Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts

Sunday, 4 September 2011

Current Een-spee-ray-shunz.....













Currently inspired by... Well. Life really. Lifestyles, people, individuality, rainbows, sunshine, Old ladies' wardrobes, granny sandals, AFROs (always), music (you knowwww wha'a mean?), wise words, silly faces, happiness... Just everything.Oh, and BLACK LIPSTICK. Yowzzers. I've realised that the world has a lot to offer if you just open your eyes to the various possibilities. 'Tis truly a wonderful experience.

Shmoodle-ooo!

Thursday, 1 September 2011

"Ahhh... Life."

I know. These words. Don't lie, you've said it AT least four times in your lifetime. Sometimes, you go days, weeks, months, having escaped these utterances, but then BAAM. The moment you least expect it, this thing called life rears its ugly, unwanted head, and brutally reminds you of its unfair existence.

I know.

By the tone of my writing, it is possible that you think that I am here to address something so heinous or ridiculously emotive to explain my wistful tone towards this thing called life. But alas, I am not. At least, I am not here to whimper about why life is unfair and blah blah blah, because, well, I am learning not to be the quintessential, whimpering girl, who let's everything and anything get to her. Emotions are a female dog, and, quite frankly, I cannot constantly weigh myself down with things which are inevitably bound to happen to me as a human.

Okay. It must seem as though I am speaking Greek.  Let us begin.  Seeing as I have a penchant for storytelling, I might as well bore you with a little anecdotal analogy of mine. Do bear with me on this. 

All my life, it seems at least, I have been living to please people. I know, now, in retrospect, I think about how much time, effort, and energy I have wasted put in to please people, and I shudder inwardly. As a teenager, I was told that my boisterous nature was not appealing, and that it meant that people would not like me. So I tried to make myself less loud, less talkative (psssh.), less... ME. Afterwards, after trying soooo unbelievably hard to be less Professor Trelawney and more Professor McGonagall,  I was accused of having a split personality, and that being two different people meant I was cunning and conniving. 

I KNOW!

Not to bore you with the intricate details of my very, well, interesting life, I shall just tell you that this exact pattern has followed me from my teens till this day. Naturally, during those formative years of my adolescence, so many things about my personality were assessed and scrutinised so often that I became quite unsure about who I was as person. I was changing myself quicker than... well... I don't know, but you get the picture, and trust me on this, juggling multiple personalities is a very tasking job. Very tasking job, I tell you.  And the worst part of it all? The worst part of it all was the fact that no matter how hard I tried to make myself into that perfect person that would please these particular people, my best was never good enough. When there was nothing to complain about, complaints about mindless things would ensue, resulting in harsh words and unnecessary antagonism. 

Yeaaaah, so it was rather hard being myself. I was so scared of what people would say, or think, or act towards me, that I became a shell of my former self in order not to let people have opinions about me. Well, I finally decided I was tired of living the life of an Egyptian slave, and thought that if I was this bad, or if my personality was this heinous, then I would like to hear it from the mouths of the WORLD itself. Screw being an emotional pansy who was being told not to act in this manner and dress in that manner, or present myself in such manner. Let's face it, all those times when I was trying to be Supergirl  and please the masses did not really work well in my favour, seeing as there was ALWAYS something I did not get right, or do right anyway. 

To cut the diatribe short, I would say that meeting my true self, and finally finding out who I was as a person was ridiculously liberating. It was like that moment in 'The Runaway Bride' where Julia Roberts finalllly realises what type of eggs she likes. I am not even kidding.  It was that bad!

Okay. So now, you've read my sob story, perhaps you can understand why I stand so strongly for individuality? If I could leave anyone with anything from this verbose article of mine, it would be that you should NEVER, EVER, let the opinions of the masses be the ultimate ruling factor of your life. As humans, we are ALWAYS prone to having opinions; even about things that are so factual, that having an opinion would be ridiculously foolhardy, but there you have it. And, although it may seem like I am preaching to the converted (or is the term 'preaching to the choir'? Ohhh I don't know), I just felt like re-iterating this point. The whole world will NEVER love you. Heck, they won't even like you. And even when you put in all your effort and sweat into trying to make yourself that person that people tell you you ought to be, that will never be ENOUGH. So, you are better off being yourself; enjoy being that crazy lady who is slightly over obsessed with Christmas and Miuiccia Prada. Ohhh... And her Ted. I know. *flutters eyelashes* I am quite comfortable being Professor Trelawney now more than ever. But if you are naturally a Professor McGonagall, then that's also cool.

BE YOURSELF. It's the best person worth being, honestly.

"If God wanted to create me otherwise, then he would have created me otherwise".
                                                                                                        - Goethe      

*P.S: Professor Trelawney and Professor McGonagall... Haaah. All my Harry Potter fans throw yo' hands in the airrrrr*


Saturday, 11 June 2011

When the music fades...

The brain is a weird mechanism.

Very weird. I'm beginning to think that perhaps good ole' Sigmund (Freud sounds waaay too ordinary) was actually onto something with his Superego, Id and Ego business. 

Okay. I must stop speaking metaphorically and get on with it. This is a slightly different post than expected from Queen Crazy, because, well. Every body gets their quota of unhappiness/grief/sadness/depression soon enough. There's no running away from life is there?

Hence, I re-iterate once again: The brain is a very weird piece of equipment. My last post, the one about life's ever changing routes? Weeeellll, when I wrote that, I was simply thinking aloud, you know, with maturity, realisations such as those become normal. Sometimes these realisations become reality.

Yerp. What begun as a thought has translated into my reality, because as I type, something which I can say has NEVER happened to me, has indeed happened.

I failed an exam. 
No, no... I failed three exams, to be exact. 
I have never failed at anything in my life. Especially not exams. This is not me being boastful, or claiming intelligence as my God - given right. But as is our intrinsic human nature, being accustomed to something, and having that thing taken away from you shakes you to your very core.

Upon receiving this news, my tears have been non stop. One would think I am in a situation reminiscent to Anne Frank's. I know, none of my parents are dead, I am not a Jew in a foreign country, and nobody is searching high and nigh for my body; dead or alive.

But still. 

It feels like my whole life, my existence, who I am, has changed. My feelings towards this, towards life, has taken another turn. To some people who will read this, their reactions will either be for me to get a grip on life and stop whining about something as trivial as education or exams. But to others, my feelings and my fears will   probably be a mirroring of similar experiences, albeit not through exam failure: something or someone or some situation will have or is happening to you right now that you would NEVER have thought, even if Buzz Lightyear were to become president, would happen to you.

So, as my very understanding parents have been reassuring me, I come to you with this. Reach down into your soul, spirit, chakras, or whatever (my soul, that would be, being a Jesus kid and all), and find that strength that we have all been blessed with as humans. I think the scientists, with all their love for indecipherable jargon and mumbo jumbo have labelled it less ethereally and just tagged this strength asThe Survival Of The Fittest? or something?

Yeah. Find your inner strength, your survival, your sanity blanket, channel it, and keep moving. Though it may seem like the end of life infinity times over, it really is not. It is simply, just the beginning of a new reality.

So. Keep moving. And stop crying.

P.S. This post is simply my way of publicly reassuring myself (and anyone out there in a similar  situation) that I will not become a good for nothing statistic who will, due to this my very unfortunate mishap, never be able to fulfill my life-long dream/ambition of meeting Miuiccia Prada and having her fall in love with my sunny disposition and charming personality that we become confidantes. 


Since I have so cleverly imbibed fashion into this sad ole' tale of mine, I might as well show you the shoes I am currently salivating over when feelings of dread are not overtaking my whole system...





They're New Look wedges, and they used to have them in orange, but I think they must be sold out. I figure, fingers crossed, if all goes well with my resits, and I pass, these babies will be my present to myself...

And with that, ladies and gentlefolk, I bid you farewell.

God bless!
xoxo

Wednesday, 8 June 2011

I've come to realise...

... That life is not, and will never be straightforward. The path of life, or our destinies, or fate, or whatever each respective person refers to the future as, NEVER pans out as vivid, or as simple as it was envisioned in our minds. Perceptions and circumstances change, unlikely relationships are built, emotions develop, maturity happens. And with each change or formation, life as we knew it takes another route altogether.  The natural spontaneity of life, I call it.

The friendies...

InCASE you were wondering...

... none of these photos are mine, s'il vous plait. Unless you happen to see pictures of yours truly or whatever (which I beg you to ask for permission before you acquire), I own no claims whatsoever to the images.

Many thanks,
She.
xoxo