And right now.

And right now I’m overwhelmed and it’s stupid. I want to tell you that I already feel like I’m in too deep but you’ve barely dipped your toes in the metaphorical water and I feel like you’d drown.

I get the impression that I’m suffocating like a water surge. I’m overpowering and constant and that shit is heavy.

Water is heavy. I am heavy. I am water.

You’d be rolling your eyes at this analogy so I’m glad you’ll never read it. 

I am honestly so genuinely thankful that you’ll never understand the extent to which I like you.

I mean it’s painful and eventually it’ll take over my ability to talk to you like a normal human being but right now it’s manageable and I can put more than four words together and they make sense.

I’m inclined to say that sometimes you’ve felt the same way but also I’m aware that you probably haven’t. 

I just kinda want you to realise how incredible I think you are. 

Here’s the thing.

Here’s the thing.

I want to hold you.

Maybe not even in a sexual way.

I want to hold you so much right now.

I want to take away that fear that I hear in your voice. I want to stomp back in time like Godzilla and right the fucking awful wrongdoings in your life.

I want to hit her so fucking hard that her teeth fall out. I want her to feel the fear and pain and shame that you’ve felt most of your life.

I want to make you smile. That water spilling out of the corner of your mouth kinda smile. I want to take a picture of it and frame it and look at it every time I doubt myself.

I want to be the person you message at 5:18am bleary-eyed. I want to be the person you message at 11:32pm drunk. I want to be the person you message when you’re happy and when you’re sad and when you’re inbetween.

I want to be the one who changes your mind and softens you. Don’t put up such a wall. I don’t want you to be Trump, I want you to be anything but.

I want to be the person you’re proud of. I will find ways to make you proud.

I want you to want to hold me. To love me. That’s the thing.

Tinderphobic.

Has anyone had any genuine success on Tinder?

I joined Tinder a week ago, mostly out of intrigue, and so far I haven’t been impressed.

Firstly, it wouldn’t let me sign up without connecting to my Facebook profile which is bloody annoying as it shows my first name; which I never answer to.

Secondly, I hate having to crop pictures; most of my pictures (when cropped) are so zoomed in that all you can see are my eyes and porous nose. No-one wants to see my cavern ridden nose.

Thirdly, and probably most importantly, it all feels very synthetic and an awful lot like objectifying. I wouldn’t normally decide whether or not I wanted to talk to someone based on 4 poor quality pictures of them and a 203 character profile. I am the first to admit that I’m not massively photogenic but am I a good catch? Hell yeah! (I’m so modest too, always an attractive trait!) 

Have I had a nice conversation on there with someone nice? Yes. But do I want nice? No. I want that instant spark and connection that I’m not sure I can get staring at my smudgy phone screen.

Sorry Tinder, I’m swiping left to you. 

Closure.

Closure is a weird thing. It’s refreshing and daunting at the same time. It’s final. It’s formal. It’s such a fucking relief.

A lot of people relate closure to grief or a relationship. My personal closure is a combination of both. I was grieving for a relationship that I could not have.

Ask any of my close friends and they will tell you that, for at least five years, I have been infatuated with a particular woman.

She was my teenage lust obsession, my muse and my adult mindfuck. 

I genuinely thought that one day she would wake up and realise that she had been madly in love with me for years. In reality, she has never looked at me that way and never will. She loves me, there is no doubt about that; but it isn’t the way I wanted her to.

I used to be wide awake at night, crying because she didn’t like me. I’d freeze when I saw her at school and if she spoke to me I’d stutter and stammer and say offensive things so she didn’t think I liked her. I was besotted. It was love. Not just a crush and after some time it became more than lust. That kind of heartache so young was harrowing.

As an adult, our relationship changed. We became closer and my love for her grew stronger and more real. I no longer admired her from her pedestal position; I was realistic about her and what the future held for us. I still couldn’t let go but I managed to distance myself from my feelings.

Until recently.

My feelings, however irrational and pathetic, returned at full force and consumed me. I couldn’t and didn’t want to deal with them.

Until today when fate intervened and I was finally given closure. I can’t explain why it’s happened. Stupid amounts of coincidences happened and they felt right. They were telling me to let go so I did.

This closure lark is great.

Well that lasted long.

I reckon I’ll just be an occasional blogger now. I thought I’d get back into the swing of it more during unemployment but alas, I am lazy. And I use the internet for other things (mostly OITNB related…) and forget that I have a blog.
Hello blog.
I’ve now finished painting my room (hurray!) and I’m enjoying my new bed more than I should be. I’ve started having regular bed naps where before I would have a sofa nap. I am an ever changing woman.
Career wise my life is much the same: lots of looking and not a lot of finding. It’s a bit like playing hide and seek in the dark, in a mansion, with a person that gave up after 5 minutes and left the building. I’m searching for something that just isn’t out there. Yuck, that was horribly philosophical for 11:45 at night.
I want to get back to blogging. I love the structure of it and I enjoy getting feedback and hearing about everyone else’s lives but the motivation isn’t there.
I’ve got an idea for a couple of blogging avenues that I may pursue but they’re both quite personal and, although I’ve put personal content on here before, this may be the most personal project to date.
I’m still very much in love with my camera and use it at every opportunity I get (my cats are my main muses). I’ve moved away from landscapes now though and seem to have a fascination for buildings and people. This will, no doubt, change again soon.
This is a ramble post. I should have stopped writing by now.
I uncovered a lot of things while I tidied and re-decorated my room. One of those things was a list I compiled at the age of 12 detailing over 100 things I wanted to do before I died. I am proud (and ashamed) that I have been able to cross quite a few things off and I was amused by what goals I set myself. A friend suggested I write a new list of things I want to do before I’m 30. I worry that I’ll blink and I’ll be 30 and jobless, childless and wifeless. Those are probably the three main things I’d like to secure before turning 30.
I feel annoyed that I let my blogging slip (along with other things like my weight loss…) and I have a schedule all ready for me to start using again. And, before I forget, I have a fairly substantial amount of money I collected from doing my brief stint of “Skinny Wagg” that should be sent to the appropriate charity. (I need to check what charity that was again…)
I might try and revive this blog after all. I don’t think I’m quite finished with it yet.

Not so sober October.

This year, I vowed to do sober October with a friend from work. Last night me and said friend had a drink. Well I had more than one but that’s another story.

At about half one in the morning I decided that Ben and Jerry’s ice cream was needed and that it would go well with some cream. So, I had ice cream and cream. Dairy overload.

For a while, I felt sick and very dizzy but, once the cloud of cider began to drift, I used my awake time wisely and evaluated my life. Here is how I scored.

p>Diet – Currently: 2 out of 10, before 9pm yesterday: 8 out of 10. The diet is going pretty well and I’m starting to enjoy going to the gym. Yes, I do know what I just said and, yes, I did mean it.

Christmas present buying – 9 out of 10. I have out done myself this year. Not only are the majority of presents bought, they are also lying dormant in labelled bags for each person.

Love life – minus 12 out of 10. Basically non-existent and not looking hopeful. Apparently the fact that I can nearly lick my own elbow isn’t a key attribute women look for…

Overall life score – 5 out of 10? I’m striving in some areas and failing in others.

At least now I can comfort myself with alcohol. Goodbye sober October, you were naff.

ORANGE IS THE NEW BLACK – A REVIEW.

Wow.

I could describe the entire series in just that one word but that would be very boring for you and very lazy of me.

I didn’t have high expectations for OITNB for three reasons:

  1. I had to get a Netflix account to watch it.
  2. I don’t like being told what to watch.
  3. I’m not a huge fan of prison dramas.

But I can honestly say that I’m glad I put these three things aside and watched it because… wow.

Because some of you are yet to watch it (and I envy those of you who are seeing it for the first time through fresh, hungry eyes) I won’t go into too much detail about what actually happens as I don’t want to ruin it for you so, if you haven’t seen it yet, you can read this review safe in the knowledge that there won’t be spoilers.

It’s not often that a series can make me laugh, cry and stay up until 2 in the morning watching it but OITNB did just that. I cried for both good and bad reasons and sometimes it crept up on me and sometimes I knew I would end up a blubbering mess.

You only have to look up OITNB gifs on Google to see how quotable the entire series is and see that there is humour in almost every minute of it. If you were looking for a hard, factual, gruesome prison drama look elsewhere.

I have never watched a series so avidly before, and I’ve definitely not given up hours of my precious sleep for it but OITNB is addictive and so fast paced that you won’t feel like you’ve lost half a day watching it. (I recommended it to a friend of mine and she got through the entire series (13 episodes) in less than a week.)

What I love most about it is the realness. Yes, it was based on a real book by a real woman about her real sentence at a prison in America but often these “reality” based programmes are dramatised and exaggerated. You see the back story to almost every key character and this helps to build an understanding of them and why they’re there which is what drove me to tears on many occasions: most of the women are good women who have made mistakes.

This series not only challenges perceptions of prison but also class, race, gender and sexuality amongst other themes such as age, position of power and drugs. Whatever your opinion on these topics, I think you’ll find it hard not to be moved by the stories that portray them.

I could write about OITNB all day (if you like this review and want me to write another where I look at the storylines closer and reveal spoilers then let me know!) but I’m going to leave you with one simple instruction: watch it. I don’t care if you have to get a Netflix account or borrow a friends’ laptop or watch it after a 12 hour shift. And, if you’ve watched it before, watch it again (although I’m sure you need no prompting to do that!).