Day 3

Yes, I know, this post came much quicker than the last one, didn’t it? Anyway, à jour trois…

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So, to start, there’s something strangely magical about these guys. And no, it’s not their beards. Many years ago now, I went to the London 2012 Olympics and my family and I shot up here, to Glasgow, so we could make use of Central Station. We were heading to Edinburgh, naturally. Well — these lads were here that first time, playing in this exact same spot. Then, come the first day I’m making my way back up Buchanan Street for this second jaunt across the pond in 2015, and here they are again. Greeting me like last time. It was rather an odd coincidence, I must say. Good thing I don’t believe in coincidences.

What I would do differently? This time, I’ll make sure to buy one of their CDs. If only for aesthetic appeal because my computer no longer has a disc drive…

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I know what you’re thinking: “She’s going to say that next time she won’t be a stereotypical American and take a picture next to a telephone booth.” WRONG. This next time, I WILL take ANOTHER picture next to a telephone booth, but perhaps I’ll go to the lime green one farther down Buchanan…I used to walk by it all the time when I was headed to Central to meet Sam for riotous outings, or when I was going for a calming walk in the rain. They have free Wifi so I don’t see the point in avoiding them. I don’t care how American it looks – I’m working on embracing that side of myself again, okay? I don’t really like it but what can you do when you fall in love with an American or two…

Check it out:

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Pretty great, huh? Makes for a good, nostalgic shot, and with the banners and the rain and the lights…

Day 4 to come soon.

“A few thousand miles and an ocean away, But I see the sunrise, oh, just like the other day, Picture your eyes as I fall asleep, Tell myself it’s all right, oh, as the tears roll by.” -Oceans Away, ARIZONA

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Day 2

So, as promised, here is day 2. Not that anyone is reading, but it’s good for my mental health so here we go.

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When I arrived in Scotland the first time, I, as you saw in the last post, had 5,000 bags – so, naturally, when I attempted to transport them through the airport, they weighted a ton. I didn’t realize at the time that the luggage carts had to be pushed down at the handle to carry the weight for you. Well – you can guess what I did then. Pushed the whole freakin’ load myself. All the way through the airport. I was sweaty and surely smelly and felt like an idiot. I really had to put my back into it! But I was certain I covered it well. No one commented anyway. Our old family friend Paul didn’t even look disgusted when he hugged me before escorting me into the city.

Anyway, next time, I’ll know to push the handle down before pushing the cart forward. And this next time, that is exactly what I’ll do. Maybe this next time, I’ll even hold off on scoffing at how fake the sunshine looks in this photo. (It really is a rare occurrence, folks).

 

Day 3 to be posted in the next few days!

 

“You’re dripping like a saturated sunrise, You’re spilling like an overflowing sink, You’re ripped at every edge but you’re a masterpiece, And now I’m tearing through the pages and the ink.” – Colors, Halsey

The Glory of the 21st Century

Death is inevitable. But the problem isn’t this. It’s that people pretend like you have all the time in the world. And that’s not the worst bit – what’s worse is how life for what it’s worth can end and cease to exist long before your actual death arrives. Sometimes, life can become worse than death…

Historians always say that it is the people of the past we should feel sorry for and not wish to live among. But there is only a half-truth in those words – it is US we should feel sorry for and not wish to live among; US who should be afraid. People talk as if we have achieved great things in this new century. And maybe we have. But we have also failed on a countless number of instances. You see, we live in a world of oblivious and ignorant chaos. And we are stuck in it. There is no longer any place to run to, should we become incapable of handling it. Everywhere is full of careening, twisting, warping humans without brains, demons with too much power, and monsters with access to weapons.

I wonder what the historians of the future will say about us then…

If there will be any humans left, of course.

Welcome to the 21st century! Where it is common to come home and find out that your child’s school had been shot up for absolutely no reason by a random citizen who somehow had access to a machine gun. Welcome to the 21st century! Where you figure that a mass killing a month in some foreign country can’t affect you, right? Welcome to the 21st century! Where complete pyschopaths and selfish pricks with disgusting hair think they can run a country already full of hypocrites, liars, and freedom fakers. And where these hypocrites, liars, and freedom fakers apparently want them to. Welcome to the 21st century! Where mindless drones have replaced humanity and technological distractions and meaningless apps have replaced emotional, real, true, human connection. Welcome to the 21st century! Where racism and sexism still plague in places that pretend they had never existed and basic human rights such as consent and bodily ownership are consistently ignored and pushed aside. Welcome to the 21st century! Oh — what a time to be alive! What a time to be “free”! What a time to be at war…

You know, I’ve had so many people sit me down and tell me how early I am to things. “Wow, you’re so ahead of us when we were your age!” “I know you think that you love him now, but maybe later…” “I mean, you’re only 22, just give it a rest and wait.” The thing is – I’m not early at all. If you look at the world, at the way things are going, how in hell can I trust in or even hope for any kind of future? I believe in my passions and my dreams and my aspirations. I do. But how can I sit around and wait, when the world won’t wait for me? The world is falling apart. That much is clear. And it’s not just the crumbling, coughing Earth that makes me say this. It is everything. It’s the fact that people don’t even look up from their phones now when walking through a shopping center because Pokemon Go is just “that invigorating”. It’s the fact that there is a terrorist attack a month in countries like France and Turkey, and shootings once a week in America. It’s the fact that the U.K.’s latest election left them desolate, broken, and confused, and our upcoming one is making me feel the same way. What, with our choices for candidates? There’s no wonder people are fleeing to Canada. I do things quickly and without fear because there’s already plenty of fear to go around. And when it comes down to it? When WWIII is actually happening? I don’t want to be in regret. I want to say that I achieved everything I could have, even if I am only 22.

Welcome to the 21st century.

 

 

Me, Myself, and I

I more often than not come across as a surprise to most people. They seem to think that, because I am very open with myself and to others, they know everything they need to know about me. The fact is, they often dismiss what they think they know, anyway.

Though I am not often taken seriously, people seem to think that they can predict me. “Oh she’s talking about Scotland again”; “Oh she’s going off about Harry Potter again”; “Oh she’s complaining about some other shit or other again.”

But here’s the thing. None of them seem to know that, though I may do these accused things more often that I care to admit, I am also doing other things. Unpredictable things. Off-to-the-side things that will help me in my climb to glory. Like how I ghost write for random individuals on the internet in between crafting my own novels and get paid for it. Oh — did I mention I have a 5 star rating there? Bet none of them know that. Like how I am in contact with a New York Literary agent and how every time I send one of her manuscripts back, all she has is high praise for me. I doubt any of them would ever guess that. Like how I am applying for a big scholarship to get me back to Scotland for free and that would nearly give me a full ride to one of the oldest and most established English speaking universities in the world. Yeah, most don’t know that either.

What they don’t understand about me is though I may talk a lot, I still withhold the most important information. Because, though I do talk a lot, I am not an all-talk person. And all of you complainers? You minimalist haters? You pretentious postmodern pricks? You don’t know a thing about the real world. But I do. So here’s me saying – why don’t you stop being so predictable? Everyone knows exactly what you’re going to do with your life. I mean, it’s the same thing you’ve been doing this whole time.

But me? Well Hell — I’ll be reaching for the skies. Moving somewhere at the drop of a pin and not worrying about a thing. I am, after all, just a wee lass. What could you possibly predict about me that could be true?

Perhaps one day, they’ll see. Perhaps one day, I’ll show them. Perhaps one day, they’ll know just how unpredictable I can be.

Unpredictable

Cowardice

Cowardice. It’s a word that I grew to know too well.

It was a word that others held in their hearts. I could feel it radiating off their bodies as they slowly stripped me away. When they stared at me through the glass instead of coming to speak to me. When they gave me a silence so strong I could feel it following me around for weeks. When they warned me against pursuing my passions and tried to tear down my dreams because the green monster of fear sat on their hearts.

Cowardice. It’s a word that started ringing in my head. Like a siren. Blaring in my ears and droning out the world around me. I began to hear them more clearly; to think that perhaps they had a point. When she left me alone, as if a deer in the middle of the road. I was stuck; caught. Of course I was afraid. When the the only ones I felt I could trust disappeared from my grasp, to start their own lives, I wasn’t ready. I didn’t know what to do; my options had run dry. I was afraid. When he left me at the airport with the most strangled goodbye, I felt rooted to the spot. Tears fell down his face but all I did was turn away. Of course, I was just afraid.

Cowardice. It holds you back. Keeps you behind closed doors.

But I’ve learned to grow out of it. I used to let it control me, like it controls the ones around me. When I was the one stepped on, wrung out, slapped around like a dirty rug by the ones that mattered most to me. When I was quieter; timider; more subdued. I didn’t want to bother anyone; make anyone angry; disappoint them by being angry myself. I was the good little girl who always said ‘Yes’ and ‘please’ and behaved as she should. When I was a people-pleaser and felt the need to justify myself to everyone and everything. I used to be a coward. I used to let people bend my backbone as they would. I used to let my cowardice control me. But then I grew. I became bold. I grew from a humble Hufflepuff to a soaring Ravenclaw, with roaring Gryffindor undertones, and I had never felt stronger. I loved, I lived, I lost. I wrote and wrote and wrote. And was unafraid of what I wrote. It probably helped that I ran out of the country to let myself fly. Set myself free.

But I’ve also learned that the only cowardice you have to fear is your own. The one that is self-inflicted. Other peoples’ cowardice may hurt you, but it will never hold you back. Only push you forward. But your own cowardice? Your own fear? That’s what you really want to watch out for. So don’t waste time. And don’t hold back. Soar like the eagle, roar like the lion, fight like the badger, and hiss like the snake. For cowardice cannot touch you when you are sure of who you are and what you want. And when you go grab it.

Peace. Cheers. Love. xx

Cowardice