Posts Tagged ‘youth’

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shopaholic.

February 13, 2010

“She got a Fendi fetish / She got a shopping problem
That girl’s a shopaholic / She only mess with ballers
She got a Gucci fetish / She got a Louis problem
She got a shopping problem / That girl’s a shopaholic”

— “Shopaholic”, Nicki Minaj f/ Gucci Mane.

Listening to the above song from Nicki Minaj’s stellar Beam Me Up Scotty mixtape, I can’t help but relate.  I have never been very good at resisting shops, but today I went into Guess with Toby and promptly dropped £136 on a bag (it matches my wallet! And I’ve been keeping an eye out for a new bag) and a hoodie (it was in the sale, the last one and my size.  Therefore, it was destiny and there was nothing I could do but fulfil it).  Note that I have my excuses rationale ready 😉 I felt a little guilty because Toby has a little bit of cashflow difficulty, and I didn’t work last week when I went to get my new tattoo done (which cost £100 in itself!).  I think I might have to take on some extra shifts at the hospital.  I am not one to flash cash, especially when that cash comes largely from funding to do my course, and I am also spending a significant amount of money on getting my driving licence (wish me luck for my theory test on Tuesday morning!), which is a pretty necessary measure.  I’ve never been rich.  But sometimes the allure of beautiful designer things is just too much to resist.

I spoke in a recent entry about the fact that I wasn’t always like this.  Designer names used to be something out of reach, irrelevant.  I was younger, those were things that would come in time.  Well, I’m not younger anymore; that time is now. Life is too short to be wanting forever; I don’t spend crazy amounts on irrelevant things, so why shouldn’t I treat myself?  Generally, I am a shopaholic because I love spending money, be it on myself or on other people, and I’m just as happy to buy other people things because I find the look on their faces when they open a well-chosen gift something to treasure; that’s my favourite part of holidays like Christmas.  But sometimes I feel a little guilty because perhaps I should be a little more responsible with money – you never know what is going to happen tomorrow.  I should appreciate more the plight of people who might never be able to have even one beautiful thing in their life.

I think about my grandmother when I have crises of confidence like this.  She’s actually quite wealthy, but she’s never been one to treat herself; she would much rather give everything she has to other people.  She will be  77 years old next month, and in April it will be 2 years since my grandfather died.  I love her to pieces, but it’s hard to get through to her the philosophy that she’s earned the right to spend a little on herself and treat herself to a nice little something every now and then.  Hell, I’m 24 and I’m feeling that life is too short! But since she’s never bought herself designer things, precious jewellery, something special, preferring instead to shop at pound stores and discounters (even though their wares often fall apart in a matter of weeks, necessitating a repeat purchase and costing you more in the long run – I’m a believer that generally you get what you pay for, and if you don’t then you take it back and you take your money elsewhere).  I wish that she would recognise that she is worth a little bit of luxury.  I think that she is a good person; I think that I am at the heart of it a good person, and a good person doesn’t declare themselves all the time.  But nor should a good person go totally unsung or unrecognised.  That’s why I love to treat my friends, my family, those close to me – they are good people and they deserve a little luxury.  The same goes for myself.  And I wouldn’t spend it if I really couldn’t afford it, so why should I feel bad about it?  The only thing I hate is to be spending like this around people who honestly can’t afford it, because the last thing I am is a snob.  After all, this ability to buy something nice is fairly new to me – I wasn’t always like this, and I’ll never forget that there was a time (and there might be a time again soon – who knows?) when I couldn’t afford it myself.  I know what it’s like to have to really budget, and I truly hope that nobody close to me thinks that I’m buying things just for the name.  Shopping is about achieving the person I always aimed to be, about externally realising the man I am inside.  I hope that nobody close to me ever thinks that I don’t appreciate what I have, or that I take for granted my current finances.  Because I do, and I don’t (respectively).  And as for what the rest of the world thinks, I couldn’t give a fuck.

I have found my own sense of style, and a look in which I feel comfortable.  Unfortunately, that look is expensive 😛 (What do you expect? I have Italian blood 😉 ) Sometimes I have to ask Toby / Hannah / Nick / Davina / Deena / Karina to drag or steer me away from certain shops, because I know that I shouldn’t spend the money – it’s not necessary.  But from time to time, I give in to the devil on my right shoulder and buy myself something nice because I want it, I need it, I earned it.  Maybe I’m a little bit devilish, maybe I’m a shopaholic.  But if so, that’s who I am and on the whole, I like it 😉

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illusions.

January 10, 2010

I was on the way home from work at the hospital on Friday afternoon and it began to occur to me while I was sat on the bus, for no particular reason, that just as we all want different things that can help us on our journey to happiness, so we’re all coming from different places with different perspectives. I thought back to Monday night and Tuesday morning, when I’d spent the night at Mike’s place, and playing games with his son Billy.  He messed about with his food, he splashed Mike while he was having a bath, he was bashing a toy meerkat on the floor the next morning looking for coconuts.  He’s three years old, and he’s a bright kid, but he’s a child that is almost totally carefree.  And why shouldn’t he be?  That’s one of the luxuries of being so young, that we don’t realise is a luxury until it’s passed us by.

Does that make him “immature”? In a way, yes – but with none of the bad connotations that the word usually carries.  He’s a child, he’s got a lot of growing up to do, experiencing of the world and everything that entails.  So as a child, we can’t blame him for not understanding the complexity of relationships, people, and a hundred other things that fall under the umbrella of “life”.  But just because he’s a child, that gives him a get-out clause that we don’t afford other people whom we presume should know better.  So I was sat on the bus, wondering if maturity and immaturity is just an illusion? Is it a concept that we’ve invented to fuel our own feelings of superiority and comfort us when we’re feeling insecure?

I know that I’m certainly guilty of this.  Through the years, many many people (parents, teachers, friends, colleagues) have told me that I am “mature for my age”, “wise beyond my years” and so on and so forth.  I appreciate the compliment, but it’s meant that sometimes I’ve looked at people my age, or people whom I’ve just thought should know better than to behave in the way in which they’re behaving, and the first thing to my mind is “they’re immature”.  Is that really just code for “oh, I am better than them”?  To me, it seems to be a way of dressing up a superiority complex.  Looking at it now, I think that when we see people as “immature”, it’s not because they’re mentally or emotionally stunted – or at least, it’s not their fault.  They just have a different viewpoint of life / whatever the issue or context is, because they’ve been through different things or they’ve been raised a certain way, that they approach the complexities from a different angle.  I’m sure that I’m not the deepest person around, and that some people think I am shallow. I like to think I am not, but then who likes to think of themselves as shallow? 😉  I like to think I’m mature, but then who likes to think of themselves as immature?

So I am trying to restrain myself from automatically judging people as “immature”. Yes, I may disagree with the way they express themselves in connection with certain situations, and I might think that if it were me, I would do things differently, approach the situation differently, or have a more nuanced viewpoint.  But we’re all learning, and maybe instead of judging someone else, I should learn to take a step back and see things the way they do.  Sometimes I think too much, and perhaps simplicity is better.  Mike and I did say sometimes that it would be nice to just be able to switch your brain off  and not overthink things – I’m certainly guilty of at times taking things too seriously.  And perhaps, sometimes part of ‘maturity’ (whether it exists or not) is letting loose and having fun.  I honestly believe more and more as I get older that levity and laughter is vital for sanity.

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fear.

November 12, 2009

“I’m scared to look cuz I’m scared to see
I’m scared of you cuz I’m scared of me”

“Fear” – Jazmine Sullivan

I could have quoted the whole damn song for this post, to be honest – the lyrics are so well-written and true. (Give it a listen sometime – I’m sure it’s on youtube.) The last few days, I’ve been thinking that I sorta scare myself in some ways.  The intensity of the feelings I have for the man I want, whom I can never have.  But it’s not really about that.

He’s not single.  If we ever did get together, it would be the destruction of a family, the trust and love and everything that’s been built into that.  I’ve been privileged enough, even after us only knowing each other for 2 months, to witness that first hand when I’ve been invited round to his house.  When I was a child, I used to resent my father for never being there, and I used to be somewhat scared of him when he was.  To see the kind of man, husband and father that my friend is, really tells me that that he is who I want to be in 10 years.  He’s an inspiration.  And yet, why can’t I stop these feelings?  Why am I so selfish as to even consider risking destroying the family he’s built, and depriving a young son (3 years old) of the very same things I didn’t have, when I know first-hand how miserable it is to grow up with a father who is only physically there a small amount of the time, and emotionally absent during even those times?  That’s what scares me about myself.

He’s in my dreams near enough every night. We text each other a lot when we’re not physically together. I haven’t felt this way about anyone since the teenage crushes I went through (you know what it’s like – we’ve all been there), and it scares me that rather than having grown up and gotten past these kinds of feelings, I can still get wrapped up in them.  Most of the time, to have such a close bond with someone and to share the same sense of humour and emotional insights (despite our different lives) brings me such joy and security. In my current desolate home situation (and the lengthy boredom that is my placement at the moment!), it’s a light in the darkness.  But occasionally, when I’m alone I miss him so much.  When he texts me, it lights up my morning or evening. It feels like we are linked, even across the distance. And when he doesn’t text me, I’m almost devastated and I start getting paranoid that I’ve done something to harm our friendship.  Yep, it’s textbook infatuation. So what do I do with it?

It scares me that I don’t know.  Feelings aren’t something you can just make go away with the click of a finger.  And I don’t want to change anything about our relationship – it’s precious and rare! Although I guess I’m quite a popular person, I still consider myself to have but a handful of truly close friends, and I don’t want to stop him from becoming one of them. So I am not willing to be apart from him, and I don’t know if that is necessarily the answer. I’m never going to reveal my feelings for fear of alienating him – not that we don’t flirt! Our relationship can be quite suggestive and flirtatious. But I try and monitor myself so it’s not OTT – and he reciprocates plenty!  So there’s an innocence and a fun to it, which is enjoyable. I don’t want to jeopardise that either by being too honest and full-on, nor by suddenly becoming aloof. It would hurt him and it would not be genuine.  So I guess I have to continue and wait for my feelings to fade and rationale to win out… and try not to do anything stupid. And while I may be scared at the fantasies in my head possibly coming true, I know that I can hold back.  Most of the time. Hopefully my fears are unfounded.

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the proposal.

August 17, 2009

In retrospect, this seems quite ironic considering that the last two days, I’ve been blogging about the wedding I attended on Saturday, but today I went to see The Proposal with Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds.  I really enjoyed the film, despite it being a relatively straightforward romantic comedy (I tend to prefer horror, action or thought-provoking foreign films) – I am thinking of going to the cinema on my own, because I tend to enjoy it much more as I see the films I want to see when I want to see them, and I don’t really get distracted by anyone accompanying me, feeling that they are gauging my reaction to the film (Karina notices when I don’t laugh in a comedy, and the others monitor when I go on Twitter / fall asleep in the midst of a boring film).

Being alone with my thoughts is something, as an only child, that I’ve always appreciated, but lately I seem to be actively taking days for myself.  Since I seem to be practically incapable of spending a whole day at home, if I have no prior engagements during the day, I take a book (finished Glamorama, am midway through Let The Right One In and bought American Psycho today for when I finish that.), put myself in a café and spend an hour reading and caffeinating.  Although it costs money I could save at home, it is distraction-free, I can wrap myself up in my music and my book and just let the world pass me by.

However, the danger of being in my own space is that sometimes my thoughts can spiral into melancholy.  And watching The Proposal, combined with the romantic proceedings of the wedding weekend and the immense perfection of Ryan Reynolds’ physique / character in the movie, I got a bit down.  I don’t know if it is envy, because I keep saying that I am appreciating the single life and enjoying not forcing myself into a relationship which doesn’t fit (been there, done that this year), or if it is just longing for someone to touch me and then still want to see me afterwards, but after the film I couldn’t restrain myself from texting Brett.  He is improving and learning to text me back and we have much more regular dialogue than in the early days, but we have still only seen each other in person once and that does not bode well for a future dating/relationship thing.  Who knows what is going on.  But today, I just needed to talk to somebody who is a possible feeling-reciprocator and to whom I feel close, at least in some way of communication.  I have learned to understand more the reasons why he doesn’t always text back or why he doesn’t often venture out to meet (it’s private really, but he’s had a few medication ups and downs lately), and in a way it’s nice that everything is progressing at a slow rate because it doesn’t consume me and I can get on with my own life and I feel like I am learning to be less neurotic. So Brett is teaching me these things.

Nevertheless dreams and fantasy are a little bit irresistible and I can’t help but imagine how good it would be just to have somebody I could rely on, someone who drives me a little bit crazy in a good way, because they are actually dating me or romantically involved with me or whatever.  As much as I enjoy my own space and being alone and doing whatever I need to do everyday without people bearing down on me, at other times I get lonely and want to just chill with somebody and talk or have fun or whatever.  I know that nobody can have it all, but to want for somebody to want to understand me doesn’t seem so far-fetched, does it?  I can’t imagine that all the love I have to give would just go to waste?  Youth is time to have fun and I want to have fun, but not just by myself, I want to share it with my friends and family and that someone special too.  I guess we’ll just never know until it happens, but I can’t be patient all the time and when I watch the speed-time-frames of films like The Proposal and the beautiful people contained within, I just wish I would find a supermodel and it would all just hurry up and work out happily ever after.  Now how’s that for far-fetched?