believe he’s there somewhere, waiting in the wings, probably necking a few shots of whisky in preparation to put up with a whole lifetime with me and the baggage I come with (my schweet’earts and my special dietary requirements of four thai curries a week). Alternatively, maybe he’s not there at all. Maybe he doesn’t exist. Maybe the curry thing was the straw that broke the camel’s back and the poor guy was last seen in the back of a taxi destined for “as far away as fucking possible!” It’s a grim vision, but not one that I can necessarily change. Sure we can change our appearance, try and meet new people, take tips on how to flirt but even after all of that – you either have that chance encounter with the right person, or you don’t.
Obviously, I hope I won’t be single for the rest of my life, but neither do I want to slip into the dangerous territory of needing a relationship. They may be important, but not having one doesn’t make you any less of a person and that’s something which I think the world seems to forget occasionally. From some peoples’ perspectives, singles stick out like sore thumbs and the older they are, the larger the swelling. The world is full of interfering busybody types who love to play matchmaker and try and create the missing link between two ‘compatible’ single people (who have only their relationship statuses and maybe a love of red wine in common, too) and that’s what contributes to that feeling of inadequacy that not being in a relationship can bring. Well quite frankly – fuck people like that, they probably live alongside Tinky Winky and Dipsy in an area of La La Land where everybody is happy all the time and the rate of divorce isn’t 50% like it is here in the actual society in which we live. Real life is much more complex than 120 minutes of Hollywood magic, even if we wish it wasn’t.
We are who we are and things happen how they happen, we don’t write a script in advance – so instead of feeling the stigma of being single maybe myself and others like me should just sit back and enjoy the positives. Are there any? Yes. Plenty.
Ready?
Being single allows you to….
keep your options open with what you want to do in life • have the entire bed to yourself • not have to worry about the threat of messy break-ups or the mini heart-attack that occurs when they don’t put an ‘x’ at the end of a text • not have to tell anybody what you’re doing and where you’re going • be able to change town or country as you please • save money on the 14th February • use the money on buying yourself a new pot of foundation instead • not have to sit through really boring films about robots using complex computer systems that you don’t understand • kiss Jake Gyllenhaal without having an affair• eat the whole ‘his’n’hers’ chocolate gift set • not be told off when you want to do something that doesn’t align with his schedule • eat KFC in bed with only yourself to disgust • wink at the waitor • “What are you doing? Why didn’t you reply to my text? Where are you going? Who are you going with, are any of them male? Why can’t I come with you? “• etc etc.
In my mind, being single is like childhood. As soon as you reach adulthood and begin that battle with your bank account, or as soon as you meet that partner that so often sends you sideways with each minor misunderstanding, you realise how simple things used to be and kick yourself for not making the most of it all. Does that mean we shouldn’t bother with relationships at all, then? Of course not! You always need to try before you buy and not every shoe will fit. The point is merely that sometimes, instead of waiting around in the shoe shop for that special sandal to come into stock and looking at your watch every five seconds to curse how late it’s getting, you could be next door buying yourself an atlas, some plane tickets and maybe a box of chocolates for good measure. Once you’re finished with those, maybe that sandal will be on the shelf. If not, go into another shop and buy something else, and repeat this process again and again until it is, so that by the time you’re wearing those sexy sandals that you wanted for so long, you’ll be able to say, ‘I made the most of being single’.
See the positive in everything and if you can’t, create it!
And on a slightly different note, I’ve added another new section to the site for my travels. I’ve only done a few U.S cities so far but there’s plenty more places to come, so if you feel like going on somewhat of a trip abroad today, check out the section!
Song of the Day: Pet Lions – Trinidad
Pet Lions are a great little power-pop band from Chicago, IL and this is the best offering from the 2011 debut LP, ‘Houses’. Energetically laced with melody and keyboards I fail to see how even the snobbiest of musical snobs could not like this song.
People sometimes ask me how and why I’ve been able to write a diary every day for the past 16 years and the main answer is: I just started doing so, and never wanted to break the habit – a bit like when you start devoutly following an exercise routine each day and don’t want to lose momentum by giving yourself a day off. But there are a couple of other reasons why I keep a diary too.
It’s not like I have the most interesting life – I work, I pay taxes, I go to fitness classes and bars and like to cook curries for dinner and watch movies in bed before sleeping. In other words, I’m just a typical British citizen. My past is one big algorithm of highs, lows and all those bits in the middle that constitute neither of the two. I’m not a famous figure nor a special figure and I never will be, so has it really been worth writing about the past 5870 days and counting? Well, I would like to think that one day it will be. I’d like to think that sometime in the future, when I’ve long since left this planet and am sat on a cloud in Heaven devouring a table of All-You-Can-Eat chinese buffet, that these books will fall into the hands of somebody, probably a descendant, who wants to know what life was really like this in century – for an ordinary person, not somebody blessed with the advantages of being a millionaire or having a special talent that could help them evade the more mundane, everyday stresses and strains of the real world.
My diaries have covered the days from childhood innocence to starting secondary school, as well as the developmental period of University, life in an office, and the travels I’ve been on. Entries have agonised over the emergence of acne at inconvenient times, moaned about some of the things people have done or said (particularly boys!) and detailed the passing away of various relatives. When I read back through the pages I remember some of the amusing things I may have otherwise have forgotten about, such as the awful attempt my friendship group made to be a pop-group on the school-field one lunchtime back in 1999, or the night in the first year of University when my flatmates and I had an evening in drinking wine and playing cards and ended up dancing around the kitchen to Motown music wearing bins (clean ones!) on our heads as hats. (What can I say? There was a presence of wine, youth and a bunch of crazy idiots who wanted to do everything they could to avoid doing their coursework).
Each Christmas I receive a new diary, and I’m now working my way through the sixteenth one. Today I felt like doing a little experiment… do you ever wonder how and when it is that we change? If each day we look more or less identical to how we did yesterday, and feel more or less like we did yesterday, at what point is it that our lives change? What’s really involved in the transition from being a baby to being wrinkled and grey?
I took each of my diaries and read the entry for today’s date – January 26th, in each. For obvious reasons I have removed the bits which were too personal, and not provided all names. You will find the entries aren’t particularly exciting, if at all, but they were never written to be a story.
So here you have it people, a non-dramatised, non-romanticised snapshot of growing up.
January 26th 1996, aged 10:
…Went into town. Mummy bought me a Valentines Disco suit, a packet of jelly beans, tights for school and a drink and ice-cream…
January 26th 1997, aged 11:
…Went for a bike ride along the canal. There was a good episode of the Simpsons on…
January 26th 1998, aged 12:
…Beth’s cyberpet died. Lost my new Pritt-Stick at school grr. Four bits of homework. Gym was boring…
January 26th 1999, aged 13:
…I’m fed up of all the arguing at school… I hate this… what will happen if the others form a different group, who will my best-friend be? I h8 this (oh look I’m so stressed I’m repeating myself. Why can’t we just all be friends again? It’s going to be impossible to have a good day at school from now on and I’m going to say so at lunch tomorrow. I’ll say, “Look, it’s no good pretending everything’s dandy, we must talk rationally about this”…
January 26th 2000, aged 14:
…Mrs Dey moaned at me in Maths and told me to sit up and look like I was doing something…In Physics we had a test about forces… At lunch the classroom was empty and so our group started going crazy and dancing around the room. In Technology X said to me, “Why did you tell us we couldn’t come into the classroom just because your lot was messing around?”, but I never said that to her!…
January 26th 2001, aged 15:
…For the first time in ages I was happy that it was a Friday. It’s been such a tiring week… Some of the others are going to London tomorrow, but they haven’t invited me – thanks! Well I wouldn’t go anyway to be honest… Got home and did the History homework. It took ages! Watched Neighbours. Beth rang, she is well. Cooked a steak and kidney pie for dinner and rang Emma for a chat…
January 26th 2002, aged 16:
…Spent the afternoon doing the English essay. Text Rupal. Ate some scampi for dinner and watched a bit of Pop Idol. Afterwards I went round to Gemma’s house. Perdie and Sian were also there and we watched a funny film called ‘The Dentist’. Got back at 10:45pm
January 26th 2003, aged 17:
…Went into town in the morning and bought loads of skincare products in Boots and a c.d. Was served by the same funny man that served me a few months ago, he recognised me! There are some strange people in Watford… Mum bought me some cool pink trousers like I’ve wanted for ages! Got some passport photos done though I’m starting to doubt the Berlin trip will go ahead so there’s probably no point. Spent the afternoon finishing my essay on Erasmus. I haven’t started the coursework even now and I only have a week left! The days are far too short!…
January 26th 2004, aged 18:
…Got a bit upset earlier, every day is just the same. I’m so crap in all my subjects too, especially Politics. The mocks are going to go so shite for me. I can already envisage a bunch of N’s and U’s on my results card. Why worry about what University I should pick? At this rate, I won’t get into any…
January 26th 2005, aged 19:
… I am so nervous about my driving test tomorrow. Had a lesson today at 8am. G says I’m bad when he’s not telling me what to do, but it’s because he’s talking about other things and it distracts me and I can’t focus on the road. I KNOW what I need to do, I just don’t concentrate. Came back home briefly before setting off to work… a long, boring day. A large lady in the queue was very impatient and pushed the lady in front of her, whom I was serving! I was nothing short of horrified! An old man was saddened by the fact we don’t sell pomegranate juice – JESUS! Walked home and watched a programme with mum about a mother and daughter who binge drink. It was gross…
January 26th 2006, aged 20:
…What a tiring day! Had to get up to have a consultation with Giselle about our R.S group work. I need to research the true meaning of the cross. Criminology lecture at 3, must try harder with that subject eurgh. X text me wanting to meet for a drink sometime, I don’t know whether or not to meet with him… In the afternoon we had a kiddies-theme birthday party for Rachel before going to the bar. Y rang asking me where we going, but he’s just a mate you know?… Was in a bad mood before bed. Dunno why exactly… I think I just need some time to myself. And if I meet with X again, will we get on well? I hope so, he seemed funny. I guess there is one way to find out…
January 26th 2007, aged 21:
…Sat through all 5 hours worth of lectures. It was okay, in the last one we just watched videos and had a debate about the rights of the victim! Got the bus home with Lucy and bought a takeaway dinner from Wing Ho. In the evening Laura and I went to the Sugarhouse. It wasn’t the best of nights… well it was ok, just a bit ‘hmm-y’. I don’t think I’m appreciating it enough and I think it’s because I’ve got so much work on right now. I’m not making it any easier for myself by going out most nights. A and B are having trouble with one of their flatmates. She is being off with them. It makes me wonder, what IS the need for bitchiness? I know I do it myself occasionally, but about friends? It’s just stupid. Laura said that people in the house don’t think I do enough washing up, but I don’t create as many dirty pans and dishes as they do. So obviously I’m not going to do as much washing up!
January 26th 2008, aged 22:
…Was woken up by a strange Italian-sounding man phoning me up and telling me he was my ‘good luck prince’ or something. Met Caroline and Martin for lunch in the Venue. Very nice. Afterwards I fancied some alone-time so I walked into Galgate, it’s a beautiful walk! Walked around the country lanes and came home. In the midst of studies and parties I forget about just how beautiful a place Lancaster is. I will miss it so much come Graduation. I can’t even think about that right now. Rang mum for a chat, all fine at home.
January 26th 2009, aged 23:
… Today was a long, boring day. I spent most of it doing Reports. I wonder how much of my life I actually spend copying and pasting? Had several caterers coming in today to sell sandwiches etc. Felt a bit bad that not many people bought anything :S Eeps. I’m getting so bored of my lunch-breaks; going to the same cafe for a coffee and feeling fucking freezing. Have a feeling I’m coming down with flu too – not good! January blues!! I’m also worried because I just don’t have a CLUE about my future. If only I could be one of those people that just KNEW what they wanted to do, and could then start working towards it. This job is getting so tedious and I can’t wait for the weather to get warmer. It’s funny, sometimes I think back to a year or so ago, would I have ever imagined that by now I’d be living and working in Watford still? Eurgh. At least now I have a beautiful nephew, one who I intend to spoil a LOT over time 🙂
January 26th 2010, aged 24:
…Went into town and did as much shopping as my limited funds would allow, which wasn’t much. Gabriel had his feet measured in John Lewis and enjoyed running around (made a beeline for the women’s tights – an assistant seemed quite smitten)… Had lunch in Nando’s and came home… Still trying to figure out what to do next in my life. I just want to go travelling again but I’m not sure how and where or even if I can afford it, but if I do go, then it definitely needs to be with a purpose – like a work or some volunteering. I don’t know. I think I’ll just let time decide…
January 26th 2011, aged 25:
…My day off work so went to look at houses in Canterbury with mum and dad… We drove the past the beach, lots of childhood memories… We discussed the houses over lunch. We all like different ones and are all quite emotional. I know that it will be nice living in Canterbury but I’m still scared. Everything is about to be shaken up, big time. Take me back to the old days, the familiar days, where I knew what I was doing. That said, I am getting quite sick of Watford. Maybe I need this change of scene…
And January 26th 2012, aged 26? – Well, I’ll put that here in another 16 years 🙂
Song of the Day: Mull Historical Society – How ‘Bout I Love You More
The unusually-titled Mull Historical Society is the name that Scottish singer-songwriter Colin MacIntyre usually performs under. His stuff is criminally under-rated, particularly here, south of the border. I have no idea why. In my mind, the guy is a musical genius and nothing represents that better than 2004 release ‘How ‘Bout I Love You More’.
One of the best things about having a blog is that, unlike Facebook or Twitter or whatever else all the cool kids are using these days, you can type whatever you wish and know that people are only going to be reading it if they actively choose to open your page. You are in absolutely no danger of clogging (what a great word) up somebody’s newsfeed, uninvited, with any of your nonsense… so you can say whatever you wish, as much as you wish. (Plus, you don’t have to worry about any confusing and unnecessary changes to the layout… the new Facebook timeline, anyone?! Yuck.)
… And something I have always wanted to proclaim is that: I love mid-1990’s dance music.
Don’t most of us, who are in our mid-twenties or older?
For the most part, it seems to be down to an element of nostalgia. Hearing the likes of Snap! or Corona in a bar these days isn’t enjoyable just because of the tunes themselves, but for the memories they conjure… being a kid and hearing those same songs: Saturday-afternoons at the bowling alley in celebration of a classmate’s 9th birthday party; watching Top of the Pops on a Friday evening after spending the day at school practicing your times-tables; or simply through the foam headphones of your suitcase-sized Walkman as you listen to the chart compilation cassette you got for Christmas on a car-journey to visit the grandparents.
Hearing these songs again, in the (slightly different) environment of twenty-first century nightlife, takes us back to those days, back when we were four-feet high and had nothing to worry about besides one of the beads we’d got free inside a packet of Monster Munch snapping off from our bicycle spokes, or whether or not we were going to pass our latest swimming test. What a blissful time it was; but all we seemed to want to do was grow up and be an adult!
Whilst browsing through some charity shops this morning, I discovered and purchased a dusty old second-hand c.d for £1.50. Dance Zone ’94 – a compilation of chart-hits that I remember wanting to own as a 9-year old, when it was first released, but not having the money to buy it. Today it has been the soundtrack to the rest of my day of doing work, entrapping me into a time warp, making me half-believe that John Major is still prime-minister; Oasis and Blur are still battling it out at the top of the charts, and that my responsibilities in life are little more than a picture I have to colour in for homework.
What else can I say but: feel the nostalgia, kids!
These days in between Christmas and New Year feel like that somewhat sombre few hours right after all your guests have left a party at your house. Weeks of excited anticipation and frantic preparation culminated in a lovely evening of celebrations with some of your nearest and dearest… but before you even had time to pour yourself a drink, time jumped forward a few hours and now your guests are gone, back to where they live, some place far away, and all you’re left with is the odd half-eaten sausage roll to sweep up from the floor and red wine stain to tackle from the carpet. When just a few hours ago, the desk was vibrating below a speaker blaring out ’90s tunes and the room was full of laughter and chatter, you are now left with a silence which taunts you loudly: “Party has finished! Get back to work!”
And this is the feeling that seems to define these December days. The festive spirit had engulfed us over the past month, sending it’s magic through the streets. The Christmas shopping on grid-locked high-streets may have left us in strong need of a caffeine pick-me-up at times, but overall the season of goodwill was exactly that: a wonderful few weeks which were all about loving, giving and being able to eat a million mince pies without feeling guilty for it. A few days ago I was receiving Christmas cards in the post. Today, I was receiving a P45 from an old employer and the usual friendly letter from the Student Loans Company reminding me that I owe them several thousand pounds. Hi ho, back to a life pre-destined by paperwork we go!
Though wait, despair not, an encore appears on the horizon! New Year’s – one final frolic before we really have to get back to down to it, but it’s not just about having a party and blowing your loudest *PHEEEEP* through a party-whistle whilst singing Auld Lang Syne. It’s more than that. To me, New Years is about both celebrating the good that has come from the past 12 months, and thinking about all of those things that we could have done better. It’s an opportunity to plan out what our aims and dreams are for the year ahead. 2011 wasn’t a bad year for me, but it wasn’t the best either, and I’m hoping that the lessons learned from it can help me make the year 2012 a whole lot better than it’s predecessor.
This is a time of year for celebration and positivity – for new starts, new challenges and a new you – stronger now from the things you’ve achieved or any problems you’ve overcome in your previous year.
And so it is with this entry I would like to wish all my family and friends a wonderful New Year. 2012. The number alone sounds nicer and is less awkward to say than, “two-thousand and eleven” (*breathe*), and I hope the year itself reflects that way for all whom are reading this. Let’s hope 2012 can be a good one for us all.
Song of the Day: Jukebox the Ghost – Good Day
An incredibly happy sounding song about… a good day, from Philadelphia talents Jukebox the Ghost. Chorus includes bonus tongue-twister. Did everybody say what a good day that it was for everybody who said what a good day that it was?
sophiekemsley 