Tuesday, 22 November 2016

WHAT BEING A FEMINIST MEANS TO ME


The first thing that I want to get off my chest is admitting that I was not a feminist until last week. This 'label' is pretty new. But here I am, labelled and with good reason.

It was only a week ago that I bothered to self-educate myself on feminism. Therefore, I am in no way an expert. My opinions and views are still growing. I am, what people call, 'finding my feet' with feminism. I will be writing a post on why I decided to embark on finally teaching myself about feminism soon...

This post won't be in any way telling you that you need to become a feminist. I am not selling feminism (at least not in this post). I also will fend away any person who feels that there is a rule book on being a feminist that must be followed in order to call yourself one. This post is about what being a feminist means to me. The topic has become a trend and there are both positives and negatives to that. I debated whether or not to even write this post because there will be people out there who might disagree. But then I also came to the conclusion that I don't care about that and I never have.

So here is what being a feminist means to me...


 Wearing a bra (or not)

Even at home I like to keep my bra on. It offers 'my girls' support and keeps them warm. My bra gives me confidence and makes me feel over the age of nine. I completely understand the feminist movement in motion of freeing the tits. But for me, being a feminist will mean keeping my boobs capped.

Purchasing shavers and using them 

The hairy armpit look is not for me. I don't like two ginger Loraxes hibernating under my pits. It's not for me. I shave my pits, my legs and anything I want to.


Wearing makeup  

Wearing makeup gives me confidence. It makes me feel great and I enjoy putting it on. My face doesn't define my femininity. It is a hobby that I started when I was twelve years old and haven't stopped since. Going 'makeup-less' is brave, sure, but to me it doesn't prove that you are a feminist. If women don't feel good wearing it then they shouldn't wear it. Any one that has a problem with either has a pathetic type of a problem on their hands.

Loving men 

Feminism suggests that you are 'pro women' but there is no hidden rule that you are or should be anti-men. Here is where I feel lies the massive problem of feminism. The general assumption that because you are a feminist you want to knock men down on your way to defeat - is totally wrong. Comparisons are drawn between men and women to highlight inequality in their rights. However, some feminists give the movement a bad name by man hating. Women are not better than men in the same way that cats are not better than dogs. Sure, its down to personal preference and opinion but let's not turn it into battle of the sexes.

Turning off caps lock

ANGRY TONES SEND THE WRONG MESSAGE AND PISS A LOT OF PEOPLE OFF. Being a feminist, I will not use caps lock to put across my opinions. I might crack a few weird jokes around the pretty dire situation women are in comparatively to men, but I will never shout. One of the things that I found incredibly off-putting about some feminist journalists was their inability to 'cool it'. I don't want to listen to rants, sorry. Rants and angry tones make everyone roll their eyes, including me.  They're disinteresting. Feminists are fed up because we want what should be rightfully ours but the way in which we communicate it is vitally important. No one wants to read a man-slashing article - especially not the men (and aren't they the ones we really need to be convincing here?).


That's all I've got for now. Obviously, there are many facets to what being a feminist means to me. But I thought I'd start by sharing some of my 'shocking' qualities of being one first. But ultimately, being a feminist means that I just want equal rights for men and women. 






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Saturday, 19 November 2016

TWO WEEKS IN THE WILDERNESS



THE VIEW FROM MY BEDROOM WINDOW


LIVING IN THE MOUNTAINS 


AN EVENING, A BOOK AND A SUNSET


LOCAL BATIK ARTISTS 
(two of their pieces are on my bedroom wall).


CUCHARA MOUNTAINS



A NORMAL EVENING...


GARDEN OF THE GODS




A SUNRISE AT 4AM
(yes I was awake to see this..)


With no internet signal and little mobile reception, I was left to my own devices in Colorado this Summer. I discovered what it was like to live without television and the modern luxuries that we take for granted back home. I loved reading and watching nature around me. My holiday was a time of reflection and realisation.

 I became aware of how addicted to technology I was after I experienced severe withdrawals...sweats, nervous habits and anticipation of what I was missing (exaggerated information here for effect). I found myself leaping to my phone to check Instagram, Snapchat, Facebook and news apps all the time (that part wasn't fabricated). I had zero internet in the middle of nowhere, of course - it was a practical history lesson of caveman times.

But even the Flintstones had a car and so did we. A twenty minute drive to the nearest town meant I could connect to the local library internet. After my initial frantic moments to get in contact with everyone I knew back home and update myself on everything, I felt like a deflated balloon (the feeling of emptiness). I hadn't missed out on anything except absorbing what was around me in Colorado. I stopped caring about 'socials' after my trip. It's meaningless, superficial and fake but that's why we all love it after all. It just took time away from it to realise that it doesn't exactly fill me with extreme amounts of joy. I now find myself wasting less time on my phone because 'adventure is out there'. 


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Friday, 18 November 2016

WHY I'M BACK TO BLOGGING AFTER 9 MONTHS

I've decided to try and keep this post short and sweet. Realistically it will probably cause your scrolling finger to cramp in 'scrolling position' on the mouse while you frantically try to decipher my ramble. In that case, I won't be held responsible for cases of Repetitive Strain Injury (which is a relatively painful thing, by the way). Any Tumblr or Blogging junky will tell you that after a long session of browsing/being creative, you can rarely feel your fingers. In fact, your finger has probably been cramped into a Captain Hook-esque device. But anyway, basically I'm back - hi.

I will struggle to descriptively map-out my past nine months without creating a two-hundered page autobiography. So, with that in mind, I will just briefly outline each event, then move on and then proceed with why I have made my return to blogging. 

9 MONTHS OF ME 




I got a job and worked relentlessly at a night-club for four long months of my life. 

Shortly after the 'blogging break' began, any sense of a break otherwise was terminated. I got my first 'proper job' (as blogging was always a self-employed, let's have a ball kind of situation). I barely slept, got a whole new understanding of the meaning of eye bags and came to hate all clubs and drunk people. It's all fun and games, until someone plastered in wrinkles with grey hairs sprouting out of their nose hits on you daily. I also didn't see daylight ever - my shifts were on average 6pm-5am. Sleep all day, party work all night. 

I went to America, came home and then went to America again.

After quitting my job at one of the busiest nightclubs in my area, I decided to have some fun. Because girls really do just want to have fu-un. I went to L.A. and felt fabulous. I drank green juice and radiated from the constant sunlight. I went to the Kardashians' Dash store and couldn't afford a thing but I'm pretty sure Kendall Jenner whizzed past in her car as I walked down the sidewalk (yeah, I'm basically an LA natural). I enjoyed my time very much. 

Then, I flew home and flew back to America, to Colorado. A family house is out there and I had a zen experience. To say the house is in the wilderness is a massive understatement. One peaceful night, I glanced outside my bedroom window only to come face to face with a black bear. Just the window glass separated me and the bear. I crept back into bed and let the bear be, while I quivered under my bed clothes and listened to the countless cricket noises (or at least, I think they were crickets..). I didn't have any internet and the nearest civilisation point was twenty minutes' drive away. It was one of my most treasured experiences. 

Two days after I landed back in the UK, I went to University for a week and then dropped out. 

This is the most recent event and one of the hardest and easiest things I've had to do. Last year, I applied to do English Literature at University. Why? Because I thought that it was the best thing to do for my future. It seemed like a 'sensible' option. I had always excelled at English, was capable of doing it and I enjoyed it at school. It seemed like a good concoction of reasons despite my gut knowing that I didn't want to do it. But, I went for it. After all, I'd already taken an unplanned gap year due to medical reasons and I didn't want to 'waste time'. Fast forward to September - I'm sat on the campus bed at one of the UK's top Universities, crying on the phone to my Mum, my sister and my best friends. I felt like I had trapped myself in an educational prison. I knew I'd made a mistake the second I sat down in the lecture theatre. I wasn't doing what I wanted. The worst part about the whole experience was that I knew all along. English wasn't for me. My passion was elsewhere and I left University after my first week was over. The decision was emotional but I have absolutely no regrets. It's the most confident decision that I have ever made. The most important lesson that I learnt from the whole 'ordeal' was that I am in control of my life decisions and my happiness. From now on, I won't be embarking on anything without passion and confidence and that all important happy 'gut-feeling'. When it's right, it's right.

 The now...

At the moment, I am doing bits of acting, writing and self-educating. I am combining all the things I love and spending my days doing it. I am back at home for the moment and I am OK with that. I chose to be back and I have a plan for the future which involves a creative degree in something I love. The saying, 'You never know what the future holds' is wholeheartedly true. 

and why I'm back...

I am simply back to blogging because I enjoy it. The posts that I will be writing will mainly be lifestyle, fashion and arts focused. My posts will take the form of long or short snippets of my thoughts or alternatively will be solely photographic. Basically, I'm claiming my blog back. This dusty little webspace of mine is being revived - begone tumbleweeds! Welcome, I hope you'll get cosy. 




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