Guess who just ate a casserole, motherfuckers.
I have never ever really talked about how I feel about the way that tumblr works, or my followers, or the people I follow, or anything like that, because how boring. But I’ve recently been followed by somebody who is, evidently, enthusiastic about weight loss, posts pictures of (ugh, sorry for using this ridiculous term) thinspo, and shares dieting tips. And I just don’t want it. It repulses me. I don’t mind what people do, I suppose, but this is such a touchy subject because of some old friends that I just can’t stand to be reminded of it.
Two urges are conjured; one is to preach, to fix and to make better, but I’m trying not to do that anymore, I’m trying to understand that each person is each person and there is no control here. The other urge is to get quite aggressive and ask them to go away. Don’t click follow, don’t click like, I don’t want to click on your blog out of curiosity only to become inundated with all of this stuff that I really hate seeing. Obviously neither of these are particularly reasonable responses.
I guess I’ve forgotten that people like this exist, that pictures like that exist. I stopped being a particular age and so must the rest of the world.
But they’re still there. And they’re still in stages before they can be talked to. And I remember what it was like to be close to someone when they finally reached a stage at which they considered help - it was awful. So I can’t help but become immediately dismissive of people like this, if only out of protection of myself. Which feels incredibly selfish and lazy.
I appreciate that there is no responsibility implied in a tumblr follow. Let’s not take it so seriously, let’s let this person do what they want to do while I go about my own business. Still, there it is at the back of my mind, and it sucks.
I’ve now lived here for an exact year and I’ve learned to pass the time quite well. For example, here’s how I look as I brush my teeth and take a picture for tumblr. I’ve become quite good at being on my own. All the women, who independent, throw your hands up at me.
This is an awful photo, but I just put up the bunting that Luke got me for my birthday. Isn’t he nice? He’s nice.
I have been too tired or busy to write up a proper post about all the sweet things that people did on my birthday, what a good time I had just before my birthday, all the lovely gifts I received, and what it’s like to watch my brother fall onto another man on the tube, but I’d like to at some point. I haven’t really even had a chance to compose my own thoughts, or admire all the great presents, so now I think I’m going to tidy up and put everything away, so that I can look at it.
I can tell you this: One puppywasinvolved.
That’s awfully misleading. It was kind of a puppy. More of a dog. Roo came out to dinner with me and my family.
My mum bought me Cath Kidston tissues. I’m too frightened to use them.
Yesterday, and quite unexpectedly, a bunch of people did a lot of very sweet and thoughtful things. For one, my boss had decorated the shop with banners and a balloon, and was quite excited to sing my happy birthday and let me see my present and cake. Everybody had chipped in and it was really nice. Then my brother showed up after work, which was nice, and we made our way toward the pub, but I was sort of dragged a little away from the pub to find my friends sat on the beach cooking a barbecue. Luke met us there, and we all built a fire (I wasn’t much help, there, actually), until eventually I spotted Roo wondering onto the beach, and my parents appeared shortly after. Everybody got me lovely gifts, and the fact that everyone came here to hang out was really sweet. And now I’m twenty-one. Thanks everyone!
youswiminmywater said: this sounds like the movie benny and joon to me.
You. Youuuuuu. Youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu.
Best comment on anything ever.
I’m so narcissitic and self centred and it all comes flooding out on my birthday. Seriously, all of the posts today will be about my birthday.
Luke bought me a rack for storing all of my nail varnish/the promise of more nail varnish to put on the rack, which is nice, because arranging and organising nail varnish is something that I enjoy, and owning all of the colours that exist is something that I enjoy more. He also got me a load of pretty, shiny papers and cut outs with which to decorate the coffee table, and some bunting. Bunting is always, always okay. He woke me up at 6am by playing the opening to Circle of Life and standing proudly next to the bed with a bowl of Coco Pops. Last night we bought a fuck ton of pizza, including an entire pizza to take to work today, which should put my boss in a good mood, and we watched Journey 2 the Mysterious Island and got to hear Dwayne Johnson say things like “they will not stop until you feed them” in reference to his pectoral muscles, and Michael Caine say things like “I’m about to take your breath away” to Dwayne Johnson, which made it a perfect choice.
Right, fuck off jubilee parties. Today is not about the queen, it is about my birthday. My mum forgot to phone me first thing like she promised and I feel too silly to call someone and remind them to wish me a happy birthday. I bet it’s the fucking queen’s fault. She gets two birthdays already, and that’s not enough.
I’m just going to pretend that all of the bunting and decorations are in honour of me. Yeah. Oh, thanks, Exmouth, for supplying me with decorations all around town. I feel so special.