Goodbye 2010 Hello 2011

2009 was a pretty dull year, yes I finished uni and moved to England again, but it didn't contain a lot of stories for my future (distant future) babies. I could tell them about my shit job working at Michaels, but besides that, meh. 2010 on the other hand was filled with a plethora of change and heartbreak, the kind that probably set off the transformation process that will turn me into the woman I was born to be, or something.

Really though, emotional trauma seems to be the best tool for transformation. I became soo different my freshman year when the boy I LOOOOVVVVEEEDDDD/ was obsessed with/ never had a chance with for a PLETHORA of reasons (all general themes in the men I like- probably an issue...), decided he hated me (along with my roommate) and left me with no friends and an emotional wreck after telling me off at 3 am one wednesday. I feel like that was the kick that hardened me into a young adult.

Similarly, December was filled with hard things for me. In really all facets of life. But I think the pain I went through/ am still very much going through, will be good for me, will make 2011 into a wonderful year. Everything I did (all the trauma was brought on by me- but they were things I had to do), will help me shake off those old habits and loyalties that were ridiculous. This is all very cryptic I know. But meh. All I know if that after that trauma Freshman year I progressed into a much more confident (in a way...), unique, badass lady and it led directly into many amazing memories. I went from having shit friends who didn't like me into having a group of amazing girls who made my undergrad experience. I even had some romance after all that horribleness. And I think that momentum led me directly into my year at Oxford. But the shit began again a bit at Oxford and just ended last week. By shit I mean, unhealthy cycles of thinking/emotional states in my life. Wow this post is legit crazy.

So essentially, I'm hoping 2011 is very similar. I'm especially hopeful for this month because Jupiter is supposed to be in pisces for a while, which apparently is amazing. Yup.

My Night Tonight

Watching this via Love Film (British Netflix like provider). Such a crazy night! I've also drank too cups of herbal tea and watched a Father Ted documentary! No work tomorrow, so plenty of time to catch up on my blogging. Yey Bank Holidays.

best.poem.ever.

This poem has inspired me through so many meh-wah-blah parts of my life. Parts of my life with various circumstances. The backstory behind it is so tragic as well, it's essentially inspired by the suicide of Bishop's girlfriend after a shakey depression filled relationship. A lot sadder than anything my 23 years has thrown me. Anyways, enjoy:

One Art

The art of losing isn't hard to master; 

so many things seem filled with the intent 

to be lost that their loss is no disaster.  

Lose something every day. 

Accept the fluster of lost door keys, the hour badly spent. 

The art of losing isn't hard to master.  

Then practice losing farther, losing faster: 

places, and names, and where it was you meant  

to travel. None of these will bring disaster.  

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or 

next-to-last, of three loved houses went. 

The art of losing isn't hard to master.  

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster, 

some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent. 

I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.   

--Even losing you (the joking voice, 

a gesture I love) I shan't have lied.  It's evident

 the art of losing's not too hard to master 

though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

ahhhhhh

Substitute high school/being 18 for young 20's and a new Y-P and this dialogue from Little Miss Sunshine comforts me greatly.

Dwayne: I wish I could just sleep until I was eighteen and skip all of this, high school, everything.

Frank: Do you know who Marcel Proust is?

Dwayne: He's the guy you teach.

Frank: Yeah. French writer. Total loser. Never had a real job. Unrequited love affairs. Gay. Spent 20 years writing a book almost no one reads. But he's also probably the greatest writer since Shakespeare. Anyway, he, uh, he gets down to the end of his life, and he looks back and decides that all those years he suffered, Those were the best years of his life, 'cause they made him who he was. All those years he was happy? You know, total waste. Didn't learn a thing. So, if you sleep until you're 18--Ah, think of the suffering you're gonna miss. I mean high school? High school-those are your prime suffering years. You don't get better suffering than that. "

ha!

I think this Daily Mail headline says it all:

Not our finest hour! Planes grounded, thousands of festive holidays ruined, roads ungritted, drivers stranded for hours . . . and all because it snowed

Snowy Weekend

Laura Marling is one of those singer's I knew marginally but never really listened to. What a loss to my life. She's wonderful AND SO YOUNG! But her voice sounds so much older. So confused. So jealous of her voice.

Here's a nice weather appropriate song:

Like... wow.

Also, the snow this weekend was overwhelming, mostly because 10% of Golders Green is salted, the rest hasn't remotely seen salt or a shovel. Lots of climbing through piles. I also got a blackberry and am 1000% addicted. Finally with the times.

I am OBSESSED with his voice. Like OBSESSED.

I heard this song for the first time last week. Apparently it's a British Christmas classic that I've been missing my whole American-centered life. It's pretty catchy and I think my dad would like it (he's a hip guy).