Those who know me may have heard me raving about one of my favourite past times – No Lights No Lycra (NLNL) because it is SO FREAKIN FUN. Head to the link for the full story but in short, basically you go into a room, the lights get switched off and you dance your ass off to excellent tunes for an hour – without the fear of anyone seeing your potentially heinous dance moves. I love it. I head along whenever I get the chance, to the Adelaide one in Stepney and shake what my mumma gave me. It’s a chance, for most, to switch off mentally however I have found that with the tunes pumping and my feet moving, some odd things pass through my mind – so I thought I would share them with you…(and hey, maybe you might want to come along some time?)
Oh Wow, it’s so dark…OHMIGAWD WHOSE HAND IS THAT ON MY NECK? Oh wait, it’s mine…
Argh how great is this song, hey if Missy Elliot can learn all the words to a Missy Elliot song then I should be able to as well. I’d be a sick rapper…
Not enough people pull out the ‘shopping trolley’ move in the club. I must incorporate it next time I hit the d-floor
Oh wow, I’m stuffed…how has it only been four songs….
SHIT YEAH THIS SONG TOTALLY SPEAKS TO MY SOUL, I AM TOTALLY ADDICTED TO BASS
Note to self, I must download ALL Taylor Swift songs when I get home, especially the earlier stuff
There really isn’t enough Prodigy on the work playlist, I think I’ll add ‘Smack My Bitch Up’ when I’m in the office next
Shit I am good at this, I wonder if ‘So You Think You Can Dance’ is still a thing…actually I may as well go straight to the top, hopefully Britney is still taking applications for dancers for her Vegas show, I’m a shoe in
Oh shit, note to self, don’t pull that move again, Alicia you need your ankles functioning for the purpose of WALKING
Oh what is this song, I must ask the girl who programmed the list, I really want to add it to the playlist for my fantasy wedding reception (actual legit thing)
Holy shit, I like most music but for some reason Dubstep really makes me want to destroy every electrical appliance I own – even the ones I really like…
Gee George Michael really was so sassy in his prime – and I honestly think that the use of tambourine in Faith is pure musical genius
Oh wow, this song is great, I haven’t heard THIS club track since 2003 when I thought Celicas were the coolest cars in the world because the cute boy down the street drove one…he turned out to be a bit of a knob. No surprises there.
WHAT?! Last song already…okay I better enjoy this…
Just sayin, how bloody awesome is my damned fine, strong, beautiful, powerful and capable body that allows me to dance like crazy for an hour? AND how awesome are the bits that jiggle when I shake ma thang? They the best.
OHMIGAWD IT IS SO BRIGHT…BRIGHT LIGHT BRIGHT LIGHT.
12 HOURS LATER:
Does anyone know a good physio? It hurts when I try to human.
48 HOURS LATER
Eugh can’t it be Monday already? I wanna dance again!!!!
I’m sorry to be the bitch that has to break it to you but your sole purpose on my Facebook feed is to make me feel better about myself. Not all of you lot – just you (points at the woman posting photos of her children as they suffer asthma attacks on the way to the hospital) and you (family member who keeps posting passive aggressive ‘look at me, look at me’ posts) and you (bloke who thinks starting your statuses with “I’m not a racist but…” makes what you’re about to say okay). Yeah – all you lot, you’re not my Facebook ‘friends’ because I like you, you’re just there because sometimes I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and think “damn girl you really need to get your shit together” but then I turn away from the mirror, open up my laptop, peruse my Facebook feed and realise that actually I’m not the worst person to ever walk the face of this earth. Far from it in fact and that reminder is all thanks to you guys. Not once do I recall in my twenty five years, ever (and I could be wrong) donning black face, taking a whole heap of photos of myself doing so, posting it on the internet and then acting like it’s the least racist thing that’s ever happened in the history of the world (well yeah it’s not but it’s fairly shitty). No, I do not recall doing that. I do however have ‘friends’ who have and whilst I look at these people with disgust, shame and sadness, I also feel a little bit of affection. Not towards them exactly though but towards their sheer stupidity and general horribleness as a human. I love them just a little bit because they are there, as a constant and present reminder that no matter how dumb I am, no matter what stupid thing I do or say, no matter how shameful I was on the weekend when I got super super drunk and vomited on the window of the Apple store, I will never be so shitty as to dress in black face, let alone post a picture of it on the internet. Sometimes I talk about my friends behind their backs (sorry but sometimes you just have to let it out) but my Facebook feed reminds me that even though sometimes I can be a mean girl, actually I am okay (compared to some) because I have never stooped so low as to publicly call my former best friend a whore on social media (no, I save that for the stage…)
I guess what I’m saying is that life is a matter of perspective and my true love of Facebook comes from the fact that it is the most convenient way to remind myself that I’d have to lose a hell of alotta brain cells to be the worst person I know. Facebook is like watching the love child of A Current Affair and Today Tonight speed dating every soap opera ever made. A beautiful train wreck and I can’t turn away because ultimately…at times I’m kinda dumb, kinda terrible and kinda gross and baby I need people worse than me so I can feel validated. #SorryNotSorry
P.S I am 110% aware and proud that I am probably the person who some people keep to make THEMSELVES feel better about THEIR life choices, for those people I have this: I once went out to the city, pretended to be from the UK (with a terrible accent) and told people I was back in Australia for a funeral JUST SO THAT I COULD GET FREE DRINKS. I am a piece of shit. Thank you and good night.
I’m not a crazy Harry Potter fan or anything, I mean it’s not like I’ve got a quote from the books tattooed on my arm or anything…oh wait, I do. Well this is awkward, I guess now the whole world knows that I REALLY BLOODY LIKE HARRY POTTER. Phew, well now that we’ve got that out of the way, I guess that it’s time to admit that I went to a Harry Potter themed improv show on the weekend. Yep, that’s right, this cute and quirky show explored the back story of a previously low key character from the mind of JK Rowling.
Each night the character in question will inevitably be different as it can be any one of over 150 minor Potter characters. On the night I attended we were lucky enough to experience the tale of Phineas Nigellus Black – and what a boisterous ride it was!
The talented team of improvisers from Scriptease brought bundles full of energy and genuine laughs to the stage.
I do adore Harry Potter but I’m certainly no crazy expert. Off the top of my head, I wouldn’t know the name of Dumbledores Mother (it’s Kendra, for future reference) but many attendees would have. There were plenty of experts in the crowd who were given the opportunity to defend the honor of the Potter tale to call out the performers when they committed a magical faux-pas which made for many a laugh throughout the hour. To this, a number of performers seemed to be showing off in their knowledge of the world of Potter while others dodged any mention of this completely – which only added for laughs and contrast!
A delightful and fun show for Potter fans and ignorant muggles alike! For tickets and more info, head to FringeTix – and don’t forget, there are HEAPS of awesome shows still to see this Fringe…how about checking out some from this list:
Have you looked around lately? You’d be crazy not to because this beautiful city of ours is absolutely BRIMMING with talent!
With the Adelaide Fringe Festival taking over the town in the next few weeks, there’ll be endless chances to catch some of the best international and established performers for over a month – but that doesn’t mean you should forget about the locals!
There are heaps of people kicking goals in the Adelaide arts scene – and better yet, plenty of gals representing! It’s tough to make a decision on where to throw your cash but hey, this year how about you throw some of it at a local babe – in an artistic sense that is! So without further ado, here’s my personal list of Adeladies you should see at this year’s Fringe!
Being an adult is tough. The thing that is even more difficult though, is realising that although you might tick many ‘adult boxes’ (not a sex thing, I mean ‘receives bills (paying them is questionable), holds down a steady(ish) job, understands (but doesn’t always acknowledge) the affects of alcohol’) when Christmas rolls around, all your adult talent goes out the window – well mine does at least. The festive season reminds me, every bloody year that I am still and will forever be in many ways a child. People tell me that when I have children of my own, all that will go out the window and it’ll be ‘all about the kids’ – however these people clearly do not know me well enough. For one thing, I don’t think that birthing a poop producing, money draining brat would have the desired effect of forcing me to grow up – it would probably have the opposite and I would revert into being a child myself but secondly, who says that I will have kids? I’ve been told that I’d be a ‘fun mum’ – but a fun mum does not necessarily make a good mum…so I’ll certainly consider skipping the whole parenting thing for a while – until at least I get better at tying my own laces that is.
What are the things that have convince me every year at Christmas that I am a terrible adult? Well I’m glad you asked!
Advent Calendars My Mum still buys me an advent calendar every year. Not because she wants to necessarily but because every year sometime in the middle of November I leave her subtle reminders to do so. And by subtle reminders I mean I set an alarm in her phone, there’s a note on her calendar and I’ll just come out with a verbal reminder in our weekly phone conversation. Without fail, an advent calendar appears prior to December one. “But Alicia” I hear you say, “Your mother is aging (soz ma) and will someday die” – yes it is a sad fact and one which I have of course accounted for. I am going to ensure that my Mum organises to send me an advent calendar beyond the grave every year. We live in a wonderful modern internet filled world – surely she can set up a payment and delivery plan with some website thingymagiggy?
Christmas Decorations I love Christmas – the glitter, the tinsel, the sparkles in general but one thing that I truly and wholly believe is that purchasing your own decorations is a move just as adult as buying shares in a company not just for novelty purposes. It’s way too real. For this reason and this reason alone I only have decorations in my house that have been…shall I say…organically acquired. Stolen. All my Christmas decorations have been added to my home after previously belonging to pubs, bars or relatives who I just didn’t care much for. This is a lesson in why ‘fun mums’ don’t always make ‘good mums’ because I developed this habit after years of watching my own mother bring home new decorations after drunken evenings at Christmas functions so I guess when I finally do get in trouble or caught out, at least I have someone else to blame?
Christmas Food While all my ‘adult’ friends have this thing that they like to call ‘will power’ (or as I like to think, they’ve just lost their sense of fun), I have none. Come Christmas time, nothing excites me more than those gross lollies that only come out once a year – in the shape of Santa, made of a hard marshmallow consistency and about as tasty as coloured cardboard – you know the ones. On top of that, I love candy canes, eggnog and I’ll never say no to chocolate coins – even if the chocolate that they use is the literal worst. While all my friends – and most of the white western world are saying no to sugar, all I can think about is getting my Christmas hit because isn’t that the reason for the season?!
Christmas Carols When you are a child and you have a terrible singing voice, people call it cute. You sing at the top of your lungs and it fills you with joy and happiness however as you age and become more self aware you realise that no longer are you cute. People block their ears when you fill the room with your rousing rendition of ‘Silent Night’ that is, in no way, silent. You retreat, you stop singing for the most part and of course never ever for the love of God do you sing in a public place. You have too much self respect. Me? I missed that phase of my life – not that I have a good singing voice, I’ve just never been ashamed of it. I’m that girl in the toiletries isle at the supermarket singing loudly along to Wham’s timeless hit ‘Last Christmas’. You wish you could be me.
Unwrapping Gifts I LOVE buying presents – I enjoy the challenge of finding the perfect gift for someone and seeing (hopefully) the look of joy and wonder on their face when they unwrap it – mushy, I know. More than that though, I love receiving…presents that is. I’ll rip off that wrapping paper, making a monumental mess of the effort that my friend has gone to in getting it properly wrapped. What the fuck else am I supposed to do though? Gently unwrap the paper and save it in my craft box for the scrap booking obsession that I’m sure to acquire when I give up on hope, life and happiness? Sure, something like that. Get fucked. Christmas paper was mean for ripping to shreds – and then placing in the recycling bin like the good little environmentally aware gen-y that I am.
See why Christmas proves that why I can’t ever be a proper adult? I’m sure I’ll recall plenty more reasons over the coming days as the season gets into full swing but hey, I’ll probably get too drunk and forget to write them all down! Merry Christmas Bitches. xx
P.S I think maybe you realised that this post was a partial excuse for me to share photos of Cute Christmas Alicia either hungover or drunk from years past. YEAH – I used to be skinnier and had nicer hair, so sue me.
Oh Hindley, you’re the street version of that boy our mothers warned us about; you know, the one that rides a motorbike and is completely covered in tattoos? I mean, I’m sure that he’s a lovely guy, with plenty of great redeeming qualities but on the surface he’s got trouble written all over him!
As a child I was told to stay away from you, words of advice which stayed in the back of my mind through my teenage years, a time in which doing what my mother told me to do was the exact opposite of what I would do. During days which I perhaps should have been in school, my friends and I would wander along your streets with a bounce of rebellious joy in our step, however I was a good girl and waited until I was legally old enough to pay you a visit after the sun set – though I’m sure that I am not the norm! There are so many reasons to love you (and probably more reasons to stay away) but let’s today, agree on ten reasons why I love our street of shame… sure, we all know that you’ve stepped up your game lately, bringing some class to town in the form of your brother and sister streets, but today I want to send all of my love, personally to your filthy self.
A RITE OF PASSAGE: Any Adelaidian worth their salt has trod Hindley’s somewhat grubby path at some point or another, sometimes more frequently than others and as we grow up a bit, probably only on the odd occasion. Okay, it hasn’t always been a smooth relationship; there have been mornings after the night before in which I can personally blame Hindley for the terrible feeling that left me stuck in bed –making frequent friends with that emergency bucket that everyone keeps in their laundry. We’ve all been there – right?!
CHEAP AND NASTY – IN ALL THE RIGHT WAYS: I like to think that those days are in my past, the days when I could be enticed through a door with the promise of $3 vodkas, not even giving credence to the idea that the alcohol content was probably less than what you can find in a bottle of food colour – though sometimes the idea of taking advantage of those kinda drink specials is pretty tempting. Can you still even get a drink for that much? Shows how long it’s been since I dropped by Hindley I guess!
NEVER A DULL MOMENT: We’ve all got stories to tell – if we can remember them! I’ve got a mate who got kicked out of The Dog and Duck for taking off his pants on the dance floor; according to him he was helping out some ladies on a Hens Night, they had been tasked with collecting a pair of men’s underwear at some point in the night. They managed to get them before he was evicted, though – and props to those flirty minxes, I’m sure they tried plenty of blokes who had more sense than my buddy before they found him.
THE GREAT EQUALISER: I’ve seen beautiful girls eat pizza they found on the floor of Australia’s Pizza House (I can promise, as much as I love food, this definitely wasn’t me!) and probably those same girls, struggling to find a bathroom get creative and use a gutter. The guys aren’t exempt here either; let me repeat, a gutter is never an okay toilet option, regardless of gender. Unless you’re on Hindley, I guess? No, it’s probably still not okay. My point here; Hindley can make even the beautiful people into an embarrassing mess, and as someone who feels like an embarrassing mess most of the time, I say thank you.
YOU MAKE ME FEEL CLEAN: Okay, hear me out, I know you’re thinking; “How can one feel clean when immersed in such filth?” well it’s all about perspective dear friends. In comparison to the grime on Hindley, my own messy abode seems like a designer home you’d find in a magazine spread. I’ve visited Hindley on Saturday and Sunday mornings– for various work related activities (completely above board, trust me!) and the stench it produces is almost unfathomable. There are probably sewage plants that smell of roses in comparison, and since my own home has never stooped to this level, I can at least feel better about myself!
YOU’RE FULL OF PERSONALITY:
I have a theory – if Hindley Street were a girl, she’d be Kim Kardashian; everyone is always talking about her (though not necessarily in the best way) – but at least everyone has a story to tell about her. If Hindley was a guy though, he’d definitely be one you’d stay away from, for fear of catching something that you’ll never be able to rid yourself of…
LOVE IS IN THE AIR:
Boys and girls alike may recall (if they can remember at all, you’ve been known to cause people temporary amnesia it seems…) being lucky enough to score their first kiss when frequenting one Hindley Streets venues – and though I hope most people have better memories of their first kiss than that, but well done for making dreams come true – I guess?
I WANNA MARRY A COWBOY: Surely we’ve all had a fantasy about meeting a sexy cowboy, right? Hollywood has shown us a skewed version of reality and much as Hindley tries to make our dreams come true by bringing the country to town at The Woolshed, surely I’m not the only one whose woken up to realise that that sheep tag covered akubras aren’t as sexy as they seemed on the haze of the dance floor?
YOU MAKE ME SWEAT: And not because the heavy police presence makes me nervous, or because many of the cops on the beat are damned fine (and who would say no to a man in uniform?!) but because I can always find a place to dance when I visit Hindley! Dancing can burn up to 500 calories per hour (so the Google machine tells me…) and I can only assume (because I’m not an expert in any field what so ever) that doing it in heels burns even more. Add to that the walks between multiple venues and you’ve got yourself an intense workout – just ignore the fact that you’re consuming empty calories all night and you can basically consider yourself a fitness guru, update your career status to ‘fitness blogger’ ladies because you know everything there is to know about working it out!
I’M SEXY AND HINDLEY DON’T YOU KNOW IT:
I’m a massive dag but give me an excuse to dress up and I’ll be there. As the great Canadian poet, Shania Twain once said;
“Men’s shirts-short skirts
Oh, oh, oh, really go wild-yeah, doin’ it in style
Oh, oh, oh, get in the action-feel the attraction
Color my hair-do what I dare
Oh, oh, oh, I wanna be free-yeah, to feel the way I feel
Man! I feel like a woman!”
Hindley, thanks for having my back when I need an excuse to bring the hem line up and slip on those ankle-breaking heels – just once in a while!
Last month I was lucky enough to catch The Popular Mechanicals, presented by the State Theatre Company of South Australia – then I wrote a review of it!
You can check out what I though here – on the Scenestr website!
With rumours, myths and common misconceptions about our fair city — Adelaide residents have heard it all.
We grew up living in a city whose signature dish is a meat pie floating in pea soup, and where our major road is designed to only go in one direction. We know that even the craziest of ideas are possible. So when facts are more ridiculous than fiction – who can blame the uneducated *cough* interstate *cough* masses for taking tall tales as gospel.
Don’t be ashamed though Adelaide – let’s wear our weirdness with pride and explore the truth behind the rumours that the mean girls like to spread – and yeah, we’re looking at you and Sydney and Melbourne!
There is one thing in the world that makes my heart beat faster, that makes me weak at the knees and causes subtle yet classy salivation. I think about it for days on end, I fantasise about it while chained to my desk, I dream about at night and wake up with on my mind for the entire morning. I’m talking about food – good food. Actually, let’s be honest, sometimes it doesn’t even have to be that good – because every now and then every girl likes to have a naughty little thought about that burger that you’d be way too embarrassed to introduce to your parents – and apologies for my terrible analogies but there’s some fried chicken interrupting my chain of thoughts.
I like thinking about food almost as much as I like eating it. Which is why I think the greatest thing that the Internet has ever allowed for is the dissemination of menus to the masses. I can sit at work, wondering what I would I should sink my teeth into later that night and at the touch of the button, the limitless options are right there in front of me. While the moans at the thought of future pleasure that are expelled from behind my screen could cause potential embarrassment and a call from the HR department, I have no shame. Nothing will ever end my love of the online menu – except for one thing that is…well one sentence; “oh, we’re all out of that today” – you what mate? You’re out of that thing that caused me to drool on my keyboard just at the thought of it? Or even worse – a superior specials board. Nothing else breaks my heart more than deciding on exactly what to consume, only to arrive and be distracted by tantalising options previously not advertised. Decision making is not my strong point and now I have to reject one food option? Not cool.
I’m of the belief that every ones problems are relevant to them and their unique situation, and while my issues might seem minimal to you, they mean a lot to me. Please do not invite me somewhere that does not have an online menu. I will not be able to make it through the day. The anticipation of the unknown will more than likely cause me a mental breakdown – I’m not saying it’s happened before but I’m not saying it hasn’t. That’s all. Basically.
Recently, whilst searching for my favourite purple wig, I stumbled upon an archive that I hadn’t seen for a few years – my year 11 school diary. This artefact spans a year in my life for which I was sixteen years old for the first half and seventeen for the second – turbulent years for most, myself included but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t filled with wisdom – the kind of which can really only be recognised with a hell of a lot of hindsight. Thumbing through the pages of my regulation school diary – which I, against the official rules, decorated to within an inch of its life, I began to realise that the younger version of myself actually had a lot of smart stuff goin on that twenty five year old Alicia and likely many other so called adults could probably learn from…
She readily and happily took the piss out of herself
See page one – the introduction for anyone who dared open my school diary; not only do I describe myself as ‘awesome’ and ‘hot’ (two things I don’t actually remember myself believing at the time), I also include a photo of myself stuck in a toy display at Ikea. Now I’ve never had any trouble ‘taking the piss’ out of myself – in fact it’s clearly one of my favourite past times. Let me repeat: I have no shame. This isn’t a common trait in a lot of adults though – and I’m so sick of meeting people who take themselves too seriously. Life was meant to be fun – if you’re not having fun, you’re wasting your time.
An unwavering love for only one man
On page two you’ll find a countless of pictures of one man (oh and his band mates) covered in silver hearts and lipstick marks. Younger me had it bad for Alex Turner from The Arctic Monkeys and let’s be honest, 25 year old Alicia wouldn’t turn him down. Seeing this reminds me of how my heart ached with love (or lust?) for him, hearing his (admittedly heinous) accent through the speakers in my bedroom stereo. The lesson here? Never settle for a love that is any less than the rock star crush that your teenage self had.
Friends were everything
As our lives get busier and supposed priorities – like careers and new love interests get in the way, sometimes we can find ourselves neglecting friendships. My teenage self would have never done this and while sometimes her time would have been better spent studying or figuring out some realistic life goals, she always had her friends to lean on. As adults, sometimes our real friendships slip away. Please make sure that there is still time for real friends – the kind that will let you cry on their shoulder and snot in their hair (if you really must).
Fat thighs were a secondary consideration
As a teenager I was lucky to have a really good and positive body image. I know that this certainly wasn’t the case for most of my peers and as I’ve gotten older I’ve began to relate to what they were going through. While it’s not always at the forefront of my mind, I must admit that I do spend probably too much time thinking about how I look. I love a good hamburger but the thought of the fat cells on my ass is never far from my mind – sad but true. Sixteen year old me would not stand for that shit – she was pro food and while she had a terrible attitude to exercise (which I have now rectified), it wouldn’t hurt to invite her and her attitudes to dinner a little more regularly.
She had a hell of a lot of ambitions
There were lots of things that I wanted to do in life and all of a sudden being an adult got in the way. My goals have changed as I’ve aged, I think they’ve certainly gotten a hell of a lot less ambitious, also there are less of them and actually that’s kinda sad. Young Alicia surely lacked direction and had a wild and ridiculous imagination – but what’s wrong with that? Who was gonna tell me that I couldn’t direct an Academy Award winning movie (number 6) or write a children’s book with underlying drug references (number 42) or even make my parents proud (legitimately number 39 on the list)? Looking over the list, I’ve actually achieved some of the stuff that my young self thought would be really cool – joined dance classes, attended protests, performed stand-up comedy, travelled and made vodka jelly (some dreams weren’t as big as others) – so who’s to say that I can’t make more of my dreams come true, if I can actually dream them?
…and her dreams weren’t always smart or noble…and that was okay
And some of the stuff on my list was ridiculous – but what’s wrong with that? In a world where we’re always indulging in self-promotion, trying to make ourselves seem like ‘the best version of a human that we can be’ or some crap like that, I think we can become far too self-indulged. We’re too busy trying to make it seem like we’re making the world a better place and get so wrapped up in our own image that we actually become the kinda douche bags that make the world painful. Maybe if we could all indulge the idea that we don’t always have to be the gift that the world needs, the world might actually benefit – somehow? At least the douche bag factor would decrease.
She made time for herself
Taking a day off school to go to a music festival was more than acceptable but many of us struggle to allow ourselves time off from our busy (paid) jobs to do things that we love. Sometimes you just need to take it off and enjoy something. Hopefully you work in an understanding environment and if you don’t then maybe you need to consider changing things up because you don’t want to be like those unfortunate girls who missed seeing My Chemical Romance at the 2007 Big Day Out… which wasn’t me because I took the day off school. Yeah.
Her priorities were mostly right
A printed version of a MySpace quiz that I did at the time shows that it’s important to be annoyed by important things. While every other item on my list, other than my first is kinda selfish, the first item ‘ignorance’ is kinda vital. These days if someone asked what annoyed me, I’d probably say something pathetic like ‘bills’ ‘traffic’ or ‘people who don’t clean up their sweat at the gym’ – but younger Alicia’s concern with ignorance was kinda important. With mass communication at our finger tips, we all seem to spend a lot of time whinging these days, maybe we should whinge about more important issues than bad coffee though.
She spent her money on better things than alcohol
I bloody well loved tea – and I still do. Imagine how much better my world would be if I never had the idea to mix booze into my tea (by which I mean delicious summer tea cocktails, not spiked English Breakfast during my morning break). I’d probably have more money in my bank account but that being said, I certainly wouldn’t have a lot of the ridiculous experiences that have made me who I am today!
She didn’t overload herself
While this may not have been an accurate reflection of what I did do on that particular week, this page struck me. I know I had a lot more free time as a kid – that’s what being a kid is about but I think as adults we should probably find a bit more free time for ourselves. I have a lot of hobbies, passions and pre-occupations and while these are the things that make me who I am – they are what makes me happy and keeps me going, bloody hell I do a lot. Sometimes I probably need to be more like my lazy ass teenage self and indulge in watching every John Hughes movie ever in one sitting, just because I owe it to myself.
BONUS IMAGE – I found this piece of art in there (along with many others, if you want to see the other stuff, invite yourself over for dinner.) Just thought y’all might appreciate it…?