The Many Colours of Happiness

I was looking back at my old blog posts the other day, which made me realise just how much I have changed since August of last year. I think it’s partly to do with blogging (through sorting out my thoughts, getting advice from wonderful people, and seeing so many brave bloggers follow their dreams), and partly to do with my complete dissatisfaction with my current degree; that I have decided to finally work towards something I really want, rather than settling for less. If you have followed me for a while, you’ll know that I have a tendency to play it safe. Because of this, I have always steered towards career-based degrees, rather than subjects I actually enjoy. Which hasn't been the best decision, since despite my desire to be practical and do practical subjects, I am the least practical person in the entire world. Give me an essay to write and I am in my element. Get me to do anything hands-on that doesn’t involve a lot of words and self-reflection...and I will probably cr...

Thank you all so much for the feedback on my last post. I was quite nervous telling the world that I don’t mind the way that I look. You wouldn't believe the amount of times I wanted to go back and just delete the entire post... Or write a new one promising that I do, in fact, think that I am unattractive. It’s odd, isn’t it? I am quite sure I have posted that I like who I am a few times on this blog and not batted an eyelid. But to say something positive about your looks, particularly to others, is terrifying. And I DID get some negative feedback about it too. Though I have previously posted that I am awkward looking/strange looking/ugly, and I certainly have not gotten negative feedback for that. One person brought up a good point. When someone says that they think that they’re beautiful, we automatically assume that they think that they’re more beautiful than us. We go around constantly telling ourselves how horrible looking we are, and when someone doesn’t share our self...

Lately it seems that the six dirtiest words in the English language are ‘I like the way I look’. We rarely, if ever, hear those words come out of someone’s mouth. And if we do hear them, we are taken aback. One of the main insults I hear about girls, apart from that ever-loaded word ‘slut’, is “she thinks she’s so beautiful.” We’ll whisper it behind our hands to our friends, taking care to roll our eyes at the same time. How dare they like the way they look. How shallow. How in love with themselves they must be to think that they look nice. But really, what is so wrong with them thinking that they do look nice? Beautiful even? And why shouldn’t they think that they’re beautiful? We all are. We have always been told through the media that we should love the way that we look. But at the same time we are told that we need this dress, that lipstick, those shoes, to hide our flaws. To really be beautiful. We have become so used to noticing the parts of ourselves that don’t meet the...

Firstly I just want to say that I am not one who promotes products on their blog. 1. Because I am too lazy. 2. Because I am much too self-absorbed. In case you hadn't noticed, this blog tend to revolve around me. Me, me, me. I even enjoyed writing 'me' multiple times just then. Loved. It. THAT'S the type of blog this is. But a few weeks/months...probably months ago, I won a giveaway on yes and yes and got a pair of earrings from Davinia Hamilton. And I love them so much that I just had to blog about them! Even though it did take me a really really really long time...but hey, I did have a lot of me to talk about. These are not only pretty, make anything just that little bit fancier, but are also really easy to wear. I NEVER wear large earrings because I am weak and I don't enjoy pain, but these are so lightweight that I can wear them all day and not feel a thing. So here are some pics of them, and thanks again Davinia for the lovely earrings!

I was playing my keyboard the other day. Playing like I always do. Timidly, carefully. Second guessing myself. Refusing to trust these fingers that had played the same tune so many times before. These fingers that knew exactly where they were meant to be. Instead I held them back, refusing to let myself be in the moment. Refusing to feel the music. To live it. And there I sat, terrified of making a mistake. But my second guessing, my timidness, leads me to miss keys; my fingers slipping and stumbling, tripping over the music. But I’m playing so quietly that it’s impossible to hear anyway. And so I took a breath. Felt the moment. And realised that I am tired of this timidness. I know what to do. I know where I am supposed to be. But I am so worried about making mistakes that I hold back. I go through everything as quietly as can be, trying not to make too much noise. Because what if I make a mistake, and everyone can hear? But when I took that breath, I relaxed. And I played. With...

The main thing I learned on my camping adventure is that camping turns me into a huge bimbo. Or maybe I already am a huge bimbo and have learned to hide it underneath an awkward, goofy exterior. Camping just happens to push all of that aside, leaving me with a nice gooey bimbo-ey centre that becomes obvious to everyone, including me. In my defence, no one told me that we would be hiking to our camping spot. I just figured we would be camping next to the car. It seemed sensible. Were I planning the trip, we would have camped next to car. Maybe even in it, with the heater running. But unfortunately my dad was planning it. And hiking we were going. Which made the 3 bags filled to the brim that I took seem....impractical. So anyway, I turned out up at my parents house (I was leaving my car there and dad was taking us in his) with all of my worldly possessions, only to find out that it was a one bag maximum. This may have been the moment I threw a mini-tantrum. Again, in my defence, m...