Saturday, October 28, 2017

Learning to Forgive Myself

This week I felt out of touch with life more than usual, and although I'd be tempted to put it down to my deep emotional investment in watching Younger, I think it's a lot to do with what's been on my mind these days.

On Tuesday I was at an alumni event, feeling extremely out of depth and underachieved surrounded by people who graduated the same year as I did – doing brilliantly in life, and actually enjoying their achievements (deservingly).

I am young but not so young at the same time, feeling like I could do so much more yet have achieved less than I have wanted. It's a telling sign that I probably need a change, and I would be totally down to do that if not for the tricky circumstances that my life revolves around.


Matt tells me I'm overthinking and stressing out too much and he's probably 99% right, and my sense of disillusionment is hard to shake off, like a metallic taste in the mouth which never leaves after you each a big bowl of spinach (... yep).

We are reminded by constant positive reinforcement that we should always try to better ourselves, and be the best versions of ourselves. And that, frankly, is absolutely exhausting. This week I guilt-tripped myself so bad because I left work at 6pm and not my usual 10.30pm, which sounds insane but it comes from the idea that working more is an inherent good, because it's productive. But is it though?

Watching TV on that Monday evening was difficult, filled with 'maybe I should read up on world news and be a knowledgeable person' thoughts. I couldn't stop it and still don't really know how to.

At that point, I was close to tears. And for what? Because I felt bad for enjoying myself and not doing something else....? Right now, I am still feeling a good chunk of guilt because I'm supposed to be looking for better opportunities but I am here clacking away, stringing incoherent thoughts together in a strangely vulnerable way to the public.  


... is difficult. Incredibly so, and to the point of exasperation and near tears.

This week I started reading Julian Barnes' Levels of Life without really intending to or knowing what the book was about, and because it was the only unread book on my Kindle. And I've never felt so emotionally grieved, and ached for those words like it were coming from my own mind. The book's exploration of history, autobiographical depiction of grief in words insufficient to really represent what grief really means, and a search for the meaningful when all is meaningless was, in plain sight, a stirring moment on my bus ride home.

I need to forgive myself.

Simple as it sounds, so it begins, my forgiveness of self can never be, and could never be easy. Forgiving begets guilt and I am anything but innocent - guilty of being overwhelmed, wanting the infinite multisensory joys that is in our lifetimes, impossible.


... also seems to be an insurmountable task. I grow inwards (a phrase I used many years ago) and recoil in fear, bereft of common sense and look odd to the common eye. 

Hope will save us all in some way or another, and my hope is that I am able to truly believe that, however small. I am trying, in something small each day, to understand joy is found in unexpected corners: vegan doughnuts, crunchy autumn leaves, persimmon season... 

Today: a walk in the park, my evening silhouette melting into an afternoon that is now in the past, I am learning to be happy to be alive, most of all. 

Happy Halloween weekend! I think I'm the only person I know who's not busy bingeing Stranger Things (because I don't have Netflix, ha) or going to a dress-up party and getting crunk...

Another fun fact: we shot these on our kitchen floor because the light was gorgeous! Isn't it?

Friday, October 20, 2017

6 of My Best Resting Bitch Faces and Semi-Millennial Problems

You already know I hate listicles, and they don't mean much to me save for cheap thrills - it's like when I eat dairy ice cream just for funsies (note to self: don't) and suffer the consequences afterwards. 

But in true irony, I bring you the best and worst of both worlds: listicles (the worst) and a selection of my RBFs (best). I honestly believe that I get stopped less than an average friendly-faced person on the street, mostly because frowning is my default (ahhh wrinkles) and I have the death glare

RBF as an art form is truly under-appreciated, so to lighten the mood of my incredibly stressful week, I bring you a playful flair in my very dusty blog... 

1. Paying for public toilets

BUT WHY?! I am tragically bestowed with a small bladder (small people problems) and I do not carry cash with me at all times. Why can't we have an Asian attitude (Japan and Korea!) for public toilets that are clean and plays music? Sobs. London Victoria station, I'm looking at ya.

If you want to know my favourite *free* toilets in central London, give me a holler ;-)

2. Being put on hold

So you know I recently moved houses. You may not know that I'm also notoriously bad at being patient. Very, horribly bad. So what's worst than being put on hold to banks? Being put on hold when calling IKEA because they broke your mirror and Old St. Nick playing... on repeat. In the 8th month of the year... At least give me Mariah!

3. Why u be chargin' for milk? 

Nothing puts me off more than going to a café that charges extra for a splash of non-dairy milk. I call this milk discrimination!

4. 'omg I love kimchi' 

So you know a bit of this whole North Korean missile crisis going on, eh? Now you love Korean food. Or do you actually just like Korean Fried Chicken, and that's it. 'Cause I mean, everyone loves fried chicken (I had it for dinner last night).

Also pro tip: pal, do not pay £2.50 for a plate of kimchi when you eat out, you could buy a whole packet from Chinatown.

5. Still or Sparkling?

... like I'm paying to drink water, lol. The judgmental look on the waiter's face when I say 'tap water' happily when I'm in a ~fancy~ restaurant. Bitch pls, free water is the best water. If I wanted some top-notch water from the Scottish glade, I have my Brita filter. Thank you.

That man's face is basically the waiter's internal voice: yikes, we've got another one of these cheap Asian types in here! (It's okay to stereotype myself, right?)

6. "and I'm OBSESSED..."

Is there anything you're not obsessed with? Perhaps the Rohingya Crisis, a supposed 'social apartheid' in Oxford university for not admitting enough black students, the endemic sexual harassment in our supposed moral society?

Ok, totally did not mean for it to get political. But honestly though, stop. We know you love your dog, the Topshop Jaime Jeans, Glossier...

Some synonyms for obsessed: enamoured, floored, taken a liking to, captivated, gripped, or more daringly, exceptionally bedevilled.


Don't take it to heart, you guys. You know I've always been a bit out there with my opinions, and this is no different. The best kind of humour is when you can laugh at yourself, am I right? The millennial race can handle its hardships, I'm sure.

All in the name of some fun and games for this week's #TheBlogRace challenge on funny and relatable 'Listicles' by the wonderful Laila and Vix; please read everyone else's less skeptical and more educational posts on the hashtag here. If you enjoyed this, let's chat below and laugh about our woes in this semi-millennial life.

How was your week?
delicately © . Design by FCD.