The five reasons for not blogging.

I've been trying to get myself to blog again for a while. Months actually. 

I'd almost finished writing two different posts in that time, as well jotting down ideas for a few different things, but just...haven't bothered to complete them. Other than the fact that I'm a lazy shit, I haven't been quite able to pinpoint why I've lost all inspiration lately, until today. 

I've had a good think, and I've realised that there is more than one reason for all of this. 
In fact, it would seem that there are five...

Reason 1: Low self-esteem

I actually think this reason has been the root cause of all the others. My self-confidence is a constant roller-coaster ride. I go through periods of feeling great, being so sure of myself, ready to take the world by storm and all that. Then there are other times where my self-esteem takes a huge dip and I'm quite unable to function as I normally would. This is just something I've gotten used to about myself. I have to actively work at pulling myself out of the confidence dip sometimes. Whenever I do go through a low period, I really struggle to be creative. I can't write, sometimes I can't even listen to music, or really express myself very well at all. Whatever I'm feeling just tucks itself away until it's ready to be faced. 

The past few months, I have been on a particularly "thrilling" roller-coaster, in terms of constant highs and lows, and haven't been writing at all. 

Reason 2: Chores

This is something very irritating about myself that I only fully realised today: I can manage to turn anything, even things that I enjoy, into a chore if I push it enough.

I wish I could be less of a child when it comes to this. 

I have done this with reading. I've convinced myself that reading is too much work, and that I don't have the time for it, when in fact I love reading, and have done since I was a child. I'm actually ashamed to say that until today, I hadn't read anything in months. 
It's become clear to me that this is what I had done with blogging. I had turned it into a chore, something I had to do, instead of something I wanted to do.

Reason 3: Pressure
Similar to the above reason, I realised that I had started to put pressure on myself about what to write. In the beginning, I'd write pretty much whatever came to me, (mostly nonsense) but lately I've been criticising my own ideas. Telling myself that they weren't smart enough, or funny enough, or as interesting as the last post. Comparing my blog to other blogs, and convincing myself that there wasn't much point in writing, because it will never be as good or as popular as all the fashion and beauty blogs etc etc bla bla... moan moan. Boring eh?

Reason 4: Identity
My most recent dip in confidence has come from a bit of a personal identity crisis. I'd been struggling to know who I was, where I was going, for a bit, and it actually translated to the blog too.
I've struggled to know where to go with my blog at times. To know what defines it. When it comes to other blogs, I read a few different types, and I can't deny that the ones I mostly go back to are often the ones with good quality photos, colourful design and a bit of variety. I can't help but always be aware that mine doesn't have any of that. I'm always battling with whether I should change it, and do a bit more of that, but I always have to remind myself that you shouldn't create anything for yourself, based on what other people want. 

Reason 5: Honesty
The stuff I've been drafting lately hasn't ended up going anywhere, and I think I now know why- I'd lost the honesty. Honesty was what I think I liked and was always proud of about my blog, and (I think) because of a mixture of all those reasons above, I'd stopped writing truthfully and started trying too hard. I tried too hard to always be smart, or funny, or insightful, instead of just doing what I started this for, just writing about my life, my thoughts and my honest opinions, and hoping that my posts might be one or more of those things.


The worst bit is that all of these reasons are down to me, and no one else. No one has put these ideas into my head, I've done it all by myself. However, by the same token, that must mean that I can abolish all of this nonsense by myself too! 

(Cue positive conclusion.)

What I've had to remind myself lately again is that I make the rules. In life and quite obviously, in my blog. I can have, or not have, whatever I want on my own blog. (I can rarely find a photo that relates to the shite that I write anyway.) I need to stop putting pressure on myself, criticising and limiting myself. I can actually write whatever the bloody hell I want. It's only a bloody blog. I don't have to find a definition for it, other than Me.
I also have to remember why I started writing a blog in the first place. I didn't create it for popularity, or recognition or to be something I'm not. I also didn't create it to force myself into writing, to make it become a chore, instead it was to allow myself to write when I wanted. (Hopefully, today is the recommencement of my reading journey too.)
I need to not have other people in mind so much when I write, because it limits me.
I chose to create this, for myself, as an outlet, and if anyone else were to gain anything from it, then even better.  

So, from here on in, I'll stop caring so much. Who cares if I'm not always funny, or interesting, or grammatically correct? Who cares if my blog design isn't much? Who cares if I decide to post something completely different for once, or if I never do? Naebody! That's who.

Now if only I'd realised all of this months ago...

What is love? (Baby don't hurt me.)

My latest post was about self-love.
This one is about loving someone else. 

Love, in the romantic sense, must be the most talked about subject in the world. 

Some of us spend years looking for that perfect person to spend our life with. Then we spend years over-thinking, over-analysing and effectively destroying our own happiness worrying about whether it's right. 

I've asked myself many questions about what it means to be in love. I often wonder, as I'm sure many do, what it really is.

Is there such a thing as "the one?" What is the secret to a lasting relationship? Is there one at all?

What is "real" love and how do you know if you've found it? 

Our relationship started out (pretty much) like any other. The passion, magic and excitement of something new and all that comes with that. Looking your absolute best, quaint little dates, charming the pants off of each other (oo-er), trying to be your most appealing, charismatic self every fucking hour of the day. 
Falling in love is lovely, it is beautiful and one of the best things in the world. However, I feel that that initial stage can often fool us.

At that time, I didn't exactly know it, but I guess I thought that butterflies and romance was what love was. I'm sure most of us do to begin with. I had never gone past that point with anyone and didn't know anything else. Unknowingly, I expected that that would be what a relationship would need to hold together. I couldn't imagine that there'd be a time with this person where it wouldn't be that way. In fact, I think I was under the impression that once the "woo-ing" dies down, a relationship is on its way to failure.

I am not the first, and will not be the last person to discover that long-term relationships do not work in this way.

Long-lasting love is not like the fairy tales. No matter how much you want it to be. We all learn this the hard way. (In fact, we'd probably all get on a bit better if we dropped that notion entirely.) (I blame Disney.)

So what is real love?

When we think of love, we think hearts, flowers and chocolates, when in fact to many of us it is something different entirely. 
I think our idea of love and what it means, needs a bit of a reboot actually. 

I'm no expert but it's possible that long-lasting love is much more about perseverance. (Now, I know that that word doesn't conjure up the most romantic idea but bear with me.)

Being with, and especially living with, the same person for many years takes a lot of perseverance. Sometimes more than we knew we could muster.

I use the word perseverance because it sums up a lot. 
Life in general is testing, sometimes you'd rather curl up in a ball under the covers than live like a functioning human, never mind try to keep someone else happy too. Just having the strength to cling on together is enough of a feat some days.
It also illustrates the dedication, patience and tolerance required to live with someone, even someone you adore, every day for years. You can think that they are the best thing since sliced bread, and still find them irritating after a while.
Without Jake's admirable tolerance, even when I have made it hardest, I doubt we'd still be together. As with any relationship, there have been times where it would have been quite easy to give up. Each of us have persevered, even when we didn't feel like we even liked each other anymore. 
That is what love is to me.

After 5 years with the same person, it isn't always about charm and romance anymore. (Don't get me wrong, that is still there. You absolutely do have to make time for romance.)

It's something different. There aren't constant butterflies, you aren't worried about keeping up an appearance. You know them now, and they know you, warts and all. 

It is different, but it is beautiful. It is teamwork, it is dedication, appreciation. It is giving each other space. It is learning to adapt, to share. It is being honest. It is being a best friend, being family. It is hating them one minute, then absolutely adoring them the next. It is playfully insulting them, but never letting anyone else. It is being supportive. It is expecting ups and downs, frustrations, disagreements, and trying to get through them. It is never figuring it out, or getting it right, but always trying. It is unconditional care and kindness.

Maybe in another 5 or 10 years time, I will think differently, I cannot say, but my experiences so far have taught me these things.

There is no such thing as happily ever after. Loving someone does not make everything else fall into place, but with the right person it does make hard times easier.

It is less about butterflies and more about commitment and teamwork. 

If you think that that person is worth it, then your commitment to them will be what keeps you together. 
You may have to change, not lower, your expectation of love, but it will be worth it.

Self-love. (It's not what you think, naughty.)

Is the concept of being your own best friend the most pathetic or most liberating? 

I increasingly enjoy being independent. I have always been the type of person who needs space and time alone, but it seems that the older I get the more I feel I need it.   
I've done most of my shopping on my own for years. It's just easier to pick up what you want, sit down when you want and avoid the places you don't care for. Where I was apprehensive about going to the cinema on my own at first, I've now done this quite a few times. I'm working up the courage to do the same with the theatre.
Thankfully, I am engaged to a man who is quite the same. We are happy to sit in seperate rooms and do our own thing from time to time. It goes without saying that I love when he is here, but I also get excited about those times when I know I'll have the place to myself for the night. I love nothing more than curling up on the couch, in my stretchiest of clothes, drinking tea and watching Netflix. (Other media streaming providers are available.)

Don't get me wrong, I can be sociable when I want. There are people out there whose company I very much enjoy. When I'm in the mood to be out, it's fabulous, but there always comes a time when I just need a moments silence.

I enjoy this solitude, and yet there's still a small part of me that feels self-conscious about it. When telling others about my lone trips to the cinema, I've had several pitying looks and just a general assumption that I didn't have anyone to go with that day, that I must have felt lonely. Most find it difficult to understand why I'd choose to do this.
The fact that I feel I have to "work up the courage" to go to the theatre on my own is, if you think about it, odd really. Why are we programmed to believe that being quite happy in our own company is sad or pathetic? 
Why do I have a slight inner guilt about choosing to do absolutely nothing, with no one, on my days off?

For women, I think media in general has quite a lot to do with it. In every "chick-flick" there is a secondary female character, the best friend. In every women's magazine, tv show, etc, we are fed the message -"No matter how many times those men break your heart, you'll always have your best friends."  Never- "You are a strong enough person to get through this by yourself in time."
We're used to seeing pretty much all of our favourite fictional females having to find the perfect man in the end to be complete. (I am personally guilty of loving this sort of romantic mush.)

In general, this world is constantly drumming "Everyone needs someone." into our heads.

Maybe we do all need someone. I obviously do, as I am planning to marry a someone. Also, in times of need, I talk to my trusted friends. It's natural to want or need other people, (I doubt I would even write this if no one was reading it) but it should also feel just as natural, for those of us who want to, to be self-sufficient sometimes too.
As much as you don't want to think of it, the people in your life may not be permanent. The person you trust the most may let you down some day. The only person who will always be there for you is You. 
You are stuck with you.

Shouldn't we be allowed to think of ourselves as a friend without sounding pathetic? Shouldn't we even be allowed to love ourselves? Not in the vain sense, but in the wanting to give yourself a wee hug, taking care of yourself, buying yourself a wee present and trusting your own instincts sense?
I think so. And I do.

There, I said it. I love myself.
And you should love yourself too.

There are days, like with any other friend, where I dislike myself very much. Days where I wish I'd shut up, stop dropping things, stop eating so much, but in the end I know I can always rely on me, and somehow I find that comforting.

So go on, spend a little time with yourself (Oo-er. Now now), enjoy your own company, learn to give yourself credit and by golly, buy yourself a little present from time to time. 
You deserve it.

Happy Birthday Blog.

Today is 1 year since I started my blog! And what a quick year it has been. 
It's been a pretty big year for me, and I'm glad that I documented quite a bit of it.

My first intentions with it were just to keep it as a diary of sorts, a way to remember what I'd been doing and a place to rant. I didn't know much about blogging and just did what felt right. I didn't expect anyone other than Jake or my best friend to look at it, so I'm really quite pleased with the fact that's it's had over 2200 views to date.

I know that that might not be much in comparison to the vast blogging world, but the fact that anyone is reading my nonsense at all is a bonus for me. 

Thank you to everyone that has read, commented, complimented or been involved with my blog in any way, it makes me want to keep writing. Most other blogs that I read are more photo-orientated and probably more interesting to look at, so I appreciate those who've actually taken the time to trawl through my words.

I'm quite proud of most of what I've written, and the reactions I've gotten too. Its been nice to just be writing, and getting my thoughts out of my own head, even if they aren't works of art. I love writing. I've been writing stories, poetry, diaries and all sorts since I was a little girl, but rarely letting anyone see.

It's also been good to feel like I'm getting people laughing, thinking, even if in a small way, and hopefully giving them something to relate to. 
Also, thank you to those blogs that I've included in my Blogroll, most of you had something to do with what inspired me to start this in the first place.

In its second year, I plan on adding more: I want to add some personal touches to the layout, post more often (though I always say that) and possibly post in different ways. 

I know over the past year I've taken massive (3 months long at one point) gaps between posts, and I intend to stop that. 

I've been in two minds about writing posts about my everyday life. I had one planned last week but changed my mind, because there was no real feeling behind it. I think what motivates me to write is a feeling, or passion for something, and writing about my day out shopping just didn't have that.
No disrespect to bloggers who do write in this way, I enjoy reading those posts, and read them regularly (my general nosiness is fed in this way) but I don't seem to feel all that natural writing them myself for some reason. Maybe this is a confidence issue, or maybe I'm just not suited to that sort of writing. It could change, and I'm just going to do whatever feels comfortable.
I know I could make things a bit more interesting aesthetically and maybe try and write about my life in more detail.

I've been making a bit of effort to get more involved with the blogging community too, which has been nice. Finding new blogs to read, some similar in style to mine, and some completely different, has given me inspiration.

Thank you again, so very much, for reading. I appreciate it. I hope that you keep coming back, and that I can keep entertaining you. 

Jordan.

P.S. I was planning on baking a cake and adding a cute photo of myself with said cake. It would've been awesome. However, I am very disappointed to say that today I am really ill and look like shit, and no one wants to see that.

I think I'm in love with my radio.

This is possibly going to be a bit of a cringe-worthy, and much less cynical than usual, post but here goes.

This is going to sound so corny, (I kind of hate that word) but I think I have fallen in love with music all over again. 

I know it's cliche to say, and at the risk of sounding like an X-factor contestant, music has always been a massive part of my life, I was brought up to appreciate it, whether I wanted to or not. My Mum would actively make me listen to certain parts of certain songs (the most memorable one being this masterpiece), turning the radio up and throwing her head back in excitement. It was all around me, as I'm sure it was for a lot of people.

I began singing in my bedroom at about 10 years old, and suspected that I was a bit good at it. I was utterly infatuated with big "diva" voices, especially Christina Aguilera, and would mimic her over-singing. (I've tried to stop that, honest.)
I didn't know for sure if I was any good at singing until I was about 15 and actually sang in front of people other than my family. 
In typical teenage fashion, music became one of the most important parts of my identity. I found solace in many different genres - from hip-hop to 90s rave, from rock to show tunes. 
I would fall asleep listening to Oasis, and dance to Beyonce in the living-room. 
I enjoyed just listening and sometimes not doing anything else.

Upon leaving school, and my teenage years, I went on to study Musical Theatre. I got so wrapped up in hearing new musicals, and exploring every type of musical, that I almost forgot there was other music out there. (Except Beyonce, never Beyonce.)(And Kate Bush actually.)
In those years, I became utterly enamoured by musicals, and I still am. I had only just discovered those painful, dark and affecting musicals, that I now favour. There's nothing quite like a song with a story and a character. Nothing like watching a fantastic actor play out that song like it is really happening to them, and making you feel every single word they sing. There's also nothing like being that actor and feeling it yourself.

The only thing was, I stopped just listening. I didn't have regular access to the internet or music channels at that time, and so became completely out of tune (ha!) with what was going on in present-day music. There were quite a few moments where someone would mention a new, and apparently popular artist, and I would have no clue who they meant, which was an odd thing for me.
I became really out of touch with what was new and by the time I caught up, everything (other than Beyonce, obviously) was just an average song with a dance beat under it, which frankly sucked. (And still does, as its still happening.)
This didn't inspire me to move out from under the safe jazz-hands-y (just kidding, I hate that kind of thing) blanket of musicals.

I don't know what has happened to spark a change more recently, but I'm going back to my old ways, and it feels quite wonderful. 
I am feeling the joy I once had in just listening, and appreciating. I've been actively researching artists that are new to me, and that spark an interest, to find more and more of their music. 
I'm still a sucker for a story though, and the songs I favour the most are the ones with a bit of backbone, meaning, depth, no matter what genre.

I've been regressing back to 14/15 year old Me's affection for R&B and hip-hop.
Right now, I can't stop listening to Frank Ocean. 
Bad Religion and Thinkin' 'Bout You are just beautiful. I have actually been looking forward to getting home, just to hear these songs again. I can't stop listening to those two, probably because I know there's a true story behind them. I'm not sure if R&B and hip-hop get taken very seriously at times, which is a shame because there is some really beautiful stuff out there.

I would also recommend Macklemore- Same Love.

I guess I can't profess to only enjoying music that has a story, because I also just downloaded Miley Cyrus's new album. (I can't help it, I love her. It was an accident. I can fight it no longer.)

Who knows where my interests will lead me next, but I hope my passion to learn more never runs dry.

And here's a (poor quality) photo of Beyonce, that I took, while standing IN FRONT OF BEYONCE. 

Beyonce.

My dream life.

I was inspired by Ella's recent post about her dream life, to start thinking about what my own would be. 

When thinking of my dreams lately, I've either become realistic, or pessimistic, I'm not quite sure which one. 

Years ago, I used to dream of being on the west-end, or even just on stage professionally, somewhere. I used to feel like it was possible, because, well, why not? However, as the years have passed, this dream has felt further and further from possible. Now, I've convinced myself that even just getting back into theatre as a hobby would be tough for me.

It's been 9 months since I've been on a stage and it feels like much longer. 

The realism part comes from knowing my talent is limited. I think I've actually got quite a sensible grasp on how talented I am or am not. Without sounding arrogant, I am good (as a singer/actor), or at least I was before I got out of practice, I'm impressive on an amateur stage, but would probably fade into the background or crumble professionally. At least that's how I see it. And that's okay, I understand that. There's nothing that can be done about a limited talent, and I'm not even sure if I'd be suited to the lifestyle of professional theatre anymore anyway. I guess I'd be happy to settle for getting back into amateur groups, but it isn't a shame that I've done this to myself? That I've basically given up on my dream at 22?

Lately, my confidence has taken a dip once again. I don't know if it's do with the big changes in my life, the general lack of money, or the fact that I've comfort ate my weigh back to a ridiculous size and wasted all the work I put in. Possibly all of the above. I'm going to be honest and admit that life inside my head hasn't been fabulous recently. It seems that just when things could be going well for me, my lack of belief in myself stops me from enjoying it.

I find it difficult to figure out what my dream life actually is. To distinguish between what I'd want, in a fantasy world were there were no limits, and what I could realistically have if I worked hard enough. 

I'd settle for a quiet life, I'd be happy enough with a steady and reasonably paid job, that would at least give us the opportunity to save for our future wedding/life, and enable us to continue living in our lovely wee flat. 

On the other hand, if I could have whatever I wanted...
In a limitless world, I'd be in musicals professionally. I'd get to do a job that I love, and be appreciated in the right circles. No "celebrity" status or anything, I wouldn't want that. 
I'd be about 5 stone lighter than I am. (Shallow, I know, and rich considering I did and continue to do this to myself.)
I'd be able to give Jake all the confidence he deserves, and the career he wants.
I'd be able to sort out the issues within my family. They'd all be healthy and happy. We'd all get on, and Christmas would be how it used to. 
I'd be more self-confident and care even less what people think.
When the time is right for such things, we'll have the fabulous wedding we dream of and the fabulous babies, and move to the fabulous home, with the massive kitchen. (I haven't decided where yet.)

I realise that some of these dreams are reachable with hard work. And I intend to make them come true, someday.
As for the seemingly unreachable, well, who knows? That's life isn't it?

What about you? What would your dream life be like?

Click here for the original post, which inspired me to write this.

True friendship.

How easy do you find it to make friends? 

I mean true friends. The kind you can laugh with, cry with, be your relaxed, real self with, and send the ugliest of snapchats to. 

I have learned in recent years that it's something I actually find very difficult. 

In my life I've had many friends, but probably very few true ones. As a shy child, I would wait for people to talk to me and had a small group. As a confident teen, I had an abundance; some were acquaintances, some were everything to me, people that I thought would be in my life forever and now sadly aren't. I had to start again in a way, and now at 22, I am back to a small handful again. 

I thought that this was probably how it went for most people. You leave school, everyone drifts, most get into relationships, and you end up with just a few of the good ones. 

Until recently...

After leaving school I was in and out of college, trying to decide what I wanted to be. At first, making friends was a big part of it, I was still only 17 and very sociable, but the more the years went on, and I joined new classes, the less I was in it for friendship. I'd certainly interact, but not with the particular intention of seeing anyone outside of college. I was there to learn. It'd be a bonus if I met anyone I really connected with, and it turned out there were few. 

I don't mean to sound cold, I'm just pretty picky with who I give my time to. I've learned the hard way that few people are worth it and because of this I don't let my guard down easily. 

However, I noticed that it wasn't the same for everyone else; In fact some people seemed to have a new best friend within days. "Such and such is at this place with this person" said Facebook, followed by a whole photo album of the sleepover they'd had. Often, a few weeks later, they'd done the same with someone new. 

I was puzzled. How do people do that? How can they let people into their lives so easily? 

Am I the only one who gets a bit anxious about spending time alone with people I don't know very well?

I don't doubt that sometimes there is an instant connection, I've had it happen, but not every time I meet someone new. I find it really difficult to grasp how these instant "BFF" style friendships seem to be popping up all around me, and yet I remain unmoved by anyone. 

I began to wonder if the problem was with me. Am I too fussy? Do I come across as someone who doesn't want new friends? Possibly. 

I guess my general cynicism and lack of belief in people probably don't help. 

A bigger part of me wondered if these people were true friends at all. Or if it was all a bit false. Perhaps it's a combination of both.

No matter what, I have no regrets. Okay..I have some, but the mistakes I have made with friendships have taught me that I'm stronger than I thought. 

I enjoy being independent, not waiting on anyone, going to the places I want. Quite frankly, other people irritate me rather quickly. 

I'm lucky to have the small group of trusted friends that I do, and also family, who I know will be my friends for life. 

I always say it's about quality, not quantity. I'd rather spend a night with one really cool person, doing nothing, than a night out with people I don't know much about. 

I guess it's possible that I may have missed out on friendship opportunities, but it's a risk I'm willing to take. 

What's for you won't go by you and all that nonsense, eh? 

Personally, I need time to decide if someone is truly worth it, and if it turns out that they are, they will have a hard time getting rid of me. 

To me that's what real friendship should be about.

What do you think?