Self-love. (It's not what you think, naughty.)

Is the concept of being your own best friend the most pathetic or most liberating? 

I increasingly enjoy being independent. I have always been the type of person who needs space and time alone, but it seems that the older I get the more I feel I need it.   
I've done most of my shopping on my own for years. It's just easier to pick up what you want, sit down when you want and avoid the places you don't care for. Where I was apprehensive about going to the cinema on my own at first, I've now done this quite a few times. I'm working up the courage to do the same with the theatre.
Thankfully, I am engaged to a man who is quite the same. We are happy to sit in seperate rooms and do our own thing from time to time. It goes without saying that I love when he is here, but I also get excited about those times when I know I'll have the place to myself for the night. I love nothing more than curling up on the couch, in my stretchiest of clothes, drinking tea and watching Netflix. (Other media streaming providers are available.)

Don't get me wrong, I can be sociable when I want. There are people out there whose company I very much enjoy. When I'm in the mood to be out, it's fabulous, but there always comes a time when I just need a moments silence.

I enjoy this solitude, and yet there's still a small part of me that feels self-conscious about it. When telling others about my lone trips to the cinema, I've had several pitying looks and just a general assumption that I didn't have anyone to go with that day, that I must have felt lonely. Most find it difficult to understand why I'd choose to do this.
The fact that I feel I have to "work up the courage" to go to the theatre on my own is, if you think about it, odd really. Why are we programmed to believe that being quite happy in our own company is sad or pathetic? 
Why do I have a slight inner guilt about choosing to do absolutely nothing, with no one, on my days off?

For women, I think media in general has quite a lot to do with it. In every "chick-flick" there is a secondary female character, the best friend. In every women's magazine, tv show, etc, we are fed the message -"No matter how many times those men break your heart, you'll always have your best friends."  Never- "You are a strong enough person to get through this by yourself in time."
We're used to seeing pretty much all of our favourite fictional females having to find the perfect man in the end to be complete. (I am personally guilty of loving this sort of romantic mush.)

In general, this world is constantly drumming "Everyone needs someone." into our heads.

Maybe we do all need someone. I obviously do, as I am planning to marry a someone. Also, in times of need, I talk to my trusted friends. It's natural to want or need other people, (I doubt I would even write this if no one was reading it) but it should also feel just as natural, for those of us who want to, to be self-sufficient sometimes too.
As much as you don't want to think of it, the people in your life may not be permanent. The person you trust the most may let you down some day. The only person who will always be there for you is You. 
You are stuck with you.

Shouldn't we be allowed to think of ourselves as a friend without sounding pathetic? Shouldn't we even be allowed to love ourselves? Not in the vain sense, but in the wanting to give yourself a wee hug, taking care of yourself, buying yourself a wee present and trusting your own instincts sense?
I think so. And I do.

There, I said it. I love myself.
And you should love yourself too.

There are days, like with any other friend, where I dislike myself very much. Days where I wish I'd shut up, stop dropping things, stop eating so much, but in the end I know I can always rely on me, and somehow I find that comforting.

So go on, spend a little time with yourself (Oo-er. Now now), enjoy your own company, learn to give yourself credit and by golly, buy yourself a little present from time to time. 
You deserve it.

Happy Birthday Blog.

Today is 1 year since I started my blog! And what a quick year it has been. 
It's been a pretty big year for me, and I'm glad that I documented quite a bit of it.

My first intentions with it were just to keep it as a diary of sorts, a way to remember what I'd been doing and a place to rant. I didn't know much about blogging and just did what felt right. I didn't expect anyone other than Jake or my best friend to look at it, so I'm really quite pleased with the fact that's it's had over 2200 views to date.

I know that that might not be much in comparison to the vast blogging world, but the fact that anyone is reading my nonsense at all is a bonus for me. 

Thank you to everyone that has read, commented, complimented or been involved with my blog in any way, it makes me want to keep writing. Most other blogs that I read are more photo-orientated and probably more interesting to look at, so I appreciate those who've actually taken the time to trawl through my words.

I'm quite proud of most of what I've written, and the reactions I've gotten too. Its been nice to just be writing, and getting my thoughts out of my own head, even if they aren't works of art. I love writing. I've been writing stories, poetry, diaries and all sorts since I was a little girl, but rarely letting anyone see.

It's also been good to feel like I'm getting people laughing, thinking, even if in a small way, and hopefully giving them something to relate to. 
Also, thank you to those blogs that I've included in my Blogroll, most of you had something to do with what inspired me to start this in the first place.

In its second year, I plan on adding more: I want to add some personal touches to the layout, post more often (though I always say that) and possibly post in different ways. 

I know over the past year I've taken massive (3 months long at one point) gaps between posts, and I intend to stop that. 

I've been in two minds about writing posts about my everyday life. I had one planned last week but changed my mind, because there was no real feeling behind it. I think what motivates me to write is a feeling, or passion for something, and writing about my day out shopping just didn't have that.
No disrespect to bloggers who do write in this way, I enjoy reading those posts, and read them regularly (my general nosiness is fed in this way) but I don't seem to feel all that natural writing them myself for some reason. Maybe this is a confidence issue, or maybe I'm just not suited to that sort of writing. It could change, and I'm just going to do whatever feels comfortable.
I know I could make things a bit more interesting aesthetically and maybe try and write about my life in more detail.

I've been making a bit of effort to get more involved with the blogging community too, which has been nice. Finding new blogs to read, some similar in style to mine, and some completely different, has given me inspiration.

Thank you again, so very much, for reading. I appreciate it. I hope that you keep coming back, and that I can keep entertaining you. 

Jordan.

P.S. I was planning on baking a cake and adding a cute photo of myself with said cake. It would've been awesome. However, I am very disappointed to say that today I am really ill and look like shit, and no one wants to see that.

I think I'm in love with my radio.

This is possibly going to be a bit of a cringe-worthy, and much less cynical than usual, post but here goes.

This is going to sound so corny, (I kind of hate that word) but I think I have fallen in love with music all over again. 

I know it's cliche to say, and at the risk of sounding like an X-factor contestant, music has always been a massive part of my life, I was brought up to appreciate it, whether I wanted to or not. My Mum would actively make me listen to certain parts of certain songs (the most memorable one being this masterpiece), turning the radio up and throwing her head back in excitement. It was all around me, as I'm sure it was for a lot of people.

I began singing in my bedroom at about 10 years old, and suspected that I was a bit good at it. I was utterly infatuated with big "diva" voices, especially Christina Aguilera, and would mimic her over-singing. (I've tried to stop that, honest.)
I didn't know for sure if I was any good at singing until I was about 15 and actually sang in front of people other than my family. 
In typical teenage fashion, music became one of the most important parts of my identity. I found solace in many different genres - from hip-hop to 90s rave, from rock to show tunes. 
I would fall asleep listening to Oasis, and dance to Beyonce in the living-room. 
I enjoyed just listening and sometimes not doing anything else.

Upon leaving school, and my teenage years, I went on to study Musical Theatre. I got so wrapped up in hearing new musicals, and exploring every type of musical, that I almost forgot there was other music out there. (Except Beyonce, never Beyonce.)(And Kate Bush actually.)
In those years, I became utterly enamoured by musicals, and I still am. I had only just discovered those painful, dark and affecting musicals, that I now favour. There's nothing quite like a song with a story and a character. Nothing like watching a fantastic actor play out that song like it is really happening to them, and making you feel every single word they sing. There's also nothing like being that actor and feeling it yourself.

The only thing was, I stopped just listening. I didn't have regular access to the internet or music channels at that time, and so became completely out of tune (ha!) with what was going on in present-day music. There were quite a few moments where someone would mention a new, and apparently popular artist, and I would have no clue who they meant, which was an odd thing for me.
I became really out of touch with what was new and by the time I caught up, everything (other than Beyonce, obviously) was just an average song with a dance beat under it, which frankly sucked. (And still does, as its still happening.)
This didn't inspire me to move out from under the safe jazz-hands-y (just kidding, I hate that kind of thing) blanket of musicals.

I don't know what has happened to spark a change more recently, but I'm going back to my old ways, and it feels quite wonderful. 
I am feeling the joy I once had in just listening, and appreciating. I've been actively researching artists that are new to me, and that spark an interest, to find more and more of their music. 
I'm still a sucker for a story though, and the songs I favour the most are the ones with a bit of backbone, meaning, depth, no matter what genre.

I've been regressing back to 14/15 year old Me's affection for R&B and hip-hop.
Right now, I can't stop listening to Frank Ocean. 
Bad Religion and Thinkin' 'Bout You are just beautiful. I have actually been looking forward to getting home, just to hear these songs again. I can't stop listening to those two, probably because I know there's a true story behind them. I'm not sure if R&B and hip-hop get taken very seriously at times, which is a shame because there is some really beautiful stuff out there.

I would also recommend Macklemore- Same Love.

I guess I can't profess to only enjoying music that has a story, because I also just downloaded Miley Cyrus's new album. (I can't help it, I love her. It was an accident. I can fight it no longer.)

Who knows where my interests will lead me next, but I hope my passion to learn more never runs dry.

And here's a (poor quality) photo of Beyonce, that I took, while standing IN FRONT OF BEYONCE. 

Beyonce.

My dream life.

I was inspired by Ella's recent post about her dream life, to start thinking about what my own would be. 

When thinking of my dreams lately, I've either become realistic, or pessimistic, I'm not quite sure which one. 

Years ago, I used to dream of being on the west-end, or even just on stage professionally, somewhere. I used to feel like it was possible, because, well, why not? However, as the years have passed, this dream has felt further and further from possible. Now, I've convinced myself that even just getting back into theatre as a hobby would be tough for me.

It's been 9 months since I've been on a stage and it feels like much longer. 

The realism part comes from knowing my talent is limited. I think I've actually got quite a sensible grasp on how talented I am or am not. Without sounding arrogant, I am good (as a singer/actor), or at least I was before I got out of practice, I'm impressive on an amateur stage, but would probably fade into the background or crumble professionally. At least that's how I see it. And that's okay, I understand that. There's nothing that can be done about a limited talent, and I'm not even sure if I'd be suited to the lifestyle of professional theatre anymore anyway. I guess I'd be happy to settle for getting back into amateur groups, but it isn't a shame that I've done this to myself? That I've basically given up on my dream at 22?

Lately, my confidence has taken a dip once again. I don't know if it's do with the big changes in my life, the general lack of money, or the fact that I've comfort ate my weigh back to a ridiculous size and wasted all the work I put in. Possibly all of the above. I'm going to be honest and admit that life inside my head hasn't been fabulous recently. It seems that just when things could be going well for me, my lack of belief in myself stops me from enjoying it.

I find it difficult to figure out what my dream life actually is. To distinguish between what I'd want, in a fantasy world were there were no limits, and what I could realistically have if I worked hard enough. 

I'd settle for a quiet life, I'd be happy enough with a steady and reasonably paid job, that would at least give us the opportunity to save for our future wedding/life, and enable us to continue living in our lovely wee flat. 

On the other hand, if I could have whatever I wanted...
In a limitless world, I'd be in musicals professionally. I'd get to do a job that I love, and be appreciated in the right circles. No "celebrity" status or anything, I wouldn't want that. 
I'd be about 5 stone lighter than I am. (Shallow, I know, and rich considering I did and continue to do this to myself.)
I'd be able to give Jake all the confidence he deserves, and the career he wants.
I'd be able to sort out the issues within my family. They'd all be healthy and happy. We'd all get on, and Christmas would be how it used to. 
I'd be more self-confident and care even less what people think.
When the time is right for such things, we'll have the fabulous wedding we dream of and the fabulous babies, and move to the fabulous home, with the massive kitchen. (I haven't decided where yet.)

I realise that some of these dreams are reachable with hard work. And I intend to make them come true, someday.
As for the seemingly unreachable, well, who knows? That's life isn't it?

What about you? What would your dream life be like?

Click here for the original post, which inspired me to write this.