A Year Without You Here (I Still Miss Prince)

I was checking through news features earlier today and saw articles about the Queen’s birthday. Then I realized, “If it’s the Queen’s birthday then…” It must also be a year since Prince died.

Since Prince “transformed” on April 21 2016, I don’t often Google him or twitter search for him or YouTube him, in fact I had to dump the few Prince fan friends I had because every time one of them mentioned Prince I would cry into my cappuccino. I just couldn’t deal with hearing about him. I still can’t listen to his music. Nothing Compares to You has me bawling on the floor in the supermarket. And it’s so weird hearing Prince music in public places now he’s not alive to sue us all for playing his music. God, I wish he was alive to sue us all for playing his music! I miss those crazy days!

But it’s ok to grieve over dead rock stars because we can do and feel whatever we want. Rules of behaviour are just imaginary things people made up! If you wanna feel sad about something, go ahead, it’s none of anybody else’s business. People usually don’t understand until they go through it themselves and everyone has a beloved rock star or actor whether they realise it yet or not.

If you’re an old-school, hard-core fan who grew up with Prince, I got the utmost love and respect for you. You guys are the original gangsters. Prince was your youth and that’s bound to make his loss more painful.

I still miss him like crazy. I mean, hell, I’ve cried over this little punk more than I’ve ever cried over anything, ever. I could’ve replenished Lake Minnetonka with my tears, man! I could talk about his talent here and what a loss it is to the world, but if there’s one thing everybody agrees on, it’s that Prince was a helluva talented guy. It goes without saying what a loss that is.

For me personally, his death has led me to completely change my life. I quit my job, went back to university, fell in love and now have many scary-exciting plans lines up for the near future. Something about losing someone forces us to face our own mortality. Someday soon we’ll be forever silent and what do we want to leave with the world as our legacy?

We may not be as talented and successful as Prince, but doesn’t mean we can’t make the world a better place in our own small lil way. Prince certainly did; he changed the world of music forever and his legacy will last a long, long time. I’m sure he’s out there somewhere, exploring the moonbeam levels. And I know we’ll see him again because we were all born in the heart of stars and someday we will find our way back home.

Until then,
Peace and Be Wild.

Forgiveness is a Noun not a Verb

Look, I’m like the least forgiving person on Earth. I don’t do “forgiveness”. But it seems to be really popular these days, I keep coming across this bizarre concept all over the internet when I’m looking for advice on revenge. But there’s something a lot of these “forgiving” people are getting wrong…

My advice to the forgive and forgetters is: if you truly you wanna be all forgiving… that’s fine – but you gotta take note: forgiveness is a noun not a verb. What I mean is that forgiveness is a concrete, solid thing – like a big boulder or something. It’s a commitment you make to yourself – yourself, yourself – not other people – to improve the condition of your soul. You can’t just say you forgive someone and magically you acquire inner peace or something, it don’t work that way.

There was this chick the other day, prattling on about her ex for an hour and a half, and then she ended by saying, “But, of course, I forgive him”. Well… if she’d forgiven him she wouldn’t have just wasted 1.5 hours of her precious existence talking about how much she hates him. Think of all the things she could’ve done with that hour and a half…!

In 1.5 hours you can:

  • Learn to say “I love you” in 10 languages
  • Learn how to juggle
  • How to play “Let It Be” by The Beatles on a keyboard
  • How to make a Spanish omelette and actually make one and eat the damn thing – twice!

What a wasted opportunity!

I know that applies to me too, I’ve wasted at least – at least! – 7 years on revenge, and that other fun “R” word: Regret. I could’ve become a Guitar Hero in that length of time! But, hey, I accept my fate, because verb-ing it doesn’t make it so and I can’t turn it into a noun unless I have some Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind treatment done on my brain.

If you can forgive and forget the people who’ve wrong you then good on you, think of all the Spanish omelettes you can make with your ample free time! Just make sure your behavior is matching the words coming out of your mouth otherwise you’ll have to come join me on the Raft of Revenge, and no “Let It Be” for you!

 

My Student is Still Hot

What? I ain’t blind!

So I saw my student again today – the hot one. Recap: He’s hot, I think he’s hot, wow he’s so hot.

He’s a mature student – don’t shoot me! And … And … and – wait I have more excuses… and, oh yes! And, he’s only going to be my student for a further two or three hours then weirdly I become his student. Cause he’s a trainee teacher and so am I… and I need tutoring……..

He can tutor me any time!

I actually just totally make excuses to be around this guy cause he makes me happy. Guys have never been anything but abusive to me so it’s kinda nice to be around a guy who is friendly and warm and makes me laugh – this is new to me.

But I’m not even dating my student or anything, he’s way too good looking…

My view is, if a guy is that good looking he’s either:
a) messed up in the head
b) married with kids
c)  a player
d) a vampire

I’m thinking c right now…or d….
I know you guys are gonna be like “What about gay…?” He ain’t gay, no way, no how. He is giving off way too many hetero vibes to be gay.

But see, I wouldn’t date him because:
a) he’s my student and my future teacher
b) he’s probably a player
c) I have plans! I ain’t p*ssing my dreams away for some guy. Been there, done that, learned the lesson: Ain’t no man worth p*ssing your dreams away for.

He sure is cute though – hot damn!

 

Sometimes A Change Of Perspective Is All You Need

So, I mentioned previously how I’ve been trying to get my 4-year-old book finished. Not my 4-year-old’s book. I don’t have kids. Children are the spawn of Satan.

Anyway… glad we cleared that up… so anyway…

Recap: 4 years ago I started a book; 4 years later it still isn’t done. And finishing it has been my goal for every summer for the past 4 years.  This summer is really like: “Get it done or I’m burning it!” I mean, I’m sick of looking at this now!

So, let me skip back to January briefly: I had 20 chapters of hot mess and no motivation.

Beginning of February: I knew it was too bloated so I hacked off 8 chapters. I felt motivated!

But then… it was still 12 chapters of hot mess so I lost motivation again.

Last week I was feeling ready to throw it out the window.

But, along comes this guy I know – Successful Guy (TM). I mean, he wins at life and makes me feel like a massive loser. But I like to hang out with him to try to sponge off whatever good vibes he’s got going on.

So, I went on this long rant to him about my book and in one word (or two…) he gave what was ultimately the simplest and best advice ever but for some reason I hadn’t thought of it: “Sub-headings” he said matter-of-factly over the rim of his cappuccino.

Sub-headings! Why the F didn’t I think of that?! Man, I was so motivated after talking to him (and I’m usually about as motivated as Grumpy Cat), I immediately went to the library and printed off one-third of my book…

The idea is I’m just gonna tackle it as 3 sections, I’m gonna spread it all over my floor and get out highlighters and colored pens and get my sub-headings in, and bullet points, and wrestle this tiger!

I’ve already started on the first third and – wow! – suddenly things are coming together! And all it took was a change of perspective. Where previously each chapter was some big, untameable beast, they’re now contained into neat, happy little sub-sections. And it’s had the added benefit of improving the readability and design of my book (I’m also adding some pictures, which helps too!).  I had previously started to hate it ‘cause it was just a big black and white lump but the hate is fading now it’s starting to look like something concise.

I’m not usually good at advice but there’s some: if you have some project you’ve been fiddling with for x years: change your perspective, think of how you can look at it in a new way than before – ask people for advice. It’s funny how just talking to people sometimes can clue you into something when you can’t see the woods for the trees.

Now all I wish is that I could just write and create all day and didn’t have to go do boring grown-up stuff!

 

Hot Student Asked For My #

So remember I told you guys about that totally hot student I have? Here’s a brief recap: he’s hot but he’s my student BUT he is a grown ass man, and he’s hot, but he’s my student so I have to be professional.

So he came to see me the other day to tell me he wouldn’t be able to attend class (last class before half term break) and then he’s asking for my number so he could “get some academic support over the half term break”.

Now, look, this guy is hot as the Sahara desert in June and I’m a bug-eyed lil bish so I’m like…… he can’t seriously be attracted to me!… BUT his excuse is bs! And believe me, I’m usually the one to believe these bs excuses like, “Of course he only wants my number for academic support because I’m a bug-eyed lil bish” that would be my usual thought-process but it’s a bs excuse. Our next session is in 9 days and he has no assignments due over the break and us chicks kinda know when a guy wants something-something. Either he’s blind or I am.

And, damn, he has this white coat, and damn he looks so fly in that coat. And he funkin knows it too. Damn…

But that’s beside the point… obviously I said, “No, you can’t have my number… university policy… blah-de-blah” You know, even if he’d been a regular guy on the street rather than my student I still would’ve said no, cause he’s too damn hot. If a hot guy is asking for my number, something is wrong with him! It’s not like I’m funny or outgoing or have big tits or something to make up for looking like Gollum. So something is up! He’s probably a sado-masocist or a vampire or something.

My Student Is So Hot!

Hold up! Hold up! Hold up! Wait a minute now before you start cussing me out, ok?

Now, first of all – he ain’t no child, ok? He’s probably older than me! He’s a grown a$$ man. A very grown-a$$ man. A very sexy, very grown-a$$ man and I’d sure as heck like to put my hands on his grown a$$.

Second, I take my role as a teacher very seriously…

Third, he is so hot! Like John Legend in a bath of whipped cream during a heatwave level hot! Amen!

Fourth, this guy wouldn’t give me the time of day. In fact, if I wasn’t his tutor, he wouldn’t have anything to do with my mongrel-looking self. So, it’s not like I’m trying to get with him or hoping to get with him or as if I think I have any chance of getting with him. And he’s my student, so…

I just think he’s hot. Being his tutor doesn’t make me suddenly blind to what a fine-a$$ mother he is!

I’d actually only tutored him once until today and was almost thinking maybe I imagined he was really hot, like maybe he wasn’t actually that hot and I’d just misremembered. I was having this argument with myself on the way to my second lesson with him. I’m a Gemini (the twin sign) and we Geminians all have multiple-personality disorder.

While walking down the corridor, one of me was like “He was so hot!” and the other me was like, “Nah, he wasn’t that hot, you’re misremembering” and the other me was like, “No, he was hot, I’m sure of it!” and the other me was like, “Well, we’ll see in a few minutes.”

Then I turned the corner and there he was at a computer. And, damn, he wasn’t just hot, he was even hotter than I remembered. Me, myself and I totally hi-5’ed each other. Man, he’s smokin’! Baby, baby, baby, come to momma!

Look, anyone who knows me – which is probably nobody because I have no friends – but if someone did know me they’d know that I have the sex drive of a cactus. A dead cactus. A dead cactus in an old, dead, dry desert. Ok? In case you were thinking I get the hots for every guy I see or something. I am dead from the waist down. In fact, I’m surprised there ain’t cobwebs and spiders down there, and bats coming out. My point is, it takes one hell of a guy to make me soft and wet, honey.

Part of the problem is I’m not attracted to 99.9% of dudes. Because I like a very specific type of guy. And on the rare occasions that I’m lucky enough to meet my type of guy, something goes wrong – the last one was married with kids, the one before was an arrogant c*nt, the one before that turned out to be a crazy stalker and his kisses tasted like sh** (:shudder:). The guy I was crushing on before that was the artist, Prince, so, y’know, kinda out of my league, and Little Richard never visits me so f*** him!

Quite often the guys I like are already taken or they have kids or other baggage or they’re players or they’re a$$holes, or we want different things – oh and the big thing is that usually they’re not interested in me – at all – because they’re hot, sexy, good-looking, smooth, hot, sexy, genius black guys and I’m this creepy, emaciated, spotty, frizzy-haired, bug-eyed, E.T-fingered, white, urchin creature, so…. It’s hard enough to get a dude if you’re good-looking and not picky about who you date. If you’re ugly and picky, well, you don’t stand much chance.

It’s not that I don’t date, but I end up having to date guys I’m not actually interested in and I don’t know how other women manage to fake enthusiasm for a guy they don’t give a sh** about. I used to date this fat white f**ker and he was so fat and white and would chew with his mouth open and he had dandruff in his hair and he smelled of sweat and he kept getting fatter and fatter and he ignored me all the time and kept looking at other women but would claim he “lurved” me. Pff! I was miserable. I thought, f**k this sh**! This fat f**ker makes being single look like winning the lottery!

Anyway, my hot student is probably married with 20 kids. And he’s my student. And he wouldn’t look at me even if he was available. But whatevs, a girl can dream, right?! Mhm, John Legend in a bath of whipped cream during a heatwave!

Good night!

 

What I Miss About My 20s & What I Hate About My 30s

What I Hate About My 30s:

  1. Nobody cares about you anymore because you’re no longer a collagen-filled, naïve, innocent, pure-skinned, 20-something and are therefore worthless according to society.
  2. Older women start talking to you about the menopause like you’re 47.
  3. Older women start talking to you about “the sag”.
  4. Older women start talking to you about how you’re gonna get fat now.
  5. You can tell that older woman have been waiting eagerly for you to turn 30.
  6. The only men who chat you up are 50-year-old, fat, bald builders who are either married with kids or divorced with kids.
  7. These men expect you to be extremely grateful they’re chatting you up rather than a 20yo.
  8. Men don’t treat you nicely anymore because you’re over 29 so you don’t deserve to be treated nicely. Instead of “Hey darling, how ya doing?” you get “Oi, bish, suck my D, you ungrateful slag!”
  9. You have to deal with 30yo guys who are either deadbeat dads or they are panicking because they think they’re supposed to be married with kids and “you’ll do!”. But they’d rather you were 20yo and they will punish you for not being 20yo.
  10. At 20yo, men have no expectations of you except that you be 20yo. At 30yo, they expect you to be rich, have an amazing career, cook their dinner, raise their kids, do the housework, suck their little D and generally be a 24/7 superhero for no rewards.
  11. Did I mention how nobody cares about you anymore?
  12. While you’re still kinda in the target audience for retailers, you’re not their prime 20yo audience so f*ck you. And if you go in a young women’s store, 20yos will point and laugh at you for wanting to wear the same clothes as them.
  13. Talking of clothes, there’s some ish you just can’t get away with anymore like cutesy tops with slogans on or cute animals tees.
  14. You like to think you still look 25, but trust me, 25 year olds do not agree with you.
  15. In my 20s, people were impressed by my intelligence and how mature I was for my age. Now, nobody cares because I’m just another boring adult.
  16. I have a head full of regrets and bad memories.
  17. I still feel 20.
  18.  My 50yo friends don’t make a fuss over me anymore because I’ve become just another boring adult like them. Most have dumped me, gone silent on me,  or died.
  19. My body doesn’t bounce back from things anymore.
  20. Lines on my face!!! Period.
  21. Life doesn’t seem like a fun adventure anymore.
  22. You’re never the youngest person in the room anymore.
  23. “Older” is your new adjective instead of “young.”
  24. “Woman” is your new noun instead of “girl.”
  25. Most people your age now have double-digit kids, which is just weird.
  26. 21yo girls expect you to be their agony aunt.
  27. 23yo girls except you to have sympathy for them. Pff!
  28. 25yos think you know everything because you’re 30.
  29. 28yos think you’re 5 million years older than they are.
  30. 29 year old guys call you a “cougar” and tell you they want a “mature” woman.
  31. Everyone keeps reminding you that “you’re not getting any younger!”
  32. You can no longer have a mental breakdown over some stupid sh**, you have to be strong all the damn time.
  33. Not being able to eat an entire chocolate cake or a massive bag of candy anymore.
  34. Taking a week to recover from one alcoholic drink (usually a shandy).
  35. People don’t treat me delicately anymore and I actually feel like I need that more now than in my 20s.
  36. I can never go back to being a care-free 20yo.
  37. I wish I’d worked more on my anxiety and depression because other 30yos have cool stories of all the fun they had in their 20s and I got jack cuz I mainly stayed in my room for a decade.
  38. Worrying about 40.

What I Miss About My 20s

  1. When I didn’t have a clear understanding of death and how it will hunt me and everyone I care about.
  2. Believing that the older guy actually really loved me for me and not because I was 20yo.
  3. Having stupid crushes on random guys.
  4. Feeling like life was a magical journey.
  5. Having days, weeks, months and years I could burn away on just trying new things out, playing video games, watching Star Trek marathons, or just doing bupkis.
  6. Having youthful dreams about being Somebody.
  7. How I used to find happiness in silly little things like collecting postcards or some dumb stuff like that.
  8. Believing I mattered.
  9. Feeling like I could change the world.
  10. Believing the world could change.
  11. Thinking I could do anything I wanted just by wishing really, really hard.
  12. Believing that somehow I would always be 20yo and nothing would change unless I wanted it to.
  13. Looking forward to things.
  14. Believing the people I loved would live forever.
  15. Thinking my 30s would be “When Harry Met Sally.”

 

Hit me up if any of you post a similar blog. I’m interested to know what y’all miss about being younger and hate about being older.