The End Of The World

What should I be doing at 2:45 on a Tuesday morning?

- sleeping
- ironing
- working on an assignment that is due in 7 hours
- not drinking port and smoking terribly rolled cigarettes
This would be a very true list were it not for the impending apocalypse. However, the world is going kaboom in a few days, which is why I’m not participating in Christmas this year, have amassed a large amount of debt on my credit card and am drinking port at nearly three am mid-week on a school night. The apocalypse is coming.
I hadn’t taken it particularly seriously, but my friend chris’s blog contains his correspondence with the man behind a very popular, true and informative ‘end of the world’ website, and has alerted my attention to how serious this situation really is. The world is most definitely going to end, because the Internet says so. The Internet didn’t lie to me when it claimed Michael Jackson was dead, or that Alex Reid enjoys dressing up as a woman he likes to call Roxanne, why would it lie about this? I trust the Internet implicitly. Everything I find on there is absolute truth. Including this. Because I have just said the Internet doesn’t lie, it doesn’t. Isn’t it wonderful?
I shall be spending my final hours on this rather nice planet doing as much polluting as I possibly can, and trying to score as many drugs as possible, and taking what I assume will be a harmless, fun cocktail of all illegal substances minutes before the impending apocalypse, and listening to one directions “live while we’re young” which, fuck you, is a catchy and enjoyable piece of music.
While its rather sad to think I’ll never see Justin Bieber get divorced, and I’ll never have the joy of calling my husband repulsive and nothing like his former self in his old age – I am perfectly fine with the approaching doomsday. I get to be eternally 21. (Unlike my best friend, who’s birthday is on the 23rd and if the apocalypse is a minute too late he will die a 22 year old – what a twat!) I don’t have to worry about liver spots or children who grow to be nothing but disappointments. I get to go out with (hopefully) a bang – will it be a bang? Or will it be a bang like the Big Bang was a bang – not one at all as sound is the vibration of air waves travelling in space and there was no air in space so the Big Bang was kind of a muffled squeak. I hope it’s more dramatic than that, I’ll have my 3D glasses on and everything.
If it turns out its not the end of the world I’ll be really upset, and if I ever recover from my heroin and/or crack addiction I’ll spend the rest of my life shouting at my children that they were never really meant to be.

Jennifer Livingston’s public butthurt.

Morning news anchor for WKBT-TV, Jennifer Livingston has ‘bitten back’ on air at a ‘bully’ who sent her the following e-mail which she described as a ‘very hurtful attack on her appearance’

RE: Community Responsibility
Hi Jennifer,
It’s unusual that I see your morning show, but I did so for a very short time today. I was surprised indeed to witness that your physical condition hasn’t improved for many years. Surely you don’t consider yourself a suitable example for this community’s young people, girls in particular. Obesity is one of the worst choices a person can make and one of the most dangerous habits to maintain. I leave you this note hoping that you’ll reconsider your responsibility as a local public personality to present and promote a healthy lifestyle.

… I am failing to see where the ‘very hurtful attack’ is. If someone sent me an e-mail that criticised me for being blonde I would laugh it off as it doesn’t do any harm to my health – but I would in NO way shape or form describe it as a hurtful attack. It is a simple observation. I am blonde. Jennifer Livingston IS fat.

She says ‘the truth is, I am overweight, you can call me fat – even obese on a doctors chart‘
/fuckingheaddeskgroundfloorcoreoftheearth

She continues;
“but to the person who wrote me that letter, do you think I dont know that, that your cruel words are pointing out something I dont see? …you don’t know me. You know nothing about me than what you see on the outside and I am much more than a number on a scale”

I keep referring back to the e-mail to try see where this person made ANY assumptions about her character based on her weight, let me check again…. nope. Not a single one.
Obesity IS a choice and a dangerous habit to maintain.
Why is it suddenly classed as ‘bullying’ when somebody diplomatically and seriously points this out?

Jennifer stands in front of the camera with a solemn look on her face, emphasising her words, talking about THE CHILDREN OH GOD THE CHILDREN. She blabs on about bullying, a sob catching in her throat;

“to all the children out there who feel lost who are struggling with your weight, the colour of your skin, your sexual preference, your disability, even the acne on your face - Listen to me right now; do not let your self worth be defined by bullies.”

Point one; Your race, sexuality and disability CANNOT BE CHANGED BY LIFE CHOICES and therefore are nowhere NEAR the same as being obese.
Point two; No, nobody should ever be bullied for their weight, especially young people. But we should never ever ever ever ever ever make it okay to be unhealthy.

Allow me to give you a scenario to put it into perspective;

This is Isabelle Caro, her story is a sad one, go look it up. But anyway – Imagine if somebody sent her the exact same email, only replace one word;

It’s unusual that I see your morning show, but I did so for a very short time today. I was surprised indeed to witness that your physical condition hasn’t improved for many years. Surely you don’t consider yourself a suitable example for this community’s young people, girls in particular. Being underweight is one of the worst choices a person can make and one of the most dangerous habits to maintain. I leave you this note hoping that you’ll reconsider your responsibility as a local public personality to present and promote a healthy lifestyle.

Now imagine if she stood in front of the camera, told a sob story about how HURTFUL those words are, how UPSET they made her, how THE KIDS OF TODAY ARE BEING BULLIED LIKE SHE IS -

Do you think people would have the same reaction as they did to Jennifer Livingston? Do you think they would call Isabelle a role model for ‘standing up’ to a ‘bully’?

Obviously Isabelle is an extreme example, but underweight/overweight are equally as dangerous and should be treated as such. We criticise the fashion industry and models – the message is clear; It is never okay to be underweight, we should never let it be.
Similarly we should not go the other way and praise people for being overweight. Isabelle was far more self aware than Jennifer will ever be and actually participated in a campaign AGAINST her body type, instead of playing the victim and relating some idiotic sob-story-script to the nation in response.

I for once would like to see a campaign for models with a fucking healthy BMI. I am tired of models being either a size 6 or a size 16. It is not okay to be underweight, it is not okay to be overweight. What the doctor says IS important. If you’re a drinker/smoker you are fully aware of the damage it is doing to your body – likewise with food, to quote Ricky Gervais ‘You get fat when you take in more calories than you burn off, that’s simple science, nobody ever got fat behind their own back.”

Stop being so fucking sensitive and accept the truth.

What Megan Did

I’ve been following the story of the 15 year old who fled to france with her 30 year old teacher with a level of amused interest.

I mean, really, what in the fuck were they thinking? We live in a CCTV nation governed by EU law – which is why it was so incredibly easy for them to get to France in the first place. I can’t believe they honestly thought they weren’t going to be seen or caught on camera anywhere.
Also – he was planning on waiting a minimum of 6 months before they were going to ‘come out’ and ‘be open’. Like 6 months isn’t a long enough time to find a new career path, divorce your wife, move cities and get a house for you and your little schoolgirl lover – nope, it’d be far simpler to flee to France! That won’t grab anybody’s attention. This is what has got me about this story – did they not hit this snag when they were planning this escapade? I presume it went something like this;

“So, you’ll tell your mum you’re sleeping at a friends house and bring all the things you need to start our new life in a bag to school, then we’ll act like everything’s normal, and then as soon as the bell rings – we’ll board a ferry to La Belle France!”
“And what will we do in France, sir?”
“We’ll have a nice pint – well, I will – and wait for this whole thing to blow over.”

Also people are giving Megan varying degrees of responsibility. Yes, she’s of a competent age and knows full well what she’s doing – but she’s also 15, which automatically makes her a fucking idiot.
When I was 15 I was writing shitty blog entries (no change there), drinking watered down vodka and falling love with anyone who had a floppy fringe. I, like every other 15 year old that ever was and ever will be, was an asshole.

I was waiting for somebody to say ‘she’s very mature for her age’ (kill anyone who says that phrase about themselves or anybody with fire) – but it’s gone the opposite way, somebody has actually said Jeremy Forrest is ‘much younger than his age’

No. No he isn’t. he is thirty and he is fucking a child.

I can appreciate age gaps, I dated a guy quite a bit older than me when I was young, the appeal was that he was different and I probably felt like I connected to him on a more ‘intellectual level’ or some crap. The point is, no matter how stupid 15 year old girls are, 15 year old boys are actually much worse. You can’t blame a girl for looking elsewhere.

My other possibly more prevalent point is that this guy is a fucking douchebag for more reasons than he ‘abused his teacher position’ – whatever, that’s not even that terrible, he could have just waited til she left and quit his job then nobody would have a leg to stand on, he’s a douche for not realising this simple fact but I digress – Anyone who cheats on anyone is a disgrace but this asshat is married. It’s his wife I feel sorry for, ain’t nobody got time for that. I sincerely hope she’s burned all of his possessions and got herself a toyboy. The fact that this particular mistress is only 15 is purely insult to injury.

In summary, they are both completely and utterly idiotic and probably on the same intellectual level; amoeba.

On another note I’m on my blog posts from 2006 and throwing up a little in my mouth with each entry.

EDIT: // My friend Charlee just linked me to Megan’s Tumblr. On her ‘bucket list’ she’s crossed out

‘Have someone write a song about me’

and perhaps more brilliantly

‘Fall in love’

I can’t even. I just can’t

Fat is a feminist issue, but it’s still an issue.

I am nearly always on a diet, or having a ‘fuck it’ day. My latest attempt includes cutting out dairy and running.  Sounds easy – but I live off cereal, lattes and milky drinks – I haven’t quite managed to put my unsweetened soy milk into anything other than porridge or coffee at the minute, so as a result I haven’t had a bowl of cereal or a decent latte in weeks. Running is exercising and I bloody hate that, but I drag my ass onto the treadmill, and I spend 40-60 minutes sweating and dying and hating everything about life and wanting nothing more than to slither off the machine and fall into the fridge – but I pursue, cause I know at 21 I should be able to run without getting out of breath, and I know I ought to be several pounds lighter.

So that’s why I feel particularly annoyed when I see things like this on my TV while I’m sipping a soy cappuccino with an artificial sweetner thats been linked to cancer (but has less calories than sugar!).

I’m a pageant princess
at 17… and 26 stone

Article at The Sun

This fine young specimen was on This Morning talking about how she was bullied at school and now she feels beautiful because she’s in a pageant especially for ‘larger ladies’ and how she’s so happy with her new partner.

Where did she meet her new partner? On a BBW website. Of course he was a slim, healthy looking man who admitted he had a penchant for fat women (I’m almost 100% convinced he’s a feeder). She spoke about how she’s so super confident and happy with her weight – (with a bmi of 68.) I don’t understand, even if she wins this pageant, that only means she’s beautiful among OTHER fatties – I dont see how that’s a confidence boost.

This post isn’t discussing personalities or inner beauty – I’m just mildly outraged by the fact that people like this, pageants like this, and perhaps most importantly, men like her boyfriend are encouraging morbid obesity and saying it’s okay – even beautiful – to be disgustingly unhealthy.

Big Women are NOT beautiful – Big Women are going to get type 2 diabetes, osteoarthritis and heart attacks.

I am not saying that she MUST conform to the aesthetic beauty of whatever is currently slapped on the cover of Heat magazine -I am saying that TWENTY SIX STONE is not something to be proud of, at all, ever. If there were a five stone girl saying how happy and confident she felt and tried to say ‘small girls are beautiful’ there’d be an uproar and an outrage. Why is it okay to be overweight but not underweight when both are dangerously unhealthy and neither should be encouraged?

Google BBW and the only thing that comes up that isn’t a porn site is the wikipedia entry. It’s simply a sexual fetish and must be incredibly appealing to a young girl who’s been bullied and never had a boyfriend through high school – to suddenly see all these posts and people saying what she is is OKAY – when it isn’t. I’m not saying she deserved to be bullied, but after discovering some men have a fat fetish this young girl ACTIVELY sought to gain weight. I give up on the world.

My current weight loss is at 18lbs, which links nicely into the opening of this monologue re; fatties

“You’re basically applauding me for only eating as much as I need now – I should have always been doing that, I got fat because I was a greedy, lazy bastard.”

Also people like this need to shut their mouths and never open them again, whether it be to eat or talk rubbish:

Losing weight isn’t exactly easy, believe me I enjoyed the philosophy that if something’s difficult it isn’t worth doing – but I was sick of being fat, and it took ages but I shifted 18lbs – but I’ve still got 12lbs to go, and I have to face facts, I need to exercise for more reasons than weight loss, and although it sucks at first, I will at some point (hopefully soon) enjoy it and reap the various benefits.

I could quite easily just sit on my ass and splutter through mouthfuls of cake “I’M BEAUTIFUL!” until I believed it, and when I begin to resemble Jabba the Hutt and my boyfriend leaves me (which he rightly should) – I can always rely on the internet to find me some sick freak who’ll love me because of my rolls. He’ll probably encourage me to get even fatter and when at 30 I find myself unable to physically stand up or move, I can just eat myself to a nice death caused by sleep apnea at around 32.

On second thoughts, I don’t think I like cake that much.

I’m off for a run, peace. x

blogstuffs v1.1 something rather nice.

I wanted to share something rather nice that I’d noticed. The photograph below was taken in 2005 when my best friend Carli and I were 14 years old. We were at a friends birthday party and if I remember rightly we drank cheap, cheap, cheap red wine mixed with orange juice along with other concoctions. We ended up on the floor while our other friend was trying to snap a photo, but we were reduced to giggling teenage idiots. if I saw us now I’d be appalled, but honestly we loved it and had no regrets.

The above photo was taken the other night. Aged 21, we now drink wine that we buy legally and drink for the taste and not just for the alcohol content. Also, we’re not on the floor!
(well, thankfully I didn’t bring the camera out when we inevitably ended up there later that night.)
Next will be the photo of us at 30 being the same drunken messes. I picture her son in the background with his face in his hands in embarrassment. Can’t wait!

Teach Me How To Organise My Life.

Everything in my life is a mess.

The simple fact is I just have too much bloody stuff.

I was giving my room a thorough clean today (cleaning I don’t mind, it’s tidying I abhor)

My bedsheets are crisp and clean, my carpet vaccumed, surfaces free of dust, washing and rubbish taken out – and then I look over at my dressing table and my heart sank.

I simply cannot be arsed sorting through all the shit on my desk, so I did what any logical person would do; ignored it and left the room.

tidy desk, tidy mind.

Now I want to sit at my desk and go online, so I’ve had to shove everything to one side and stick my laptop in a newly created bare space. What surrounds me that I simply can’t just organise and put away?

Currently to my left there is:

A get well card from last month

Suncream from that time it was sunny

Bed socks I got for christmas

2 lots of moisturizer I don’t use

A burned out scented candle

My camera

A letter I was supposed to post over a month ago

Hair pins (including a grossly bent out of shape one)

Various cables

A battery-less remote for my telly

Box of my nintendo DS games

Hair matt texturing paste (not even mine?)

A glitter bar from lush

A bookmark from the dog I sponsor at dogs trust

A pot of bright green eyeshadow

A hello kitty fork

Some friendship bracelets I bought the last time I was on holiday (2010) and meant to distribute

My keys (well, it’s a single key and half a dozen keyrings)

A photo album for my 21st birthday which I’ve been meaning to put photos in from my 21st birthday.

11 US cents and 1 british penny

Some of these things are obvious, socks should go in the sock drawer, sun cream and moisturiser in the bathroom, letters in the post etc, but what the hell am I supposed to do with 11 cents? Where the hell did I even get 11 cents from when I haven’t been to america in over 5 years?

Purchases from ebay are only a good idea at the time.

I thought I’d managed to whittle down the majority of my possessions down to two ikea storage boxes, apart from make up, which I’ve managed to whittle down to four drawers of a dressing table.

And a shoebox.

I’m going to stop being such a hoarder and actually throw shit away, I’m never going to post this letter, I don’t need a book mark when I own a kindle, and what the fuck is the scented candle still doing here?

I’m going to clear my stuff in order of importance.

1. CLOTHES

First to go will be the majority of my clothes. I was hanging my washing out the other day when it dawned on me that I’d just pegged three identical long sleeved black tops on the line, and I was wearing a fourth. I also own three pairs of black denim shorts. Yes these clothes are versatile and can be mixed with just about anything but I don’t need multiples of every item.
A lot of what’s hanging in my wardrobe are things that I used to love and wear when I was a bigger size and can’t bear to throw out. There’s a particular skirt I adore and I’ve been pinning it down as I’ve lost weight but now it’s at the stage where no matter how I pin it, there’s a huge bunch of material sticking out at the side.

pictured: spidergirl dress, you know, just in case.

You think when you lose weight that it will happen suddenly and you’ll throw out all your old ‘fat’ clothes one night and buy a new designer wardrobe the next day. People never think about all the clothes you used to love and feel great in suddenly betraying you. It took me walking around college literally holding my grey denim shorts up with one hand before I accepted they no longer fitted me and threw them.

2. THINGS

DVDs I will never watch, books I’ll never re-read, CDs I’ve already got on my computer. Old computer games that aren’t even compatible with my laptop anymore, scrapbook material and other various shit I’ll never use again. I will sort my possessions into two categories; things I use often and personal mementoes which will be put in storage.

 much loved, now sadly much useless.

3. MAKE UP

This is going to be the hardest one, I went through my makeup not so long ago and got rid of everything that was running out or I hadn’t used or was crap and I didn’t like. And I was still left with an awful lot. I’m hoping if I get rid of enough of the above two categories I can justify keeping more make up. It’s not that I use it every day, it’s just that it’s always handy to have nail polish / eyeshadow / eyeliner in every possible colour combination, you know, just in case.

one of four

I’ve already begun on category 1, by creating a clothing inventory – yep. I created a spreadsheet on every single item of clothing I have, so I can see what to throw away, give away and keep. Watch this space. Hopefully there’ll actually BE space soon.

xo

3 years ago today…

I made a world of warcraft account. I remember it to the day because as I was waiting for the game to install, the internet was going mad with the news of the death of Michael Jackson.

I created an Undead Warlock, and managed to reach around level 14 without an absolute CLUE how to play the game, and of course everything went to shit. Then I created a Draenei Mage

I called her Jell after the korean tv-drama band A.N.Jell. (This was long before ‘the only way is essex, thankfully a show I have never watched but sadly this word keeps popping up on my telly and I resent the fact that they’ve stolen my girls name.)

Now I am a very sporadic WoW player, I often play only in 1 month bursts every now and then, and managed to level Jell up to 40 with the help of very kind fellas in my Guild. It helped that they paid for my mounts and would mail me things to help in my tailoring profession. (this was all very nice, but I didn’t actually know ANYTHING about professions)

While I was enjoying Jell very much, I couldn’t feel an affinity with The Alliance, I always knew I was a Horde girl at heart, so I somehow got twenty very real english pounds and made this happen:

I changed Jell into a bloody brilliant Blood Elf. I managed to level her up to around 77 (again with the help of other players, in this case 3 swedish brothers who taught me a hell of a lot about the game)

after a very long WoW break, which I only broke to return to Roleplaying and not leveling, I decided to wipe the slate clean and begin Jell again, fresh, on another server, Sylvanas (in homage to my favourite WoW lore character). a Player Vs Player server (meaning nasty alliance players who I bumped into could kill me freely)

This time I leveled around the Undead area (which is what my very first character was) in order to get the undead mount of a skeletal horse. I also started skinning from a very early level in order to boost my skill as I leveled up.

Anyway, here is Jell today and finally, after 3 years of playing, THIS HAPPENED;

And here’s the moment it happened:

They say the game begins at 85… so now I have to learn how to raid and how to get decent gear. No more running around as a pretty blood elf playing along with the Lore (saving that for my RP characters) – it’s time to knuckle down and actually play the game properly, the nerdy way. So here’s to you and me, Jell!

Gratz!

blogstuffs v1

I’m a little too pleased with my new blog theme, it’s very apple-y. If you don’t recognise that it’s apple-y then that probably means you don’t have an apple product in your life and I feel incredibly, incredibly sorry for you.

Being an apple snob has it’s downsides (apart from the whole selling your organs to afford the latest upgrade thing) – I’m clueless around an android or (I’ve heard there are others?) any phone that isn’t an iphone. However, there is the novelty of it being new and different, but I always find myself becoming overwhelmed, a little frightened and running back to my safe little white fruit.

And that’s why I’m very pleased with my new blog theme, it feels cosier here now, doesn’t it? Make yourself a cuppa tea, I’m out of biscuits I’m afraid.

Typically my rabbit, Bailey, often gives me grief when it’s bed time and it’s sunny, but today he was ever so good and hopped into his hutch within 2 minutes. Maybe he knew that I only had a few minutes to get the job done before I went back to see England lose to Italy on penalties. Sigh, awful business.

When it comes to games that are important, I’ll never celebrate a goal until I’m 100% sure it’s actually a bona-fide goal. I get quite on edge about these things, so it was good larfs when the italians scored offside (there was an italian woman celebrating the goal surrounded by upset fans who understood the game and that it wasn’t actually a goal – tres amusant) but england were playing really well considering, and I began to think, maybe – just maybe – but of course the old bastards fluffed it up at penalties and I went upstairs and watched Father Ted as the analysis was too upsetting. I likened it to dissecting the corpse of a loved one, and felt like a gary lineker and shearer were the morticians examining the dead, crushed in a horrific machinery malfunction accident, dreams of England.

At least it’s not as bad as the world cup. The game was on at a relatively sociable hour so unfortunately I wasn’t drunk enough to have blacked out the whole affair, but I’ll never forget the headlines the next day;

brilliant, sometimes I really love football.

So it’s 2:30am and I’ve decided that it’s now, like right now, that I have to create my Ultimate Bowie Playlist – I’ve illegally downloaded everything but this house is full of his records, cds, tapes and posters (my dad nearly even bought a huge bronze bust of bowie on ebay. I wish I was kidding.) So I figured it’s alright.

Bowie isn’t really ‘I’m trying to sleep it’s 2am’ music, I should be listening to Arcade Fire if I’m trying to chill out, but Neon Bible gives me nightmares when I play it before bed.

I have a busy day tomorrow il dolce far niente, so g’nite folks.

xoxo L

Hi, bile.

I must admit, it’s been a very very long time since my bile and tongue have been in touch.

The last time I can recall was during a sunny holiday on the island of Kos, I was a fresh, sixteen years old and it was the day after my introduction to tequila. My best friend Carli – who’s gastric tract was somehow inexplicably unharmed by the mexican poison – gave her sympathies and convinced me to get some fresh air. While she laid by the pool soaking up the greek sun, I laid in the fetal position on my lounger, very subtly vomiting pure liquid onto the floor and cringing as I saw people mistaking it for pool water and walking through it. Carli’s disgusted eyes peered over her sunglasses and suggested I go back to the room. Good idea.

But it wasn’t until the late evening that I hacked up a rather luminous substance (which I’d only years late later identify as Bile) and finally collapsed, truly defeated.

Now, over five years later I go to visit my friend Carli and her son, we had a lovely weekend of playing and pleasantries, when the next morning Carli said she wasn’t feeling too great. I thought little of it, as the stomach flu our boyfriends had experienced at their flat was a week ago, and Carli got off with a bit of tummy-ache and nothing else, pfft – we’d be fine!

Then I get home and my stomach began a battle to eject itself from my body. I was having a blu-ray marathon as I’m trying to get my money’s worth out of my final free month of lovefilm, but my organs were fighting inside of me and around half an hour later I was laid by the toilet under the stairs, SEVERELY regretting my decision to have tuna for lunch some hours earlier. The sickness hit me in waves, and I went from sipping water, to lying down, to vomiting, to texting curses to Carli and her fiance for bringing this sickness on me, to feeling okay for a minute, to dying again. I crawled over to my mummy dearest, held out my arms and declared I didn’t feel well. The response wasn’t the same as the one I remember from childhood “Well go upstairs then, I don’t want it!”

My brother arrived home and decided to pop in his two-cents. Or rather, as is his way, he decided to tell me some sort of mixed up information he’d either heard or made up and stated it as fact. Something to do with milk lining the stomach, sugar increasing my energy and hot water raising my core temperature blah blah – the nub and jist of it was to have a cup of tea, and while usually I’d do the opposite of what my brother suggests, especially when it comes to health, a cup of tea did sound lovely. So I made a cup of tea, and used a real spoon of sugar.

About 20 minutes later I was thinking how much nicer tea was on its way back up than tuna.

At one point, I was hugging the toilet bowl, emitting my insides via my throat, and found my mother knocking on the door casually asking if I was alright. I could barely breathe to shout DO I SOUND ALRIGHT
To which she replied “no, not really – we’re just nipping out.”

I really wanted to watch the football that night so after a brief nap and minor vom sessions I went downstairs to watch the England v Sweden match. Laying there in my slanket as close to my mummy as I could get (She’d shoved herself at one end of the sofa like I had the plague, but allowed my feet near her) I willed the english sods to just play well and just bloody win, if not for anything than to make me feel marginally better. It was a very up and down match but by sheer divinity we managed to win, so I began to think maybe there’s hope for us all! Maybe there’s hope for my digestive system to stop behaving like such a twat!

The england result must have cheered my mother up as she finally relented and gave me a cuddle, after what I’m sure was VERY mature wailings of ‘mummeeeeeeeee’ on my part. (I really don’t like being sick, has anyone noticed?)

Then cue mothers time old recipe; toast with but a smidge of butter and a cup of tea. – though after the previous milky fiasco I asked for warm water instead. The food and drink went down pleasantly enough, but inevitably came up even easier.

I finally retired to bed, fed up but not in the right sense, bloody hungry and desperately thirsty. I slept with a pint of water and huge bowl next to my bed. For some reason I woke at around 5am, pulled on my slanket and slept on the sofa, and then woke up around 8am and returned to bed. I’ve no idea why I did this.

My dad came to ask how I was feeling, and when I replied
‘I feel like every bone in my body has been broken’ - he laughed in a way that suggested he didn’t sympathise at all, and was still laughing about it nearly an hour after I’d said it. I wasn’t being dramatic in the slightest (well) – every part of me ached, I’ve never been more aware of my skin before, it’s like it wasn’t there and all my nerves were exposed, my clothes hurt, air hurt, life hurt.

It’s been two days since this, and while I can move without feeling like my central nervous system is under attack, I feel perpetually nauseated and frankly fed up. But I can’t be mad at Carli anymore as this time, she’s got stomach flu properly this time as well – and she has a baby to look after. So here’s get well soon to us, as it’s incredibly rare that we’re both ill at the same time and it’s not a result of excessive drinking. <3

Introduction to Buddhism

There’s something I’d first like to clarify about Buddhism

BUDDHA WAS NOT A GOD.

The word ‘Buddha’ means ‘enlightened one‘ and that title has been given to a man named Siddhartha Gautama, an indian prince who reached spiritual enlightenment. Siddhartha was not a god, not a prophet. He was a man.

—- I’m about to comprise thousands of years of sacred text into a paragraph —-

The long and the short of it is that one day he wandered out of his kingdom, saw that there was suffering in the world, – suffering that under his sheltered royal upbringing he had never ever seen, and he felt a bit depressed at all these corpses and sad poor people. But instead of thinking ‘fuck that’ and retreating back to his castle (like I would) this man set about trying to determine ways of ENDING suffering. Now I personally find this incredible for a man who could quite easily lived and died in beautiful rich ignorant bliss, also – Siddhartha was not a young man when all of this occurred to him. The Buddha was thought to have been around THIRTY when he left to seek enlightenment.

I want to reflect on that for a moment, – thirty years old. I am twenty one and already set in my ways, nothing at thirty will cause me to uproot morally, especially without an immediate need. But thankfully, I was not the Buddha, someone else was.

Siddhartha spent time essentially experimenting on ways to reduce suffering. He tried physically punishing himself – fasting, something which is endorsed by most abrahamic religions – except that this genius figured out that when he didn’t eat, he got really thin and sick!  (how about that? 40 days without food or water isn’t really possible, but what did he know, he was just a human, like everyone else) so instead of listening to some bizarre deity telling himself to harm himself to death and have faith – he was essentially like, fuck this I’m starving, this isn’t the way. (and so the buddha ate food and saw that it was goooood)  Anyway – cutting out huge chunks of history here, Buddha realised that essentially mediation was the path to enlightenment which lead him to discovering what he called:

The Four Noble Truths
- simplified

1. Suffering is an inevitable part of life. 

(everyone suffers, rich, poor, happy, sad, it happens – life deals you shit sometimes, no way of getting around it)

2. Suffering is caused by unnecessary craving

(for me its when I can’t get my coffee or jeremy kyle fix on a morning, my bad head goes on and I’m foul all day. but of course this applies to more important, significant things, ‘I wish I had that job, that persons affection, that house, more money, THEN my life would be fulfilled!’)

3. There IS a way to end suffering

(YAY! It’s not all pessimistic! you CAN be happy!)

4. The way to end suffering is the eightfold path

(yeah I thought this was quite amusing at first, FOUR noble truths ultimately leading to an EIGHTfold path?)

It’s at this point right here I’d like to share with you the quote from the Buddha that converted me to buddhism, on the spot, there and then;

“Do not believe in anything simply because you have heard it. Do not believe in anything simply because it is spoken and rumored by many. Do not believe in anything simply because it is found written in your religious books. Do not believe in anything merely on the authority of your teachers and elders. Do not believe in traditions because they have been handed down for many generations. But after observation and analysis, when you find that anything agrees with reason and is conducive to the good and benefit of one and all, then accept it and live up to it.”

So if you read about buddhist principles and find that you agree with them, if you put them into practice and find they enrich your life, only THEN believe the teachings.
Do not blindly pick up a ‘holy book’ and accept every single word is true simply because the book itself says so.
I cannot express how brilliant I find this quote. The Buddha was THE peace-loving atheist of his time.

The eightfold path will be discussed in another post, until then, consider this your brief (I REALLY mean brief) introduction to buddhism.

Peace, xo