Aux Bruxelles

Today, I have been recovering. 

The weekend began with a rush-hour train to London and a brisk walk to St. Pancras station. A glass of Merlot, train supplies from M&S and a half-hour delay later, we were on our way to Belgium. Prosecco, crisps and olives helped the journey pass quite pleasantly. 

Upon arrival in Brussels, we were met by our friend, a UK diplomat on a two-year secondment. Back at his apartment, the wine flowed along with the catch-up chat, before we headed to bed for a well-earned rest. A lazy morning with home-cooked breakfast (scrambled eggs and mushrooms on toast, fresh orange juice) was followed by a trip to the busy, busy Christmas market et beaucoup de vin chaud. C'etait bien.  After some tartiflette and a sit-down, we headed back to change for the evening. Genuis graduate professionals that we are, we thought it would be clever to squeeze five adults in an ancient apartment building lift. We just managed to close the doors. It was not a good idea. We got stuck. Half a floor up.

Yikes. 

If you've never got stuck in a lift before, but wondered how it would feel, what would you do; I'm not sure I can say. For the first minute, it was...it's fine, it will be okay. Just press the button again. Press the other button. There wasn't panic, but it was tense. It was stuffy. Did I mention we only just managed to squeeze in? It was tight. Press the call button. Is it ringing? No. Do we have signal? No. Press the alarm...is that someone coming? Are they talking to us?  

There was someone. He called the maintenance company. We forced open the lift doors and he opened the door. We had air. We had a friendly Flemish face, speaking fluent English. The maintenance had been informed. Trente minutes. Thirty minutes, shoulder to shoulder with four other people. We manged to take off our coats, one at a time, and pass them up to him. He stayed with us, he laughed with us, he took photos of us and half an hour passed quite quickly, considering the circumstances. We didn't consider what might happen if something went wrong; if there were further delays, if there were problems. If he couldn't get us out. 

We got out. Forty five minutes waiting then 5 mins of being winched manually back down to the ground floor. What a relief to be out. What an ordeal to deal with, in a foreign country. But we were okay, we were with friends. We survived. 

Later, we went to see the light show at Grand Place, which was fantastic. We went out for dinner and drinks, both delicious. If I were a true blogger, this entry would be filled with photos of the rest of the weekend and not a story documenting my own stupidity. But, the memories we make are built from the less than ordinary moments.

It was a good weekend. I would have liked to see more of the city, I would have liked to have a waffle. But when the Eurostar is less than 3 hours and under £70 return, there's plenty of chance for me to go again one day. 

I might take the stairs next time. 

Flitterbox: Coldplay ~ Christmas Lights

Baby Born

Today, I have felt old.

One of my close friends gave birth yesterday. A little chubby cherub. I don't know quite how to feel about this. For the last half of this year, I have known she was pregnant. Six months seems like it's a long enough time to get used to the idea, especially with an ever-increasing bump presented in front of me. Yet somehow, it's still so strange. 

It's the first of my friends to have a baby. It wasn't planned or expected, but it happened and now she's a real person in the real world and one of my school mates is a Mum. It's weird. None of my friends are even husbands or wives, let alone parents, so to have a mum among us makes it extra peculiar. 

We're growing up. I am aware, it will be a snowball effect. This was accidental, outside of the usual course of things but in a few years' time, one by one and all at once, people will be getting pregnant on purpose. I will be gulping at the extortionate expense allocated for sequential hen-dos, all happening within a months of each other. I feel like we are quite in limbo at the moment, at this age. There are careers, there are long-term boyfriends, there are mortgages, but there are no marriages or families. All of that is soon to come, has now started, and the anticipation makes me slightly anxious. Who will end up tying the knot; who will end up breaking up? Who will be the next to get pregnant? Will the baby's parents' relationship survive on this tiny thread of life which it has developed around? What will change in six months' time? Where will we be in five years' time?

Where do I belong forever, in whose arms, the time and place?

Flitterbox: Avril Lavigne ~ My World

Age Concern

Today, I have felt young.

I walked across the dark car park, careful to ensure I kept my bag close to me and my eye out for any suspicious characters. It was an idle Tuesday evening, not late but the lack of sunlight makes even six o'clock seem sinister. There was a tall man looking lost, an older gentleman, but not one I would classify as elderly. 

He approached me, cautiously, and asked if there was a police station nearby. There wasn't one but when someone asks that you can only wonder if they are in trouble. His nose was streaming, his ears sprouted dark hair. I asked if he needed help, if he was okay. He couldn't find his car. The car park was big, but it wasn't huge. I couldn't imagine losing a parked car, not remembering even the vague area that you left it. Was it just a case of old age? Can it happen that you just completely forget something so vital to remember? He said he felt like an utter fool. It must be so embarrassing. 

What could I do? I asked him if he needed a taxi calling. He was grateful for that, he didn't have a phone, he didn't live in the area, he was staying in a nearby town. He would have to come back again in the morning to find his car. I phoned the taxi for him, let them know it was not for me but for a man who didn't have a contact number. I was already running late, so I couldn't stick around too long. I showed him where to buy cigarettes while he waited and I went on my way. 

I have to hope he got to wherever he was staying. He had money, he had an address and he had a bank card, so although I have no way of knowing, there's no reason to believe he wouldn't be okay. The place was busy and safe enough, restaurants and bars nearby, plenty of people around to help if needed. It was just a weird situation; a scary side-effect of getting older and being alone. A harsh reminder that although now I am mentally capable and physically able, at some point, I will no longer be. One day, I'll be older too.

Never get old, he said. 

Flitterbox: Pulp ~ Help The Aged - one time they were just like you.

Gift Giving

Today, I have received a gift. 

Receiving presents makes me terribly uncomfortable. There's not a lot of stuff I really want or need. It is really sweet when someone buys me something small and thoughtful, or sends me something little in the post as a pick-me-up. It is nice to feel like someone cares about you, thinks about you.

But just giving loads of gifts, for the sake of it? Because you like buying gifts? It annoys me. Except, I am not allowed to be annoyed at it because they are doing it for me. I appreciate that I am very lucky and I am grateful, but it is the useless expense that bothers me. Why have you bought me this, why have you bought me so much? I didn't ask for it. I don't expect it. I don't want it. It's not humorous or meaningful; a shared joke or memory. It doesn't make me happy, it makes me feel guilty. 

I try to take the view that it is their money, that they get to choose how to spend it, and if it makes them happy to spend it on me, then the real gift is not the item but the way it makes them feel and my main role is to allow them their joy in purchasing presents for me. It sounds awful and ungracious to put it that way, I know. I'm sure there's plenty of people (although most of them not reading this) who would love someone to just show some sort of affection towards them through gift-giving. Who ask, would I miss it if I didn't have it? Would I prefer someone who didn't buy me gifts at all? 

Of course I appreciate the affection that is demonstrated in this routine. To have someone, who is always thinking of you first - buying you things before they buy themselves things. It is nice. But there are always other ways of doing that. I don't need all the stuff.

What do I do with all this stuff? Stuff I won't use; stuff that takes up space; stuff that costs large amounts of money and is never seen nor worn. The sensible thing is to tell the person you don't want the stuff. But to them, the stuff is their love. The stuff is them. To say you don't want the stuff is to say you don't want them. I can't understand it, to me, stuff is mostly just stuff and I have too much,  yet I am very bad at getting rid of it. 

Flitterbox: The Feeling ~ Same Old Stuff

Advent Arrives

Today, I have a dry and scaly lizard hand. 

It's a Monday! It's the beginning of the month! It's the start of Advent! So many time-markers I wanted all my good habits to start at once and yet it's half-ten and I feel like I've failed the fresh start.

I will do more cardio! Yoga keeps you happy and relaxed and stretched but it doesn't make you sweat, it doesn't make you fit. I don't need to lose weight, but I would like to feel like my heart is healthy.

I will read more books! November was going to be my month of reading. When I hear about people who have less spare time than me read nine or ten books a month, and I've barely managed that in the past 9 or 10 months, something's got to change.

I will go to bed on time! Stay off screens and sleep at a sensible hour. I will start work on time! Having eaten breakfast and drank something before doing so. 

I will write more! Do more! Think more! Be more! Be happy. 

I will make more people happy. Last week, I sent a cheer-up package of small things; I like sending post almost as much as receiving it. Christmas is a time to spread the love and the joy and I love that about it. 

I also love festive flavoured coffees. Mostly too sweet, but some just hit the spot and they all smell so good. I had a praline cappuccino today whilst pondering plans for presents. A lovely lunch.

So, maybe I chose Chinese over cardio and screen over book. It's almost quarter-to eleven and I'm not in bed so that's another strike. But I have sorted something special for someone special and that makes the day worthwhile, right? 

Flitterbox: Jimmy Durante - Make Someone Happy

Virtually Friends

Today, I have commented. 

I feel strange remarking on the social media-made statements of friends with whom I used to go to school, because we no longer speak. I know she got married, I know she's expecting a baby, I know where she lives. But we don't chat, we weren't even close at school, we had a few lessons together, a few mutual friends but not much more than that. So to comment on something that she has said seems like I'm annoucing my presence in her life again...we're 'friends', we are vaguely aware that we 'follow' each others words and pictures, but to publicly acknowledge it? That's weird. 

Yet when it comes to commenting on blogs of people I don't know, have never met, have only clicked on through something else, I have no problem saying - "that's cool!" showing my gratitude or just agreeing with their views on a subject. I mostly lurk, so sometimes I do feel a bit funny commenting as if I know the person when the only information they may have about me is my IP address. But I still do it, under the cover of the internet anonymity blanket, where despite how easy it is to know almost everything about someone just through reading and searching, it is also so easy to know them for so long without knowing much at all. 

It's a month until Christmas.

Flitterbox: Walk Off The Earth + Julia Nunes ~ Some Nights
Flitterbook: The Year I Met You ~ Cecelia Ahern 

Thought Train

It's five to six and I lithely leap onto the train with seven minutes to spare. The carriage is otherwise bare, save a lean, long-haired twentysomething male, socks pulled up, hunched over a bunch of paper containing incomprehensible scribbles of various symbols and graphs. A physics postgrad, I guess, probably bound for the same town as I.

I dump my bags on a warm, sun-heated seat and slump down next to them with a sigh. I allow my gaze to wander to the opposite platform. It's fairly busy and full of the usual suspects; I scan the crowds, looking for something worth watching. Observing people is one of my preferred ways to pass time whilst waiting. Nothing much new to see, generally, although this time, someone in particular catches my eye. A guy.

Do I know him...? The blood rushes to my cheeks as I realise that yes, yes, I do indeed recognise that face. I marvel at the coincidence: that I should be here; that he should be there! Except it's not really that much of a small world and if I'm honest, the idea of a fleeting glance such as this occurring crosses my mind every time I pass through this place.

And now that it has, what do I do?

It's 17.58 and with only four minutes before the train leaves, I don't have much time to think twice. I stand up in haste, gather my bags and I'm out of the doors. Ponytailed Physicist doesn't even flinch.

As I hurry up the stairs to the other platform, I have a million questions rushing through my head, most of which are entirely unhelpful and unrelated to the present situation but a scarce few could be useful, if only I had some answers to follow them. What do I do once I get there? What do I say? How would I even begin? I don't know, I'm not sure and sometimes the only way to get things done is to stop thinking and just do. Before I know it, I'm on the platform and there's a train there and it's ready to leave. My eyes dart erratically across the length of the vehicle and I spy the back of a head that looks almost like someone I nearly knew once. He's looking out  towards the opposite platform, where there's a train setting off, to a parallel carriage that holds a single passenger - a long-haired student, hunched over a paper, highlighter in hand. I am not there; he does not see me, and somewhere nearby, a whistle is blown. 

The train departs and I make my way back up the stairs and across to my platform. The 18.02 left On Time and it's now a forty-seven minute wait for the next one. The area is completely bare, save a curly-haired girl, laden with luggage. I dump my bags on the cool concrete and crouch down next to them on the ground. I rest my chin on my knees and I wonder...what would I have said?

Flitterbox: Bright Eyes ~ Another Travelin' Song
Flitterbook: The Year I Met You ~ Cecelia Ahern

Hollandaise Holidays

Today, I have put on my winter slippers.

Amsterdam was wonderful. It was like stepping out into a sunny film set every day, a scene manufactured to look like a quaint European city, except this was no Disneyland, this was real-life. The flowing canals with open-top boats chugging along in the afternoon sun, the cyclists trundling merrily across the cobbled streets on their way to work or play. We were so lucky with the weather, like summer had chosen to stay on longer, especially for our September break, and only now can it fall into Autumn.

Cheese tasting came highly recommended and didn't disappoint. My experience may have been influenced by the tall, blonde, fluent-in-three-languages Californian man who led the session, but it was also good value and felt authentically Dutch (apart from the American staff member...). It was interesting to learn about cheese-making and keeping and tastes and smells and consistency and differences, so yummy. I also learnt how to pronounce Gouda ("kHow-da") and damn, the wine was good.

From wine tasting to free wine at Boom Chicago. Comedy was not something I'd considered before arrival in the city, but we were urged to go by a representative whilst waiting in a queue for Anne Frank House, and it was better than I expected. The improv scenes and general set-up of the show were unlike anything I'd seen on stage before. It was quirky, funny and unusual; a great way to spend a couple of hours in the evening.

It was such a relaxing trip, we didn't rush about at all. We meandered, wandering back and forth along the canals, eating gelato or sitting in the park, soaking up the sun, the atmosphere and architecture; catching some street entertainment; practising yoga poses on the plein; browsing in a kitsch shop on a side alley. Amsterdam is a place to which I'd be happy to return, to live or to visit. The people were friendly and accommodating, the food was delicious and the whole place just felt cosy and comfortable. Gezelligheid.

Flitterbox:  Charlie XCX ~ Boom Clap

Flitterbook: The Road to Rouen ~ Ben Hatch 

September Spending

Today, I have been spending more in order to avoid delivery costs.

With September comes the panic-buying of knitwear to see me through the turn in the weather. I bought two cardigans of the same design in different colours (navy and purple) and then another jumper-type item and underwear, to push my order over the free delivery threshold. I don't like the top that much when tried on, yet can't be bothered to take it back, so essentially I paid £7 for delivery plus free knickers.

I bought a book for a fiver from here partly because someone told me to and partly because it was limted-time free delivery. It looks like it has some good tips, but I imagine it might sit on my shelf for a long while before I make use of any information contained within. I feel just owning it makes me seem like more of a functioning adult though.

I bought a backpack for city trekking and then a CD for a fiver, for the same delivery-charge avoidance reason. Also because I'm too lazy to make my own compilation for the car or work out how to connect miPod. Plus, the album art is pretty. Yes, I judged a CD by its cover.

To add to that, I have a few days away, full of meals out; museum visits; boat tours; travel tickets; wine-tasting, and the rest. September spending is yet to be curbed...

Flitterbox: Jessie J ~ Price Tag
Flitterbook: Road to Rouen ~ Ben Hatch

Forever Lost

Today, I have felt conflicted.

I want to read more. I want to watch more shows, dramas, series, films. I want to blog more; write more; say more. I want to say less; do more. I want to get out more; I prefer staying in. I want to craft more; creative pursuits frustrate my perfectionist nature.

I want a new job; I couldn't ask for better benefits. I want more money; I have plenty to live on. I want to drink more alcohol; but why? I want to drink less alcohol; but I hardly do already. I want to consume less dairy; for the cows. But what is pasta without cheese? What is tea without milk?

Tea with an alternative milk is a coagulating nightmare.  It doesn't mushroom up to the top when you pour into the cup; it drops, densely to the bottom, like it doesn't belong. It has a life of its own, it is lava bubbling up to the surface, constantly shifting, changing, moving. It tastes okay; I could get used to it.

I want to feel settled. But I've been told that in my twenties it's perfectly normal not to be so.

Flitterbox: Crowded House ~ Weather With You
Flitterbook: We Were Liars ~ E. Lockhart

Home/Work

Today, I have no homework. 

My work screen and self switches off at the end of my contracted hours. I do not think about work outside of work. Not in a way in which I have to force myself to leave it at the desk, but in the sense that my work is very literally a strict shift, 5 days a week. I don't do overtime; I don't do study; I don't spend time 'on the road'. In that way, it is wonderful.

Of course there are drawbacks. Non-stimulating work can be dull, you don't feel like you're really making a difference. When there's no progression in the role, it opens up the suggestion that you should search for an alternative vocation. It can, over a longer period of time, be unfulfilling. 

But, no homework. My peers cry, they stress, they don't eat, or go out, or socialise with their friends and much of the time, they don't even enjoy their jobs. They wake up at 6am; they travel in an hour of traffic; they don't get home 'til gone 7pm and then it's dinner, TV, bed - and for what? More money? Better job satisfaction? Pride in yourself and your abilities? One friend was complaining to me about not getting *quite* as high a pay-rise as she was expecting from her last set of exams. Understandable that you want to feel like your salary is competitive within your industry, but ultimately - what difference does it make, is money the main reason you're staying in that job? I honestly can't comprehend the idea that more money is worth the amount of stress some people put themselves under, when you already have enough to live a life others would be envious of - it's crazy. Maybe I'm just lazy. 

It's back-to-school and this is the year I have felt furthest removed from it all. Younger relatives have become graduates, friends have become doctors and aside from slight lust for an owl pencil-case in WHSmith, I have barely felt the back-to-books fever that usually surrounds the start of the academic year. It's kind of weird that I don't have that marker anymore.

So sometimes, when I'm contemplating where my job, my career, my salary is, five years after I started my masters, I look back. I stand back, I think of all those questions, those essays, those tests that I don't have to do any more and I think how glorious it is to not have to go back to school this September.

Instead, I'm going to Amsterdam.

Flitterbox: George Ezra ~ Budapest

Flitterbook: We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves ~ Karen Joy Fowler

Little Writer

Today, I have written.

"Writing while young will help improve memory. The process helps you remember feelings and experiences you have forgotten and makes you more expressive. Writing will force you to come up with the right words to describe thoughts and emotions and as a result, you become more proficient in expressing yourself."

I suppose this summarises why I like to write. It's not really for readers, but without the mere idea (even if misguided) that someone is listening, there's not much point in attempting to express yourself in a way that captures the attention of another person. Mainly, I just want to remember the good stuff. There are a lot of fun moments in my life at the moment. I am young, I run free, and I have so many friends and things to do that it is hard to keep track of them sometimes. I am also sad a lot of the time, but I am trying really hard not to let that get to me. I am trying so hard not to let it show. 

So, the month of May has been a busy one. It's partly why I wanted to keep up with blogging every day. I haven't, of course, but that's okay. I have booked flights to Dublin and America. I want to go to Belgium and Amsterdam too, because I can and to travel whilst you're young is the time to do it. I'd much rather spend my money on experiences than objects. 

This weekend, I had an indoor "BBQ" and played board games with a group of friends. Some old, some new and some I'm just getting to know. It was quiet and sort of subdued but I think that's fine, sometimes. I'm a little lost, but it kind of seems that many people are in their twenties. I just have to keep doing, keep going, keep saying yes and hope that at some point it will all come together.

Blogging causes me to be awfully reflective and sometimes that's helpful and sometimes, I think I think too much, y'know. 

Flitterbox: Clean Bandit ~ Rather Be

Many Thanks

Today, I have felt appreciated. 

Thank you notes are just the best. Even when someone emails back just to say thanks for doing something that is part of your job, it's a small boost. Especially in times of increasing written contact, you can't hear the gratitude in their voice or see it in their face. You have to rely on someone literally spelling out their thanks.

It's nice to do nice things. It's lovely when someone takes the time to express how grateful they are for what you've done. It makes you want to do more nice things for people. 

Flitterbox: Spice Girls ~ Stop

Yawny Owl

Today, I have unpacked.

I have just had the best big birthday weekend away, all expenses paid and food included. Plus a tonne load of fun activities including plenty of singing, climbing, sword-fighting, clue-hunting, arrow-shooting, disco-dancing and dropping down from high heights. The weather was wonderful and the children were lovely. 

There's no other way I would have wanted to spend my first weekend as an over-25-year-old than swinging on a giant swing over-25 feet in the air. 

So much fun. So super tired. 

Flitterbox: DJ Casper ~ Cha Cha Slide

Brownie Birthday

Today, I have packed. 

It will be time for me to catch the coach in a couple of hours, to spend an activity weekend with 600+ children under 10. It's not something I've done before, and a year ago I would not have had this opportunity. I couldn't have imagined that my first weekend away as a twenty-six-year-old would be with a bunch of Brownies and Owls. 

It should be fun. 

Flitterbox: Owl City ~ When Can I See You Again?

London Calling

Today, I have been to a friend's leaving drinks.

I took the plunge and took the train, after work, to a city I don't live in, to have drinks with a couple of people I know and a bunch of others I've not met before. London feels like a lonely place to live in. So many people, but none of them dare catch your eye. I am used to saying hi to people as we cross by; they don't do that in London. I don't think I would want to live there.

My friend is off to work in a city in Europe. I hope that will mean another weekend away, with free accommodation included! It is a bit sad to have so many friends spread all over the world, but it is quite fun to get take trips to visit them.

Flitterbox: Crystal Fighters ~ I Love London

Irish Adventures

Today, I have booked a holiday. 

I'm going at the end of this month. Not sure that I have ever booked something so 'last minute' before. The vague dates have been down in the diary for a while, but it is only tonight that the concrete bookings have been put into place and the money paid up. With over a fortnight to go, it's not all that whirlwind an idea, still time to plan and pack but for me, this feels like the edge of spontaneity. 

If anyone has any tips for a short break in Dublin, let me know!

Flitterbox: The Corrs ~ So Young

Pretty Eyes

Today, I haven't worn any make-up. 

Last month, I had an allergic reaction to something. It could have been make-up, it could have been an animal, it could have been anything, to be honest. Something made my eyes go red and puffy and itchy and gross. Generally, my skin is quite sensitive; I have had reactions to eye make-up before but that was probably due to keeping it for too long and leaving it exposed to the elements. But I'd not experienced a reaction to of quite that extent previously. It was horrible, and scary. Your eyes are precious parts.

Since then, I haven't worn much make-up. I used to wear eyeliner every day, yes, even just to go for a walk. You never know who you might meet! I don't doubt that people are 'naturally beautiful' without the need for make-up. It's a lovely idea and partially true; most don't need much. But make-up is powerful, it is enhancing and used appropriately, can make an ordinary face look pretty and a pretty face look stunning. 

Make-up works, yo. But I have worn less and I have worn it less often. Not that I wore much to begin with. It does seem strange to me, not slicking on the kohl as standard and people definitely notice. I imagine most are polite enough not to mention, kids don't have those social boundaries:

"You look different. What's different?"

"You look strange without glasses." 

[I have never worn glasses, but it was obvious my face had changed in a way that they couldn't pinpoint]

I look better with eye make-up. I feel better wearing eye make-up. While my eyes have since healed, I haven't yet replaced my eyeliner collection, which is probably necessarily before I start pencilling in my lids again. So for now, I am mostly without eye make-up. Weird. 

Flitterbox: Ultrabeat ~ Pretty Green Eyes
Flitterbook: Life! Death! Prizes! ~ Stephen May

Birthday Baby

Today, I have turned twenty-six. 

The day began with a special birthday breakfast. Avocado and egg on seed-studded toast. Sounds slightly strange, tastes amazing:

It is the first day I have ever worked on my birthday, but I don't mind; my work is less stressful than many. Work beats revision by a factor of approximately a thousand. Plus, I have already part celebrated this weekend: a comedy show and drinks with friends; a meal with family; a walk in the fields and a video chat with my fave dad-daughter pair. 

I am not one to go all out on my birthday, but I do always tend to post a blog about it. It's cool to have that marker in time to look back on, you can find all on the right hand side, from my second year and third year at university, through my masters disaster, onto job-searching, graduate employment, job disillusioment, bringing us up to now. Much has changed in my life in the past year, but there is also much that has remained the same. Birthdays are often a cause for reminiscence and reflection, I find. When we went to the comedy show, we were the only group of under-30s there, which was novel on a night out. It won't be that way for long. But I think that I'm okay with that.

I might make myself a carrot cake later to celebrate. I sure know how to party hard.

Flitterbox: Beyoncé ~ All The Single Ladies
Flitterbook: Avocado Baby ~ John Burningham 

Cram Bag

Today, I have bought a new bag. 

I am not a fashionable bag and shoes kind of a girl. I own one main handbag; it's purple with plaited shoulder straps and it is perfect for my general needs. I own a couple of smaller cross-body bags that are useful for going out or short outings when I want my hands-free and don't have much to carry. 

While I don't care much for new season clutches or holdalls, I am always interested to know what people have inside their bags, their rooms, their houses, their minds... I like the kind of entries that give an insight into personality that you may not otherwise see, although as remarked on  recent posts; I do not understand how some people's bags can be so tidy?

A few years back, I did the "what's in my bag" thing; and this is what it revealed:

And my bag, of now, three years later. I am a reformed, matured character and now, of course, I only carry the bare essentials:

Welcome to my life, via the medium of my bag. This is not necessarily what I cart around on a daily basis, but just a snapshot of today's load. To be honest, the contents surprised me somewhat, too, but there was no point in carrying out a clear-out before spilling it to the internet. To display this is to confess: I am mostly messy and not proud of it. I'm sure it tells personality beyond that, though. A responsible dog-owner; an obsessive nail-painter; someone who is serious about about oral hygiene and enjoys a decent cup of tea (or, I have travelled recently). Spot anything else that tells you more?

I am not a fashionable bag and shoes kind of girl. 

Flitterbox: Stereophonics ~ Handbags and Gladrags

Blog Hopping

Today, I have discovered a blog.

Do you ever find the idea of blogging a bit...weird? I recently stumbled upon the blog of a real-life friend and it's kind of strange because I'm not really sure whether to admit that I have seen it. It made me slightly sad, too, that I don't know much about her day-to-day life from actual contact, but on her blog it's there for all to see. And it's written in the way that you want people to read; rhetorical questions, addressing the webspace like a blog is a conversation, only it doesn't really matter to whom you're talking.

Don't get me wrong, I think it's great to meet friends on the internet and I've had some great experiences as a result of net interactions. But sometimes I read back on what I've posted and I think how awkward it would be if I knew someone I knew was reading it. Embarrassing, if they continued to read backwards

Like, this isn't really me? I don't talk like this, I don't know why I write like this, I don't know why I'm writing at all. I kind of jumped on the BEDM bandwagon without true commitment to the cause for the very reason that I was feeling super self-conscious about writing anything and I hoped that an outside force encouraging me to publish something every day would make me worry less about what was written as I had a daily deadline. I still use an awful lot of I's in my sentences.

It's not that surprising that a close friend writes a blog. To be honest, there's not even anything in it that is particularly surprising information to me; I know the major stuff that's going on, I just don't have the frequent updates on the food she ate that weekend. It's not that the blog deliberately obscures personal details, either. Maybe having a blog is just like letting another side of you to the world. We all have different friends for different activities, and it's easier with a blog to share a side of you that work or school or university friends may not appreciate, or just to let thoughts out in a place where someone will see them, but you don't necessarily want to *discuss* them.

It feels like blogging has suddenly become cool, and it earns you money, and you can make a living from it and get popular and well known and awesome. As I said, that doesn't bother me, it's great and I'm not really bemoaning the de-nerding of blogging, but it does kind of feel like I should write because I have a point, a new dress or a healthy recipe rather than just write because I can.

I haven't read any book pages in a few days. Whoops.

Flitterbox: The Staves ~ Wisely and Slow

Funny Times

Today, I am going to see a comedy show. 

It's not so much a sign of my age as a sign of myself that I would rather go to a comedy show than a club night out. I would have done the same when I was turning eighteen, the main difference is that it is now more socially acceptable to do so.

Flitterbox: Abba ~ Dancing Queen 

American Boy

Today, I have smiled like I mean it.

On this day, 5 years ago, I met my first internet friend in the flesh, 3 and a half years to the day that we first made acquaintance through blogs. I told no-one. 

Today, 5 years later, the friend is married with a daughter, and a son on the way. How things change.

I hope that, one day, I will meet this baby boy and his older sister. I hope that I have the courage to do so, because there's never going to be the 'right' time to fly across the ocean by yourself to stay with a couple you've only met once before and children that you've only ever seen on Skype.

We shall see.

Flitterbox: The Killers ~ Andy You're A Star - bloody love this album
Flitterbook: Andrew's Brain ~ E.L. Doctorow

Hey Girl

Today, I have been blue.

When I'm feeling glum, anxious or angsty, I tend to revert to girly activities to soothe and settle my stressness. It's too late to paint my nails and my hair is not in the state for straightening. It's ill-advised to write too much when feeling this way. Since this is the internet I should probably post a picture of cats instead:

Flitterbox: The Boy Least Likely To ~ Papercuts
Flitterbook: Andrew's Brain ~ E.L. Doctorow

Dialling in

Today, I have instant access to the internet.

That's amazing. The book I'm reading at the moment set in the nineties, where you had to dial-in and whilst on the internet, the land-line wouldn't work. I'm kind of on the cusp; I remember having to wait until 6pm to use the internet on a weekday, but broadband was widespread by the time I properly could make use of it. Of course, these people in the book are lucky, they have two phone lines, so you can be constantly on the internet on one, and use the other for calls. So modern! It would seem crazy but kids today don't even have the knowledge of a landline, which is almost crazier, so it almost wouldn't matter that the dial-up tied up your phone line, because, hey you have your mobile phone, what else do you need?

My power went out recently. My mobile was very low on battery, as was my laptop, 'cause I like to live life on the edge. But I could still call people on my old style non-cordless land-line. What kind of sorcery is that? Afterwards I googled my way to the reason as I kind of knew it to be true but was baffled by the idea. Basically, you do need electricity but only a very little and it's brought to your house by wires separate to the mains. It's still strange, though.

It's weird how easy it is to think about things without questioning the concept. Adults get way too accustomed things too readily without truly appreciating the wonder. 

I hold the internet in my pocket, on a buttonless device that is smaller than my hand.

That's amazing.

Flitterbox: Philip Oakey and Giorgio Moroder - Together in Electric Dreams
Flitterbook: Going Out ~ Scarlett Thomas

Road Runner

Today, I have driven a car. 

I passed my test a while back, but driving is still scary and I don't currently have, nor really need, my own vehicle so I don't drive all that often, and even less often by myself.

Twist, slide, click, push, switch, pull, turn. 

It's weird, driving alone. So quiet! I mean, I know it's what most people do and so are completely used to doing so and once I'm out there it's fine and I won't hurt anybody (hopefully) and my jelly-like left leg will still work effectively as required. I suppose the aspect that concerns me more is being embarrassed rather than being dangerous. Being watched by people while I try to park properly, or stalling at a roundabout just as a rare golden gap in traffic appears. Awkward.

Up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right. 

As with so many things in life, it's about confidence. When you're young, you can rely on other people to instil confidence in you; people tell you that you're doing something right, or well done, good job. I can drive, but I still feel like I need an instructor or willing front-seat passenger to tell me I can do it, that it will be okay. As you get older, it's less likely that people will praise you for the mundane (maybe because it can be seen as patronising or unnecessary?) so you have to pat yourself on the back and reward appropriately. My reward is banana milkshake because I'm five years old.

Look, think, change, choose, look, wait, stop. 

Driving is not yet a habit; a task run on auto-pilot. Perhaps at some point in the future, it will become so that I drive from one place to another without even remembering the journey, but I'm not there yet. 

Go! Go! Go!

Flitterbox: Sum 41 - In Too Deep
Flitterbook: Going Out ~ Scarlett Thomas

Feeling Fearful

Today, I have experienced acrophobia.

I used to hate heights, but now I can cope a lot better. I have been up to the tops of buildings of many cities across the world, it's the best ways to get the views. While I still don't feel wholly comfortable with high places, the fear is more rational than it once was.

But it suddenly struck me on a bridge today, constructed high above the river flowing beneath. It had stood there for over 200 years without issue, people were crossing constantly, there were sturdy barriers. Unfortunately, reason doesn't hold much ground when faced with phobia.

I got the shakes and the start of the tears and I thought I wouldn't be able to do it. It was scary but with my eyes facing forward and my fingers not moving from the handrail for the short length of the strong, steel bridge, I managed it.

As Baz Luhrmann told me: "do one thing every day that scares you". That was one of  my scary things for today and although it wasn't massive wouldn't be a problem for most people; I am slightly proud of myself for not going back, for not bailing. Big things are built from little achievements.

Flitterbox: Frank Sinatra ~ That's Life
Flitterbook: The Rabbit Back Literature Society ~ Pasi Ilmari Jääskeläinen

Wiser Eyes

Today, I have been a grown-up.

There's nothing hugely different about being an adult, it happens almost without realising. I was a slightly anxious child and while I'm not as confident as I could be, it's simpler living in a world where people and processes of life are more straightforward; some things are still daunting, but it's easier to decipher situations and work out how to deal with them.

One of my favourite things about being in control of my own life is being able to eat whatever I want, which seems small, but feels mighty. If I want pancakes for breakfast? I can make them. If I want to have steamed vegetables as a starter because they cook faster, and then have the protein and potatoes to follow after, I can. If I want to eat ice-cream before my main course, no-one is stopping me. It's liberating to be able to cook and choose for myself. Of course it's nice occasionally to have meals prepared for me, but it's great to have the option to pick what I want to eat at any given time of day.

I don't know if I ever dreamed about these things as a kid, but I can imagine some children do. Like, all the stupid things that are out of reach to under-10s and suddenly become available once you become independent. I mean, of course, with great age comes great responsibilities too, but don't forget the power you have. You can stay up past midnight! You can have those sweets from the supermarket! You can watch whatever you like on the TV, even if it's gory or scary or violent or sexy! You can see your friends whenever you like! You can drink alcohol! You can have boys to stay in your room! You can go out by yourself! 

What would mini you want to do?

I think I was always kind of worried about growing-up. I was scared that my signature wouldn't match my credit card, terrified of speaking to people on the phone, wary of paying for shopping in stores.* Today, I have done all of these things without even noticing. I had noodles for breakfast and a doughnut for lunch, because I am a grown-up and being grown-up means I can. 

Flitterbox: Avicii ~ Wake Me Up
Flitterbook: The Rabbit Back Literature Society ~ Pasi Ilmari Jääskeläinen

Worker Bee

Today, I have visited a laboratory.

There's only been a handful of times I've been inside a lab since I finished my degree, it was a chilling reminder of how things used to be. I am more than happy not to be stuck in front of a fume hood extracting samples into vials. But also, I am grateful that I understand the science behind some of the work I need to do. It's not entirely necessary, but it does give me a sense of smug satisfaction to have awareness and be able to partially apply that knowledge.

Sections on this site are due some tweaking. Can you really call yourself a student-turn-graduate when it's four years since completing the course? Maybe I need to figure out what my blog is about or what posts I should be proud of; my favourite ones. For now, I'll just point to the right, suggest you pick a word from the label cloud that looks interesting; or a month at random on the timeline and click on from there. Perhaps I need to figure out what I'm trying to say, after almost a decade of publicly declaring my emotions and experiences. But one of the keys to writing well is writing often and chances are when you haven't written in a while, what is written initially will not be always be wonderful (and people won't always be willing to read.) At least you're writing and sometimes that's enough. It will get better. Bear with me.

I finished a book. Train travel and time to myself in a hotel did the trick. Next one is yet to have begun, but has been recommended as per below so should at least be started tonight. I used to hate leaving a book unfinished, even one I wasn't enjoying; but the kindle makes abandoning a story effortless. Without the physical marker to indicate how far you haven't read through a paper-bound copy, you can let go more easily and say "hey, well, maybe that one wasn't for me."

If I can do it with books, perhaps I can apply the concept to other aspects? It takes courage, that's for sure. 

Flitterbox: Little Talks ~ Of Monsters and Men
Flitterbook: The Rabbit Back Literature Society ~ Pasi Ilmari Jääskeläinen

May Day

Today, it is May.

It's the fifth month of the year and fifty-two books isn't quite as on track as I would hope. I could say there's been other things on my mind and that it's easier to endlessly watch American sitcoms than pick up the kindle, which is partly true but not really an excuse. Reading is so brilliant when you get into it and so simple to do anytime, for any length of time. I keep forgetting that when I'm out of the game.

I start the month off with a free stay in a four star hotel, sandwiched by two train journeys. What better reason to get away from the moving pictures and open up the mind pictures instead?

Flitterbox: The Family Crest ~ Kiss On My List
Flitterbook: The Shock of The Fall ~ Nathan Flier

Valentine Time

Today, I have been rosy.

I love the idea of Valentine's Day.

Personally, I find Valentines is only really fun if you are single or perhaps in a fairly recently established relationship, because there’s always that little beacon of hope that allows for a real surprise, however unlikely the case may be. If you’re attached, there comes the burden of expectation and if you’re single, it’s not as if you forget that fact on every day that isn’t Valentines day…

However, if you're single, you don't need to be worried about expecting a card or a gift or an elaborate demonstration of eternal devotion. So, if you do receive something out of the blue, it's a pleasant surprise, and you're not left wishing a certain someone had made more on an effort on this single day that everyone hails as the one to show your love.

Despite the "it's only one day of many" sentiment, I do still think it has a place. Valentine's is a valid excuse to tell the people you treasure most how much you care about them. These may be partners, friends, or family. Or may be what I see as the "proper" reason for Valentine's day - the person you secretly admire. Because isn't it quite wonderfully flattering to find someone is thinking of you? It's troublesome territory, it's true. Maybe the object of your affection doesn't return your feelings, maybe it's been long since you could or did have a chance with them, maybe there's someone else in the picture that makes the whole situation rather awkward or maybe it wouldn't work due to circumstances beyond your control. But Valentine's day is the day where you can overcome that. Even if you can't say or do everything you want to, you can let them know, somehow.

So do it. It doesn't have to be romantic inclination, necessarily. It could be a friend you've lost touch with, or someone you care about and sometimes miss. It could be someone you know you have no chance with, but you want to let them know that they gave you something special. To let someone know that you're thinking of them, and this comes again 'round to the fact that you're not thinking of them because it's Valentine's day, but because you would think of them anyway, and Valentine's somehow allows for a legitimate window to say the things you mightn't usually say. Some people say that takes away from the idea of it being "for the one you love" but I say, it's whatever you want it to be. What's wrong with saying Happy Valentine's Day? It's nice.

And perhaps, if you are the recepient of such a sentiment, accept it graciously. Even if it scares you, even if you never expected it from that person, even if you have no desire to return the favour. It takes some courage to tell a person that you like them, that you want them, that you miss them. You're laying your heart on the line and being vunerable can be terrifying. Plus, rejection stings. But, you know, sometimes it's worth putting yourself out there, risking the opportunity that something more may come of it. And if it isn't reciprocated or appreciated? It's a shame, but you'll get over it. It's better to have tried than to have never known.

So hey, why not embrace Valentine's day. Who will you be telling?

Flitterbox: Ellie Goulding ~ How Long Will I Love You

Merry Janewary

Today, I have welcomed in the new year.

I'm a sucker for marking an arbitrary point to make a fresh start. I searched for new year's resolutions and picked what I liked from the web. It's just suggestions, I don't make commitments until the end of the year, when I look back and pick out my achievements and pretend I intended to do that all along.

My internet share aim for the year is 52 books in 52 weeks. I liked the idea of this last year, but I didn't measure or monitor it so I don't have much of an idea of how many I actually read and I didn't make the active effort. Now I have a spreadsheet and everything, so I'm totally dedicated.

First up is Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman. I own several of his books but have yet to read any, so here we go.

Flitterbox: The Mamas & The Papas ~ Dream a Litttle Dream of Me
Flitterbook: Neverwhere ~ Neil Gaiman