Monday, 26 October 2015

Letters to My Ex

Before you're tempted to read the title in its literal sense, don't. This isn't my diary and I'm not pretty or talented enough to go all Taylor Swift.

I'm talking about writing; yes, putting an actual pen to actual paper, and writing letters. That you're probably never going to send.

The idea came to me, as most people's do, after watching Adele's music video for new single Hello. Although I credit Adele (with a special shout out to TayTay) for providing the soundtrack to my teenage "heartbreaks," she does about as much for me as Boris Johnson in a cocktail dress.

Pushing that image out of our minds, the lyrics inspired me to do something I haven't done in a while; two things actually. 1. Write and 2. Tell the truth.

I started writing letters to people, telling them how I truly felt. Things I wanted to apologise for. Things I wish I had said but never did. Things they did or said that broke my heart. Things I couldn't thank them enough for.

I didn't expect it to be as therapeutic as it was, and before long I was writing dozens (okay, maybe 10, let's not pretend I know that many people,) so chances are, if I know you,  there's probably a letter with your name on it.

Of course, we'll never know what someone truly thinks about us, or vice versa. But try admitting what you really think to yourself first, and you might surprise yourself with the words you write down and the people you realise you didn't appreciate enough, and the people who weren't worth nearly as much time as you gave them.

And who knows, maybe one day, you'll post them all. And then change your name and flee the country.

Saturday, 17 October 2015

Drinking Out Loud

Forever too drunk to function

It’s sad that in this day and age, we pour our hearts out to everyone who has a wifi connection, but can’t tell people how we really feel to their face.

I came to this realisation when my housemates and I had a few friends over recently. We’re students and therefore poor, so it was nothing too rowdy; pizza hut, lots of vodka and playing drunk Twister in our pyjamas, which I believe is what the kids call ‘standard.’

It got to that time of the night when most of us were too drunk to function, let alone manoeuvre a drinking game. So, in the want of nothing better to do, we had some lovely heart to hearts that I’ll pretend to forget out of embarrassment, but really remember every word of, and that’s the sad thing, because apparently we need to be comfortably inebriated to tell the truth.

It’s sad that I had to be drunk to hug it out with my girlfriends, to tell each other that we’re all beautiful in our own way, and could do so much better than that guy. It’s sad that I had to be drunk to lose all my inhibitions and dance around my kitchen like no one was watching (which my neighbours probably were, sorry.) It’s sad that I had to be drunk to finally tell the good-looking-but-bad-news-guy-whose-name-will-not-be-mentioned that he was treating me like shit, and that was not okay. It’s sad that I had to be drunk to thank my best friend for always being there for me, and to tell them that they’re one of the most important people in my small, made-up-of- 50%- vodka world. It's all pretty sad, but that doesn't mean I'm not glad I said the whole truth and nothing but the truth. 

After that drunken weight has been lifted off of my shoulders, I’d like to remain optimistic. I’d love to say that we should start sharing our feelings and telling our loved ones how much they mean to us far more often than we do. I could bake a cake filled with rainbows and smiles, but the logistics of that are impossible and also potentially messy, so I won’t.

So I write this as an ode to all the things I won’t say out loud sober, because everything I do say is brutally, scathingly, unashamedly honest. But until I can say it to your face, I guess I’ll just have to blame it on the alcohol. 

Tuesday, 6 October 2015

10 Things I Hate About Autumn

You know those blog posts that are listed "Things I Love About Fall," often with a picture of leaves or a pumpkin or something? This is not one of those posts, although there will be both leaves and pumpkins, so don't quit on me just yet.

1. When British people call it 'Fall.'

Say it with me 'AUTUMN,' not 'FALL.'

Okay, I'm a grammar Nazi, not going to lie. The Americans have given us many great things, such as the internet and the Kardashians, but their dialect is not one of them. You are not in a Disney Channel Original Movie, and it is not called Fall on this side of the pond. 'Fall' is what you do when you've had one too many sambuka shots and you stack it walking along the pavement. In this merry old land of Great Britain, we call it Autumn. Okay? Okay.

2. Pumpkin on everything, pumpkin on everythang

Is it nice? Is it really, Starbucks?

I'm all about healthy eating, but pumpkins are kind of the autumn equivalent of Brussels Sprouts, being that they only come out once year. If anyone saw you eating them any other time of the year, everyone would be in uproar. I like pumpkin, I'm a fan of pumpkin soup every now and again. But when we start to think it's acceptable to put it in lattes, you have to stand back and question the sanity of humanity. Would you drink a carrot latte? Or perhaps a cabbage latte? No you would not, so why is everyone obsessed with pumpkin lattes. Like with many of life's dilemmas such as the economic crisis or the rise of Donald Trump, I blame Starbucks entirely.

3. The price of jumpers


Maybe my middle class mindset just means I shop in all the wrong places, but you can end up paying anything upwards of £30 for a jumper (other knitted items are available.) Now yes, you in the back there with the Paul's Boutique bag may argue that Primark jumpers are like £12 or something, but all you have to do is wash it and it disintegrates. Also they're scratchy. If it doesn't feel like I'm cuddling a sheep, I'm not wearing it. I cannot believe that I'm being charged £35 just so I can not freeze to death. If anything, they should be free on the NHS or something. This is why I should be Prime Minister.

4. Halloween hotheads 
I couldn't give a shit about your Halloween costume. 

Halloween is the worst holiday of the year, fact. In fact, it's not even a holiday. Maybe if I actually got a day off, I'd be a lot more appreciative of it. But a select few love Halloween, and they tell everyone about it. I mean, you're 22 years old, do you actually love Halloween, or do you just say you do because that's the cool, oh-my-gosh-I'm-so-nerdy thing to do? It would be fine if they left the rest of us alone, but no, they exclude everyone else who doesn't start planning their Halloween costumes in January. As they say in Mean Girls, "Halloween is the one time of year where girls can dress like sluts, and no other girls can say anything about it." So if I want to wear cat ears from Asda and whiskers drawn on with eyeliner, I will okay.

5. When people say "Is it October already?" in total shock. 

Yes, October does tend to come directly after September. Next stupid question please.

6. Leaving work or school when it's dark

Bubble wrap mode engaged
It's five pm, FIVE PM and I'm fearing for my life when I leave the building.

7. The cold and flu epidemic begins 


I literally had all summer, all summer when I had nothing to do to get sick, and biology chooses now when I have seven hundred and twenty thousand essays due. To make it worse, people cough in lecture theatres one after the other like they've rehearsed some kind of coughing medley. Stop it, go home.

8. People reminding you how cold it is
Everyone just needs to calm the fuck down

I know this is Britain, and I know we love to talk about the weather to a borderline obsessive extent, but I can see it's raining. I know it's cold. Please don't then proceed to tell me how cold you are, because I actually couldn't give a flying monkey about your body temperature.

9. Not knowing when it's appropriate to turn the heating on 


As the saying goes, in the game of heating, you win or you die. Turn it on and there's a risk of it being hotter than the sun, leave it off and you could freeze to death- when they find you, you'll just be an icicle of your former self. If you're middle class enough to have a fireplace, this is also an option, but only in extreme circumstances, for example when you come in from skiing practice and Mummy makes you an M&S finest Pumpkin spice hot chocolate with extra pumpkin.

10. The fact that it's not socially acceptable to hibernate until summer 
Preach it, Grandma.
If I could, I would hide under my duvet with Netflix and a cup of tea until April, maybe even May. I really don't think that's much to ask. I might come out for Christmas, but only during presents and food.