Retrospective Verbosity...

There is a lot to be said about the long, hot (if you live somewhere other than the United Kingdom, then the 'hot' there is referring to your country. Not England. Mother Nature hates us) summer months. Serotonin levels are in excess, causing even the unsmiling faces to crack a centimetre of a smile. The lady at the corner store (gosh. Americanisms. We'll get to that eventually) even stops to tell you about her latest foray into literature; and educates you about the writing genius that is Stephenie Meyer, thus allowing you to share an unbreakable bond that could only have arose by talking about Edward Cullen and Bella Swan. Old ladies stop you whilst food shopping to relay their frightful experiences of being grabbed and assaulted by the police for supposedly stealing a box of plums from M&S, and her becoming a millionaire as a result.

Yes. There is, inevitably a lot to be said about summer. There is the build up to it, the conversations during all that nice hotness, and then the never ending chitchat afterwards in anticipation of the next summer. More Vitamin D and burned barbequed dinners; more body parts on show, and more time devoted to Eastenders and Peggy Mitchell. Or maybe The Vampire Diaries and Damon Salvatore, in my case. And now that it all seems to be coming to an end, I cannot help but rant and look back at how educative this summer has been for me. I have learnt such valuable life lessons, and I shall, in turn, take the time out of my VERY BUSY schedule (yeah... right) to educate the people who may or may not read this.

Let us begin.

I have learnt that... 

• Twitter, is a little, magical world of its own. There, you can stalk celebrities first hand, as it turns out that they are in fact, HUMANS, and are prone to talking excessively and writing unimportant rubbish like us normal folk do. Some pour out their hearts more than others, and tell you how humiliating one's self on national television and making Taylor Swift cry has caused people to feel disillusioned by his music. And goes on about it for the whole day. 

   Others, use it as an avenue for further self promotion by retweeting what nice little fans write about how amazingly beautiful and humble they are, which ultimately gets the poor little fan a follow back from such a MIGHTY CELEBRITY. A Few, show the world their obvious lack of intelligence and finesse, by tweeting lewd remarks and calling all females 'bitches' at every chance available, whilst making grammatical errors and spelling mistakes even five year- olds dare not make. This is of course, no other person other than the great author of all things stupid, 50CENT himself. You see, only Twitter has made me privy to such first hand information about these demi-gods of our celebrity- hungry society and how unfortunate it is that we have put these creatures on imaginary pedestals. Because they are normal people, with the exception of Kat Stacks and Montana Fishburn. Oh, and Nicki Minaj.  (This is all of course, in my humble opinion. *cackles*)

• It is impossible to live in an impenetrable bubble that blocks out all the bad things in life. And I am writing this having tried to live this way. Leprechauns do not really exist, and neither does the supposed 'pot of lucky gold' they are said to posses. It is foolhardy to live in pretence. Unfortunate, though, seeing as I live vicariously through my imaginations. Which is not really a mature way to go through life, especially seeing as I am going to be prescribing medication to actual humans sometime soon. Life is unfortunately, very unfair. Sometimes "what you want might make you cry, and what you need might pass you by" (words stolen from Ms Hill, there). That is just the way the world was created. Time to dance to the beat of life (if that is how the saying goes). Gosh. Deepak Chopra would be proud of my self-help attitude (another person I've been introduced to via twitter, Deepak Chopra is).

• Sometimes, it is always good to keep quiet and let others do the talking. It is imperative to realise that others also have a right to express themselves without intrusive opinions from others. In other words, being  a know-it-all is a dangerous trait to personify, simply because no one person knows it all. Such arrogance only ends up in you making a fool of yourself for the whole wide world to see. That is, if you tweet such things.

• It is very okay to make a fool of yourself in public, preferably at work where your co-workers can witness it. Oh, and the customers. Boosts self esteem... or something.

• Insecurities are a bad, bad thing that never leave. Ignoring them does not make them go away. In fact, I don't think they ever go away. We both co-exist, it's just a matter of making the little buggers realise that I have the upper hand. Hmmph.

• Everyone is American these days. Pseudo-Americanisms are a way of life, just go with the flow, man. Jump on out of bed and turn your swag on. LOL!

• Dora the Explorer is apparently an illegal US immigrant. The things you learn when there's nothing to do. Oh dear God.

There's more to be said about the enlightening powers of summer 2010, but I shall stop here. I am prone to talk more than is necessary. It has been a long and amazing in its own little way; eye-opening and yet lazy at the same time. It seems all so far away now, the beginning of summer, ecstatic about finishing exams but praying to make it to second year. Happy about the long summer days, yet hoping to find a job. More for the money than the actual labour, however. Purchasing clothes and shoes that would have to be packed up soon during the winter months (unless you are me and just layer up during winter ), but spending a fortune buying them regardless. 

It is safe to say, that my summer has been long, awesome, and full of ennui. And I have loved every minute of it.

Since this post has been laced with far too many words, I figure a little visual would help ease the atmosphere of too much talkations (Sorry! )

I think it is time for me to leave now, and not come back till, well... whenever really.  Bring on the countdown to Christmas baby!

Okay, so 

In a bizzle wizzle,

S.

xoxo

'What's wrong? Is it your dysmenorrhea? It's your dysmenorrhea right? '...

Erm (with stressed emphasis on the r'...). Hi.


It is probable that whoever stumbles upon this blog/ masterpiece of articulated nothings will think of me as none other than neurotic. Thank you, if that's what you think! You have officially, made my day.


Unless you know, you really do think I have brain problems, a la the real meaning of the word neurotic. Of which I don't. And thanks for listening to that unnecessary prologue to this post.


Anyhows. I shall begin by (kindly) telling you what 'dysmenorrhea' means. It is the lady's monthly friend, that three - to- five days inconvenience  (yet vitally important for ze baby making) known as our PERIOD. 'Dysmenorrhea', is simply the scientists' way of making 'artistic' people (that is, all people who are not excited about DNA and electromagneticism. Yes, all you hardworking lawyers and the like are artists) feel inferior at our ability to use such irrelevant words on a daily basis when words such as 'period' would suffice. Unfortunate, isn't it? 


What is even more unfortunate is that after hearing your professor use the word 'dysmenorrhea' infinity times during one lecture (whilst making a litany of grammatical errors), you find yourself telling jokes that include the word. And it saddens me that this is what my life is to become in the years to come.

At least this time, the dysmenorrhea joke wasn't mine! No, it was my friend's attempt at making me smile on my 'this is not a good day, why-is-life-so-skittles-and-how-come-no-leprechauns-can-give-me-lucky-gold' day. And did I LOL! So much, because i'm sure he was semi-serious when he asked, more so because a) he   most likely did not want to know about my 'dysmenorrhea' related problems and b) he's just nice and caring like that and was willing to factor my feminine cycle into my unhappiness. And the whole thing got me thinking about the good ol' days when all life was about was;

Playing outdoors half-naked, smothered in Dusting Powder with the neighbours. There were no baby - snatchers or child fondlers to watch out for (Thank God for that... what with me naked and all!)

Waiting for The Flintstones to be on at 7pm and hoping to sneak in two more cartoons before bedtime.

Playing shopkeeper with empty tins and biscuit boxes AND old magazines and newspapers right down to making the damn money to buy our 'goods' with. *Gosh that shop had it all... Hot chocolate, Coffee, Milk... you name it... So who cares if it was in my mother's well kept sitting room? *

Teaching my teddies and dolls how to spell and write their numbers... And beating the crap out of them when they weren't listening *Do NOT even attempt to judge*

Deciding what colour hair bubbles were going to beautify my afro puffs for Sunday School...


Watching Tom&Jerry with such avid concentration for HOURS(I can't watch it for more than ten minutes these days), and wanting to go to Looniversity. Yes.

Well... Enough of the nostalgia. Just writing this is reminding me of the immense, childlike happiness I felt back when there were no 'I wonder if he knows I even exist/why do I like him so much' thoughts on my mind, or 'why the heck am I not in Peru fulfilling my life long dream of grooming dolphins and studying to become a boring 9-5ing pharmacist?'. Or even freaking 'dysmenorrhea'  problems. 

Ugh.

The other day, I spent the better part of two hours talking with a six year old about her favourite things in life (said kid happens to be dysmenorrhea- joker's sister, btw), which includes everything Disney Channel has to offer, and then some. So, the conversation, as you've guessed was of the 'Troy - Gabriella' persuasion... And she told me every. single. detail. about the movies, all three of them, right down to the part where Troy's stuck in a tree talking to Gabriella. And that happiness I'm going on about was so very evident in her voice, that I wanted to be that little kid again, who watched too many cartoons and begged her mother to buy her Oliver Twist when she was seven.  I miss that aspect of my life!

So now, i'm determined to get back to that happy place. Enough of the wallowing, of the feeling sorry for myself and those poor dolphins who could be getting some of my lovin', and all the crap life has to offer in SPADES. Starting from today, hopefully. Yours truly shall get back into society, and actually talk to real people, not just talking to myself on Twitter. 

Amen. Thus, from this, I have decided that i'm going to paint pictures from my happy happy times... Like Tom  & Jerry and all my other favourite cartoon characters for my room at university! So that whenever I feel crappy, I have Wilma's face staring down at me... Or Blossom... Or Shaggy!

I guess the point of 'THIS' is to encourage you to find your happy place as well... or something... Okay? Look for it and have fun with it! Because life is way too short to wallow. Trust me.

Yeah. I should get going now. Too much talkations... Not good eh? Sorry.

Bisous and escargots!

xoxo