Piece of Me #83

And now I'm back, to let you know. I can really shake 'em down

Piece of Me #82: MarthaMarcyMayMarlene

I urge you all to go.and.see.this.NOW!

First and foremost Elizabeth Olsen is absolutely stunning. Think Mary Kate and Ashley, but fresher and more hauntingly beautiful. What's more this Olsen has certainly stepped the acting up a notch from her talented siblings' 'Two of a Kind' days.

I'm still not entirely sure what to conclude from this film, but then again, I reckon that's the point...

Piece of Me #81: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Happy Birthday Elod you little beauty!!
Here's to a week of fun frolics and friends...
Don't know where I'd be without you, have a wonderous day!

xXx

Piece of Me #80: Forget The Iron Lady, Meryl Streep reminds us why Maggie Thatcher was a golden girl...

Margaret Thatcher...

Tory leader. Prime Minister. Mother.Trade union tyrant. Living Legend.

Fighting the flag for females and self starters alike (she was the first - and only - woman to make her mark as British Prime Minister and bitterly opposed the welfare state,) Maggie T is synonymous with strict policies, practised admirable frugality, and was defined by her strategy in The Falklands.
Amidst recession and soaring unemployment (oh yes, don't be fooled - we've been here before,) she stood her ground, and failed to falter when it really mattered.

Banish from your mind taunts of "Margaret Thatcher milk snatcher," and rather conjure an image of a fighter, a strong, independent woman. An inspiration. (And a Lincolnshire lass at that!)

Yes- as the successful new film proves - we could learn a few things from this Iron Lady.

Where there is discord, may we bring harmony.

Where there is error, may we bring truth.

Where there is doubt, may we bring faith.

And where there is despair, may we bring hope.

Piece of Me #79

Whilst I can't really justify spending the remains of my hard-earned cash from my previous job (which, for the record, feels like something from a former lifetime,) on glossy coffee-table magazines, this time around - I'm glad I did.

Having scanned through two thirds of February Elle, oohed and aahed at the latest offerings from Mulberry, and Yves Saint Laurent, escaping to the idyllic imagined world where I can afford such luxuries, I was blisfully unaware of the two pages of pithy prose that were about to really pack a punch.

As I glanced at its headline 'Are you defined by what you do?' I silently sighed, half expecting another grumbling account from a secretly smug high earning nine to fiver whose frustrations with the monotony of their day to day working existence had forced them to put pen to paper, but whose fears of being exposed to colleagues, required them to remain anonymous. Yes, a quick scour of the double page spread confirmed - these words were both faceless and nameless, we were not allowed to know to whom they belonged.

Right. That's it, I thought. With no current incomings, it is no longer acceptable to spend £3.80 to flick through hazy-eyed and merely glance at the pretty pictures. Time to read every word's worth of those 380 painstaking pennies.

And then I saw the words... 'How does it FEEL to be young, female and unemployed?' Hmmm... perhaps this isn't another self-righteous spiel.

One paragraph down. The words struck a chord. We're in the same boat. This woman can really write. And she's funny. And, most importantly, I can completely relate to everything she's saying.

Strike one: "There are certain things that only the unemployed know... watering down your Clinique face wash is one of the first stages of economising." Yes lady, too true, too true.

Strike two: "I'd be prepared to bet that I am the only person [in the job centre] wearing Chanel mascara." Yup, I'd put money on that too.

Strike three: "Before you say anything, I hate that this has brought out my inner snob. I do not think I am better than these people, but I am different and I feel it would be patronising to pretend otherwise. I did things the way you're meant to - school, university, work hard, reap the rewards." Tick.

Strike four: " 'It's fine,' I squealed at colleagues in my final weeks at work. 'Fine!' It's quite exciting, really. Like a holiday, I think I'm actually going to enjoy it!' " Been there, done that.

Strike five: "I'm furious that this happened to me. I am furious that what I thought was going to be a minor blip is dragging on and on so that my life is in limbo." Ditto.

Strike six: “Mostly, they [employers] don’t even bother to acknowledge your application. I feel like writing them a letter telling them how rude they are.” I hear ya sister.

Strike seven: “I feel I am being wasted. I feel I’ve joined this world of silent people scribbling away at home while everyone ignores us. It hurts when the world does not want you.” Yes, and that hurt is not fun.

Alas, I could go on and on, but then I would have simply wasted my (albeit unemployed and therefore infinite) free time re-typing snippets from this witty, well-written account. And I’d like to urge you to buy Elle, and read the real deal.

Goddammit, I wish I'd written this article myself!

Author REVEAL YOURSELF! (I really think you could teach me a thing or two.)

Piece of Me #78: Which someone will YOU be?

Piece of Me #77: The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows

waldosia

n. [Brit. wallesia] a condition characterized by scanning faces in a crowd looking for a specific person who would have no reason to be there, which is your brain’s way of checking to see whether they’re still in your life, subconsciously patting its emotional pockets before it leaves for the day.