Alright, so, I will start this out by warning people that this will probably be a relationship-based post, if you want to avoid the mush, I recommend that you avoid this one.
Anyhow, currently, I am in a relationship with Mark. This wonderful fantastic man, he makes me so happy. He is everything that I want, plus a whole load of things that I didn't know I wanted until I met him. Today, we've been together ten months, which is my longest relationship. He's also so much more a part of my life than anyone I've dated has ever been before. I see him almost all the time, we're practically living together at this point. He's the last person I see before I go to sleep and the person that I wake up beside. I love that and I love him.
Now, moving past the mush! It's only VERY recently that I've realised how much time I do spend with him, and how much of a part of my life that he is. I would literally be lost without him. This absolutely TERRIFIES me. In the past, if this had ever come up, if I was ever panicked or frightened, I wouldn't even stop to question it. I would be GONE. I'm not very good at relationships, especially not long term ones (for me, this is long term.) This is all new and scary for me, I've never done this before and I'm so worried about messing this up. But I don't want to mess this up. I love him so much and he makes me so happy that I panic even more about fucking it up.
So, last night, rather than just lie there not being able to sleep, and freaking myself out more and more, I manned up, and I decided to talk to him. Admittedly, I didn't pick the best time to speak to him, it was after midnight and he had work the next morning, but the crazy is not subject to rational thinking. So I decided to tell him about all of this. About my crazy irrational fears and all of my panicking and everything. I wasn't even expecting an answer or anything apart from "Shush, don't be crazy, go to sleep." But no, he was fantastic. He listened to everything I had to say let me ramble on for ages and let it all out, and then comforted me and talked to me until I didn't feel so panicked or stressed and I just curled up and fell asleep.
Yep, so that's my relationship mush blogpost. It was written rather messily while watching movies, so please excuse the ramblingness of it. It was just meant to express the fact that I was scared and I love him, so I got over the fear and actually talked to him about it and now things are better again. That is the incredibly simplifed version. So perhaps, you should have just read this tiny last paragraph, rather than all of the rest of this mess.
Much love,
B.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Fragile
Several months with no posts, and then 2 in one day, I know I threatened to be sporadic, but this is just taking the biscuit really, isn't it.
Well, I've just had one of my homecoming heart-to-heart/massive rows which only happen with families. It began as a row over my new piercing and cycled through my dropping out of college, my mental health, my unemployment, my lack of future plans. All the while my mother getting frustrated because, to her, I have no plans and am just hopelessly careening about in life, whereas I am frantically trying to explain that yes, I have made mistakes, and yes, I have plans, they are just taking longer because currently, I'm being fiercely independant about them. the last time I was being funded by someone else, didn't work out well for anyone involved, least of all me.
There was shouting, there were many, many tears on my part (Yes, I am still crying a bit now.) and there were some serious re-evaluation on both sides. We've come to the part where we realise that we are simply two extremely different people, and we will have to come to terms with that. We got over it, it's done for now.
Then, we came to the hardest bit for me. The bit where we talk about me getting a job and living as an adult, alone and independent. I want this, I want it SO badly that it pains me to still be here, I cringe inside everytime that I have to ask someone to help me out. Because to me, every thing that I cannot do or achieve 100% on my own, is a failure. Every job I apply for that never gets back to me; failure. Every interview I do that I don't get the job for; failure. When my contract didn't get extended at my last job; failure. I take it so badly, and so personally, and I don't know why. Alright, I'm an emotional person, but no-one's this emotional!
So I cried, and explained, and cried, and we came up with ideas, for ways in which I can make money to get me towards doing the course that I want, so I can get a better job, so I can get out, on my own, living how I want to be. Some of them were excellent ideas (some were terrible. Yes, prostitution and drug dealing were options I came up with, no I didn't voice these to my mother.) including the one where I do something which I actually enjoy, which relates to what I want to do later in life, and which could make me a fair bit of money. (No, not prostitution. Yes, I am still attempting to be humourous while mascara streams down my face...) But here's the problem. I am now so afraid of failing in this, because it's the thing that I really want to do, that I am almost too afraid to try. I am terrified that once I attempt to do something that actually means something to me, that one setback will mean I give up, and fail, and have to start all over again.
I know that I need to toughen up, I know that I need to get out there and do what I want to do, or at least work towards it. I think in some part, my actually typing this up and putting it out here, is one of my attempts at going through with it. That if someone reads this, I'll be forced to follow through on it. I guess this is a cross between an emotional release, an attempt at bullying myself and asking for support.
But right now. I think I just need a hug...
As always,
Love,
B. x
Well, I've just had one of my homecoming heart-to-heart/massive rows which only happen with families. It began as a row over my new piercing and cycled through my dropping out of college, my mental health, my unemployment, my lack of future plans. All the while my mother getting frustrated because, to her, I have no plans and am just hopelessly careening about in life, whereas I am frantically trying to explain that yes, I have made mistakes, and yes, I have plans, they are just taking longer because currently, I'm being fiercely independant about them. the last time I was being funded by someone else, didn't work out well for anyone involved, least of all me.
There was shouting, there were many, many tears on my part (Yes, I am still crying a bit now.) and there were some serious re-evaluation on both sides. We've come to the part where we realise that we are simply two extremely different people, and we will have to come to terms with that. We got over it, it's done for now.
Then, we came to the hardest bit for me. The bit where we talk about me getting a job and living as an adult, alone and independent. I want this, I want it SO badly that it pains me to still be here, I cringe inside everytime that I have to ask someone to help me out. Because to me, every thing that I cannot do or achieve 100% on my own, is a failure. Every job I apply for that never gets back to me; failure. Every interview I do that I don't get the job for; failure. When my contract didn't get extended at my last job; failure. I take it so badly, and so personally, and I don't know why. Alright, I'm an emotional person, but no-one's this emotional!
So I cried, and explained, and cried, and we came up with ideas, for ways in which I can make money to get me towards doing the course that I want, so I can get a better job, so I can get out, on my own, living how I want to be. Some of them were excellent ideas (some were terrible. Yes, prostitution and drug dealing were options I came up with, no I didn't voice these to my mother.) including the one where I do something which I actually enjoy, which relates to what I want to do later in life, and which could make me a fair bit of money. (No, not prostitution. Yes, I am still attempting to be humourous while mascara streams down my face...) But here's the problem. I am now so afraid of failing in this, because it's the thing that I really want to do, that I am almost too afraid to try. I am terrified that once I attempt to do something that actually means something to me, that one setback will mean I give up, and fail, and have to start all over again.
I know that I need to toughen up, I know that I need to get out there and do what I want to do, or at least work towards it. I think in some part, my actually typing this up and putting it out here, is one of my attempts at going through with it. That if someone reads this, I'll be forced to follow through on it. I guess this is a cross between an emotional release, an attempt at bullying myself and asking for support.
But right now. I think I just need a hug...
As always,
Love,
B. x
Well, a lot of stuff's been happening....
So hello there internet people.
I've been awfully remiss in my posting, and I apologise profusely, but the real world interfered with my Internet life. How incredibly rude of it!
Shortly after my last post, I began working fulltime, in an office! I had real office clothes, and a desk and everything. I don't know if other people get as excited as I do about having their own desk, but it was a magical time for me. I really enjoyed working, even though I had a 2 hour commute each way. Which was a real bitch in the snow, let me tell you. I think working suits me far better than sitting about doing nothing. there's something fulfilling about coming home exhausted at the end of the day, and even more fulfilling about finding a bank account with money in it at the end of the month. :D
Anyhow, as fun as it was, it was only a temporary contract, so even though it was extended twice, eventually, at the end of January, we went our separate ways, so I am back to being a lady of leisure, frantically searching for a job.
During that time I ended up having lots of funny incidents and dealing with the crazy amount of snow on the commute was probably the best/worst of them all. the most eventful of these happened on one fateful Wednesday morning. I was staying in Boyfriend's house, and he had to coax, threaten, cajole and bribe me to get out of bed and into the cold that morning. I took the bus into town, semi-unconscious still, my body does not react well to cold, and then made my way slowly and carefully over the snow and ice to the Luas for the final leg of my journey.
I was 2 steps away from being safely on the Luas when the next thing I knew, I was flat on my back on the ground. the Luas platform was one huge sheet of ice, with no grit, or salt or anything on it to protect the poor frozen travellers on their journeying.
I was in a state of absolute shock, when you're young, you fall all the time, you get up, you keep running and shouting and falling all over again, when you hit 20 or so, you generally have become used to your body, you know where your feet are and how to use them, and so mostly you only fall when you're drunk, and cushioned by alcohol. This was 8:20 in the morning, stone cold sober, and just stone cold meteorologically speaking too. (Warning: meteorologically speaking = private joke, but is also appropriate for this statement)
Anyhow, I got up and hobbled across the road to a café and sat down in their outdoor smoking area section. As soon as my ass hit that bright orange seat, I began shaking and tears just streamed from my eyes, it was a combination of pain, shock and utter utter embarrassment. Everyone had seen me fall, I felt so foolish and childish, but I was also seriously injured.
The one thing which made this any better was the wamrth of the wonderful people who came to my rescue. People from outside of big cities always comment on how us City People don't know our neighbours, and are more likely to roll over and sleep if we hear an alarm go off, rather than to try and help. Well, to them I say, pah! Yes, pah! and a Pfft for good measure. A group of women sitting outside all immediately did their very best to help me. Demanding that I not go to work, bringing me hot tea from inside, checking if I had been seriously hurt, even going so far as offering to call my boss and tell him what had happened. It was a wonderful moment during a dreadful morning.
I recovered enough to be coherent, though I couldn't stop shaking, I called work, called Boyfriend and tried to move into the café to be warmer and to figure out how to get home. It was only when I moved that I realised just how much I had hurt. My back was one stiff ache, my knee was throbbing, the back of my head felt nauseatingly loose and numb and my left elbow was all shaken up. Inside, with the help of one lovely waitress who loaned me her phone, and even went to the hotel next door to call me a taxi, I made it back to boyfriend's house. I lay on the couch and figured that I'd just need to rest. The next afternoon, I was still dizzy, still felt ill and in pain and I knew something was wrong.
One trip to the GP later and I was on my way to hospital where I sat and waited, and sat and waited. I was given painkillers, told my elbow might be fractured (yet again, I have hyperextension in both elbows, look it up) and that I definitely had a concussion, but not to worry, if it had been THAT serious, I woul;d have gone into a coma in my sleep that night before. Several hours later, I learned that I needed to get a CAT scan to check that I didn't have a sneaky fracture in my skull, apparently, they can be quite devious little bastards. Unfortunately, there was no time for that until the next morning, so I spent the night attempting to sleep on a chair in the middle of an A+E ward. To anyone who's been there, you know what it's like. To anyone who hasn't, don't do it. Exhaustion and being surrounded by other ill people, and rushing nurses, and bright lights, loud noises and out of any sort of comfort zone, takes its toll on you. I found myself bursting into tears because I couldn't open an orange juice bottle.
Once again, I was rescued by some truly lovely people. An Italian man swooped down, opened my drink for me, and gallantly ignored the fact that I was crying. We talked about Italy, about singing, about cooking, about how lucky we were compared to other people in there. He was wonderful, full of natural joy, no embarassment about anything, and just bursting with charm. While I waited all morning to be taken for a scan, I also met an Elderly lady who had been there a good deal longer than either of us, and didn't seem likely to be leaving anytime soon. We swapped recipes, I still have to try to make her secret Apple Crumble, we told stories, and I sang her a Scottish folk song, just because it made her smile.
Later that day I left with a bruised skull, a shaken elbow (take that fractures! B-2 Fractures-0) but also with a huge feeling of thanks and love towards people. Yes, there are lots of idiotic dreadful people out there, but there are also just some truly good people. People who will do what they can for one another simply because it makes someone's life a little easier. Helping someone through a rough time is one of the most beautiful things a person can do, and it's something I pride myself on doing for my friends whenever necessary, but I will admit, I had never thought of doing it for strangers. Well, I've been working hard to remember this incident, and to keep it with me. I'm not saying I'm now a saint, going out of my way to help everyone and do everything for them. But I do try harder to pay attention to what's going on around me and to make everyone's day a little easier.
Well, that was an awfully long, moral-soaked feel good story, so the rest of this post will just be a brief update.
Since the beginning of February, I have been jobless, and pretty much penniless, but, on the whole, I have very few complaints about the last 2 weeks.
I have been creative, making jewellery and my costume for Bella's Steampunk Cabaret: http://www.facebook.com/?ref=home#!/event.php?eid=168325079861462 Which looks to be a fantastic eclectic event, and I can't wait for it. I've been very recently learning to play the Ukulele, which Boyfriend bought for me this weekend just past. I've been altering and repairing clothes, and considering several Vlog enterprises. The latest, and most likely of which, is to be nearly a Companion Vlog to the wonderful Alanna's Verbosity Vlog: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=51o2uWm3cEg Her's is about little used words in the English language, and lots of Alanna-style insanity thrown in. Mine will be about my favourite little oddities in other languages, and I will start work on it as soon as I finish this post.
I have a new piercing, once again funded by the wonderful Boyfriend, a vertical Labret piercing, which is healing beautifully, and soon I will take a picture of it, in which I don't look like a squinting, shocked fool, but until then, this will have to do.
Yesterday was the beloved and be-loathed Valentine's Day. Yes, yes, it's dreadful, it's commercial, it's tacky, but it's a day to celebrate love! Love in all its forms, for a boyfriend, girlfriend, wife, parent, pet, artist, song, book, whatever you do adore with all your heart, whatever makes you cry and laugh at the same time, and I support that entirely. Boyfriend and I had a wonderfully romantic evening with a Chinese takeaway, watching Blade II with his housemates. Not everyone's idea of perfect, but to me, it was. Surrounded by people I love, watching something hilarious, eating yummy food, laughing and loving.
(Boyfriend also got me chocolates, a gorgeous deep red rose and a card which made me say Awwww for several minutes. See, we can do normal people romance too!).
I wish you all the best in all of your endeavours, and I'll do my best to keep you updated on my various quests, conquests, epiphanies and accidents.
Much love,
from my fingertips to yours,
B. x
P.S: Listen to Adele singing Someone Like You. It makes me happy in a hurty way.
I've been awfully remiss in my posting, and I apologise profusely, but the real world interfered with my Internet life. How incredibly rude of it!
Shortly after my last post, I began working fulltime, in an office! I had real office clothes, and a desk and everything. I don't know if other people get as excited as I do about having their own desk, but it was a magical time for me. I really enjoyed working, even though I had a 2 hour commute each way. Which was a real bitch in the snow, let me tell you. I think working suits me far better than sitting about doing nothing. there's something fulfilling about coming home exhausted at the end of the day, and even more fulfilling about finding a bank account with money in it at the end of the month. :D
Anyhow, as fun as it was, it was only a temporary contract, so even though it was extended twice, eventually, at the end of January, we went our separate ways, so I am back to being a lady of leisure, frantically searching for a job.
During that time I ended up having lots of funny incidents and dealing with the crazy amount of snow on the commute was probably the best/worst of them all. the most eventful of these happened on one fateful Wednesday morning. I was staying in Boyfriend's house, and he had to coax, threaten, cajole and bribe me to get out of bed and into the cold that morning. I took the bus into town, semi-unconscious still, my body does not react well to cold, and then made my way slowly and carefully over the snow and ice to the Luas for the final leg of my journey.
I was 2 steps away from being safely on the Luas when the next thing I knew, I was flat on my back on the ground. the Luas platform was one huge sheet of ice, with no grit, or salt or anything on it to protect the poor frozen travellers on their journeying.
I was in a state of absolute shock, when you're young, you fall all the time, you get up, you keep running and shouting and falling all over again, when you hit 20 or so, you generally have become used to your body, you know where your feet are and how to use them, and so mostly you only fall when you're drunk, and cushioned by alcohol. This was 8:20 in the morning, stone cold sober, and just stone cold meteorologically speaking too. (Warning: meteorologically speaking = private joke, but is also appropriate for this statement)
Anyhow, I got up and hobbled across the road to a café and sat down in their outdoor smoking area section. As soon as my ass hit that bright orange seat, I began shaking and tears just streamed from my eyes, it was a combination of pain, shock and utter utter embarrassment. Everyone had seen me fall, I felt so foolish and childish, but I was also seriously injured.
The one thing which made this any better was the wamrth of the wonderful people who came to my rescue. People from outside of big cities always comment on how us City People don't know our neighbours, and are more likely to roll over and sleep if we hear an alarm go off, rather than to try and help. Well, to them I say, pah! Yes, pah! and a Pfft for good measure. A group of women sitting outside all immediately did their very best to help me. Demanding that I not go to work, bringing me hot tea from inside, checking if I had been seriously hurt, even going so far as offering to call my boss and tell him what had happened. It was a wonderful moment during a dreadful morning.
I recovered enough to be coherent, though I couldn't stop shaking, I called work, called Boyfriend and tried to move into the café to be warmer and to figure out how to get home. It was only when I moved that I realised just how much I had hurt. My back was one stiff ache, my knee was throbbing, the back of my head felt nauseatingly loose and numb and my left elbow was all shaken up. Inside, with the help of one lovely waitress who loaned me her phone, and even went to the hotel next door to call me a taxi, I made it back to boyfriend's house. I lay on the couch and figured that I'd just need to rest. The next afternoon, I was still dizzy, still felt ill and in pain and I knew something was wrong.
One trip to the GP later and I was on my way to hospital where I sat and waited, and sat and waited. I was given painkillers, told my elbow might be fractured (yet again, I have hyperextension in both elbows, look it up) and that I definitely had a concussion, but not to worry, if it had been THAT serious, I woul;d have gone into a coma in my sleep that night before. Several hours later, I learned that I needed to get a CAT scan to check that I didn't have a sneaky fracture in my skull, apparently, they can be quite devious little bastards. Unfortunately, there was no time for that until the next morning, so I spent the night attempting to sleep on a chair in the middle of an A+E ward. To anyone who's been there, you know what it's like. To anyone who hasn't, don't do it. Exhaustion and being surrounded by other ill people, and rushing nurses, and bright lights, loud noises and out of any sort of comfort zone, takes its toll on you. I found myself bursting into tears because I couldn't open an orange juice bottle.
Once again, I was rescued by some truly lovely people. An Italian man swooped down, opened my drink for me, and gallantly ignored the fact that I was crying. We talked about Italy, about singing, about cooking, about how lucky we were compared to other people in there. He was wonderful, full of natural joy, no embarassment about anything, and just bursting with charm. While I waited all morning to be taken for a scan, I also met an Elderly lady who had been there a good deal longer than either of us, and didn't seem likely to be leaving anytime soon. We swapped recipes, I still have to try to make her secret Apple Crumble, we told stories, and I sang her a Scottish folk song, just because it made her smile.
Later that day I left with a bruised skull, a shaken elbow (take that fractures! B-2 Fractures-0) but also with a huge feeling of thanks and love towards people. Yes, there are lots of idiotic dreadful people out there, but there are also just some truly good people. People who will do what they can for one another simply because it makes someone's life a little easier. Helping someone through a rough time is one of the most beautiful things a person can do, and it's something I pride myself on doing for my friends whenever necessary, but I will admit, I had never thought of doing it for strangers. Well, I've been working hard to remember this incident, and to keep it with me. I'm not saying I'm now a saint, going out of my way to help everyone and do everything for them. But I do try harder to pay attention to what's going on around me and to make everyone's day a little easier.
Well, that was an awfully long, moral-soaked feel good story, so the rest of this post will just be a brief update.
Since the beginning of February, I have been jobless, and pretty much penniless, but, on the whole, I have very few complaints about the last 2 weeks.
I have been creative, making jewellery and my costume for Bella's Steampunk Cabaret: http://www.facebook.com/?ref=home#!/event.php?eid=168325079861462 Which looks to be a fantastic eclectic event, and I can't wait for it. I've been very recently learning to play the Ukulele, which Boyfriend bought for me this weekend just past. I've been altering and repairing clothes, and considering several Vlog enterprises. The latest, and most likely of which, is to be nearly a Companion Vlog to the wonderful Alanna's Verbosity Vlog: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=51o2uWm3cEg Her's is about little used words in the English language, and lots of Alanna-style insanity thrown in. Mine will be about my favourite little oddities in other languages, and I will start work on it as soon as I finish this post.
I have a new piercing, once again funded by the wonderful Boyfriend, a vertical Labret piercing, which is healing beautifully, and soon I will take a picture of it, in which I don't look like a squinting, shocked fool, but until then, this will have to do.
Yesterday was the beloved and be-loathed Valentine's Day. Yes, yes, it's dreadful, it's commercial, it's tacky, but it's a day to celebrate love! Love in all its forms, for a boyfriend, girlfriend, wife, parent, pet, artist, song, book, whatever you do adore with all your heart, whatever makes you cry and laugh at the same time, and I support that entirely. Boyfriend and I had a wonderfully romantic evening with a Chinese takeaway, watching Blade II with his housemates. Not everyone's idea of perfect, but to me, it was. Surrounded by people I love, watching something hilarious, eating yummy food, laughing and loving.
(Boyfriend also got me chocolates, a gorgeous deep red rose and a card which made me say Awwww for several minutes. See, we can do normal people romance too!).
I wish you all the best in all of your endeavours, and I'll do my best to keep you updated on my various quests, conquests, epiphanies and accidents.
Much love,
from my fingertips to yours,
B. x
P.S: Listen to Adele singing Someone Like You. It makes me happy in a hurty way.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
The little things.
The Bad Ones
You know how there are some things that really irritate you? Even though the actual impact on your day isn't that big, there are some things which will never fail to put me in a foul mood. (Well, for about 5 minutes anyway, until I find one of those things that will never fail to cheer me up)
- People walking into you, and then acting all affronted because you had the audacity to get in their way.
- Going to my drawer to find that one again, I've put back the stockings with runs in them and now I can't find my good ones.
- People presuming that because I'm young, I'm either an idiot, or I'm going to run riot as soon as their backs are turned.
- Those extra big raindrops that gather at the edge of roofs and that get me just when I'm feeling safe and sheltered. Stupid sneaky rain.
- That kind of stumble where you don't exactly fall, but it's still big enough to notice. I'd rather fall over than look like I have somehow forgotten how legs work.
- When someone refuses to listen to a dissenting point of view.
- The fact that my right hand types much faster than my left, so I end up with words like teh, sorory and so forth.
- When I don't notice a typo until after I hit send/post.
- When I get drunk and I speak poorly, and then notice my awful grammar and get annoyed at my drunk brain.
The Good Ones
And here are some of those tiny little things that make me happy. Even if I'm having a shitty day, or I'm in a bad mood, these are some of the things that will always make me smile.
- When I get a good list of songs in a row. My music is almost always on random, so I love it when my mp3 gets it right.
- Finding just the right word for a sentence. hooray for vocabulary!
- Getting good second hand clothes/accessories.
- When my hair decides to work with me rather than to break all of my combs.
- Finding reasons to write with my fountain pen.
- Helping someone understand another language. Particularly when I've tried to explain a word or concept about 5 times, and then I finally see the look of comprehension dawn on someone's face. It really makes my day.
- When I catch a typo in time (in the above sentence, it read "Particulsrly".
- Reading a story aloud to someone.
- Making a decision to do something and not being too lazy or scared to get in my own way.
Much love, B.x
Monday, October 25, 2010
Late and sleepy update.
Yes, this update is VERY late. But in all honesty, I can't imagine that many of you were waiting with baited breath to hear about my life.
Well guess what? You should have been, because it's been awesome. I've been to a Burlesque night, gotten a callback for an interview, and maybe gotten a chance to sing on stage at another show. So, next time, be waiting! :D
Day of the dead only vaguely interested me, I didn't get to know any of the characters well enough to care if they lived or died. Most of the military characters were just begging to be bitten through general stupidity or annoying voices (yep, zombie worthy crime where my movie watching is concerned). It's redeeming moment was the huge horde of zombies shambling into the military base, featuring every zombie cliché that ever existed. Including zombie clowns, zombie brides, a zombie ballerina and a semi-naked zombie.
Zombie nudity leads us right to the next movie, Night of the Living Dead. The papa of so much of our modern zombie genre. It was fantastic. Sometimes for the wrong reasons (the first zombie that we encounter is just an old-looking guy who seems to hunch a lot, the make-up is very basic, and it switches from day to night and back again several times.) but so often for all the right ones (we have some very capable main characters who act sensibly, which means I shout at the screen a lot less, we get great farmhouse zombie killin's, and he entirely rocks the "this is a zombie movie, no, it is not gonna end happily.).
That sentence was far too long and rambly, but that IS how I speak, and I was just nearly assasinated by a tiny sugary sweet, so... you can deal.
Back on point, Night of the Living Dead is so great. It lets me say "They're coming for you Barbara" in a very creepy voice. It let K and myself pretend to be Barbara in shock and take 10 minutes to walk the twenty feet to the shop, because we had to stop and hug every pillar and wall because we were frightened. :D
It's just one of my favourite moves now and everyone should watch it with a friend or seven.
Last but not least: Dawn of The Dead. Yes, it's a remake. No, I have not seen the original. I just like this one. It makes me jump. It makes me squeak. It makes my heart speed up, makes me shout at the screen and makes me hide behind big men (Thanks again, K.). This is what I want from a modern zombie movie. It was also funny, had some very decent special effects, and didn't have a trite Hollywood ending. (it very nearly did though, dockside goodbye, I'm looking at you! *shakes fist*).
Altogether, zombie night, and fort oart 1, was a total success. Fort part 2 just wrapped up today, and I shall update about that tomorrow after my brain fully processes it.
Teaser: It features bite marks and bruises, a double bed mattress, LOTS of wine, a world record breaking attempt, and more horror movies.
Talk to you tomorrow lovelies.
With love, from my fingertips to yours.
B.x
Well guess what? You should have been, because it's been awesome. I've been to a Burlesque night, gotten a callback for an interview, and maybe gotten a chance to sing on stage at another show. So, next time, be waiting! :D
Fort Night 1
So, we built a fort in boyfriend's house. In his sitting room. Using 2 couches on their ends, with a bedsheet over the top, and stretched over the coffee table to add extra length to one side. We had all the cushions off of the couches and 2 duvets for comf* purposes.
After we got the fort set up correctly and everything positioned just right, almost everybody decided they were going out. Leaving myself and boyfriend's housemate, K alone with a pile of zombie movies.
For those of you who don't know me too well, or jst have a gaping hole in your knowledge, I love zombie movies. Be they Infected or Hell is Full (although I will always have a soft spot for the Hell is Full sort.), Runners or Crawlers, well shot and terrifying, or people with rotten food on their faces just being hilarious. All of these movies make me incredibly happy.
Although I will admit that with some of the newer ones, or with any tense moment, I like to have a big person to hide behind. K as quite a tall man was perfect for this plan. I had rum, a fort with blankets, lots of crisps, Roger (the huge and snuggly shark teddy that boyfriend had given me) and a big man. I was set!
The movie list was:
- Day of the Dead
- Night of the Living Dead
- Dawn of the Dead (The modern remake)
Day of the dead only vaguely interested me, I didn't get to know any of the characters well enough to care if they lived or died. Most of the military characters were just begging to be bitten through general stupidity or annoying voices (yep, zombie worthy crime where my movie watching is concerned). It's redeeming moment was the huge horde of zombies shambling into the military base, featuring every zombie cliché that ever existed. Including zombie clowns, zombie brides, a zombie ballerina and a semi-naked zombie.
Zombie nudity leads us right to the next movie, Night of the Living Dead. The papa of so much of our modern zombie genre. It was fantastic. Sometimes for the wrong reasons (the first zombie that we encounter is just an old-looking guy who seems to hunch a lot, the make-up is very basic, and it switches from day to night and back again several times.) but so often for all the right ones (we have some very capable main characters who act sensibly, which means I shout at the screen a lot less, we get great farmhouse zombie killin's, and he entirely rocks the "this is a zombie movie, no, it is not gonna end happily.).
That sentence was far too long and rambly, but that IS how I speak, and I was just nearly assasinated by a tiny sugary sweet, so... you can deal.
Back on point, Night of the Living Dead is so great. It lets me say "They're coming for you Barbara" in a very creepy voice. It let K and myself pretend to be Barbara in shock and take 10 minutes to walk the twenty feet to the shop, because we had to stop and hug every pillar and wall because we were frightened. :D
It's just one of my favourite moves now and everyone should watch it with a friend or seven.
Last but not least: Dawn of The Dead. Yes, it's a remake. No, I have not seen the original. I just like this one. It makes me jump. It makes me squeak. It makes my heart speed up, makes me shout at the screen and makes me hide behind big men (Thanks again, K.). This is what I want from a modern zombie movie. It was also funny, had some very decent special effects, and didn't have a trite Hollywood ending. (it very nearly did though, dockside goodbye, I'm looking at you! *shakes fist*).
Altogether, zombie night, and fort oart 1, was a total success. Fort part 2 just wrapped up today, and I shall update about that tomorrow after my brain fully processes it.
Teaser: It features bite marks and bruises, a double bed mattress, LOTS of wine, a world record breaking attempt, and more horror movies.
Talk to you tomorrow lovelies.
With love, from my fingertips to yours.
B.x
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
On a more serious note
I promise, there will be a nice fun blog tomorrow, all about my 42day cake and my zombie fort!
But right now, there's something I want to talk about.
Today's serious topic is: Sexuality.
Yes, that's right, that's what I want to talk about, the subject 2nd only to religion, in terms of being most likely to offend. So if this offends you, I apologise, it's only my feelings, they don't have to be yours.
I live my life pretty much in line with the hippocratic oath, the one that everyone knows, First, do no harm. That is all I care about whne it comes to judging other people's lives. If they do no harm to themselves or other people, then I couldn't care less what they do. Whether they love themselves, someone of the same sex, the opposite sex, or anywhere inbetween, love is love, and is a beautiful thing.
What I have a problem with currently, is other people's unwillingness to accept this. I am bisexual, and proudly so, But for some reason, this is seen as being a less valid sexuality than others.
People not understanding it: fine. People being privately unhappy about it: fine. But people choosing to abuse or insult me because of who I love, is just as wrong when I love people of both sexes, than if I just loved one.
Bisexuality seems to be devalued by everybody, not just by heterosexuals, but by homosexuals as well. I've been told that I was:
a) Just slutty
b) Just greedy
c) Still in the closet
and most hurtfully
d) A disgrace to real lesbians.
I have to admit, I get the most upset by this, when gay or lesbian people are hurtful towards me, I even stayed away from Pride for fear of being shouted at like I had been before. Being told to "pick a side" or that I must really only like one sex, and the others are just pretend.
Well, I have had meaningful relationships with women. Not just kissed them for attention. Not just slept with them because I wanted to seem cool. There have been women who I have fallen head over heels in love for, who have broken my heart and who I am still not over.
I have also had meaningful relationships with men. Not just because they're acceptable. Not because I couldn't get a woman. Because I appreciated them as people and I wanted to be with them.
Currently, I am in love with a man. He is fantastic, he makes me smile, he makes me laugh, he frequently makes me smack him upside the head for his awful awful puns, he makes me go weak at the knees. I love him, and I want to be with him. Should this render my past love invalid?
Which sex have I been only pretending to love, because both have made me unbelieveably happy, and both have broken my heart. Which of these isn't real? Because I stand by my past relationships, none of them were perfect, but I'll be damned if any of them were less than 100% real.
I'm writing all this here, becuase I am one of those people who can't have a concise answer as soon as someone insults them or hurts them. I blush and I stammer and I usually just back away. So from now on, if this happens, I intend to hand someone a card with this web-link on it, and hope that this post is answer enough.
This is one I really would love to hear people's opinions on. So, whether I know you or not, contact me about this one.
With love,
From my fingertips to yours.
B. x
But right now, there's something I want to talk about.
Today's serious topic is: Sexuality.
Yes, that's right, that's what I want to talk about, the subject 2nd only to religion, in terms of being most likely to offend. So if this offends you, I apologise, it's only my feelings, they don't have to be yours.
I live my life pretty much in line with the hippocratic oath, the one that everyone knows, First, do no harm. That is all I care about whne it comes to judging other people's lives. If they do no harm to themselves or other people, then I couldn't care less what they do. Whether they love themselves, someone of the same sex, the opposite sex, or anywhere inbetween, love is love, and is a beautiful thing.
What I have a problem with currently, is other people's unwillingness to accept this. I am bisexual, and proudly so, But for some reason, this is seen as being a less valid sexuality than others.
People not understanding it: fine. People being privately unhappy about it: fine. But people choosing to abuse or insult me because of who I love, is just as wrong when I love people of both sexes, than if I just loved one.
Bisexuality seems to be devalued by everybody, not just by heterosexuals, but by homosexuals as well. I've been told that I was:
a) Just slutty
b) Just greedy
c) Still in the closet
and most hurtfully
d) A disgrace to real lesbians.
I have to admit, I get the most upset by this, when gay or lesbian people are hurtful towards me, I even stayed away from Pride for fear of being shouted at like I had been before. Being told to "pick a side" or that I must really only like one sex, and the others are just pretend.
Well, I have had meaningful relationships with women. Not just kissed them for attention. Not just slept with them because I wanted to seem cool. There have been women who I have fallen head over heels in love for, who have broken my heart and who I am still not over.
I have also had meaningful relationships with men. Not just because they're acceptable. Not because I couldn't get a woman. Because I appreciated them as people and I wanted to be with them.
Currently, I am in love with a man. He is fantastic, he makes me smile, he makes me laugh, he frequently makes me smack him upside the head for his awful awful puns, he makes me go weak at the knees. I love him, and I want to be with him. Should this render my past love invalid?
Which sex have I been only pretending to love, because both have made me unbelieveably happy, and both have broken my heart. Which of these isn't real? Because I stand by my past relationships, none of them were perfect, but I'll be damned if any of them were less than 100% real.
I'm writing all this here, becuase I am one of those people who can't have a concise answer as soon as someone insults them or hurts them. I blush and I stammer and I usually just back away. So from now on, if this happens, I intend to hand someone a card with this web-link on it, and hope that this post is answer enough.
This is one I really would love to hear people's opinions on. So, whether I know you or not, contact me about this one.
With love,
From my fingertips to yours.
B. x
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Explanation time...
Well, my first post was rather long, and rambly, yet told you quite little about me.
Unless, of course, you're Sherlock Holmes (I <3 him so very very much, books, movie and recent BBC adaption too). In which case you'd already know everything about me, including the fact that I'm still in my slippers at noon. (They're comfy Sherlock! Stop judging me!)
However, I shall go ahead and guess that the majority of people who stumble across this, are not likely to be Sherlock Holmes, so here, have a little insight into how I think.
I figure this is a good place to start, whenever I look at anyone's blog I always want to know why they chose their name and what it means to them, or if they just threw random letters together.
I promise, this won't be anything like yesterday's rambling mess. There are 2 parts to the name, and 2 reasons for each. 4 reasons. I shall even put them in little bullet points to make things easier (and because I love bullet points).
Cheesecake:
My cousin/best friend calls me cheesecake, so really, this is a question of why she does that.
Ink:
This one's far simpler and far less personal.
So, there we have it, a little insight into me, and how my brain works. I'd be interested in seeing what you can infer from this, because, to be honest, now I am picturing my readers as Sherlock Holmes, and I quite like it. :P
So, ask me some questions, figure me out, or tell me stuff about you.
Much love,
From my fingertips to yours,
B. x
Unless, of course, you're Sherlock Holmes (I <3 him so very very much, books, movie and recent BBC adaption too). In which case you'd already know everything about me, including the fact that I'm still in my slippers at noon. (They're comfy Sherlock! Stop judging me!)
However, I shall go ahead and guess that the majority of people who stumble across this, are not likely to be Sherlock Holmes, so here, have a little insight into how I think.
Explanation of my Blog name
I promise, this won't be anything like yesterday's rambling mess. There are 2 parts to the name, and 2 reasons for each. 4 reasons. I shall even put them in little bullet points to make things easier (and because I love bullet points).
Cheesecake:
My cousin/best friend calls me cheesecake, so really, this is a question of why she does that.
- Cheesecake is delicious. I make delicious cheesecake.
- Cheesecake is the 40's/50's term for the pin-up style photography, which is pretty much my entire sense of style and something I really love.
*See, half-way through, not so hard, was it*
Ink:
This one's far simpler and far less personal.
- I love writing, always have, and hopefully always will do. I am always writing something, which ranges from songs, to poetry, to sketches, to novels, to scripts. I handwrite a first draft (and usually a 2nd, 3rd and 4th) of everything before it gets typed, and I love to use a fountain pen to do so.
- Tattoos. I think they're beautiful, and sexy and a form of artistic expression when done well.
So, there we have it, a little insight into me, and how my brain works. I'd be interested in seeing what you can infer from this, because, to be honest, now I am picturing my readers as Sherlock Holmes, and I quite like it. :P
So, ask me some questions, figure me out, or tell me stuff about you.
Much love,
From my fingertips to yours,
B. x
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