New Year’s Resolutions

A little late, but most of January never feels like a very motivated time anyway, and today is Imbolc if you’re a Pagan, plus it’s soon to be Chinese New Year, so it still counts.

I really wanted to list the things I hope to achieve/do this year, and what’s more to come back to the list periodically to check I’m not completely slacking. Ryan suggested I pinned it on my wall/noticeboard and I think that’s a good idea. I have been following them thus far, I just hadn’t publicised them yet. But that is all about to change.

~MY 2010 TO-DO LIST~

* The main objective is to try new things, learn, vary. Not to get stuck in a rut. To keep busy and even if I don’t get really good at anything, to be reasonable at many things. A jack of all trades, if you will.

* Continue my health kick, such as it is. Keep up the daily stretches/exercises and 3-mile walks (further, on occasion). This is where variation would really help, though. Mum got me a little book of toning exercises for Christmas, so I need to look through that and try different ones on different days. I went swimming the other day and managed 60 lengths in 50 minutes (oddly I could do that even when I was much less fit), and I’d like to swim more often – just a bit pricey and I’m worried what chlorine would do to my highlighted hair. Would still like to try yoga or a dance of some sort. I’d like to involve others too – Ryan and I will probably make use of his village tennis court in spring/summer, and I did speak to Laurs about it last night but she’s making do with her new treadmill at the mo. Also, make use of the Wii Fit at Ryan’s house as much as poss – the hula hoop exercise especially made me ache in places I didn’t know I had!

* Look up and learn to cook/prepare a range of tasty nutritious new meals. I’m always tearing recipes out of ‘Cook Vegetarian’ magazines, but most seem to contain one ingredient you never have lying around or they’re just a bit calorific for my current routine. I’m sure I could adapt, make smaller portions, or just look up other things online though. Last week I learnt to make a delicious puy lentil Mediterranean salad, and I re-made that butternut squash and spinach risotto from November too with added veg and rosemary, and MMMMM. I can also do my own carrot and coriander soup (my current favourite food). At least one new dish a month, preferably two or three. I enjoy cooking and think it’ll be easier/more fun to stay healthy if I’m not just eating the same things, though I do have certain ‘old faithfuls’.

* Let my musical side out to play! I’ve always been told I had a good ear for music, though the most I ever did with it was grade 4 treble recorder and some basic keyboard/piano twiddlings. I’d attempted to play guitar but been put off by my rubbishness. However the past few months have seen me wanting to flex my musical muscles once more, and just before Christmas I learnt a little basic guitar courtesy of Ryan (he has more than one of his own and has played on and off for years). I resolved to keep it up till I sounded like I knew what I was doing and my mum suggested I could get a cheap guitar for my next birthday. Ryan got there sooner though, customising one of his old ones with new paint and parts  and giving it to me for Christmas! <3 (I got a reverb pedal for him, coincidentally, because I want one myself and can borrow this one till my birthday rolls around.)

Now I need to sit down and learn the chords and scales, y’know the basics, so I understand it better. Thus far I’ve been too impatient and instead learnt a few tabs of songs I like instead. Anyway, I really mean to keep this up, and I’d like to get better at keyboard again too (have got my ancient Yamaha down from the loft) – again learning chords would be good, I was never good at theory stuff like that, just played by ear. And maybe guitar skillz will progress to the bass too, as they’re not that wildly different. Hooray! I can just picture myself as a sort of ‘floating member’ (um) of a band, changing instruments depending on the song. Could bring the recorder into fashion too, who knows.

* Read more books. I love books. English has always been my favourite academic subject, both reading and writing. Yet somehow I can get into lazy habits with my reading. I have intensive reading phases then big gaps. Bad lady! I also need to finish more books, as I still have several I started ages ago and never went back to. I swear my concentration span is shot these days. It sounds a very modest goal, but I aim for at least thirteen books this year. I hope in reality it’ll end up being a much higher number, but I don’t like to get too specific in my resolutions. That’s one a month, plus one for luck (and I just like number 13). Thus far it’s been a month and I’ve read one book – ‘The True Deceiver’ by Tove Jansson. Very subtle stuff. So I’m on the right track but could do with stepping up my game a little. I bought one by a Russian writer whilst visiting Andrea over Christmas, I still have her Egyptian one to read, I’ve just got through a Swedish/Finnish one … what’s next? Also I must read more classics and more 19th century literature. Starting with ‘1984′ – how long has that been on my shelf?!

* Find a job. Preferably a good one, but almost anything will suffice. It goes without saying, but still. It’d be nice to feel like a functional member of society once more, and to amass some bling. It’d be doubly good if I could combine exercise with it – like walking there and back came to roughly 3 miles, or it involved some manual stuff. Please, world, sort this recession bollocks out and create more job vacancies, not fewer.

*Writing project? I dunno about this one. I would really love to actually think up a good idea I could sink my teeth into and get back into writing; it’s always pretty high on my list. But this year I feel more scattered, more like focusing a little on a range of other things, things I’m approaching from a fresher perspective. Who knows, maybe that’s exactly when inspiration will strike.

* I wish I did more to help/benefit others. It always seems the things I enjoy doing are more ‘hobbies for me’ and don’t have much more point. I’d like to be more practical and useful. I suppose I can cook for people okay, but that’s about it. I was at Ryan’s recently and his sister was practising her make-up-course skills on their other sister, then Ryan came to take pictures for her portfolio on his expensive camera, whilst he was fixing her laptop. I want to be able to use my skills! I want to learn cool stuff that I can teach others or use to give them things. I should definitely learn how to use a sewing machine, then I can do the bra-customising stuff I planned. But I’d like to do more for others generally too – I admire those who do so, such as my mum and her caring job or my sis volunteering for charity shops and shelters for the homeless. At the very least I have to finally donate blood, now I seem to have a healthy enough bod – unlike two years ago which must have been my illest year ever!

* I’d love to improve my social life. I think this is more a by-product of other things though – meeting people through activities or jobs or lessons – and not so much within my immediate control. I rarely go out partly due to lack of money and mainly because I only live near about one friend now and she’s always busy with teacher work and seeing her boyf at weekends! Everyone else is too spread out. I spend a lot of time with my lovely boyf, which I’m not complaining – it’s just that ‘variety’ thing rearing its head again. I’m not a social butterfly – I definitely need and appreciate a certain amount of ‘me-time’. I don’t aspire to go out every night. It’s good when you don’t see someone for a while so you have more to talk about when you do. (Especially if I keep up all the things I want to do.) But I feel I’m too much of a loner and need to rediscover the joys of having fun in another’s company on a more frequent basis. Take me out, people!

* Experiment with my appearance. This isn’t an important one; I just thought it sounded fun. Both in terms of my appearance itself and the things with which I adorn and dress myself. Obviously I’d like to lose a little more weight. I found a three-year-old red hair dye in my drawer, and as it doesn’t seem to have a use-by date, it would be a shame to let it go to waste. Jennie suggested dyeing the underlayer of my hair, and I approve. I love being light-blonde, but the underneath is a rubbish colour naturally anyway and a bit straggly – making it red would brighten things up a bit. Two-tone: the solution for chronically indecisive folks. Then I’ll re-highlight the top layer at some stage, as long as it doesn’t totally kill it. I need to try more styles too, rather than letting it hang. On New Year’s Eve I wore green contact lenses and though those particular ones were a bit uncomfortable, I liked the effect and would like to try others, though of course blue suits me best.

Clothes-wise, I’ve made my list (the sort I write from time to time) featuring items I either need or generally covet, but with an emphasis on trying styles I might not otherwise go for. Within reason – they have to suit me, obv, and flatter my shape – but I’d be up for trying colours I don’t usually like (such as pink) if they are in a shade that goes with my colouring, and garments I’d previously dismissed as ‘not my thing’. I’m welcoming suggestions from others on how they would style me if given the chance, so go ahead if you have ideas! I figure that even if I find they don’t suit me, I’ve at least given it a go and know for the future. I’ve already discovered that I can indeed rock skinny jeans and damn well too. I feel terribly vain and materialistic even writing this, but fuck it. It’s not about ‘having things’ and I never buy expensive clothes anyway. I can get away with more styles now I’m slimmer than I used to be and I think it’s fun getting creative with ensembles. Not to mention very few of my clothes even fit any more anyways – hence why there are so many ‘necessities’ on my list. I’d still love a corset, once I don’t think my bod will change size any more. More dresses, layers, lady-scarves, chunky jewellery, different shoes and boots! A decent sized handbag (that isn’t ugly smelly leather, brown or black, like 99% of handbags). Shorts with patterned or coloured tights! And I’d like to be more adventurous when straddling that fine line between ‘tacky’ and ’so tacky it’s awesome’, because that can have some really funky results. Risky bzns.

So I’m feeling quite positive and energised about these possibilities – let’s start as I mean to go on. Ryan has some ‘new year new me’ things going on too: he’s already had a proper haircut and a shave, ordered electronic cigarettes to gradually quit smoking, and is going to guitar it up till he’s a rock god. Go us As the Dismemberment Plan would have it, it’s going to be a very, very good year.

(I should add a couple more tiny things to the list: maybe try to stop eating crunchy peanut butter straight out of the jar, and don’t spill soup all over your clothes so often. For goodness’ sake, you’re 25.)

So I was at the station the other night…

… and I had just bought my tickets from the machine. It was the day before New Year’s Eve (New Year’s Eve Eve?) and pitch-black, nearly 9pm. I had my arms full of luggage and I had started towards the stairs when I realised my umbrella was no longer in either hand. Fearing I had forgotten it, I went back to the machines to check and at that point it fell out from under my arm and clattered to the ground quite loudly. The only other person about was a dude smoking a fag nearby, who jumped and then turned to say “You scared the living daylights out me, ha ha.” I picked up my brolly and laughed “Sorry!” then made my way up the steps towards the other platform. I was most of the way up when the guy came inside, leaned up and called “I don’t mind, though!”

What a weirdo. But it kind of made my evening. I like it when strangers live up to their name and make you laugh. I was half-afraid this bloke would follow me to the platform and onto the train, but he didn’t. He did however call “I don’t mind” over the railway tracks again. I’m positive this is what happened; he wasn’t on the phone and he wasn’t with anybody. There were a couple of others standing on the platform much further down but that was it.

It reminded me of that time in January 2007 when Laurs and I were walking over the railway bridge to Sainsbury’s when we passed a fat man who smiled and made a friendly throwaway comment of some description, and then I happened to bump into him again a couple of weeks later in the same place, this time with some crazy ramble about global warming. I wish I could remember it word for word, but it was along the lines of, “Nice sunny day isn’t it? Bit warm for this time of year … They say the world’s going to end in 2084, and people are always like ‘I’ll be dead by then, it won’t affect me.’ Not me though! I’ve known since I was 7 years old, riding my bike, I’m going to outlive the sun.” And off he went.

More like this please. It’s quite cool attracting oddballs. Incidentally, if anyone reading this has a bizarre stranger quote (or other stranger-related anecdote) of their own, pray tell.

Wednesday’s child is full of woe

Seriously, whoever made up that rhyme done the crime had some divine insight. Since I was about 14 I noticed that if I was ever having ‘one of those days’, more often than not it turned out to be a Wednesday. I noticed it because I’d occasionally write ’shit lists’ when I was in a bad mood, to try and get stuff off my chest, and when I wrote the date I made the connection. Wednesday is the emo day.

Today started off well enough with me making some much-needed cash on eBay and it snowing outside – pretty. But I’m feeling really stressed and frustrated in general this past week or so. I’m enjoying being busy, but seemingly not being able to get anything finished/done quickly. Mostly Christmas things. I thought I was being organised with having bought my first present in early November, but I haven’t been bowled over with inspiration since. Suddenly we’re about a week away and I still have yet to get anything for my mother and boyfriend, have to get something else for my sister and dad, and maybe one or two other little things for friends. Ryan has been getting up at 6am all week and borrowing his uncle’s shed to create my mystery gift! The ideas I’ve had for him seem lame in comparison. I haven’t made even one Christmas card, and I wanted to have posted the necessary ones by now. Ryan is most likely coming tomorrow; I don’t want to spend all the time he’s here doing that sort of thing. The ebay stuff has taken up far too much time; it was necessary as I really needed that extra money, but it took forever. And I feel MOULD.

The worst possible time to get ill: when you have shitloads to do and are already behind. I think my dad gave the lergy to me as he had/has a cold. Except mine seems stuck in the skanky developing stage, as usual. I could deal with being snotty and coughing, but instead it’s having a not-exactly-sore-but-really-achey throat, neck and glands; snotty enough to be annoying; body so heavy I can’t get out of bed very quickly even though I have loads to do; and a thick foggy fuzzy head that means I can’t seem to bring myself to concentrate on anything. I just keep playing Mahjongg with a glazed expression (top score: 1 min 40 secs on ‘difficult’ setting!) or staring into space. I’m also bodgy in other ways: premenstrual so aching boobs and a few fetching spots, winter is drying my skin out, and the run-down-ness is making my hair look dull/greasy and my skin blotchy. Ugh.

Today was full of those seemingly minor setbacks that would be annoying but inconsequential in themselves, but piled on top of one another make you RAR, cry or sit despondently with your head in your hands. I went shopping with my mum and sister in a nearby town that has more interesting shops than the crummy place we live. I had hoped to get the majority of the remaining Christmas shopping done.

* They both went out for Christmas parties the previous night and I was feeling skanky so it wasn’t the early start I’d anticipated. For various reasons we didn’t leave till about 2:30. For one thing it took ages to package up the ebay parcels, and not all of them have even paid me yet.

* The snow was pretty; it was nice to get it in December for a change (usually it snows in late Jan/early Feb if at all, except for last year when it was in April and October!) but freezing and slippery to be out in, and later turned to nasty cold rain.

* After us turning down a narrow road to get to the secret car park, we couldn’t because the road was closed and we took a long way round to another one. We had less than 2 hours’ shopping time by the time we got to town.

* I had several shops in mind where I always seem to find nice things. The first had closed down. The second, I didn’t find anything I hadn’t bought anyone before, just a couple of uncertain ideas. The third was closed because of a power cut. The fourth, I thought I’d heard had ‘gone into administration’ and it wasn’t there any more so I guess it must’ve. WTF. I bought two little things in the end. I was just wandering round feeling freezing, damp and sniffly. I had an idea for a Ryan present but it turned out not to be that great a plan.

* At the end we went to get a hot drink but they turned out to be closing so we had to drink en route back to the car. My hazelnut hot chocolate was nice but a bit rich and I felt bad for however many calories were in there, plus it splashed out of the tiny hole onto my sleeve.

* Oh and I seemed to have undercharged people for postage on the ebay things as I assumed it was a franking machine not stamps. D’oh.

* Went to Sainsbury’s with mum afterwards and they had one of my favourite comfort foods – the multi-seeded rye bread! I am pathologically unable to resist buying this, so I always feel a mixture of delight and dread when I see they have one available. I wasn’t expecting there to be two left at the end of the day. I had been feeling completely unhungry and it was about 8:45 at the time but I had suddenly got my appetite back, so of course I ended up nomming half the loaf in the car on the way home. I tear bits off with my fingers. Oh, it’s so nice. But I felt really disappointed in myself after, because calories. They don’t even have an ingredients list on the packaging, but it must be a lot. I’ve been good at eating mostly veg/protein based meals this week and my morning weight seemed to go down quicker, but I’m sure eating all that bread will change things. Weather and my feeling ill aren’t that conducive to walking and exercising either. I’m going to indulge over Christmas, so I was trying to be good up till then. Argh.

* Still haven’t done a Christmas card, though I started to prepare. And instead of sleeping, even though I feel crap, I’m writing this. I have a bunch of things I haven’t been able to fit in. Ryan taught me some guitar last week and I wanted to practise often – I’m serious about getting my musical madskillz in shape. I wanted to write 2 or 3 different entries in here, one discussing things I’d like to do/accomplish in general and being optimistic, one humbugging about Christmas, possibly a little 2009 recap, not that I did much. I was going to do some synastry for Johnny and his newish boyfriend. But I somehow haven’t had time.

It’s technically Thursday now though, so things should start to look up. Speaking of looking up, I saw part of the Geminids meteor shower on Sunday night – pretty! I saw about 9 or 10 before it clouded over and I went back inside – a jumper, coat, 2 scarves, hat, gloves, cup of tea and hot water bottle were just enough to keep me warm for that long. (I was wearing jeans, underwear, socks and shoes too, you understand.)

I know my little list of complaints above is ridiculously trivial, but damn, it was irritating. I do feel a bit better for having written it out. Bed now, with my new pillows, as I have a lot to wade through tomorrow before my lovely lorry lover (hopefully) arrives to spread some winter cheer and give me nice strokes and cups of tea and things. Lucky lady.  ♥

Gig review: Decemberists, Coronet Theatre, 19/11/09

The fifth and final gig I attended this year, and very probably my favourite too. They’ve all been good (Walkmen in Feb, M83 and Why? in July) but I’d say the two November bands, Mew and the Decemberists, put on the best shows. Perhaps its their shared proggy tendencies. Not that the other bands didn’t put effort in, and I really enjoyed seeing them, but Mew have their weirdo animations, odd interludes and barely break between songs, and Decemberists … well, we’ll get to that.

I had started that Thursday in something of a dodgy mood, but cheered up as the day went on. Ryan and I made scrummy curries for early dinner and the journey to the Coronet was wonderfully stress-free – no traffic, only two tube stops from Waterloo and visible from the Elephant & Castle station! Huzzah. We dutifully joined the mahoosive queue that stretched around several blocks and into a car park where impatient drivers honked at us, and I phoned my sis who wasn’t yet in London and then did my eyeliner as the line moved much quicker than I’d anticipated. Amazingly, bouncers didn’t steal Ryan’s camera, so he got scores of great photos, of which I may steal and use one or two. Let’s hope he doesn’t sue me.

It was a really comprehensively laid-out venue, if that makes any sense. The toilets were on the way to the main standing area, and there was no queue! Just as well, as I wanted to get a decent spot and keep it for the entire night without wetting myself. Considering it was about 7:45 by then and Emmy the Great was already halfway through her support set, we were pleasantly shocked to be able to sidle down to the front. There wasn’t oodles of room but we managed to slip in on the far left and put our coats and my bag over the rail. YES! I like to try and do that at every gig as cloakrooms are a rip-off and a nightmare afterwards. Plus, front and left! Best place to be. Again the layout was so that we could actually see pretty much all of the stage despite being to the side. Props to this venue; I hope I go there again sometime.

I had never listened to Emmy before but she had a lovely voice and I enjoyed the little I got to see of her. Singer-songwriter lady, folky pop. Must check out some of her work. Unfortunately, she got shooed off before finishing her second-to-last song as there were clearly many preparations to be made for the Decemberists if they were to get on stage by 8:30 and get through two whole sets. How rude … still, she seemed amused. As soon as she had exited stage left, The Whale made its first appearance. The large inflatable whale that began bouncing around over people’s heads. This could mean only one thing: dedicated fans were desperate to hear The Mariner’s Revenge Song and had brought a prop! It didn’t take long for a bouncer down the front to confiscate the whale and hoist it up to the balcony until further notice, but ’twas not the last we had seen of him, oh no…

I looked about frequently but no sign of Jennie and Sue. After half an hour of waiting soundtracked by Pink Floyd, lights were lowered and on came the Decemberists one by one, beginning with keyboardist/organist/accordionist Jenny Conlee, to serenade us with the Prelude as the others took their places. The excitement in the crowd was palpable. Once the set-up was complete, The Hazards of Love began.

Damn bouncer's bonce rarely moved out of the frame.

True to the album as a complete rock-opera to be listened to in order and all at once, they didn’t break the spell. For the entire hour or so it took, they stayed in character; no speaking, just tunes. It was like watching a musical. Throughout the set, several instrument changes were handled with aplomb and it was a perfect re-enactment. Very pleased I got to see it, as I believe they’ve now finished their playing-Hazards-in-full tour.

I love the theatrical side of this band, and I especially liked the characterisation of the two guest chanteuses. Becky Stark as Margaret the doomed damsel (hey! isn’t that my role?), in floaty white gown, wafted about the stage (Ryan: “‘Wafted’? She’s not a fart!”) all starry-eyed. It looked as if she were performing some sort of medieval T’ai Chi at times, but very fitting. My personal favourite though was Shara Worden who absolutely belted it out as the bad ol’ Forest Queen. Stomping about in a slinky black dress, clawing at the air like a pantomime villain, she actually reminded me of ‘Greek Week’ in year 6 when I played the Gorgon Medusa and had to make similar snarling and hissing gestures (no lines, though, and definitely no singing). Fun! I honestly think this lady has an incredible voice (as did my dad when he saw them do ‘The Wanting Comes In Waves/Repaid’ on Jools Holland that week), and I find her pretty intriguing altogether. Just unusual and obviously has an eye for the dramatic (methinks both ladies were perfectly cast). Check out this video from her in My Brightest Diamond guise (her day-job). I may or may not have a bit of a girl-crush.

Margaret swaying in a maidenly manner.

Jezebel! The fiery Queen strutting her stuff.

But back to the gig. The whole band gave it their all, main man Colin Meloy shifting between his three different viewpoints of hero William, bad guy The Rake and the narrator, either strumming prettily or thrashing away at his guitar(s). Because I stupidly forgot to charge the battery beforehand, my camera died halfway through the Hazards set, which is another reason I’ll be stealing my boyfriend’s pics from now on. Myriad drums were employed in how-is-babby-killed tale ‘The Rake’s Song’, just like on Jools (but sounding much better, with all the other instruments clear and loud as well). The lighting was good and despite some last.fm users reporting that the sound was dodgy at the front, it sounded fab from where I was standing. Maybe being next to the speaker (again) helped? All in all, great jorb.

When the final song drew to a close, they were all smiles, Colin thanking us and offering a belated introduction now he was finally able to speak. They took a 20-minute break to rest and freshen up, during which period I could spot a setlist or two scattered about the stage and could make out a few letters here and there – turns out my eyesight is better than I thought as my estimates proved correct. Having made a mini-wish-list of five songs I’d like a couple of, I was happy that two did indeed make an appearance: ‘Yankee Bayonet’ and ‘Shiny’ Ms Worden returned to duet on the former, which sounded completely different to the original but nice all the same. I was chuffed with ‘Shiny’ as it isn’t even on a proper album but is one of my favourite Decemberists tunes. Love it when bands throw out a more obscure back-catalogue track at gigs.

Perhaps to balance out the intensity of the Hazards, they stuck mostly to their bouncier songs, and there was at least one representing each album though Picaresque and The Crane Wife, the two most recent, made up the lion’s share. Speaking of creatures, the whale made a brief reappearance for long enough to catch Colin’s eye – he seemed mightily amused. More than making up for lost time, he grinned and chattered away between songs, though I didn’t quite catch what he was saying about Elephant & Castle as the girl to my right chose that moment to faint and had to be escorted out. Closer to the centre I shuffled. Next thing I knew, an energetic rendition of ‘Billy Liar’ culminated in Mr Meloy splitting the audience (using ‘Steve’ and ‘Dennis’ as markers, of course) and conducting us in a three-part wordless harmony, upping and downing the volume as pleased him. And the crowd did exactly as he said. I felt as if we were a bunch of nine-year-olds and he the eccentric music teacher. Madness.

The level of interaction with the audience was one of my favourite parts of this show. I’m mostly used to seeing bands who don’t talk that much (or at all *cough*MBV*cough*), and it felt good to be more involved. That and the charisma of the the band is what elevated this gig above the rest. It wasn’t just a case of turning up and hearing your favourite songs, it was being totally entertained, getting your money’s worth. My only regret was not learning the words to every song beforehand; I tended to know snippets here and there as opposed to the whole thing, with a few exceptions. People were singing along all over the place. There were a few false starts and mistakes on the Decemberists’ part, but it didn’t disrupt the flow, just added to the friendly, informal atmosphere.

‘O Valencia!’ brought the second set to its end, and the rapturous applause and whistling continued till back out they came. Mr Whale couldn’t be contained any longer and started bouncing around, till Colin seized him by the fin and told everyone that he would remain out of the way ’till the right time … whatever that means’. Oh, people were excited. First though, they quietened it down for a change to do ‘Eli, the Barrow Boy’, and it’s a good thing I was on such a high because that song can make me cry if it’s one of those moments. Here though I just leaned against Ryan’s shoulder and enjoyed it. And then…

The great tambourine massacre of '09.

At nine minutes long, ‘The Mariner’s Revenge Song’ was a fabulously satisfying end to the night, with each band member having their moment to shine. The accordion came out (hurrah!), tambourines were destroyed (some of their remains were chucked into the crowd), silly dances were danced. At a pre-arranged signal, the entire audience let out a collective blood-curdling scream as we were swallowed by a whale, and its blow-up counterpart was flung back out for a spot of crowd-surfing. And some awesome individual captured the whole thing on video. Check it.

And that was a wrap. Easily the most fun I’ve ever had at a gig. (A whale of a time, in fact! GROAN.) We caught up with Jenn and Sue on the way out, who had been at the back for the first half but got a good vantage point for the second, and thoroughly enjoyed it too. We had big grins on our faces for the rest of the night, and it made Ryan and I want to dig out the guitar/keyboard tabs for a few of their songs, see if it’s something I can get to grips with. I dunno, seems there have been quite a few things recently that have made me want to get musical, and the Decemberists are an inspiration. I can’t wait till next they return. Probably just as well it’s my last gig of the year as I doubt anything would top that. Thanks, guys and gals.

Gig review: Mew, Shepherds Bush Empire, 10/11/09

So then. I’ll review the gigs separately this time, first up: Mew.

‘Twas quite strange returning to the place I saw them last, three years, nine months and one day later. Strange because that gap is exactly a day younger than my relationship, and bloody hell, time flies. This was the third time I had been to Shepherds Bush Empire, but we still managed to go the wrong way after exiting the tube station. D’oh.

There was only one support band this time – fellow Danes Choir of Young Believers. We missed the beginning of their set but still managed to shuffle our way to about 3 rows from the front, on the left (of course!) behind a young couple who really needed to get a room. And hey, I didn’t practically break my ankle this time on that stupid ninja step! Anyway, CoYB seem pretty easy on the ears. I didn’t think they were very memorable at the time, but I loved the aqua guitar and the singer’s impressive face-fuzz. The next day I acquainted myself with their album and it’s really nice indie-pop, with a varying number/combo of band members but always the beardy guy, who has a cool multicultural name (Jannis Noya Makrigiannis). Ryan thinks his voice is similar to the singer of My Morning Jacket; I can definitely see that. Laid-back stuff, haunting and indeed choral at times.

And so to the main act.

Mew entered one by one to the sounds of an unfamiliar yet very Mewish intro, which once they had all taken position morphed seamlessly into ‘Reprise’. This threw me a bit, it being the final track on the album, but Mew do like to surprise, and I suppose it works equally well as a curtains-up as a roll-the-credits. The lighting was smoky and bright, as you can tell from the picture, which meant even my crummy camera could take a few dramatic-looking snaps. Unfortunately, the draconian security guards confiscated Ryan’s mega cam that would’ve taken some great photos.

I was thrilled when they launched into ‘Hawaii’ next, it being one of my favourites from No More Stories… . It sounded every bit as awesome live as on the album, singer Jonas Bjerre hitting all the high notes perfectly; and halfway through, the first of the new weirdy animations kicked in, with some dancing/running skellington deer, antlers and everything. But of course. I love how the videos are on and off, as you completely forget about them, then boom! There’s a tiger with swirly Catherine-wheel eyes. Anyway, Mew started as they meant to go on, delving then into a bunch of …Glass Handed Kites material – perhaps their best-known songs? I had forgotten just how danceable and funky ‘Special’ really is, especially with the extended intro. It segued straight into ‘The Zookeeper’s Boy’, and to be honest I don’t think you could seamlessly split those two up. That whole album flows one into the other, but those two especially – though I’d have put ‘Apocalypso’ first and done all three in a row, personally. Still, that one was to come very shortly as well.

Terrible quality, but here are the dancing deer. Sleep well!

First, they took it back even further with ‘Am I Wry? No’ and ‘156′ – hurrah! The former is the first Mew song I ever did hear, back in July 2002, and it’s probably still my favourite (sentimental value?). The latter is sinister and cool and sounded notably different from usual, whereas most of their music is recreated exactly the same as on record. I may be getting the order slightly wrong here, but I’m pretty sure we got ‘Saviours of Jazz Ballet’ and ‘Apocalypso’ after that.

At that point, I was starting to question whether we were even going to hear any more of the newer tracks. Don’t get me wrong; I love their older material, probably a little more than the latest, and I had hoped for a good mix, but I had heard all those oldies last time and I was itching to see something for the first time. I believe it was at this point that we got a really bizarre interlude type thing, where Jonas went and stood before a screen with an image of a talking teddy bear. This was new to me! After that though, they buckled down to some more of the No More Stories songs, and it was a joy to behold.

I would say Mew seemed more confident as performers than last time. (Mind you, they’ve had plenty of time to practise; the best part of four years!) The in-between-song chat is still pretty minimal (but then it’s the same for most bands I’ve seen, and the Decemberists more than compensated for that the following week) – in fact they apologised for being shy – but it seemed more of a show this time around. More strutting, more enticing the audience to clap along, the weird teddy thing, and best of all guitarist Bo Madsen donning a peculiar mask to match a character in the video accompaniment to ‘Sometimes Life Isn’t Easy’, and doing a silly dance. (Now you see why I added the ‘WTF?’ category to this entry.)  Speaking of which, I was so pleased they played that one, my favourite of the new Mew. I sang along loudly and bopped about. Oh, and I somehow hadn’t realised that Dr. Nick Watts, of effervescent seahorse fame, was in fact Mew’s keyboardist! Duh. All five members gave it their all; I hadn’t been expecting so many backing vocals.

And the sound was LOUD! Perhaps it’s because we were right next to the speakers (why do we always seem to be next to the speakers?), but my ears were ringing afterwards and Ryan was impressed with the constant wall of sound. Mew definitely sound ‘big’. It’s always odd to hear a band raise the roof live then go home and their music sounds so much tamer on CD/mp3 player/computer. (Never more so than when I watched MBV do ‘You Made Me Realise’ live next to a terrifying towering speaker stack at 130db, but that’s another story for another day.)

Again tis but a blur, but I kind of like how he's all in the dark with a big 'y?' in the corner. Y indeed? Also: Hi, Doctor Nick!

If memory serves, we got ‘Beach’, ‘Repeaterbeater’, ‘Introducing Palace Players’, the second Intermezzo (?), ‘Silas the Magic Car’ and of the back catalogue,  ‘White Lips Kissed’ (eee) and ‘Snow Brigade’. A mixture, then, but to be honest I wish there had been one or two more newer tracks. Overall the balance was slightly heavier on the pre-No More Stories, and I’d have loved to hear ‘Tricks of the Trade’ or ‘Vaccine’ live, and danced along. Srsly, you’d think they’d want to play more of the ones they haven’t done ten zill times before, but never mind, I can’t complain when they all sound so damn good.

Encore-wise, we got ‘Comforting Sounds’. Only one, because it’s so very long. Do they ever not finish with this song? There is something comforting about it. All eleven minutes of it. A slightly less scary but still odd video played it out, and I swayed along. And then they were gone … I’m sure three or four years later, they’ll be back, and so will I – probably at the same venue. It’s like a little ritual. See you next time, Mew.

(I won’t mention the farce that was queuing up to get our coats from the cloakroom afterwards and getting moved around and around so we resembled a game of Snake… Whoops!)

It’s the end of the world as we know it!

At least, it was for my dream-self. Goodness me but I had some vivid ones last night … technically this morning. I can’t remember it in order, just snippets. I was watching my chum Johnny get on a bus with some friends at 5am on the main road near my house, but it was just getting light (though a very cloudy damp morning). We exchanged texts and he asked if I’d seen some configuration in the sky. I was suddenly at home (though at first in Bath and then back here) and looked out of my window. I could see a fuzzy white bit in the corner but however I moved, it moved too so I couldn’t see it properly. Finally I saw that although it had got light, there was a full moon that had only just started to rise. (Full moons rise at sundown, for those who don’t know.) This set off alarm bells, and then over above the school whose grounds back onto my garden, I saw strange lights in the sky. At first I thought I was watching a shooting star but it moved very slowly, and once it had gone down in an arc, it started to curve back around, and there was another. At some point a plane crashed to the ground in the same direction, just behind the school. I knew something was very wrong.

Other things: I was in a strange kitchen and the only food in the cupboard was three nearly-empty packets of cornflakes, but instead of being in a box, the cornflakes cockerel picture etc were printed semi-transparently on the plastic bag.  My aunt (a teacher) was there and mentioned how people had been panic-buying and there was no food left. I was somehow close enough to the school to see into it and there were people inside grabbing handfuls of pencils and whatever they could find. Someone drove their car through the window/wall and I could see flames from behind where the plane had gone down; the whole building was in disrepair. My aunt commented that they’d already taken all the teabags in the staff room. I went to a shop with Ryan and somehow the action shifted to Bath again. As we exited the shop due to some danger, I was aware of, one by one, my old housemates behind me or walking/running nearby. Although it was scary, I found something quite amusing and called out to them that when we’d first met, I bet none of us thought that a few years later we’d be passing each other on the street trying to escape the end of the world. Indeed! We passed a petrol station that had lights on indicating how many of its pumps were vacant/in use, and it was chock full of people filling up their cars so they too could flee, but I’m not really sure where they thought they would go. Another world?

What I find interesting about my apocalyptic dreams, when I have them (quite rarely), is that they’re not the standard nuclear-bomb-hitting type. Usually there’s some natural, celestial disaster such as the sun ‘falling to earth’, rising on the wrong side, the moon thing … everything being out of whack and heralding the beginning of the end. I’m still not clear on what exactly what was going on in this one. Were those moving lights meteors or planets going crazy? Planes losing control or dropping bombs? UFOs coming to attack? Who knows. There were elements of all those possibilities. I was scared, but fascinated at the same time. It was a bit all-over-the-place, this vague threat, and nobody seemed to know how to respond. I think that although I didn’t realise I was in a dream, I felt detached enough to observe it that way because of how surreal it was. I woke up with a huge jolt at some point though (maybe when a plane hit the ground or something exploded?) and thought I’d been killed, so that wasn’t very nice.

Anyway! I’ve been a bit remiss in my journal-writing duties, for which I apologise. What have I been doing? Spending two weeks with fuzzface, playing with sparklers, doing ladies’ things. I went to apply for a Christmas job at La Senza but I was too late, and felt quite dejected. I tried on a few pretty things to cheer myself up, among these a pair of cheap basic dark blue jeans (they actually FIT! It’s such a novelty not having to wear a belt!) and a pretty shiny purple party frock, and Ryan was lovely enough to purchase said frock as he rather enjoyed seeing me twirl around in it. Exemplary boyfriend behaviour! I also bought a hair dye – ‘Natural Ultra Light Champagne Blonde’ or something, as I thought it looked like a lighter version of my natural colour and I wanted a bit of a change. As it turns out, I should really have gone for something ash-blonde instead, because it went a bit strawberry-blonde on top. Hairdressers always tell me I have loads of red pigment in my hair (despite it not being red), and I’ve only ever used bleach to highlight bits at home before rather than a lighter dye so I’ve never had the problem. Doh! I have purchased a purple shampoo called ‘Touch of Silver’ to try and sort out the brightness and if no luck, will try and lighten it again soon. It doesn’t look bad, just not quite what I envisioned. The dress is gorgeous, though I need: a) a decent, supportive strapless bra that goes up to my size (32G, on recent re-fitting) if such a thing indeed exists and b) a party to wear it to! I dunno if it’s because it’s nearly winter or what, but I really feel like glamming up.

Something shiny above my head, I guess

Come to think of it, I need a nice black shrug or something too, and some really sparkly silver glittery eyeshadow (that won’t go everywhere when I try to apply it with my not-too-steady hand). Also silver jewellery that goes with anything. A whole new wardrobe full of nice clothes that fit well would be good, but even if I could afford it, there aren’t many garments that fit perfectly. I decided on a gorgeous coat I wished for as a Christmas present from my parents, but by the time I went with Mum to buy it, they had every size left but my own, and nowhere they phoned had any left that’d fit either Plus, Miss Selfridge things seem to come up small and of course I have giant boobs so things that button up almost never fit in my usual size. I love the coat though, so I ended up getting the 16. It’s not too bad a fit, because of the above factors and allowing for room for big jumpers underneath, but I’m just sick of having clothes that don’t fit properly. I’m not thin, but I think things that fit to my figure still look more flattering than something that hangs off and makes me look more bulky. The coat is okay on the chest, but could be tighter round the waist, but moving the buttons would change the shape of the coat (it sort of comes down to a point in the middle). Also, it’s a bit demoralising having to buy something in a size I used to wear when now I can fit into most 12s if they’re not something that has no stretch or buttons up over the top half. Especially when I want to get a bit lighter still, and the coat is pricey – I want it to last.

I actually looked up the measurements for standard clothes sizes the other day. Not that it means much, because of sizes varying so much shop to shop and even within the same place, and the vanity sizing shenanigans, but still. It made me laugh (out loud, even!) because by their reckonings, my bust, waist and hips would be three different sizes. Great! They seem to think women are all the same basic body shape – comparatively wide hips, smallish waist and not-particularly-big boobs; whereas I’m very apple-shaped, pretty much the antithesis of those proportions. But anyway, that’s a rant for another day.

What else have I been up to? Going to gigs! Two of them, in fact, within the last two weeks. Mew on the 10th and the Decemberists on the 19th. I probably mentioned them before. I shall be writing reviews of these soon, but I can’t quite get the energy tonight. Suffice it to say both were brilliant, but I think the Decemberists have the edge, on account of being one of the most entertaining and likeable bands I’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing. Mew were louder, though, and there was some silliness there also. I’m quite sad I have no more booked concerts to look forward to at present, but I hope to change that soon enough.

On that note, I need to retire to bed as I am fuzzy and sleepy. I shall return.

Album review: The xx – ‘xx’

I hope I don’t seem painfully trendy reviewing this album; they are apparently the ‘band most likely to’ of recent times, although they completely slipped under my radar till a month or so ago when I read their name in a review of a different band’s record, and decided to check ‘em out. Very glad I am too – the XX are much better.

This is one of those debut albums that comes so fully-realised you can’t really believe it’s the band’s first effort, let alone that they’re all only 20 years old. It’s also quite difficult to categorise, which is always a good sign. Categories are lame. I’ve read that they’re fans of (among other things) R&B and garage, for example, but rather than making music that sounds like either of those genres (of which I’m a big fan of neither), they take elements from them (funky beats; languorous, soulful vocals) and mix them with crystal-clear, resounding guitars with an ’80s tinge to form a sort of poppy but edgy ‘urban indie’ sound, if you will. And it WORKS.

The music is quite minimalist; there are a lot of empty spaces. I’m always an admirer of restraint in music, or any art form. As a Ramblor™ myself, I aspire to that same ability of leaving things unsaid, implying, leaving them wanting more. Sure, I also love layered music and a wall of sound, but sometimes holding back is just as important. The xx understand this. It’s an intriguing cross between simplicity and depth.

They don’t sound like anybody else in particular, more an interesting mixture of seemingly disparate components, but I can’t ignore that certain parts of their music put me in mind of Interpol, one of my favourite bands (and one I was pretty obsessed with this time five years ago and for a good while after) – specifically their own debut album. It’s mainly the guitars – sparse, glacial, echoing beautifully in all that space, making your skin tingle – but there’s also the stark, monochrome album cover (just missing the red!), the fact the records were released 2 days short of exactly 7 years apart and they’ve something of the same atmosphere, obviously one which appeals to me a great deal. It is the perfect time of year to listen to xx; the clocks have just gone back and this is music for dark, chilly winter nights, preferably wandering around the city or town, most likely alone. (The song titles give it away, really:  ‘Night Time’, ‘Basic Space’, ‘Stars’.) It’s spooky and gorgeous.

It’s also sexy. I would venture to say that the other main place for this album is in the bedroom, but I’ll have to come back to you on that one for confirmation after I’ve next seen my boyfriend. I wish my voice was lovely and husky like that of the female singer, Romy Madley Croft. Another thing I love about this band is that there are two singers, guy and girl. I wish there were more bands like that. Boy-girl vocals are a personal favourite of mine, whether they bounce off each other, harmonise, duet or whatever. (One of the reasons I love the also-sexy, though completely-different-sounding My Bloody Valentine.) It adds a chemistry, an intimacy, which is almost at odds with the feeling of isolation you get from the stripped-down, reverby music, yet somehow fits perfectly. In my opinion, the youth and obvious broad-minded musical taste of the xx lends this album a refreshing lack of pretension, whilst simultaneously seeming mature beyond its creators’ years. See what I mean? There’s a whole lot of contrast going on behind this black-and-white CD cover.

‘xx’ has kicked off my compulsive nature and I cannot stop listening to this album. I love love love it. To steal a lyric from the seductive Infinity, ‘I can’t give it up.’ This could be bad – I don’t want to wear it out! I can tell it will be soundtracking my winter wanders, in my headphones, or whilst I lie in bed (alone, you perverts, though the alternative works too) – there is something very calm and chilled about it, but not boring in the least. Although if I have one criticism, it is that I reckon they could probably have got a bit more variation in between the eleven songs. They have a clear ’signature sound’, and it’s a fantastic one, but it’s taken me a while to distinguish some of the songs by name. There are none I dislike, but there are some that sound kind of similar (the poppier, more upbeat tracks). My favourites seem to be the more distinctive ones. I honestly think that’s my only complaint though.

(Unless the curse of the brilliant debut album gets them. I’m not going to get ahead of myself, but I always feel sorry for those bands who manage to bring out a near-perfect CD first time round, because where do you go from there? I think that’s another link to Interpol (soz, xx, for hijacking your review) – they’re never going to get anywhere near Turn On the Bright Lights again. You have forever to make your first album and there aren’t usually expectations unless the hype machine catches on to you, so if it’s good but not great, you get labelled ‘one to watch’ and when you improve on that for your second or third records, you get even more praise. If you’re great to start with, you’d best have some fresh ideas whilst not completely changing the sound that attracted people to you. Tricky. I hope these guys manage it because I’d love to hear more from them.)

Let’s get specific. You need to hear some of these tracks, so have some links. Fantasy is by far the spookiest, most echoey … I might even be a bit afraid to have this in my earphones whilst walking down that alley at night. One of the best though; also sounds like nothing else on the album. It’s ambient, almost formless, not poppy at all. Another favourite of mine is Shelter. Something about the title and the voice/sound remind me of Massive Attack’s ‘Protection’ but I think the subject matter is completely different. This one is much more sexy and tense. I also have to give a shout out to the Intro. The perfect opener, it grabs you straight away and sets the scene with a guitar hook that will not leave your head once it’s got in. Considering it’s instrumental (except for some ‘aaahhh’s) and not exactly a song, it’s definitely one I want to hear over and over but, at the same time, am eager to hear what’s next. (I see yet more parallels to TOTBL in that, but I’ll spare you them; this is getting ridiculous.)

But, as I said, there’s not a duff track (although if pushed, I’d say ‘Heart Skipped a Beat’ is my least favourite as it doesn’t grab me or stick in my head as much as the rest) – each has something to like. You don’t get many albums like that. Give it a whirl; I don’t think you’ll be disappointed. Another thing about their mixture of sounds is that I think they will appeal to a range of people who enjoy different styles of music. Much of the stuff I like is a bit weird for most of my friends’ tastes, but I can imagine playing this to them and getting some approval. Perhaps. We’ll see.

(The astrologer in me also thinks it’s quite amusing that just as we move into Scorpio-time (sun-sign-wise), I’m writing a review with words such as ‘dark’, ‘compulsive’, ’sexy’, ‘restraint’, ‘chemistry’. It all falls into place.)

Rantage, part the second

The second thing I would like to rave about today is another newsbite from this week – namely, the Ralph Lauren model of the magazine cover publicised by Photoshop Disasters, and her subsequent sacking for ‘being too fat’.

Eek

Once again, I don’t even need to say anything about this. (I will anyway.) What’s wrong with the picture is clear for anyone to see.  And yet you can bet that the powers that be won’t do anything to change things for the better. Isn’t that the way it always goes? Nobody in the position to change the status quo will take responsibility for this sort of crap. If they ever do, it’s because they’ve pretty much been forced into a corner and/or face legal action, not because they actually give a shit or have any decency in them.

This is a 23-year-old woman who, at 5′8″ tall, weighs 120lbs. (That’s 8.5 stone, if you’re a Brit like me.) BMI may not always be the most accurate indicator, but on a none-too-muscular young lady, a body mass index of just over 18 is barely on the ‘healthy’ side of underweight (anything below 18 is considered dangerously skinny; 20-25 is the recommended ‘healthy’ area). I’ve no idea of her eating and exercise habits; this could be her natural shape and size. I can’t comment on her personal health, and it’s not her I’m here to judge. Unfortunately this sort of BMI is pretty standard for a model, but what sort of human could possibly think, “Nah, she still looks too much like a woman, like a real live person with enough energy to breathe and move and stuff. Let’s distort her to impossible proportions and try to convince the world that this looks good!” I know some people are stupid, but c’mon.

It’s pretty laughable really – was anyone going to be fooled? Doubtful. But that’s not really the point. Why do it in the first place? What is it meant to achieve? “Buy our clothes! You won’t be able to fit into them, but maybe you can dress your dolls up or something.” Even if this were an original drawing, it would be freaky. It’s a seven-year-old boy’s body wearing a stuffed bra, with a twenty-something woman’s face superimposed on top. Nothing weird there, right?

I feel a bit boring for always seeming to draw parallels to organised religion when I get annoyed with something – it isn’t intentional! – but for someone to be that scarily thin is impossible. If they did manage it, they’d be at death’s door and look terrifyingly haggard. So why even photoshop and publish it? Because you need reminding that no matter how hard you try, you will never be good enough. You should photoshop yourself to within an inch of your life and feel guilty for how rubbish you really are for being real. Nobody wants that. How can I not think of crazy religious nuts? It’s the same principle: people with no grip on reality, who steadfastly refuse to even listen to reason, who don’t understand ‘morality’ unless it’s literally laid out in their Good Book of choice. Who go through life with imaginary idols and unattainable ideals, telling themselves how inferior they are in comparison and denying themselves the things that make them human. Again, taking responsibility is an unknown concept. God’s will, and all that.

To expand further on that responsibility thing, an excellent article on this issue from Jezebel.com features some comments from the editor of Cosmopolitan, who was asked her opinion on this issue.

It really starts with the sample clothes, because they’ve down-sized, they’re now like a size 2 or 4 … To some degree, it relates to the Kate Moss era. Before then, supermodels like Cindy Crawford and Christy Brinkley, they were really curvy. But they got skinnier and skinnier, and the clothes got smaller, and so it creates this cycle where you have to fit in the clothes to get the job, and then the models get smaller and that’s who we have to use in fashion stories.

- Kate White

As the Jezebel article rightly highlighted, this just says everything people already know without acknowledging the problem or offering a solution. ‘That’s who we HAVE to use!’ Um, why? You’re the editor. It’s your magazine. Use whoever the fuck you want. If you actually care, do something about it. If not, don’t bother pretending. ‘The clothes got smaller’ … they just shrunk and there was nothing we could do about it! It’s not as if these clothes will be sold in anything larger than a 4 or anything – we have to showcase the smallest size! OK, the editor of a magazine may not have sway over the clothes themselves, fair enough. But s/he sure as hell isn’t going to protest against using models with potential eating disorders if it means s/he might not get as much money.

It’s worth getting a sense of perpsective here. We’re not talking about fat. We’re not even talking about so-called ‘plus size models’ (who are still mostly smaller than your average citizen). We’re talking about someone already very skinny and underweight being told that isn’t good enough, that she is ‘too fat’. Someone over this standard is described as ‘a heavier celebrity’. Heavier than … ?

People like me can see this for the bullshit it is, sure; I credit most people with some intelligence. But there are always going to be impressionable 13-year-olds (or people of any age with an existing eating disorder or fragile mental state) seeing these images and feeling horrible about themselves. And there is obviously a big audience for these magazines, even if we complain, because people still buy subscriptions! There may be some getting outraged now this very obvious ’shop has made the news, but they can’t seriously pretend they didn’t know this sort of thing went on. It’s like the trashy cheap celeb-based mags – people continue buying them, even though they’re rubbish. And if they keep buying, the mags will keep on doing what they do. Ho hum.

I do, to some extent, think these girls shouldn’t become models in the first place – or their parents shouldn’t let them/encourage them. The idea of a ‘talent scout’ singling out a 14-year-old and telling her he could make her a star as long as she lost 10 inches off her hips is one of the creepiest things I can imagine. I pretty much despise the idea of models. 99% of the time you may as well just hang the clothes on a mannequin or off a hanger. If all you want is a pole on which to showcase the clothing you’ve designed, why not? I hate how in America (from lots of things I have read or seen) you don’t seem to just be able to tell someone they look pretty, you instead say “You could be a model!” I would never say that because it wouldn’t be a compliment coming from me. It’d be akin to saying “You look generically attractive and symmetrical and are built like a beanpole – why not become dead inside?” I don’t personally think many supposed supermodels look very pretty, body or face, and fewer still look healthy.

I want to make it clear I am not having a pop at anyone who is naturally tall and skinny. Good on you, if you are. I’m not saying that makes someone unattractive! What I am against is the idea that there is one physical ideal and all should strive for it. Especially when that ideal is essentially to resemble an undernourished pre-pubescent – something that most women couldn’t hope to achieve. Why, instead, are there not models of all shapes and sizes, to display the different clothes styles that flatter each figure? Apple-shaped, pear-shaped, hourglass-shaped (lucky bitches), ‘banana-shaped’; tall, average height, short; skinny, plump, medium-sized, etc? You’d have a lot of better-dressed people, too, if that were to happen. (And they’d be wearing correctly-fitted bras too, in my world.) It’s funny in a way that racism, for example, is always a delicate issue, and the modelling industry accepts models of all colours from all over the world, but so many people, of all races, still have trouble accepting the variety of shapes and sizes of women. (Possibly, too, of men – but that isn’t the focus of today’s journal rant.)

I came across a similar article on Jezebel from the editors of a different magazine, who had photoshopped a picture of a singer whom I gather is on the chubby side at the moment until she resembled a completely different person, using the excuse that it was more important to ‘inspire readers to be their personal best’ than to represent reality. One of the editors described how she herself had recently run a marathon but despite being pleased that her body was capable of such things, she was unhappy with how big her hips looked in the photos that were taken of her just afterwards, so she requested that they be digitally slimmed down before published.

Again, can I get a WTF? This woman doesn’t have to project her own insecurities on to everyone else. Of course, we’d like to look our best (whatever that means to us). We’ve all sucked in our tummies when someone gets a camera out, or used the ’spot healer’ tool on Photoshop. Editing out a few zits and getting your best side (the left for me, in case anybody didn’t know) isn’t exactly on the same level of changing the entire body shape, size and face of a person that isn’t even you. If you want to fiddle around on the computer in curiosity to see what you might look like a bit slimmer or curvier, by all means do so in your own time, but don’t publish it and pass it off as the standard you think everyone should live up to. The very fact you have to digitally play around with something suggests it isn’t a way you’ll be able to look naturally. What is the point in living in this bubble? If someone is chubby, assuming they even want to lose weight, they will do so anyway. They’re not going to think “it’s okay, I can just touch up every photo instead, it doesn’t matter what the real me looks like.” They just want the world to know that sometimes, you put on weight, even if you’re famous, and it isn’t the end of the world. They’re not saying everyone should go out and stuff their faces so they look the same. I would be pretty pissed off if someone so grossly misrepresented me, making it clear how much was wrong with how I really looked .

From this article:

Then we allow the postproduction process to happen, where we mark up the photograph to correct any awkward wrinkles in the blouse, flyaway hair and other things that might detract from the beauty of the shot. This is art, creativity and collaboration.

- Lucy Danziger, editor-in-chief of ‘Self’ magazine

*headdesk* Does anybody actually see complete technical flawlessness as beautiful and ideal? I assumed everyone noticed the beauty in the details, the ‘awkward’ wrinkles or a strand of hair being out of place, the idiosyncracies that make you real and unique. These are the little things you’re going to remember in the future. I hardly see smoothing over them as ‘creativity’. I think it’s about as far from thinking outside the box as you can get. If you’re going to go about expecting glossy perfection in life – just like those sex scenes in Hollywood movies where one’s first time is always beautifully romantic and both partners are incredibly satisfied, at the same time – you are going to be bitterly disappointed, and/or messed up. It’s no surprise so many people are depressed, or just utterly lost, these days. And yet People Just Don’t Learn.

I think I won’t go on any further about this. I’ve already rambled more than I meant to. It links to the other thing I was going to talk about, though. For anyone who doesn’t know, I have been in the process of losing weight for the last 15 months or so, since contracting glandular fever. It was nice and happening fairly swiftly for the first six months, but the closer I get to being – ahem – ‘my personal best’, the slower it’s coming off. Plus since Ryan has been back from sea and I spend most weekends with him, I’ve got slacker and given myself more ‘days off’. I’m not super-strict on myself; I wanted this to be a gradual thing so I could actually change my lifestyle, not just go on a temporary diet. I hate fad diets with the fiery passion of a thousand burning suns. I just try to stick to 1,500 calories per day, most days, which is the final figure after taking off the couple of hundred I burn with my 3-mile brisk walks and occasional aerobics. I’m a lifelong vegetarian, and I make sure I get at least my 5-a-day of fruit/salad/veg. (My lunch is always based around veg or salad.) I hardly ever put salt on anything any more. I eat a low-GI breakfast to start my metabolism off. I think I’m pretty healthy now. But I am getting a little fed up of still being wobbly round the edges and of course, the lighter you get, the less effective the exercise is unless you increase it accordingly.

So I think I need to shake up my routine a little, maybe get with some toning exercises to fix my loose tummy. This week I’ve been jogging most days (not today – I ache!), jogging mixed in to my walks. At first I was shocked at how easy I found it – not that I can run for that long at a time, but I felt light while I was doing it. But doing it every day seems to be a bit much; I’ve been achey and found it hard to get up. I’d like to keep it up semi-regularly, but I need to invest in a good sports bra (ouch – big boobs are a definite drawback when trying to exercise) and make sure I warm up beforehand. I’m enjoying bouncing along to energetic music (M83 and Friendly Fires are good) although sometimes I get the urge to dance down the road rather than run. I bought a pair of cheap’n'chavvy trackie bottoms from Primark and I think the evening will be a good time to jog (less people will see me, among other things). I tried before breakfast, but I don’t really have the energy, and I get a stitch.

I asked some people on a fitness forum on t’interwebs if they had any suggestions for an apple-shaped lady (for I am one, sadly) to get a curvier waist/get rid of the wobble from there, but they all say ’spot-reduction’ isn’t doable and you just have to generally lose weight. Bah. They did offer a few helpful suggestions though for exercises, things I can do for free at home as I can’t afford gym membership at present (and don’t really want to go anyway), so I am going to make a note of all those and try out some new stuff. I think it’s as much about getting bored with the same old same old, as anything. Squats, pushups (UGH), back exercises to balance ab ones, and some cardio. Yoga for stretching core muscles. I don’t think I’m going to change my food habits except giving in to temptation less, and I’d like to try making more new things – using tofu, for example. And maybe porridge instead of muesli sometimes. My target is by my birthday (nearly six months ahead) to be all happy with my bod. And preferably not to be in-between clothes sizes. That’s annoying. Then, I guess, I will have to get my breasts measured again! I don’t think I’m the same size any more.

That’s quite enough. Jeez, no posts for weeks then suddenly these … like buses, eh? But not ones that say ‘Sorry, I’m not in service!’ If I were a bus, I wouldn’t stoop so low. At least I got to writing about some trending issues this time, even if I did add personal blah on the end. Soz for the lack of pictures to break it all up.

Have a good weekend, folks and folkesses.

Rantage, part the first

Perhaps several rants and raves, here. I dunno, maybe I’ll split them up into separate posts.

Firstly, following the tweets of Stephen Fry and Charlie Brooker, I’ve been raging about that dickhead from the Daily Fail and her ugly homophobic article regarding Stephen Gately. How people like that sleep at night, I’ll never know. You’ve probably heard all about it already, but if not, to sum it up, here’s this quote:

Another real sadness about Gately’s death is that it strikes another blow to the happy-ever-after myth of civil partnerships.

Gay activists are always calling for tolerance and understanding about same-sex relationships, arguing that they are just the same as heterosexual marriages. Not everyone, they say, is like George Michael.

Of course, in many cases this may be true. Yet the recent death of Kevin McGee, the former husband of Little Britain star Matt Lucas, and now the dubious events of Gately’s last night raise troubling questions about what happened.

It is important that the truth comes out about the exact circumstances of his strange and lonely death.

You see, gay people are capable of dying, just like straight people! I know – shocker, eh? But the fact that two of ‘them’ died, within a week or two of each other, provides irrefutable evidence. Isn’t it troubling to think they’re just like you or I? Or perhaps it’s the gay disease that got them? Let’s ignore the coroner’s verdict of accidental death and make sure the REAL truth comes out!

I don’t think I need to say anything further on the matter. The ignorance and misdirected hatred speak for themselves. I don’t know why she doesn’t say it outright – the passage above makes little sense. Strange, of course, but how was it ‘lonely’ to die in one’s sleep whilst on holiday with one’s long-term lover? What has George Michael got to do with anything? What does sexuality have to do with a pulmonary oedema?

All right, I did just say more on the matter. I wasn’t going to feed the trolls, but damn. This poor man (and yes, 12-year-old Catbob is heartbroken) has only been dead for a few days, his loved ones are trying to wrap their heads round it; what sort of person thinks ‘ah, a tenuous excuse to bash homosexuality!’ WTF? Is this the UK branch of ‘God Hates Fags‘? Mr Brooker has said it all better than I, here.

And look what I found whilst searching for the one of those links. Hahahahahaha!

In a completely unrelated rant, I just had to turn down an invitation to go bowling and have dinner somewhere with my friend, because I am so poor. That sucks. I can live without the dinner, because I’m trying to really knuckle down with my diet/exercise (more on that in a bit, folks!) and eating out is a temptation that’s luckily too expensive to give in to. But bowling would’ve been fun. I was up for that, but my chum wanted a good night out as she’s been having a tough time lately – understandable. She’ll find someone with more money to have fun with tonight; I’ll see her tomorrow instead.

I did, however, get to see another friend on Tuesday for the first time in too long, which was a nice catch-up. She’s also mega-busy (both friends are recently qualified teachers) and her boyfriend sounds to be having a tough time, like so many people I know at the moment. We ate jacket potatoes, talked, I gave her belated birthday presents and she gave me my belated Christmas presents (I still have hers!) – a big luxurious copy of ‘A Christmas Carol’ as illustrated by Quentin Blake! I didn’t know he’d done that, but it’s awesome. And also a weather house – y’know those old-fashioned weather forecast things where the lady comes out of the house if it will be sunny, and the man if it will be rainy? Laurs always finds funky presents. I don’t even know if I’m going to be able to afford anyone’s presents this year. I’m a bit of a humbug anyway when it comes to Chrimbo. I’ll get my lottery ticket in a minute though, just in case. *sigh*

HA! I also follow shitmydadsays on Twitter, and the post of a few minutes ago made me chuckle:

“I like the dog. If he can’t eat it, or fuck it, he pisses on it. I can get behind that.”

Although the last sentence could be misconstrued. *shudder*

Rightiho, the other stuff is vaguely related, so can go in its own entry very shortly. I need to up my post count anyway. Cheerio.

Swish-Swish! go the leaves.

Hello!

I promise I will write a proper considered entry soon, about some Interesting Topic or other, but here is something to tide you over for now.  Today is the first proper day of Autumn (despite the title of two entries back). As I wrote then, I love this time of year. I love Spring as well, for the same reasons. There’s just an energy in the air, a feeling of movement and so much potential. It’s not like Winter or Summer, where it’s either cold all the time or hot all the time. It’s unpredictable and varied. My birthday is in April. Last year it snowed a couple of inches on that day; the year before was brilliantly sunny and took place during the hottest April on record. (OK, so it’s usually some sort of cloudy/sunny/rainy hybrid; that isn’t the point.)

You can really feel the nights getting shorter or longer (of course there’s also the clocks going back or forward). In March, I always start to feel so much more positive and happy because although I like winter, I have always had enough of it by then. In September, I get that fuzzy feeling in my tummy, the same as when you’re going on holiday or even falling in love/lust. It’s nostalgic, cosy, and just much more aesthetically pleasing. Sunsets get more vivid, leaves turn into a warm mixture of colours rather than all being green, there’s crispness in the air. Sooner or later you’ll be able to see your breath, smell bonfire smoke everywhere, wrap up in your coat and scarf. I think I would go out on a limb and say it’s the most romantic season.

Saying that, the past two Autumns I have felt very down, because Ryan has been away on a boat for his sailor-training the same time each year. Even in 2006, he left in November. I don’t have many good memories from the last couple of September/Octobers and I’m very happy to be able to share them with him this year, and really enjoy my favourite time again.  I stayed at his house last week, and even though it wasn’t technically Autumn yet and was very warm, I kept waffling on about it. I noticed how every time we wandered round his village, I would see the trees changing colour, berries on the ground, the hazy light over the field, the sun moving across the sky more quickly. Those things put a big silly smile on my face. Small pleasures, eh?

Autumn has always been my favourite season, even when I was a child. Which is why today I present to you a poem by the nine-year-old (I think) Catbob, creatively titled ‘An Autumn Walk’. A pretty clichéd exercise for creative writing, really, but there you have it. My teacher’s comments were, “What a lot you have to say for yourself, Catherine. Some of your lines are not particularly rhythmic.” Firstly, duh. Secondly, it was the first time I’d attempted non-rhyming poetry, and even now when I see that verse without any punctuation, to me it just looks like it’s strung on random lines. So I tried to do the same. With bonus (incomplete) illustrations!

Hello!

Goodbye!

OK, so I *did* start to ramble on about the emo trees. Redundant much? I was probably losing interest by then. I quite like the idea of the clouds staying where they are and gradually fading, though. As if turning to stone. I have no idea why I felt compelled to open and close it with those merry greetings, though. And I think I ran out of time to draw picture number 2, rather than that symbolising Autumn had gone …

(Sorry it’s hard to read; blogs offer narrow strips of space and I wanted to get the drawings in as well as the poem, as they’re probably better.)

That’s enough of my climate-based ramblings for today.

On another note, I would like to wish the dashing Lord Likely and his creator Mr Fanton a very happy and sexy birthday indeed. I trust much debauchery will take place tonight, and I hope they will be able to recall some of it tomorrow! Have a tip-top time, fellas, and thanks for the many laughs you have provided me with this year.