’90s babies

FH000021

Two years ago I found an unprocessed film in a camera. These are the beautiful 1990’s photos that were printed for our wonderment.

I originally wrote this post two years ago but never published it. After going through the millions of posts I’ve written and left (many, many, are drunk ramblings) this one pulled my heart strings.

I’m guessing they are 19 years old, so I was 7 at the time, and wow, old fashioned or what?! I’m going through a phase of being reminiscent of my childhood – I have a Play Mobil advent calendar for Christmas this year – so it gives me all the right feelings I’m embodying right now.

You know when you look at old photos of your parents and you laugh at them for their big hair and out of fashion clothes? This is the number one reason I still make photo albums, so I can laugh at myself one day, but turns out ‘one day’ isn’t in my 40’s. ‘One day’ is only a few years down the line.

There’s things that are long gone, like my rabbit Milo, unfortunately. Or the house we lived in.

But then there are things that are timeless or making a come back. Like that pout I’m making in the first photo, and I hate to say I did that for a fair few years after – but not now! I’m also sure that was the era of the choker and crop tops.

There are also things my family still own. I have the same bauble on the Christmas tree, bought from my Nan. Speaking of my Nan, she has the same sofa. And I write all my blog posts on that big box that my Dad is proudly working on! That’s a lie, I don’t think that computer could handle anything we do now on the internet. To think I once thought we were so cool for having a modern computer.

FH000018

The dream is always to look back and laugh.

FH000039FH000035FH000016FH000019FH000025.jpg 1FH000036FH000037

’90s, hell yeah.

Advertisements

Going from one bed to another

I seem to have gotten into a routine of bed hopping. Now hold on one second, that is not anything sexual before you think it! But quite frankly I’m charmed that you would think that I could pull that many guys to bed hop like that. Thank you. Sadly, I mean because of my work schedule, James’s work schedule, my depression and, lets be honest, laziness, my new routine is literally to leave one bed for the next. Like a beauty vlogger; My Morning Routine! My Daily Routine! My Nightly Routine! Bed. I’m in bloody bed. It’s always bed. I’m in bed as I write this. It’s 18:09. 

Let’s lay it out. For the last two weeks James has been getting up at 6:30am for work, and seeing as the only time we can see each other is in the week, I am there. Waking up. At 6:30am. On my days off. I get home at 7:30am and go straight to bed. I don’t sleep, I drink coffee, blog, watch YouTube. Bed.

Suddenly it’s like 10am, shit. I must do something. How about a tea this time? Well, while I’m drinking it; bed. Breakfast? Bed. What’s next? What do I want to do? I go off and do it, and then when I’m not; bed. Maybe bed is my ‘sofa’ because I live with my parents. Whatever, it’s still a bed.

I’ve said bed so many times it’s no longer a word.

Bed.

Bunk.

Chaise.

Berth.

Trundle.

Thank you Google.

Is my bed the best one in the world? No*. I feel like it hardly resembles a mattress with all the lumps, bumps and indentations, probably from me spending the whole of my existence in it. I think the real reason is because it’s in the centre of all my things. My plants I love watering, my laptop, any craft things, clothes, make up, I dunno, everything I own I suppose. But it’s a bed, it screams lay down. Chill. Browse YouTube. Have another coffee. Then before you know it, I’m going back to James’s to another bed because he’s bed is like his ‘sofa’.

It doesn’t hurt at the moment, like I’m not frustrated at how much time I’m in bed because I’ve been really low. Which, god, sounds like the worst idea. I’m still active, I went for a 3.51 mile walk today, going for a scoot with the dogs tonight, wrote a blog post (not including this one), made bruschetta, made probably about 5 cups of tea or coffee… I just rest in bed in between, I recharge. I’m looking after myself. This is dangerous territory though, I’m fully aware. I do not want to go back to the days when I lived in bed and wouldn’t leave.

Now this is the point in the post where I should make a vow that I won’t keep or put myself up for a challenge that I’m just not mentally prepared for. Nah, I’ll give that a miss for now. No Trying To Stay Out Of My Bedroom For A Week challenge. No I Promise To Only Use My Bed For Sleeping vow

Here’s what I’ll do, a compromise if you will, I’ll move my bed. To be fair, I’ve been thinking it a while. Well, like a week. I’ll start that in this post right now actually, so when I get home tomorrow I mean, because there’s going to be a lot to move, like, fucking hell, why do I have a arm chair in my room? (Surely that should be my ‘sofa’?!) (Mind blown) If I move my bed to the corner of the room, rather than the centre, I’ll have room to move, do my crafts etc. I don’t know what else, this experiment might not work.. But I’m giving it a go!! Because it’s not healthy to keep bed hopping and I really don’t want to catch an STI!

That was a joke. A poor one I know. Still a joke.

 

*When reading this to James he wanted me to include that although my bed isn’t the best in the world, he thinks his bed is;

“No, don’t add I think it is, say ‘his bed is the best in the world’,”

“Yeah, ‘he thinks his bed is the best in the world’,”

“No! ‘his bed is the best in the world’!”

“That’s what I said, ‘he think his bed is the best in the world’.”

People get so touchy about their beds.

“Get out of mine then if you think it’s not the best in the world.”

 

You can’t cure depression with a bath bomb

I’m facing and conquering a dilemma today. It’s a very proud moment and it involves a bubble bath which is where we all feel most proud..? Now don’t get too excited, the story isn’t that interesting and it lacks a start, middle and, come to think of it, an end. It all started when I turned 26, my birthday, a month ago, and I received some lush goodies as a present from my sister. I was overjoyed, I do love some me some lush and I also love me a bubble bath. I am also poor, side-note. I’m also going to stop using this ‘story time’ ‘kids TV’ ‘presenter’ voice I have going on in my head.

So poor, old Emily started to use the wonderful products. She was very happy with them and therefore tried to make them last as long as possible, with the knowledge that every bath she had without these products would be a wasted bath. It was an act of balancing the want and need of feeling special while trying to prolong the products but therefore feeling only a little bit special but for a longer time. I was never a Queen, I was always like 17th place to the thrown, like there was no way I would get there and I’m not famous enough for new generations to know who I am, but I still have my daddies money to fall back on. All an example, there is no daddies money. How dare he.

Then came a day when all I had left was a bath bomb and a very small amount of something that I cant remember. You’d think if it was that special to me I would remember the name? Oh well. I was a little lost at what to do. Then I had a thunderous day. Very depressed and anxious. I was like ‘today is the day to use the little bit left over’.

And so I did..

And felt no different.

So I was like ‘turns out you can’t cure depression with a bath bomb.’ Lesson learnt.

Lets get back to present day. I’m not 100% all the bloody time, that’s impossible, but I’m feeling a lot more positive today, even this week. I haven’t had a lush bubble bath for a long time now and I have one bath bomb left. Maybe the trick is to use it on a day you feel good, not bad. Then it isn’t wasted. Here’s the test – I feel good, I wrote I post I’m proud to publish tomorrow and I’m a bit stinky. Today is the day. I’m ready.

IMG_3109

Verdict? It was alright actually, yeah. Nothing really changed. I enjoyed the face mask and coffee too. I preferred the ‘little bit left’ one. Erm, maybe it works its lush magic more when you’re exhausted from doing so much stuff? Next time maybe I’ll work out first, do something physical, or accomplish something with my life. I still feel pretty good though, may have prolonged that. Oh well, till next time lush, till next time.

 

Fixing what’s unsatisfactory

IMG_3708 1

Creating meaningful surroundings is important to me. I’m not a designer of any sort. I don’t have rules… I purposely like to kid myself that I’m breaking rules but I have no clue, I could be following a rule book unbeknown to me.

That’s what I was doing today. Concentrating on my room. It’s not done, this is where I’m up to. Everyday I view my surrounds as something to decorate, I suppose that’s just a creative mind, but I don’t always act on the urge, hence this post. There is a need in me to fix everything to what I find pleasing though.

I wonder why when something is important to me, like decorating and styling, I don’t become more knowledgeable on it but rather I allow it to be what it is. It’s an natural interest, I like stuff, but at the same time I am particular on what I have. I like to collect things from different places, I like to make things, I don’t need my possessions to scream what interests I have but I like them to portray my personality. That’s why it’s homely to me. That’s why I feel comfortable in my room.

And how does pleasing me work? How do I ‘find’ what is pleasing? I suppose, I say reluctantly, that must come down to some sort of rule – the juxtaposition of the objects. It’s like pretty faces are usually symmetrical. I don’t know. I’m just not sure, there’s probably a science behind it. With people who are Doctors. Hello, I’m a Doctor of Style. You wouldn’t believe them though, would you. You’d just think they’re being cocky.

My room is divided into two categories; things I’m satisfied with and things I’m not. I wasn’t aware of this till recently and all it comes down to when I have a feeling that something isn’t right. Which is an okay problem, I suppose, but it occurred to me that I could just fix them. Anything that gives me a sinking feeling just correct it till I’m all chill inside.

That’s obvious isn’t it. When you live in a space you don’t often see that though.

So here I am fixing what doesn’t satisfy me and I’ll update you in the future whether these changes have worked.

shelving

IMG_0857 1covering the sides

IMG_3674 1

bed side table

IMG_3681 1

shelves

IMG_3711 1IMG_3718 1

This is where I kind of gave up and had a walk, food and a bubble bath. I’m an easily distracted creature. This one was a tough one though. I still don’t think it’s right but I think I’m done playing for today so I’ll sit on it a bit and see if my dissatisfied senses tingle.

It does look kind of cute. It’s growing on me already.IMG_2916

 

A quickie on plants and possibly insanity

Something wonderful happened a few weeks ago. Wonderful you ask? Yes, and you may only understand if you are like me.

IMG_3523.jpg 1

My brother began to describe a plant he owns to me, with so much detail and love. I was like yes! I get this. This is how I talk about my plants. He was then telling me his girlfriend doesn’t care like he does, and again yes! My boyfriend switches off when I start explaining how one is growing, ones stopped, how one is growing a certain way, concern for another and that I don’t like to split up the twins. (Photo of the twins below. They’re nonidentical. They’ve been together for so long and grew so well together that when I potted them into individual pots I couldn’t split them up. Genuine sadness.)

IMG_3509.jpg 1

It was a magical moment (brother would probably disagree) of knowing I wasn’t alone in this world of wanting a few house plants but not wanting to care for a garden and possibly not children but plants are enough. He wasn’t on board though when I was explaining that people say you should talk to your plants but I believe they grow more if you radiate love for them when you water them.. I’m really not crazy, I just don’t know how to write this without sounding insane.

So this post is for my love, and hoping others understand, but knowing they probably won’t, BUT I took some pretty photos for people to look at?

IMG_3541.jpg 1

 

IMG_3496.jpg 1

IMG_3537.jpg 1

The conflict of ironing..

..which would seem irrelevant to me because I don’t iron. None of my clothes are ironed, nor my Mums and I’m sure my Nan has told me she hates it so has cut back or stopped. What’s the point then, Emily, what’s the thoughts today?

IMG_3487.jpg 1

It’s a pretty simple one, just that whether people are happier who iron. I often contemplate now today’s generation are so used to getting things instantly, you don’t have to wait. I said to someone the other day that I miss the TV being on when I was young but not watching it because I was waiting a few hours for something, meanwhile I would get on with something important like playdough or barbies. That’s a weird thing to miss but I look back at that and feel relaxed, comforted and it’s just simple. Having anything at my finger tips, having entertainment whenever I want, only means that when it comes to meaningless tasks I am totally put off them because it’s not stimulating enough.

Now it’s balancing itself a little bit, in my opinion. Mindfulness is popular, meditation, people preach digital detoxes, everyone loved kindle and now people prefer books again, the Nokia 3310 is back, minimalism, record players.

IMG_3485.jpg 1

So I wondered if something like ironing is a therapeutic task that keeps you grounded. I completely right it off because I think that I don’t want to waste my time doing something I don’t like. Doesn’t that sound so privileged? Doing things like housework are normal, why do I expect a more adventurous lifestyle than that? I want extraordinary, ironing doesn’t fit the cut.

I don’t believe I’ll want anything less than an adventurous life, I’ve always been like it, I just like to play. I do think it’s possible, I think you can live whatever life you want to live. Exceptions of course, I’m not exactly living how I would like to completely but I understand it’s a process anyway, and that part (being on a journey) is part of my ‘dream life’. So really I’m exactly where I would like to be, because I’m not ready to be anywhere else. My life has to be my dream life by this theory, no matter how shitty or amazing it is currently. Also I have the mindset that I desire, even though I’m not climbing a mountain I have that mindset when I’m climbing the o2 (if you haven’t done it, nothing in common with a mountain) (still recommend it). It’s not a ‘more and more’ mentality, not constantly unsatisfied and wishing, this is where my thought process could become foggy for someone that doesn’t know me. I don’t expect anything from life and I’ve never liked the thought of hand outs. I think its more just try your best, be satisfied, have fun and choose what you want to waste time over – not what you think you should waste time doing.

IMG_3478.jpg 1

My Mum is always trying to find short cuts with menial tasks. That’s kind of her thing. I get it, I don’t want to wash up really, I don’t want to sort my things, I don’t want to iron. Since de-cluttering, though unfortunately still doing it, housework isn’t such a big job. Maybe that is the answer. If you only have four plates and you wash them straight away it’s not that bad, I’ve even enjoy some organising when there isn’t as much to do. Another option is to live a disposable life? I don’t agree with being wasteful but I could have paper cups and plates. Or, and the most attractive option to me, never own a house, live on the road. That’s me romanticising.

These are all ponderings. I have the outlook that if you don’t like doing something you shouldn’t feel like you have to do it. At the same time I have a tendency to go off in my head and live along my wild ideas and plans (is that a bad thing?) and doing something simple like watering my plants (which I bloody love so maybe a bad example) brings me back down to Earth.

I’m not going to iron to see if I like it. I will stick to creased clothes. I still work hard at writing or some DIY I’ve got going on but I don’t want to work hard at stupid things that I can’t for the life of me rationalise. It opened my mind to what we possibly should do though, to keep ourselves grounded and human. So shortcuts are a good thing, I agree with them, but just like finding that balance with how much technology you consume in a day, I think some things should stay old school. I will water my plants by hand, not any fancy contraption, but I won’t iron.

IMG_3488.jpg 1

Stress of the future

A good day is when a new door opens in your brain to new thought. I say this positively because it has to be, it’s not something to negatively dwell on. Today I’ve been confronted with something I kind of reject. There’s a question to why I reject it, whether it’s because I oppose anything to do responsibility or opposing what ‘I’m meant to do’. I do debate what I should do vs what I want to do. Regardless on if what I want to do is also what I should do. So whatever the reason why am I scared to prepare for the future?

I’ve seen the importance in it many a time. In the past I had the savings for a rainy day. And now? Now I hate the thought of waiting to live. I suppose this comes from people saying they’ll ‘wait for retirement to do that’ (I’m talking people in their 20s), and I think it’s absolutely absurd. No one knows if they’ll even reach their 60s. Plus by that point, and I try to say this sensitively, will you be able to do the same things as in your youth? You probably won’t even want to.

I’ve also had older people say to me that they wished they travelled. So many wishes and oh my God so many ‘don’t have kids’ and ‘don’t get married’. Not that I take this ‘advise’, every person is different. Also these people probably have so many blessings that they aren’t counting, which I may not have if I choose travel over a deposit for a house. You must substitute one regret for another.

I like to think that if my life got completely uprooted I would see it as my next adventure, but I’m saying that from the perspective of living with my parents, having a roof over my head and dinner on the table. If that was all taken away in a day, then what? What options do I have? I suppose, seriously thinking about it now, I would sell all my possessions, try to stay at someone’s house, take it a day at a time.. Then what if I had to provide, what if I’m not singular and there’s a lot on my shoulders? I did live on my own for four years and the stress was there. It’s all about finding the balance of doing what you want with your life, but also preparing for your future in case shit hits the fan.

I mean, this all being said, you can’t really have a plan in place can you. Otherwise you’ll be one of these people preparing for the zombie apocalypse or a nuclear war. You just have to be brave and somehow muster the courage to see a massive negative as a chance to learn. That’s what ‘failures’ are.

IMG_3396.jpg 1