I lived in London a couple years ago. I decided to move there on my own because I was a shy 23 year old who had just finished her teaching degree. I looked back on my four years of study and realized that I had wasted so much time waiting around for my life to start.
I had literally spent four years waiting for life to find me while I watched TV and ate pasta. I had come so far in life it would seem. From a young optimistic four year old making pasta necklaces, to a 23 year old woman eating pasta so often it decided to hang around (namely on her gut and thighs).
So anyway, I did the only thing I thought I could do to actively change my life. I ran away.
For everyone who cared about me, I called it an adventure, my chance to see the world. However, in reality, I was just so fucking done with my life. I needed a break from it.
I recall one particular lonely London day. I was sitting on my bed marking assessments. I was listening to Hozier on repeat because I had chosen his latest album to be my woeful theme music.
The room was so big, too big. There were too many empty spaces surrounding me. I hated it. I could feel the entire vacant space swirl around as I continued to scratch red lines onto paper I could barely read (seriously, kids, it is not that hard to separate your letters).
The walls had been covered with ugly off-white wallpaper that was peeling in places. I could see yellow stains here and there and I wondered what disgusting find I may stumble upon if I was to peel back the wallpaper completely.
I feel like people pride themselves on having so much space. It is as if you are suddenly important because you have purchased the emptiness between the distances of stuff.
In the end, it does not matter how much distance you purchase, for I had realized on that lonely London day that I would much rather be closer to things.
I’m learning to listen
to where my feet want to take me
Rather than the whispers
of the world that made me
Who am I
if I am no longer dominated
by the notion that I must fix god’s genetic mistake?
Who am I without the mission to mould me
into that which I would be proud to have made?
Who am I without the journey to unfold me?
To see the past as a living anguish that has been triumphed over
by that future woman
standing on her pedestal of contentment and admiration
Superfood Fetta Salad, Roasted chick peas and sweet potato chips with Avocado & lemon.
It’s hard to not feel jaded
you want to help
but can’t help
Because you’ve been told to be selfish
to care about your face
and your words
how many things you have
and I know in the end it doesn’t matter
I know that what matters is your hand in mine
in a time where people cry
But people have always been crying
I think I am alone
I’m the jaded one
who cannot help
But the truth is more than this
I’m the bad guy
We are all the bad guys
And in that realization
further truth emerges
we must all be the good guy too
-Inspired by the latest Wonderwoman film & current world events
So I’ve had really bad skin for years. I’m 26 years old and have never quite got over the bad skin phase of my teenage years. I’ve tried product after product with a varying array of results. My skin is quite good these days due to a few small things.
- Use Pore strips: I can’t swear by these things enough. Not only do you receive the satisfaction of seeing the blockage from your pores directly on the strip, but it immediately causes your skin to be more smooth. When I apply my make-up in the morning it goes on a lot smoother and looks less flakey. I recommend you buy the pack that has both the strips for your nose, forehead and chin.
- Quit Dairy: Listen, I was absolutely addicted to milk for years. I didn’t drink soft drink or juice. I drank milk. More than water even. When I moved to London for a stretch I lived with a really healthy roommate who convinced me that the hormones in dairy milk were causing me harm. After some research I made the decision to quit. After quitting I lost about 3 kilos and my skin greatly improved after about two weeks. I now drink Almond milk only.