One of the boys?

I am a woman with male and female friends. I would say that my friendship groups are quite a mixed bag. I truly believe men and women can have a platonic friendship with each other without the messy business of sex getting in the way.
 Women friendships and men friendships can fulfill many different needs. Nothing beats a night out with the girls at the weekend, but also a male perspective on things can really be refreshing at times. Both types of friendships have their pros and cons and I am fully aware of all of these.
But here is what I do not understand, these women or girls who only hang out with the boys. Chicks that insist that they are one of the guys and gravitate towards the men in the room. Women who wouldn't be seen dead hitting the shops with their girlfriends and who would never entertain the thought of inviting their best (female) friend round for a night of gossip and wine. This is the so called buddy that spends most of the night chatting to your boyfriend whilst barely uttering two words to you. She is a cross between a huntress and a damsel in distress. She uses her charm with the men to get what she wants, be it free drinks or all the attention in the room. If flirting was an Olympic event she would claim all of the medals in one fowl swoop. She has made batting her eyelashes almost as instinctual as breathing. She is a woman on a mission and I personally cannot stand her.

These women are usually known as men's women or boys girls. They look like us and are usually somewhere lurking within our friendship groups or work place. These are the females whom on first inspection are not easy to spot. But you can usually weed them out if you put the effort in. Organize a girls night out at your workplace and these girls will scoff at you as if you had suggested a day of dressing up as cartoon characters. The look of boredom is so apparant, and you have more chance of being rewarded a 'double the amount you already earn' payrise than getting these chicks names down on the guestlist.
But when someone organizes a boys night out in the workplace, just stand back and watch them sniff around like police dogs. Suddenly they go all 'detective' and try to find out where the lads are going. They think it will be 'fun' to turn up unannounced and surprise them. They go to great efforts with their hair and shower themselves with perfume, and why? To join in with the football banter and talk about the pros and cons of alloy wheels? Excuse me whilst I stifle a yawn.

Girls like this are a complete mystery to me. Now don't get me wrong, as I said, I like to hang with the boys from time to time, and I have been known to impress with my pint-downing party trick and my love of music from the metal genre. But this does not mean I want to gatecrash a boys night at the pub on a regular basis. I would feel embarrassed if I went out with my boyfriend and his mates and i was the only girl there. I would worry that I'd look like the possessive girlfriend who doesn't let her fella out of her sight, or some girl that is under the illusion that she is one of the boys, when clearly and genetically, she is not!

That said, I am not a 'girly girl' who likes all things pink, fluffy and glittery, but I am what is called a 'girls girl' who likes to spend time with her female friends chatting about work, men and so forth. 'Girly girls' and 'girl's girls' are two seperate things. 'Boy's girls' on the other hand, are just a different breed.
 I have often tried to befriend these girls, when our paths have crossed, but each and every time they have not been interested in me or my efforts to strike up a conversation. One woman in particular, who was a good friend of an ex, had a dinner party, to which I wasn't invited. She "didn't do girls things, or want girls there" so instead it was just her and about five other blokes. Fun. Hilarious. Gutted I missed that one.
Please bear in mind that this woman never met me, never spoke to me and probably wouldn't have recognized me if I passed her in the street. She had no idea who I was but because I was not male, she just didn't care! Only problem with that though, the whole "issue with girls" thing, is that, ok maybe she could have been a tomboy as such, but, and please excuse me for this crudeness, a quick peek into her own knickers would confirm that Shock! Horror! She is a Girl!!! so she obviously had a bit of a problem with herself!?

Ok bitchiness aside now, I do not want to appear judgemental here, as that is something I am not, nor do I want to tar tomboys with this brush. As I have said, I love hanging out with the fellas and am not adverse to the odd male 'topic'. But when it comes to watching football, or discussing Kylies bum in those hotpants, I have no clue or interest, I personally would rather be watching SATC and discussing Vin Diesels bum in whatever he is wearing. And the best persons to do those activites with is other women, surely? Not that bloke who is trying to kid himself that he was 'one of the girls'. Because let's be honest here, he would be the last one I would want to borrow lipstick off or go shoe shopping with right?........Now where is that Marcus, I need to borrow his mascara, hmmmmm...... ;)

Peace

DIY For Girls!

Being a woman who lives alone, certain problems can crop up. In the mad excitement of getting your own place, moving in, putting your own stamp on your home, it never crosses your mind that the tap may need fixing, the toilet seat may need replacing, certain pieces of furniture need building.
Now I am not the sort of woman who will play the damsel in distress and flutter her eyelashes when a shelving unit needs assembling. I find it very difficult to ask for help, especially from a man. I blanche when I hear the words "It's a mans job", as I feel that I am just as capable, if I put my mind to it, of assembling said shelving unit as any man that happens to be in my life.
 I am not here to start a Woman verses Man debate, and yes I know men have more physical stregnth than women. But when it comes to my own place, I feel a sense of pride that I assembled most of the things within it myself.
Yes I won't deny I have made some mistakes (eg my tv cabinet, a couple of the wood mdf parts are the wrong way round) but surely that is how you learn. Since my tv cabinet, I have assembled my futon, my bed and my CD rack (that strangely was the most difficult thing!) I fitted my new toilet seat myself, and also managed to fix a cupboard door. Those who may want to scoff at my efforts are very welcome to come round and view my handywork for themselves. My bed is sturdy, my futon is also, and my toilet seat is relatively secure.
 I have a DIY book that was written by a woman, for women, which I use on a regular basis. I also keep some tools in the cupboard. On my 'To Purchase' list is a drill, and I also have dreams of borrowing a chainsaw and attacking the bush that is outside my flat. I am not scared to climb a ladder, and I don't get anal about a bit of muck clearing.
Obviously if some 'big jobs' such as fitting a new bathroom suite were to crop up, then yes I would have to get the professionals in. There is a strong likelyhood that the said professionals will be men. Even in this day and age, most plumbers, electricians and builders are men, and most childcare workers are women. But there are a few that break the mould, such as our new (male) recruit at my workplace. Who knows, if I carry on the way I am I may end up at a building site, wolf whistling at any male that happens to walk past, looking mighty fetching in my overalls.
 In a few years time Workmen may be obsolete and Workwomen may be the way forward! Nurseries may be ran by fellas singing Nursery Rhymes whilst harping on about the joys of potty training. The role reversal may catch on! But until then I will continue to use my screwdriver and hammer in my spare time, whilst I harp on about the joys of potty training in my work time.
Thankyou for reading, I plan to be back very soon, oh and if you have a chainsaw about you, please let me know. Though if I do get my paws on one it may take a little longer for me to write my next post, as I will be too busy attacking the bush outside!

Peace

The art of Vintage

I have developed a new hobby, and if you had told me, when I was a fifteen year old stroppy teenager who loved sparkly skull rings, and various coloured stud belts, who would often have been heard saying "It all has to be shiny and new!" that I would become the thirty six year old woman who loves digging through the charity shops, who scours Ebay on a regular basis, and who is drawn to Vintage shops like a moth, I would have laughed out loud and most probably stuck my teenage nose in the air! But how times have changed.

It started with the odd piece of furniture for my flat, the secondhand bedside cabinet that makes my wardrobe and bedframe now go together (My bedframe is light wood, my wardrobe is white, my bedside cabinet is light wood with white draws, so now it looks more like a set!) The childs pink butterfly patterned fold down table that has my laptop, or half filled/empty cocktail glasses, sat on it, depending on the day/night of the week. The magazine rack that belonged to the sellers grandmother and was originally bought in the 60's. The cocktail trolley that the original owner decided he didn't want after about 10 years, so bought a 'space age' one in replacement, allowing his old (and my new) trolley to have a party filled life at my pad instead of wallowing as an unsold, unloved item on Ebay. The chair that once lived, un sat on, in my aunts garage but now lives here, and has people bickering to sit on it on a regular basis.... I could go on!

Now after all this time of furniture finding,  my interest has started to wonder to the clothes! I don't think I will find myself in an old fashioned teadress (not that I am slating those who do wear them, there is a knack to finding and wearing such a dress, and sadly I do not appear to have it) But I have found the odd bargain that now has pride of place in my wardrobe. Items such as an MTV knitted tanktop, an Oasis denim skirt, and a mens Metallica tee-shirt that I cheerfully cut the sleeves and neckline off to make more boob-friendly! I could not frown at the fact that each item cost me less than a fiver, and it is also nice to know that when I go to the pub, it is very doubtful I will come face to face with someone who is wearing the exact the same item, causing instant mortification!
As a result I have now caught the bug, and am currently on the hunt for a funky vintage coat. Something unique and well made (that isn't fur I must add! Have sadly come across many of these in my searches) I also wouldn't frown at another vintage bag, like my tassled Deisel one I have had for years and still use on a regular basis. I also still keep looking at the furniture, often browsing on the moroccan pouffes I have come across on my beloved Ebay. I have not found any of these items that have jumped out and grabbed me just yet, but that's the joy of looking, you never know what gems you will stumble across in the search. I am sure I am not going to become someone who takes to raiding her Nan's friends wardrobes, or who digs through the skips, as this, it seems, is for the elite. I am just a beginner here. But as passtimes go, it can be fun, and rather inexpensive, it also is nice when someone compliments one of your finds or asks where it is from.

 I will always take my somewhat vintage crochet multicouloured hat off (which has been likened to a teacosy!) to those who have made this an artform, my finds are most probably paltry compared to thier extensive collections, but you have to start somewhere hey? You never know, by the time I hit fifty four, I may have found the coat of my dreams, and maybe even discover the knack of wearing a teadress, although I am sure I will cover it with studs and accessorise it with a skull scarf (some things never change). Who knows, I may end up living in an old house, with a couple of vintage ghosts as friends. I could take a liking to driving an old brightly coloured Beetle whilst listening to cassette tapes. I may end up being a middle aged-ish eclectic eccentric soul who screeches her beetle to a halt beside a skip and dives in headfirst! Who knows? Fifteen year old me would never have imagined doing the things I do now, maybe fifty four year old me will look back and scoff, muttering at her shame that I was such an amatuer whilst I was in my thirties, only time will tell. But as it stands now, you will not see my silver doc martens poking out of a skip as I raid other peoples junk. One womans trash is another womans treasure, but thirty six year old me won't be digging quite that deep to find it! ;)

Peace

Shaking off the blues.

As I have always said, I aim to be totally honest in my blog writings. This one will be no exception. If by writing about my recent battle with Depression I can inspire someone else to get help, or even just contribute in a tiny way to ridding the world of the taboo surrounding it, then it will be worth laying my soul bare for a bit.
So Depression, how can I describe it? Well, to me, it was like something that sucked away at my personality like a vampire sucks blood. It was slow in it's attack, but once it had me in it's grip I sure knew about it. I was slow to realise that I had stopped doing all the things I enjoy, like listen to music, cook, have cocktail parties, exercise, talk to people, see the world (so to speak) take pride in my flat and buy quirky items for it. On my days off prior to depression I would go out, hit the shops, mooch around London, go to the gym, you know, generally get out there. Whilst in the cloud of it I would stay indoors on my days off, curtains closed, in my pyjamas, not even wanting to get out of bed. My creativity hibernated, hence the long gap between blog writings, and I felt contantly tired, upset and/or snappy.
Luckily I had a good support network around me, and managed to seek the help I needed to get better. I went to the doctor, who prescibed me antidepressants and I decided there and then to make the much needed changes in my life to help me back on my way to happiness.
 I can honestly say I am on the mend now, and I hope to be off the antidepressants very soon. It has made me realise that nothing is worth being unhappy about, and if the road to recovery means walking away from something you once held dear, then so be it, it doesn't make you a quitter, or weak, or a coward. It just means that you realise you deserve better, and will take the necessary steps to achieve that. I will never take my happiness for granted again, but also I won't put up with things that make me doubt myself as a person either. If I feel something isn't right, I will no longer put up with it and shut up. It's taken me awhile to get here, but I managed it. Hopefully all those who suffer the same condition will find a way also, by surrounding themselves with the love and support from those around them. I will always be open about my fight, and by doing so I hope others will be open too, it is nothing to be ashamed of. If we rid the taboo, hopefully the stigma will go with it. Anyway peeps, that's enough ramblings for one post. I want to finish by wishing everyone a Happy New Year. May it bring you happiness and fun times. Here's to 2013 ;-)

Peace

Only The Lonely?

Ok, It is once again rant time. Friends of mine, and hopefully readers of this blog will know I don't take too kindly to certain stereotypes. Yes I know some are essential for society and all that, but some (well most) are quite frankly judgemental and biased. It seems that yet again people want to stick a label on solo living folk as lonely and unfortunate souls and it infuriates me! Why oh why do they feel it is so necessary to drum it into folk that are contemplating living alone that it's the pits and a life of drudgery. Why do certain individuals (some who have no doubt never even tried it so quite frankly wouldn't know) like to paint a miserable picture of living independently as if it is something to fear rather than an experience to embrace.
I've heard all the lines and excuses under the sun for why it is so bad to have your own place. I get the 'poor you' looks and the woe be gone stares all the time, it is, quite frankly, boring, and a waste of people's efforts! So I am going to paint an honest picture, based on those lines, and once again attempt to slam some stereotypes.

1. There is no one around to clear up after you.
Good, it's my mess (if you are messy, I, personally, am not) and I will have it how I see fit. At least I know that when I put something down, it won't be moved, or thrown away, by someone else.

2. At least at home you have your dinner cooked and waiting for you.
Yes that's true, and thankyou very much. But sometimes I would like to cook for myself and eat when I choose. I may get in and fancy a take away or just a crisp sandwich, hell I may not want to eat until midnight, or maybe even not be hungry at all as I may have eaten a big lunch.

3. There is nobody for you to talk to.
Invite friends and family round, drop a text or an email to someone who has credit on thier phone, I am sure they will be happy to have a ten minute chat. Go out for a walk, say hi to the smiley stranger. Go to the local library. Pop over to a friend for coffee. Relish the fact that if you don't fancy seeing a single soul and would rather lose yourself in a book, watch a movie or play some music, that you can do just that without having to justify it.

4. You will struggle with money.
Yes, this is true, I won't sugercoat it. I once lived in my overdraft, however I have managed to clear it now (although I still have some debt from the past). But hand on heart, I wouldn't change a thing! I am not encouraging folk to get into debt, but let's be honest, most of us are in it. Using an overdraft isn't a crime, and as long as you do your research and keep on top of it, it can be managable. Just try your best not to have the store-cards, the loans, the credit cards etc, as it will catch up with you in the end. Sometimes I believe that those who struggle are happiest deep down because when they do finally get that bag or item of clothing they want, they realise that they have earned it and therefore deserve it. It makes you appreciate things and also makes you less materialistic. I used to think nothing of putting clothes on an old store-card, which I would then only wear once and then shove to the back of my wardrobe. It was easier to flit it away when I lived at home. I wasted lots of money this way. So yes impulse purchases will be a thing of the past, but let's be honest, how many of these rash buys are really treasured? I mean really loved and worn for years to come? Not many hey?
Yes ok you have to buy cheap food in supermarkets, but in most cases it tastes just as nice as the branded stuff. I have lots of points cards and will always use them. Deals and freebies? Yes please!
  I have had to unfortunately knock my long term vegetarianism on the head. There is often leftover food at work which I would rather eat than throw away. I often feel guilty about having to turn my back on my beliefs but if the food is free, I can't really afford to be fussy about what is in it and also it is wrong to waste it.

5. I am worried that you will start drinking too much.
I like a drink, I will not pretend, but I liked a drink when I lived with others too. There is nothing nicer than sharing a bottle of wine with a close friend on a friday night whilst having a good gossip. It is even nicer when you do not have to worry that your loud cackles are keeping your mum or partner awake when they just want a quiet night. Most people prefer to drink with company, or if they do like a bottle of wine to themselves (which sometimes I do) there is a likelyhood they also liked this when they lived at home. Solo living doesn't always lead to refuge at the bottom of a whisky bottle.

6.There will be nobody around to do your laundry, ironing or chores.
Yes I know that. Where I live we do not have washing machines, but I either handwash, go to the laundrette, take washing with me on family visits, hell I have even used the washing machine at work from time to time. I rarely iron as usually I don't need to, and if I do need to do it, it's usually on a sunday afternoon with the music blaring. Ironing kareoke can be the best! I also usually dance around shaking my tush as I hoover as once again the stereo is on full pelt. There is nobody to moan about the washing up not being done, and no one to have a hissy fit if you don't pick up your jeans off the floor. Truth time, I have occasionally done some chores in the nude! Imagine your mum walking in on that!

7. You will be lonely.
Yes if you allow yourself to be. But in most cases solo living folk work full time and have family members and friends call them on a regular basis when they get home. I would lay my bottom dollar most people have a facebook or twitter account also in which they can have regular contact. Use your initiative, invite friends and family round or go and see them. Asking that workmate who has not long started at your company if she fancies popping round for a cuppa may just be appreciated. Going on a solo venture to a movie or to the gym will not only kill time but may also introduce you to new people. How will you know what is out there if you don't look for it. If you seal yourself away from the world then yes you will get lonely. Don't let it happen, I never did, and many people I know who live alone feel the same way.

So there it is, the honest picture, the truth bared. I really hope that someone who dreams of having thier own place reads this and realises that the doom stories are often not true. Yes there are people out there who have tried living alone and ended up not liking it, but then there are some of us who are currently living this way and will be happy to say that it's outshone all our expectations. The only way you will ever find out if you are cut out for this is if you try it. Surely it's better to experience life for yourself than live by the experiences and fears of others.

Peace

My Single self

It is now that I must admit that I have finally gained myself a boyfriend. I never went on a wild manhunt, or waded through the whole single girl regime that presents itself in the form of speed dating or internet hook-ups to find him, it just seems that he stumbled upon my path at the right (or wrong, depending on how you look at it) time. The unfortunate soul that is now in my life happens to have the same taste in music as me and also resides in the same block of flats. It now seems almost inevitable that our paths would cross at some point, and that somehow the fuse to our fireworks would eventually ignite...
But please be rest assured that this is not a blog-post harping on about the joys of new found love. You, I, and said boyfriend in question should know by now that is not the sort of woman I am. I'm not going to spring forth with tales of flowers, soul mates and 'Happy ever afters'  because if I did that, I know that I will vomit myself, so I do not want to induce the upchucks on anyone else who may stumble across my writings. I am not a fairy-tale believer who thinks that a person is not complete without their 'other half' nor am I a merchant who buys into the whole 'The grass is greener' stereotype.

Now that my fella is present in my life, I can honestly say that I can no longer imagine what my life would be like without him in it, I wouldn't want to lose him and I can only hope he wouldn't want to lose me either. But that does in no way mean that my single self does not pop up to haunt me from time to time.

She is like a ghost of me who wears all my skimpy clothes and dons the kind of shoes that would make a hooker jealous.

On rare and unexpected times she whispers in my ear and it drives me crazy.

This saturday night that has just gone by is one of those occasions where she has tried to remind me that although she is virtually non existant now, she will never disappear completely from my life.
 She's been a part of me for so long that it would seem almost cruel to send her packing to the spinsterhood where the other ghosts of single women reside. But to be fair I just wish she would pick her haunting times more wisely, like when I am asleep, or when I am browsing in Ann Summers for toys or outfits. I wish that she and her little toolkit would return to their resting place when I go out with my gorgeous single girlfriends for a few drinks and a dance at the local club. And I can only hope that when a young male hottie hits on all of us that she will stay in her resting place and automatically go on mute. I wish that she wouldn't remind me that if said boyfriend had bailed out on the night (like he almost did) that we got together, he would have ended on a seperate path to mine, and then, as a result, the young male hottie may have ended up spending the night at my pad, but not getting any sleep if you catch my drift. I wish she wouldn't give me flashbacks of encounters long gone and I wish she wouldn't insist on reminding me that I have a much more colorful past than my fella which may make him question what the hell he is doing with me in the first place.

But she does insist on haunting me, and reminding me of a past existence that was once mine. She will lurk, and whisper and convince me to wear those heels that kill my feet. She points at all the low cut tops and plays the songs I used to listen to on repeat when I was alone. She wakes me up in the dead of night to remind me of what I have achieved and what I have gained whilst she ruled my world. She tells me that no matter what I will always survive and that I can count on her, as to be fair she is me, boyfriend or not. So I owe her an awful lot and have to forgive her for her little whisperings and clothing/shoe choices. I have, as a result, made the decision not to ignore her entirely, but to instead pass her words onto others. So if I am out with you one night and a young male hottie hits on you, don't be surprised if I tell you to 'Give him one for me', just like I did to one of my single counterparts this saturday (she didn't, in the end, 'give him one', this time, but who knows next time). It will be my single self talking, and although I can't take her advice personally anymore, as she's already finished with me, that does not mean she has to go on mute and in anyway finished with you lot. So all I can say is long may she haunt me and whisper 'Give him one for me' so that I can pass it on to others.

Peace

I like everything, me!

I am very passionate about music. If it wasn't present in my day to day life I would be a very unhappy person indeed. My existence would be dull and grey, and my happy persona would disappear in an instant.
I have certain types of music I listen to when I  relax, music I play when I am cooking, certain tunes I blast when the girls come round, and songs I attempt to warble to when I am getting ready for a night out.
Myself and many others can definitely be heard saying that we have mood music for when we are happy, sad, angry or even in the throes of passion. I have even had people say that they will listen to music to bring about a mood of happiness or even sadness at times. Music can bring back happy memories, or remind us of a time or a person we would rather forget. Music can be a very powerful tool and it can either send out a message of love or a message of vengeance and hate. If you, like me, are passionate about music, then I am sure you will understand exactly what I am saying here.


Unfortunately though, I have a pet hate. And that pet hate? People telling me that they like everything. Seriously, if you ever meet me and we end up discussing music (which we will inevitably do) I will be honest and tell you that I love music such as rock, metal, indie, punk and brit pop. I can almost tolerate R&B, don't mind a bit of pop occasionally. Am partial to a bit of jazz from time to time. I do not like music of the garage, hip hop or drum and bass genre, and can't say I have even tried classical, opera or country.
 So when we do get chatting, please don't tell me that you like everything, because that, my friends, is impossible. If you do say that I am likely to ask you if you fancy a bit of Slipknot (one of my top bands) or are partial to a bit of Barry Manilow (one of my Aunts favourite artists) It is very unlikely that a person will have both Iowa and Manilow Magic in their cd collection. The genres of music are vast, and the spectrum is like a rainbow of all the colours and shades in our world. I would bet my last penny that a person would not listen to a track by Rob Zombie then slap on a song containing the dulcet tones of Sir Cliff Richard. An individual will not surely have a touch of Hip Hop and a dash of Modern Jazz on their I-tunes collection. They won't tap their foot to Johnny Cash then wax lyrical about their love for Girls Aloud. 
So if and when we do meet, and I ask you what music you like, tell me honestly, because I like to hear the reasons behind why you like what you like. What makes that track or album your most played. A person passionate about music likes to find others who feel the same way, someone who is happy to go to a music fair and wade through all the cds, someone who has vinyl and limited editions, someone who can tell a story about their choices. It doesn't matter to me if your tastes are poles apart from mine, as life would be boring if we were all the same, it just matters if you tell me that you like everything, because if you do, it is likely I will ask the dj for some Metallica or go to the juke box and fill the room with the soulful sounds of Megadeth followed with some bangin' Motown.


Peace