A familiar stranger...

-Some days it is so hard to think of something to blog about and then other days five or six ideas come at once. On the latter kind of days what I end up producing is a rambling blog that digresses a lot and is just terrible. Similarly, on the lacking of ideas days I still produce blog posts about crap. So I apologize. It's what you get with my blog. I can't keep to one point and I don't lead an interesting enough life to tell you anything that'll actually make you want to read on. Sorry. -

I found an old photo album the other day, from before my mom was even born. There were pictures of my nan and my granddad and my uncles as small children. It was so strange to see the face of my nan like this. She was so young and beautiful yet it was almost like she wasn't....done yet. If that makes sense. I could tell that it was her, she had the same nose and eyes and mouth. But it was like looking at a familiar stranger. The woman that I knew wore large glasses and her grey hair up in a bun on top of her head. She weighed a lot more than this woman and her face was wrinkled and wider than this face that was on the pages of the photo album in front of me. It was strange as well, I could see my mom and my cousin so much in her face, yet I couldn't find any of me at all. I know that the things I inherited from her can't be seen from the outside though, like my creativity and imagination.

But it made me think. This familiar stranger looked different from my grandmother. So was she a different person herself? She was always fiery and tried to be independent, she hated that she was dependent on us for so much, so what was she like when she was fully mobile? Able to get herself into trouble without the aid of a mobility scooter. Was she even as much of a fighter back then, or did that come with age? 

When time travel is possible, and I hope dearly that it is in my lifetime. Sure, there's many places that I'd want to see, historical events and individuals, but I think, to be honest, I'd much rather meet my nan aged 18 than Albert Einstein, have a conversation with a teenage version of my mom or see how my great, great grandkids are doing in the future....

...This has been yet another pointless blog post that you couldn't care less about, brought to you by the-below-average-life...stay tuned for yet more pointless ramblings about my life....

Marley and Me...

It was such a good idea to put on Marley and Me. I've seen it before, so you'd think I'd be prepared for the ending, but it still resulted in gross sobs whilst clutching at my duvet thinking why the hell did I put this film on in the first place?
I know it doesn't make much sense to people who don't or who have never had a dog, but they really are like people, only so much better. Dogs don't care if your rich or poor, fat or skinny, have a good job or are delivering pizza leaflets for a living. All they care about is your love. Could you imagine people being like that?
It is said perfectly in the film, dog's treat you like you're one in a million, rare, something special. They light up your day and sure they're a pain in the butt and they make a mess and you'll find their hairs everywhere, but they bring so much more to your life that I pity people who have never owned a dog. They just don't understand how much of the family they become, so then when the dog dies, these people almost expect you to get over it as if it were nothing more than a goldfish that you won at the carnival and died by the time you got home.


Like we're just supposed to flush it down the toilet and move on, but could you imagine them doing so after
their brother or sister died? Sure, a dog isn't like a person, they can't talk to you but they listen, far better than humans. I can't even count the amount of times I've whined to my dog about one thing or another. Sure they don't live as long as people do either, but that's what makes them even more special, and we all know, when we get the dog, that they're almost certainly going to die before we do, but that doesn't stop us from letting them into our hearts (not to mention our houses and lives) and sure, your brother or sister isn't likely to leave you a steaming smelly present on your bedroom floor in the morning (and if they do you might want to consult medical help), and they shouldn't chew your favourite pair of shoes or pee on your carpet or stick their tongue your coffee when you're not looking (again, if they do, I'd consider calling a psychiatrist)   but....where was I? Oh right, just look at your dog, he may be a gangly two year old monster that eats (yes that's eats not just chews) everything in sight, who tries to rugby tackle your friends when you bring them round and jumps on your bed in the morning to look out of your window, regardless of whether you're in it or not, but he's yours and your his.
This is my monster, Rolex. And he is, in most aspects of the word- a monster. I think I'll tell you more about him another time, but he's my puppy, no matter how large and unruly he gets, he will forever be, the tiny little puppy that couldn't reach the sofa. Even if he is currently letting off stink bombs at the bottom of the stairs that even gas masks wouldn't shield you from and has already left a muddy paw print on my fresh bed sheets only put on this morning, I still love him. He still makes me laugh, every day and forces his head under my elbow so that I'll fuss him. And I don't know how I'd cope without him (which is another reason why watching Marley and Me was such a stupid bloody idea! Along with our old dog Max, also dying from a twisted stomach and buried in our garden, like Marley was, however he was an angel behaviour-wise compared to Rolex. As you're to find out in the next few blog posts I suspect)....

That Blank Space On Your Wall...

You know that blank space on your wall, you walk past it everyday and think that it needs filling but you can't quite figure out what to fill it with? I have the answer for you! You need a Charlotte Hussey painting/drawing or digital art! She's a dear friend of mine and an amazing artist, and is looking for commissions, here's her Deviant Art, peruse as you will... http://charlie-megalomad.deviantart.com/gallery/?offset=0 and know that this isn't even the full extent of what she can do, she is particularly amazing at oil paintings and digital art but just leave her a message. Maybe you want a family portrait to hang in that blank space on your wall, or an epic space fight or yourself surrounded by your favourite things or anything that your mind can imagine to fill that space on your wall, from canvas to print to paper, tell her what you want and you won't regret it. Trust me...

Lois Lane...

Hello my avid readers! *snort, giggle, sly look all around me* ...Well, Blogger tells me that I have page views, but I'm starting to think that you're like the Easter Bunny or a balanced, healthy diet....you just don't really exist! 

I had a point to this post, oh yes, right. Lois Lane...

-And by Lois Lane I mean Erica Durance's Lois Lane from Smallville, although, to be honest, I think most interpretations of her are the same in this aspect-

But I'm getting off topic again, I will, eventually get around to my point, I promise... Ever since Smallville, I have wanted to be Lois Lane. Whilst my friends want to be Nicki Minaj or Lady Gaga or some other god awful celebrity, for me it was a fictional character. Lois Lane is a strong, independent woman, and okay, sure, she took quite a few perfectly timed knocks to the head so that she was unconscious before Clark swooped in and saved the day, and it took her far too long to figure out that Clark was the Blur, but I'm getting off point again. Lois Lane is everything that I have ever wanted to be. 

Firstly, she is passionate about her career, she wants to be THE best reporter, she doesn't worry about how controversial her stories may be, she wants to get the truth out there and she has a real passion and thirst for her job. Even if she spends more time outside of the office following up potentially dangerous leads.

Secondly, she's feisty, she's a General's daughter, a self proclaimed 'Army Brat' who can kick your ass, a BAMF even in fluffy bunny slippers, who can drink you under the table, use her womanly charms to get whatever information she needs out of you, yet would gladly sacrifice herself for Clark, or Chloe or even Oliver. Lois is the kind of woman who isn't afraid to speak up loud and clear for what she believes in, is incredibly beautiful and sexy. And on top of all of this, she is willing to share the love of her life with the world, lets him leave every day to save people all over the world, knowing that there's a chance he may not come back, or he might be late for that romantic dinner they had planned or miss Christmas one year. She is strong, and loving, and passionate, and beautiful and independent and everything that I have ever wanted to be.

If you haven't already noticed from my dreary posts where I do hardly anything but whine and try to slip in very poor humour and anecdotes that you couldn't care less about- I am not very strong or independent, in fact I would describe myself as quite weak, and introverted, dependent on others mostly. But enough of the self deprecation. The point of having an idol is someone to aspire to be like, someone who makes you want to work harder to meet that goal, not crawl under your duvet and give up because you don't feel like you could ever be like that. Losers never win. And yes, I know before you point it out, that I call myself a Loser, this whole blog is about me being a Loser, but I don't mean being a Loser in the sense that I'm not cool, because I can't ever stop being that kind of Loser, I mean I need to stop being a Loser in the sense that I can't win. Because if I never try, if I hide under my duvet from the world my whole life, forever whining about how unfair my life is, how I can't be Lois Lane, then I never will be Lois Lane. 

But. If I find the strength within myself to crawl out of bed before noon, to stop hiding from the world because I'm scared of it. If I keep on automatically folding just because I don't believe in myself, then I'm never going to get anywhere, am I? 

Tomorrow I'm going to leave my house, and I don't mean in a- I'm going to walk down to the shops, walking as fast as I can so that I can get back as quickly as I can- and not I'm going to walk the dog around the block or to the park over the road either. I'm going to properly leave the house, for at least an hour. And then I'm going to do something I've never done before, I have a bucket list on my windowsill, full of things that I've always wanted to do, I don't know which one I'm going to do yet, but something will happen, I will make something of my life. I'm not going to become another weak, shy girl who hides away in her house, I'm going to become Lois Lane, because I can. And so can you! Yes, you, reading this! I think that if you want  it bad enough and you work on it, you can be whoever you want to be..yes...I guess even those of you who want to be like Nicki Minaj or Lady Gaga, because I guess at least they're successful and rich. But please, if you do want to be like women like that (and I know, I'm hardly in a position to give anyone advice) but please, aim higher. Aspire to be like J.K Rowling, or Audrey Hepburn, or Eleanor Roosevelt. Want to be like one of the women that leave an imprint on the world, that are household names for the right reasons, because they wanted to do something positive, or be the best that they could be. People who made the world stand up and take notice of who they are and what they do, not women who altered themselves to get the media's attention, not women who have to dress strangely and do preposterous things or have butt implants to be noticed. And if you can't find a woman who you want to look up to, then be her, be your own role model, make the world take notice for all of the right reasons, be yourself, be kind, be strong, be understanding of others, help others, JUST DO SOMETHING. Because if you don't, we end up with another generation of girls who have the only dream of making money and being famous without any real plan of action of how to get there other than being on TV or marrying a footballer. 

I'm going off topic again, I know, this has been one big post of digressions, but I will digress once more...

Think of the P!NK song "Stupid Girls", that perfectly sums up what I'm trying to say here. Why aren't girls dreaming about being world leaders? About being important people who can make a positive change in the world? Why aren't girls dreaming about being the first person to do something? Why don't they want to be original? If people just embraced their inner Loser every now and again, got a shot of humility, see that they're not all that after all, that there is more to life than spray tans or TOWIE or designer clothes. That there's a difference between YOUR and YOU'RE and yes, it does matter! That it's okay to like something that not a lot of other people do. I love Glee. And most of the time, yes, I do think that the Glee version of a song is often better than the original. I wish that I was a witch so bad most of the time, I know Dirty Dancing practically word for word (and so does my dad by the way...) I love Tom Hanks films and Chick Flicks and most of my DVD collection is age rated at 12A, but I.Don't.Care. And I think others shouldn't care that they like what they like either. EMBRACE YOUR INNER LOSER. Be who you want to be. Be who you can be. Live up to your full potential. 

Anyway, I apologize for this pointless, rambling post, my avid readers, I would ramble some more but my Laptop battery is about to run out, so farewell and enjoy! Or don't enjoy! Either way, I'd really like some feedback! 

Something to brighten your day...

This is the video that I watch on my down days because it always makes me smile. People are too quick to say that the world is a cold and cruel place, people just don't trust that other people would want to do nice things for others without any personal gain from it. For example, my best friend and myself went around our town centre with bunches of flowers that we had bought from our own money and handed them out, for free, to strangers along with a card about the organisation Random Acts (www.therandomact.org) that we both care a lot about, and we couldn't believe how hard it was to give something away for free. People didn't trust that we didn't want anything from them, even after we told them again and again that they were free. The point of them was to brighten someone's day and raise awareness for Random Acts at the same time, but people didn't want them and some were so rude about it, we only managed to successfully hand out three or four bunches. It disheartened me, that people couldn't believe we just wanted to do a nice thing, and that's why I love this video so much, they are random acts of kindness being shown in the video. The world isn't as bad as the media makes us believe, there are genuinely nice people out there. So my task for you today (my avid readers :P) is to do something kind for someone else, whatever it may be, big or small. It makes a difference.

Random observations about myself that you probably care less about than Justin Bieber's latest album...

If my previous two blog posts are anything to go by, you (I know, I'm referring to my readers as if I have any again, but hey! I talk to myself out loud all the time, this is just a whole new level of it.) are probably bored of my drivel about bedrooms and my uneventful life and are wondering if I'll ever get to more important topics like politics or Big Questions. But if I may refer you back to the title of my blog, I think it's rather self-explanatory.
What was the point to this post again? Oh, yeah, right, random observations...
Number one: I tend to fall for the wrong guys. Not that they ever know it, I try to avoid actual human communication as much as possible, especially people that I don't know that well. But I digress... If someone  presents a front to the world that makes me not like them, say they're arrogant or cruel or something else that  generally drives me mad, all they have to do is let a crack in their armor and I fall for them. I don't know, there's something about the idea that there is more to a person, that they're hiding away from the world that's like crack to soppy girls like me. Think of the Janitor in Scrubs. He is creepy, borderline psychotic, a compulsive liar and quite often cruel and sadistic. But no one is purely a bad guy or even a good guy. The beauty of the Janitor character is that he shows this. He can, in one moment be duct-taping JD to the ceiling and in the next making up excuses to Elliott because he's embarrassed that what he thought was a date with her, wasn't. He spends a whole episode talking to a 'boxed in' patient who others couldn't give their time to and is genuinely hurt when he overhears a doctor saying that he doesn't make a difference at Scared Heart. Sure, his faults should out weigh these glimpses to an actual human being underneath it all, but just that little glimmer of hope attracts me to a person. It is literally like catnip. I have this uncontrollable impulse to be the one that uncovers the good guy beneath the villain. I want to see the best in everyone. Even though sometimes, it doesn't seem to exist. Despite this, I also love the hero. I would much rather have Clark Kent than Lex Luther (and with the way Tom Welling plays him, who can blame me *creepy wink emoticon*)
Number two: I love Christmas way too much. It's July and I'm watching Christmas films, singing songs and planning my Christmas themed wedding (don't judge, I'm a sappy, soppy loser, it's what I do!). I don't usually start in July, I normally save the festive fest for November at the earliest, but I don't know. There's just something so magical and heart warming about the holiday that I love. It's the one day of the year that people will be kind to strangers. That people will spend ridiculous amounts of money on things that they don't really need, that they will stand the crowds, the queues, Cliff Richard, and more, just to put a smile on their loved one's face on Christmas Morning. It's the one holiday where people are actually encouraged to help the homeless and less privileged regularly. Where real kindness is shown more often, and sure, it has it's downsides, there's the fights, the crowds, the queues, Cliff Richard (Just kidding, Mistletoe and Wine is a classic! :P) and there's also selfishness, disappointment and loneliness. And ever since I was small I've wished for a perfect Christmas. But that's wrong. I don't want one  perfect Christmas, because where's the fun in that. I want each Christmas to be filled with it's flaws, but to be better than the last. I want the one perfect Christmas to be my last one, when I'm old and I've lived my life and I finally get everything right. Because if everyone had one perfect Christmas, the next one would be a major let down, and every year after, and that's just depressing...
Oh yeah, this was a list, I guess the next one would be number three: Whilst other eighteen year olds complain about the fact that they have no where to go on a Friday night and that they're friends never invite them out, I'm the opposite. I would actually much rather stay in. It actually gets to the point where you invent plans on the days when your friends want you to go out so that you can spend the day doing nothing but watching TV, endlessly scrolling through Tumblr and trying whatever new craft has taken your fancy lately, even though you know you'll undoubtedly get bored and/or frustrated with it when it doesn't go your way and never touch it again. You also spend your Friday nights staring at your blog that no one actually reads so it's pretty much like an online diary, thinking of what you could possibly write in your next post, even though it is 2am and you're probably making very little sense.
Well, I guess it's time for me to crawl back into my pit and leave you lovely people in peace (because you do too exist and read my blog!). But I'll leave you with this scary thought to ponder in my absence There are people out there that don't like Harry Potter... *GASP* How do they live?... (What, I didn't say that the thought would have anything to do with my post! It's just a really scary thought!) Sleep well!

Bedknobs and Broomsticks...

I have slept in the same room for as long as I can remember. These four walls are all that I have known for the eighteen years that I have been alive. And sure, the insides may have changed a fair bit in that time, and so have I, but it's still all that I have ever known.
Why am I telling you this, I hear you ask? True, if anyone out there was actually reading my little blog, (which at the moment, it seems that no one is), the likelihood is that you couldn't give a flying unicorn turd about my bedroom, but bare with me, it's going somewhere...
On the 24th of September, I shall have a new room. It's not the only thing that's coming new on that date, I will also have a new school, town, friends and life, so surely you'd think that the room I sleep in will be the last thing on my mind, bottom of the list really compared to starting university, right?
Wrong.
My room is the first thing that dawned on me. Sure, I'll visit home and my bedroom will still be there, waiting for me, but it'll feel different. It will no longer be the place that I live in full time, I will be a visitor to my own bedroom. And after university, it's not likely that I'll move back home, uni is the stepping stones to the next chapter in my life in which I move forward. And that is scary as hell to me.
I'll miss my room, with all of it's flaws and imperfections. There's the half torn off teletubbies stickers on the old cupboard door, the dodgy paint work that doesn't quite reach the ceiling by the door because I was impatient and painted my room myself without anyone's help. There's the Hollywood sign just peeking out behind my bookcase that I painted when I was sixteen and desperate to see America. My wardrobe without any doors because they broke off. The cracks in the side of my wall, the curtain rail being held into the wall with blutack and the loose floorboard that I never took advantage of because my bed was always on top of it.
Sure, I've seen the dorms at Falmouth, and they're beautiful, double beds, ensuite, no holes in the wall and no dodgy patterned carpet that's older than I am, and I'm sure I'll love it there, but it won't be home...