Once upon a time there was a girl who didn't have much going on. She had acquaintances but no friends, hobbies but no passions and likes but no loves.
This continued on for more than a few years until the day the consulate building she worked in was taken over by terrorists. True to her overly neutral nature, even though her life could potentially be in danger, she felt nothing more than irritated about the disruption to her day. Her demeanour remained unruffled, right up until the point the terrorists shot the man beside her.
As his blood splattered across her body she could still feel the warmth of it. It trickled down between her fingers and she rubbed at it, almost mesmerised by it's silky smooth texture.
Thus, when the terrorists grabbed her blood splattered figure, intending to drag her in front of the cameras to emphasise their agenda to the world, without quite knowing what she was doing, she reached up and stabbed the one holding her through his eye with a biro, killing him instantly.
And then she laughed, a bright, happy carefree sound.
Of this you must take note - right now she is not mad, or frightened or hysterical. She is simply a girl who has just found out what it is she wants to do with her life.
Which turns out to be painting the walls red with other peoples blood.
After the screaming had mostly died down, helped by the fact that the SWAT team arrived before the girl had finished with the terrorists. The girl was pulled aside and left alone in a room.
A group of dark suited, reasonable gentlemen visited her in the room and after they left, the girl was no more.
For a while afterwards (remember, this was all being broadcast live to the world) many viewers commented on the girl who had distracted the terrorists long enough for the SWAT team to arrive and save them. They pitied her obvious insanity. 'Hero' was a word bandied around a lot.
The survivors themselves said nothing of her. It was what they had been instructed to do and anyway, to speak of that girl was to remember her. What child wants to remember the existence of the monster under the bed?
There is a certain branch of the government that is not spoken of. The jobs they do are not clean ones. Even now those hidden operatives speak in hushed tones of a certain member of their rank. Of a woman who knows no fear and delights in the spilling of anothers blood.
Remember boys and girls, not all callings in life are good, not all damsels should be saved.
Wednesday, 29 June 2011
Tuesday, 28 June 2011
The Fear
My hero, Neil Gaiman once said "Being a writer is a very peculiar sort of a job: it's always you versus a blank sheet of paper (or a blank screen) and quite often the blank piece of paper wins." You can read the rest of his post on his blog at http://journal.neilgaiman.com/2004/02/on-writing.asp (I really recommend reading it. It is interesting and witty and wonderful to see inside a creative persons head)
Too often, in my case, the blank piece of paper is winning. I will look at it and my spine will go cold. What do I know about writing? What could I possibly write that other people would want to read? In fact - there are no ideas left inside my echoey empty head so I can't write anything anyway.
And so, coward that I am, I write nothing.
In the above post, Mr Gaiman writes that:
"I think for me the tipping point was when I was a very young man. It was late at night, and I was lying in bed, and I thought, as I often thought, "I could be a writer. It's what I want to be. I think it's what I am." And then I imagined myself in my eighties, possibly even on my deathbed, thinking that same thought, in a life when I'd never written anything. And I'd be an old man, with my life behind me, still telling myself I was really a writer -- and I would never know if I was kidding myself or not."
I worry that this will be me - that I will fool myself for the rest of my life, that I am a writer - and never write anything for fear of proving myself wrong.
So that's me, fear stripped bare. And no, I don't want to go to my grave having done nothing. I want to conquer this fear and prove myself one way or the other.
So blank piece of paper - en garde!
Too often, in my case, the blank piece of paper is winning. I will look at it and my spine will go cold. What do I know about writing? What could I possibly write that other people would want to read? In fact - there are no ideas left inside my echoey empty head so I can't write anything anyway.
And so, coward that I am, I write nothing.
In the above post, Mr Gaiman writes that:
"I think for me the tipping point was when I was a very young man. It was late at night, and I was lying in bed, and I thought, as I often thought, "I could be a writer. It's what I want to be. I think it's what I am." And then I imagined myself in my eighties, possibly even on my deathbed, thinking that same thought, in a life when I'd never written anything. And I'd be an old man, with my life behind me, still telling myself I was really a writer -- and I would never know if I was kidding myself or not."
I worry that this will be me - that I will fool myself for the rest of my life, that I am a writer - and never write anything for fear of proving myself wrong.
So that's me, fear stripped bare. And no, I don't want to go to my grave having done nothing. I want to conquer this fear and prove myself one way or the other.
So blank piece of paper - en garde!
Monday, 27 June 2011
Favourites: Nail varnish
I don't know about you but I always feel undressed without nail varnish on. My nails aren't particularly gruesome but I always feel more armoured up when I have it on. I know various girls that have different things they use as shields (make up, shoes, nice underwear, jewellery) but nail varnish has always been my weapon of choice.
For start it comes in so many different colours that it can match any mood you're in - for instance I have a shade that is the exact same shade as the TARDIS in Dr Who for when I feel like being sci-fi and geeky and keep peering round corners looking for a man in a bow tie standing next to an innocent blue box (this mood occurs more often than you think). I have a virulent green when I feel like a punky radioactive girl surviving in a post apocalyptic world. I have a rich purple for when I feel like playing the doomed heiress of a failing aristocratic house and a light glittering pink when I feel like playing a kitten who has her claws hidden.
But my favourite by far, my true love forever colour is the classic, the pure, blood red.
This colours was worn by the sirens of the golden age. By the coiffed haired, form fitting, stocking wearing, poised goddess of the classic film scene. Their white cigarettes held negligently between their bloody tips led many a leading man to their doom. Their poise, their composure, their style and their sheer, overwhelming sexuality held me in thrall to them from an early age.
I might not have had the figure, the hair, the looks or the composure to pull off what they could do - but by god could I at least paint my nails red.
And so began a life long passion of finding a perfect shade. I now have a whole range of reds - from bright to arterial dark. Most people could probably never tell the difference but I know I can - and that's what counts.
So if ever I want to feel that bit more confident, or feel like playing the vamp or even just to make myself believe for one second as I walk through the door that I am so smoking hot I could set every man in the room on fire - red is always my colour of choice.
For start it comes in so many different colours that it can match any mood you're in - for instance I have a shade that is the exact same shade as the TARDIS in Dr Who for when I feel like being sci-fi and geeky and keep peering round corners looking for a man in a bow tie standing next to an innocent blue box (this mood occurs more often than you think). I have a virulent green when I feel like a punky radioactive girl surviving in a post apocalyptic world. I have a rich purple for when I feel like playing the doomed heiress of a failing aristocratic house and a light glittering pink when I feel like playing a kitten who has her claws hidden.
But my favourite by far, my true love forever colour is the classic, the pure, blood red.
This colours was worn by the sirens of the golden age. By the coiffed haired, form fitting, stocking wearing, poised goddess of the classic film scene. Their white cigarettes held negligently between their bloody tips led many a leading man to their doom. Their poise, their composure, their style and their sheer, overwhelming sexuality held me in thrall to them from an early age.
I might not have had the figure, the hair, the looks or the composure to pull off what they could do - but by god could I at least paint my nails red.
And so began a life long passion of finding a perfect shade. I now have a whole range of reds - from bright to arterial dark. Most people could probably never tell the difference but I know I can - and that's what counts.
So if ever I want to feel that bit more confident, or feel like playing the vamp or even just to make myself believe for one second as I walk through the door that I am so smoking hot I could set every man in the room on fire - red is always my colour of choice.
Friday, 24 June 2011
Favourites: Pole Dancing
Now, I am a weedy girl. I walk a lot (everywhere in fact due to my extreme lack of funds for a car) so I can give a pretty good kick but ask me to carry something heavy? I have to resort to (and my feminist ancestors roll in their graves at this) eyelash fluttering. That's right, I am one of those pathetic girls who have to rely on their 'wiley feminine charms' to get their furniture moved. And that only works about 3 times out of 10.
But no more! For although I refuse to join a gym (what with them being an invention of the devil and all) I have decided that I do actually need to work out, get fit and be able to carry my own stuff.
So, what did I decided to do to achieve this? Pole dancing.
Whenever I went to strip clubs (Don't ask please. Although I must add that all the strippers I met were incredibly lovely people and were always extremely polite and chatty to shy English girls who wanted to ask where they got their shoes) I would always admire the way the strippers would fling themselves round their poles and how incredibly fun it looked.
So when I saw an advert for pole dancing in a pub my friends and I frequent, I thought, well why not?
I was fortunate enough to get a last minute place on a 6 week beginners course at the Iosis centre, based in the warehouse district of Liverpool (http://www.ioisis-poledance.co.uk/). It's based in a converted warehouse building and the instructors are wonderfully enthusiastic about their class and very understanding of how nervous first timers (me) are.
I had my very class last Wednesday.
It was So. Much. Fun.
I was terrified beforehand - convinced that as I had no idea what I was doing, no physical strength and barely enough self coordination to walk down a street without falling over that I was going to either:
a. knock myself unconscious in the first 5 minutes
b. make a complete tit out of myself
c. both
However when I got there I met a group of like minded, excited but nervous students and a friendly, chatty instructor who put us all at ease and we spent the next hour doing fun beginners exercises and poses. Including lots and lots of spinning around!
And yes, the first time I spun on my pole I might have gone too fast and ended up looking a cat stuck in a washing machine, and yes, when I was trying to do the sexy slide down the pole which involves just holding on with your hands and letting your legs fold gracefully to the floor I may have gotten stuck to the pole and, in my attempts to get down, made a sound not unlike cartoons characters make when they hit a plane of glass and then slide down that (but hey, at least they managed to slide down the thing).
But in spite of (or even due to) I had the most fantastic time. It was brilliant fun, great exercise and I can't wait to go again. If you ever thought about doing it, or if this post makes you want to try it - I say do it! Sign up now and give it a go - you won't regret it.
I do, however, really recommend having a bath afterwards. Not because you'll be hot and sweaty (which you will) but mainly because for the next two days after you will ache something rotten. I still can't lift my arms above my head without whimpering. Since you cannot do anything about it, I recommend you take it as proof that you've worked hard at something you've enjoyed.
But no more! For although I refuse to join a gym (what with them being an invention of the devil and all) I have decided that I do actually need to work out, get fit and be able to carry my own stuff.
So, what did I decided to do to achieve this? Pole dancing.
Whenever I went to strip clubs (Don't ask please. Although I must add that all the strippers I met were incredibly lovely people and were always extremely polite and chatty to shy English girls who wanted to ask where they got their shoes) I would always admire the way the strippers would fling themselves round their poles and how incredibly fun it looked.
So when I saw an advert for pole dancing in a pub my friends and I frequent, I thought, well why not?
I was fortunate enough to get a last minute place on a 6 week beginners course at the Iosis centre, based in the warehouse district of Liverpool (http://www.ioisis-poledance.co.uk/). It's based in a converted warehouse building and the instructors are wonderfully enthusiastic about their class and very understanding of how nervous first timers (me) are.
I had my very class last Wednesday.
It was So. Much. Fun.
I was terrified beforehand - convinced that as I had no idea what I was doing, no physical strength and barely enough self coordination to walk down a street without falling over that I was going to either:
a. knock myself unconscious in the first 5 minutes
b. make a complete tit out of myself
c. both
However when I got there I met a group of like minded, excited but nervous students and a friendly, chatty instructor who put us all at ease and we spent the next hour doing fun beginners exercises and poses. Including lots and lots of spinning around!
And yes, the first time I spun on my pole I might have gone too fast and ended up looking a cat stuck in a washing machine, and yes, when I was trying to do the sexy slide down the pole which involves just holding on with your hands and letting your legs fold gracefully to the floor I may have gotten stuck to the pole and, in my attempts to get down, made a sound not unlike cartoons characters make when they hit a plane of glass and then slide down that (but hey, at least they managed to slide down the thing).
But in spite of (or even due to) I had the most fantastic time. It was brilliant fun, great exercise and I can't wait to go again. If you ever thought about doing it, or if this post makes you want to try it - I say do it! Sign up now and give it a go - you won't regret it.
I do, however, really recommend having a bath afterwards. Not because you'll be hot and sweaty (which you will) but mainly because for the next two days after you will ache something rotten. I still can't lift my arms above my head without whimpering. Since you cannot do anything about it, I recommend you take it as proof that you've worked hard at something you've enjoyed.
Thursday, 16 June 2011
Sometimes life's just got to be about Jaffa Cakes and Unicorns
When I was out drinking with my friends and Muttley Bear this past lovely Saturday afternoon (note: due to public transport restrictions we like to start early and finish early before we have to sell our organs down back alleys to pay for cab fare home) the conversation turned to a variety of things, but eventually ended up (after the 4th or 5th shot) at 'how you look at life'.
Now, I am an extremely fortunate person, I might whinge about how I'm nearly 30 and I've done nothing (not true) but in actual fact I have a lot of things to be grateful for. Not least my lovely Muttley Bear, my fantastic friends and the fact I don't have to cut off my hair to sell to a wig makers to buy bread. So, yeah, I am a really lucky girl.
Some people I know aren't so fortunate in the luck states. Whether it's coping with no money, dealing with an insanely demanding family, having the roof fall in (and that came in 3rd of 'things that went wrong this week') or just having to deal with long term complications these people are being bombarded with stress.
And yet they manage it brilliantly.
I am truly in awe of them. Situations that would have me crawling down to the basement and weeping (loudly and hysterically) barely makes them bat an eyelid. They swoop through life with aplomb and grace and are always there when their more pathetic friend (me) needs a helping hand.
When I asked them how they could deal with it all, and deal with it without turning into a bitter, twisted harridan, they answered 'yeah, life can be crap sometimes - but what's the point of only focusing on the bad stuff? That'll get you nowhere. Sometimes you just have to focus on the good, the silly, the funny, the frivolous. Sometimes life just has to be about Jaffa Cakes and Unicorns'
So, this post, vastly insufficient an offering though it is, it dedicated to them. The friends I know who take on the worst life can throw at them and then make life run crying for its mother.
<3
Now, I am an extremely fortunate person, I might whinge about how I'm nearly 30 and I've done nothing (not true) but in actual fact I have a lot of things to be grateful for. Not least my lovely Muttley Bear, my fantastic friends and the fact I don't have to cut off my hair to sell to a wig makers to buy bread. So, yeah, I am a really lucky girl.
Some people I know aren't so fortunate in the luck states. Whether it's coping with no money, dealing with an insanely demanding family, having the roof fall in (and that came in 3rd of 'things that went wrong this week') or just having to deal with long term complications these people are being bombarded with stress.
And yet they manage it brilliantly.
I am truly in awe of them. Situations that would have me crawling down to the basement and weeping (loudly and hysterically) barely makes them bat an eyelid. They swoop through life with aplomb and grace and are always there when their more pathetic friend (me) needs a helping hand.
When I asked them how they could deal with it all, and deal with it without turning into a bitter, twisted harridan, they answered 'yeah, life can be crap sometimes - but what's the point of only focusing on the bad stuff? That'll get you nowhere. Sometimes you just have to focus on the good, the silly, the funny, the frivolous. Sometimes life just has to be about Jaffa Cakes and Unicorns'
So, this post, vastly insufficient an offering though it is, it dedicated to them. The friends I know who take on the worst life can throw at them and then make life run crying for its mother.
<3
Wednesday, 8 June 2011
Manga: Shounen Manga - Is it possible they're the new feminists? Weird...
N.B. Please bear in mind that I use sweeping (and I mean sweeping) generalisations in this post. Japanese manga is varied and awesome and you can think of any topic under the sun and they will have written a manga about it - and several ones you would never have even thought of. This post deals with mainly mainstream manga - the pulp fiction stuff if you like. But to all those who have never read any before - I truly, truly recommend it. It can be beautiful, sad, moving, hilarious, psychedelic, awful and gentle all in one sitting. it is like watching a film in stills and they have a genuine gift for using landscape as emotional/ mental references. Plus, some of the stuff is so insane that you read going 'this is just....mental. how could anyone possibly read this?' And you keep reading it out of sheer incredulity and before you know it, you've read the first volume, put your coat on and walked to the bookstore to demand why they haven't stocked the next one.
But I digress, onwards to the actual post now...
I read a lot of manga - and I mean A LOT. Possibly I am what they call an otaku in Japan, or perhaps I am not quite worthy to receive that title just yet. In any case, I read a lot and I read everything.
I admit that I am fond of the romance stuff (cheese galore!) but recently, or perhaps it has just resurfaced in me, I grow sick of the same stuff over and over. You know, 'bad boy turns good with right girl', 'he's cold and mean but really, he loves me', 'he's a manipulative bastard but it's all for my own good'. I know I am generalising here (as some of the stuff that's out there is genuinely brilliant romantic stuff or just plain CUTE and fun to read) but a lot of it goes like this.
And the girls in them - the whiny, over-dependant, spineless girls. Oh my God do they make me ANGRY! Stop crying, grow a backbone - smack him! Arrgh! (Ahem, my Essex roots showing there somewhat).
So, for a while, I have moved away from the more romantic manga and decided to switch to Shounen - boys manga. Which normally I don't go for - what with them usually revolving around blood/gore, giant robots and big tits. Not that I have anything against robots and fisticuffs - they're just not my cup of tea.
But I fancied a change so off I went.
They are AMAZING! Totally ludicrous and completely hilarious! Samurai! Aliens! Bishies! Fans! Fisticuffs! MONOLOGUES! (all rolled into one in the case of Gintama - an anime and manga - both totally worth seeing) People getting thrown through walls, people getting punched, people going through tables, people being stabbed and beaten down but still heroically getting back up to defend their friends!
They are awesome. And the best bit about them is the women. Yes, they are all scantily dressed with short skirts and big tits (unless they are spooky looking little girls) and choose the oddest moments to become bashful. And sometimes yes, you get the typical DID (Damsel in Distress) but most of them are totally badass, utterly ruthless, cold hearted, violent, occasionally psychopathic and amazing.
Not ones for hiding in a corner sobbing, these girls will walk right over you in their determination to chop the bad guy into bits first. Yes, these girls are gun toting, sword wielding, giant robot making maniacs and, in my opinion, a strong candidate for roles models for future female world leaders. Although I would advise wearing slightly more clothing. And if you are going to be doing a lot of high kicks - perhaps shorts rather than skirts would be a better choice.
So, if anyone else is getting a little tired of the typical romance heroine, I, perhaps a bit bizarrely, recommend reading some Shounen manga for a truly hardcore female lead.
But I digress, onwards to the actual post now...
I read a lot of manga - and I mean A LOT. Possibly I am what they call an otaku in Japan, or perhaps I am not quite worthy to receive that title just yet. In any case, I read a lot and I read everything.
I admit that I am fond of the romance stuff (cheese galore!) but recently, or perhaps it has just resurfaced in me, I grow sick of the same stuff over and over. You know, 'bad boy turns good with right girl', 'he's cold and mean but really, he loves me', 'he's a manipulative bastard but it's all for my own good'. I know I am generalising here (as some of the stuff that's out there is genuinely brilliant romantic stuff or just plain CUTE and fun to read) but a lot of it goes like this.
And the girls in them - the whiny, over-dependant, spineless girls. Oh my God do they make me ANGRY! Stop crying, grow a backbone - smack him! Arrgh! (Ahem, my Essex roots showing there somewhat).
So, for a while, I have moved away from the more romantic manga and decided to switch to Shounen - boys manga. Which normally I don't go for - what with them usually revolving around blood/gore, giant robots and big tits. Not that I have anything against robots and fisticuffs - they're just not my cup of tea.
But I fancied a change so off I went.
They are AMAZING! Totally ludicrous and completely hilarious! Samurai! Aliens! Bishies! Fans! Fisticuffs! MONOLOGUES! (all rolled into one in the case of Gintama - an anime and manga - both totally worth seeing) People getting thrown through walls, people getting punched, people going through tables, people being stabbed and beaten down but still heroically getting back up to defend their friends!
They are awesome. And the best bit about them is the women. Yes, they are all scantily dressed with short skirts and big tits (unless they are spooky looking little girls) and choose the oddest moments to become bashful. And sometimes yes, you get the typical DID (Damsel in Distress) but most of them are totally badass, utterly ruthless, cold hearted, violent, occasionally psychopathic and amazing.
Not ones for hiding in a corner sobbing, these girls will walk right over you in their determination to chop the bad guy into bits first. Yes, these girls are gun toting, sword wielding, giant robot making maniacs and, in my opinion, a strong candidate for roles models for future female world leaders. Although I would advise wearing slightly more clothing. And if you are going to be doing a lot of high kicks - perhaps shorts rather than skirts would be a better choice.
So, if anyone else is getting a little tired of the typical romance heroine, I, perhaps a bit bizarrely, recommend reading some Shounen manga for a truly hardcore female lead.
Tuesday, 7 June 2011
Laziness: Tuesday
Argh, I've been off from work - a rather unusual occurrence for me as I have a rather rabid work ethic (when people are paying me to that is). A pity it doesn't seem to translate into my own work - already I have missed several days of blogging. This is not good.
I must work harder. And post more interesting things than me whining.
Luckily, tomorrow is another day! I am a most fortunate being that this is so.
:)
I must work harder. And post more interesting things than me whining.
Luckily, tomorrow is another day! I am a most fortunate being that this is so.
:)
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