Trying to finish up Mindhunters. It’s a really good show but I’ve been avoiding it recently because the tone is kind of dark and I’ve been needing more uplifting fare. But I can handle it today.
Like. There are a lot of things I could say here. But I’m just going to do my best to answer your question, and the answer is either very simple or very complicated, depending on your current point of view.
1. “They” knew what people with brown skin looked like because people with brown skin had been there literally THE ENTIRE TIME. Some (and father back, ALL) of “them” had brown skin themselves.
2. “People with Brown Skin” and “Europeans” are not separate and mutually exclusive groups.
3. No matter how far back you go, the mythical time that you’re looking for, when all-white, racially and culturally isolated Europe was “real”, will continue to recede from your grasp until it winkles out the like imaginary place it is.
We can just keep going back. In every area, from all walks of life, rich and poor, kings and peasants, artists and iconoclasts, before there were countries and continents, before there were white people.
The time when “EVERYONE” in Europe was White does not exist. They knew what people with brown skin looked like because they were there. They knew what “Africans” looked like because they were there, and they weren’t “they”, they were us, or you. I think what you’re missing is something that never existed.
Y’all gotta understand that this narrative that black people weren’t in Europe was created due to white people trying to erase black people from history. Antiblackness and racism is found in every part of the globe thanks to colonization by European(mostly white) nations.
I know it sounds like this is just hate against white people but it’s a statement of fact. When you research history from non-eurocentric viewpoints you learn so much. I learned more about history in a semester long African diaspora class than I did in all my history classes to that point.
The shortest distance between Africa and Europe is only 14 km. Why one earth would people think Africans did not travel to Europe when it was RIGHT THERE
I have a friend that is my age, 32, and she has literally never experienced heartache or trauma. No financial worries. Nothing. We are not very close anymore because of this. We cannot relate on anything in this lifetime because she has no fucking clue as to the headspace I operate from, and definitely doesn’t understand the energy that I walk through this life with.
I can totally understand that. I often feel like there’s an invisible wall between me and people like that where I cannot connect with them or they me. I think I’m at a point in my life where I need people who understand suffering, loss, or trauma because I am no longer the person who used to throw it over her shoulder and pretend that everything is ok. So I need people who can relate to that on some level.
“When most of the pieces are naturally produced.” BITCH! Diamonds are naturally produced by our planet as well, but they cost, don’t they?! Oh, girl. I hate being asked this shit.
I feel particularly turned off by people who do not use proper english when they send me messages re my business.
I know I shouldn’t but it just makes me think the sender is uneducated or lazy.
I don’t know if this is just how younger people write these days in some sort of shorthand, because it is usually younger people. But I feel like if you’re communicating to a business it’s not appropriate.
I need to find a way to stop cringing when I get messages like this and just… I don’t know, anticipate it perhaps. But… ugh.
So many people don’t realize the amount of work it takes to create a hand crafted piece in general. You’re also paying for art. If folks just want something pretty, that’s what the department stores are for, IMO
Aside from materials we also have overhead costs such as
travel (going to shows, buying supplies), office supplies (business cards, paper, pens, etc.), tools (pliers, wire cutters, etc.), packaging (display, mailing envelopes, boxes/bags, etc.), workspace (rent, utilities), selling costs at trade shows… you have to pay for your table and it can be very expensive if you do this on a regular basis.
Then we have to charge for labour as well and find a way to calculate our hourly rate.
When you add up all these costs you come to your wholesale price. Multiply that by 2 (at the very least) to get your retail price.
That’s where the cost comes in.
And trust me, all of those things add up to a LOT.
I’ve noticed that every time nowadays, when someone says “Not to be rude…” it’s followed by some offensive statement. “I have nothing against gay people but…” always leads to a clearly homophobic/transphobic statement. “I’m not a racist at all but…” is always a precursor to some abhorrent racist statement, etc. Same for misogny, xenophobia, etc. Never fails smh. Anytime I hear “I’m not” followed by any negative term, then “but…” I immediately cringe and prepare to be offended ��
Yeah it pretty much follows a pattern. I didn’t think her question was rude but I think it could have been framed differently. But then again I get all kinds of questions all the time that can be framed differently. The ever present “is this real?” when pointing to a raw gemstone could be framed in many other ways that would feel less like implying I might be selling fake gemstones and more like they want to know what the ring is made of. But meh. I’m developing a thicker skin for these things. I realise most people genuinely don’t mean any harm.
I thought of doing that but as I well know from experience people never read these things. My site does stress that each piece is individually handmade and says something about the process of making resin jewelry. Obviously this person didn’t read that, and it’s information included on every listing. Ultimately I don’t want to feel like I have to justify or explain my prices. It puts a defensive tone on the whole thing that I don’t think belongs there.
“Not to be rude…” is always followed by something incredibly rude stated by a judgy asshat. I’ve seen your prices and as someone who has also sold jewelry I think they are more than fair. Fuck that person.
I was taken aback at first but I think it is a fair question. I don’t think people have any idea how much it costs to make a piece of handmade jewelry. There are so many things we have to factor into the the price that customers have no idea about. So I took my time and explained it to her as briefly as I could and she thanked me. Yes it’s an off-putting question. And I think people have a right to charge whatever the hell they feel like without having to justify their pricing. But I decided to calm myself down and not be snarky and lose a potential customer lol.
I got this from someone enquiring about my resin jewelry today:
My answer:
Well I don’t consider my pieces to be expensive. I price them at what I believe to be a fair rate. I have to import most of my materials (including the flowers and leaves) along with the resin, so I also have to pay duties and taxes on everything I bring in. Aside from the time it takes to make each piece, resin jewelry also requires finishing and polishing after they have been cast. When pricing jewelry we do not solely calculate price based on the cost of the raw materials that are used. We have to also factor in the cost of our workspace, electricity, the wear and tear on our tools, we need to place a price on our labour etc. Were these costs not worked in we would essentially be giving our pieces away for free.
I tried to imagine what my life would be like without you last night. And I know there was life before you, but goodness, I cannot begin to imagine what life would be like after you.
I’m shopping on Etsy for this collapsible necklace stand. I bought one that was 14″ high and I wanted to get another one so I decided on the 18″ high one.
I put it in my cart and I notice the shipping is over $10. So I go check and see what the shipping was on the last one and it was like $3.50. Same store. So I add the 14″ one to my cart and remove the 18″ one and yep, $3.50 shipping.
The moral of the story is I’m not paying and extra $7 for 4 inches of wood and you can make a dick joke of that if you like my position still stands.
The thing with resin jewelry is that it’s really hard to photograph. I know they look pretty in the pictures but when you see them in person they’re so much more beautiful. That’s why I love when people who follow me on instagram come to a market to see my stuff and they gasp and how much lovelier everything is in person.
Which made me think… like there are people that leave their homes to come and buy my jewelry. On purpose. I barely want to leave my home to get food. That makes me feel really special.
I don’t make many yellow pieces and now I’m wondering why. These earrings are so cheerful! These are part of my resin brand @secretforesttreasures
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#Sundara #secretforesttreasures #resin #forher #resinjewelry #art jewelry #organic #uniquejewelry #customjewelry #artisanjewelry #handmadejewelry #handmade #abstract #nature #wood #ecoresin #floral #plants #TT #petals #trinidadandtobago #tandt #caribbean #trinidad #buylocal
I’ve been busy in the studio stocking up my other brand @secretforesttreasures for the upcoming season, making lots of earrings. I love the simplicity of these pink buds in clear resin. .
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#Sundara #secretforesttreasures #resin #forher #resinjewelry #art jewelry #organic #uniquejewelry #customjewelry #artisanjewelry #handmadejewelry #handmade #abstract #nature #wood #ecoresin #floral #plants #TT #petals #trinidadandtobago #tandt #caribbean #trinidad #buylocal
I decided to watch the new Dynasty series on Netflix because I wanted something that might bore me into a nap before I left to go to my girlfriend’s house for pizza and beer.
So pretty early on you realise daughter Carrington is sleeping with the help (the driver, a total mandingo scenario). And like, I didn’t grow up around people that were that wealthy but I did grow up around people who had “help” and quite a lot of it. And I have never known anyone to sleep with the help. I had a friend who when he was young slept with the equally young cleaner’s daughter but I’m not sure that counts.
I’m not sure why this seems to be a trope in American shows, but in most countries where the middle class can actually afford help, the classism alone keeps them separate. I’m not saying it doesn’t happen. But I think because having someone work in your home for you is so far out of reach for most Americans, they build up this weird fantasy of what it’s like on tv shows. And I wonder if it’s an extension of the whole master/slave dynamic. Whatever it is it’s really weird and I don’t get why anyone would think it’s sexy.
Since the scandal detailing Harvey Weinstein’s laundry list of crimes emerged last week, I’ve heard many men say that they’re stunned about how pervasive this problem is, and I’ve heard many women respond with “…seriously?” So I thought I would share a story.
This is a tale of the two best and worst minutes of my life; worst because a man tried to harass, then assault me, and best because the same man was then beat up by a recognizable actor who listened when I told him about a big problem.
My mom is a media personality of sorts with a quick wit and a great sense of humor. She does a lot of public speaking, performing, and general goof-balling, so she meets a lot of interesting people. One such man is a comedian and actor that you would immediately recognize for a series of commercials for a popular fast food chain, and a popular TV show about a fictional vice-president. You probably know him as “oh yeah, that guy!”
One night last year, my mother was a panelist on the show Wait Wait, don’t tell me! For those who don’t know, it’s a news quiz that is broadcast on NPR once a week. It has random trivia, sound-effects, puns and comedians. By their own admission it’s even nerdier than it sounds.
After the show, I went out for a drink with the panelists at their usual spot. There were six of us, and we all sat in a long row at the bar. Things were winding down when a man walked in.
He was graying in spots, built like a bear, very friendly with the staff. I took one look at this man and every cell inside me screamed one thing:
Trouble.
I quickly realized he was drunk. I was sitting at the end of our group and everyone else was distracted. I looked like easy prey.
So, he tried to chat me up.
I gave him a no-nonsense reply: Go away.
That may sound harsh, but this guy could have been Idris fucking Elba, I still would’ve given him the brush-off. It’s my right as a human being to sit in silence, and I really wanted him to leave me alone.
He started postulating about how weird I was being. I brushed him off in many different ways, until he finally broke:
“God!” He exclaimed, “I’m just asking a question why do you have to be such a bitch?”
Without a second thought I walked over to the manager and told him what happened. He agreed that the man needed to leave. As the manager approached him, he began to scream at me, calling me every single gender-specific slur he could think of, which as it turned out was quite a lot.
Only as the drunk idiot was being dragged out of the bar did my mother and her associates, all of them kind and intelligent men, notice what was going on. When I was done assuring everyone that I was fine, I turned to the men in the group; two writers, a comedian, and of course “oh yeah, that guy!”
“Attention Men!” I began, “I want you guys to know that what just happened to me, that happens to women all the time. None of you noticed it. And why would you notice it? This doesn’t happen to you on a regular basis, and I bet nobody has ever brought it up with you before. But I’m talking about it now, because these guys don’t pick on men. And if you’re aware of the problem then you can help.”
They nodded, one of them even thanked me for bringing it up. As we exited the bar I gave myself a mental pat on the back for talking about something awkward. Then, I glanced across the street and cursed inwardly: the drunk idiot was there, staring at me.
The second he spotted me he came charging straight towards me, pointing at me and calling me “bitch”. I am not tiny; he was twice my size and could have easily lifted me up and thrown me over one shoulder.
That’s when something truly incredible happened.
“Oh yeah, that guy!” stepped in front of me, and told the man to go away.
He didn’t.
The altercation that followed was brief; when it was over the drunk idiot had bumped his head on the pavement, lost his phone, broken his glasses, and been banned from the bar for life. He was last seen stumbling down an alley, cursing loudly and trying to avoid the cops.
I’ve replayed this scene a hundred and fifty thousand times, and it’s difficult to articulate exactly what I felt. Fear, of course, a bit of embarrassment; I watched a brawl unfold standing with my mother, her friends and colleagues, and several waitstaff. I was so stunned I briefly forgot both my rescuer’s name and how to dial my phone.
Most of all though, I felt pure, unadulterated joy. Joy that I had spoken up, and joy that this had been witnessed.
There exists an understanding amongst women about the dangers of harassment, but it’s rare to have a man see the toxicity of this type of behavior. Men like Mr. Weinstein try to hide this side from other, better men. Good men then come to believe that something like this isn’t possible, because no man could be this horrible. After all, these men aren’t this horrible to them.
It’s not your fault; they are artful, two-faced liars, assuming that men won’t notice harassment since it rarely affects them, and women won’t talk openly about it because it’s just part of being a woman.
But there is power in speaking out, I know that because one night, when I was tired of going it alone, I told four good, kind, intelligent men exactly what was happening and how they could help.
They listened.
Literally one minute later, that choice saved my life.
The Mistake Maven is here with a great story about her #metoo experience and what a big difference one person speaking out can make. I know it’s all true, because I was there!
My hair is not looking terrible today but it’s not looking great. It always acts so crazy after a haircut. Why didn’t I do this in the middle of the week? Why do I always forget that it gets traumatized? *sigh*
I’m at this pop up shop today (sales have been good yay but not the point) at a hotel that’s owned by a family that’s related to ours.
My maternal great grandfather came from China to Trinidad to set up a business. He had a wife and several children in China that he left behind.
I don’t know if he was a bigamist or what but he got married to my great grandmother and had three daughters, one of which was my grandmother.
She grew up in a very wealthy home. Her father had cocoa plantations and shops and what have you.
When he was ready to retire he brought over his eldest son from China to take over the businesses.
Apparently the son seemed a little resentful of his absentee father. He pretty much gambled away the family fortune until there was almost nothing left.
From what my grandmother describes, it sounds like her father had a nervous breakdown. She was only twenty at the time and had to take control of the family finances and find a way to salvage what was left.
She said all the people she thought were her friends abandoned them. People came like vultures offering next to nothing for their remaining assets. They had one lawyer friend who remained loyal to the family and he was the one who helped her through the mess.
Until she died she always spoke about the life she had lived. She reminded us that all of the prominent Chinese families in Trinidad were our relatives.
I guess you could say we became the poor branch of the family.
So this hotel belongs to my cousins. They have no idea who I am. It’s always a weird feeling knowing I’m related to these people.
They know of us. They keep in sparse contact. But that’s about it.
one of the more valuable things I’ve learned in life as a survivor of a mentally unstable parent is that it is likely that no one has thought through it as much as you have.
no, your friend probably has not noticed they cut you off four times in this conversation.
no, your brother didn’t realize his music was that loud while you were studying.
no, your bff or S.O. doesn’t remember that you’re on a tight deadline right now.
no, no one else is paying attention to the four power dynamics at play in your friend group right now.
a habit of abused kids, especially kids with unstable parents, is the tendency to notice every little detail. We magnify small nuances into major things, largely because small nuances quickly became breaking points for parents. Managing moods, reading the room, perceiving danger in the order of words, the shift of body weight….it’s all a natural outgrowth of trying to manage unstable parents from a young age.
Here’s the thing: most people don’t do that. I’m not saying everyone else is oblivious, I’m saying the over analysis of minor nuances is a habit of abuse.
I have a rule: I do not respond to subtext. This includes guilt tripping, silent treatments, passive aggressive behavior, etc. I see it. I notice it. I even sometimes have to analyze it and take a deep breath and CHOOSE not to respond. Because whether it’s really there or just me over-reading things that actually don’t mean anything, the habit of lending credence to the part of me that sees danger in the wrong shift of body weight…that’s toxic for me. And dangerous to my relationships.
The best thing I ever did for myself and my relationships was insist upon frank communication and a categorical denial of subtext. For some people this is a moral stance. For survivors of mentally unstable parents this is a requirement of recovery.
This is so great
I saved it and you should too
I am still working on this but yes it is absolutely necessary
I went in to my hairdresser to dye my whole head of hair (usually I do the hairline only) and my hairdresser convinced me not to because I have a natural ombré colour.
This is good news. I can just get a cut and leave it alone.
“True story: His Name is Robert Downey Jr.” by Dana Reinhardt
I’m willing to go out on a limb here and guess that most stories of kindness do not begin with drug addicted celebrity bad boys.
Mine does.
His name is Robert Downey Jr.
You’ve probably heard of him. You may or may not be a fan, but I am, and I was in the early 90’s when this story takes place.
It was at a garden party for the ACLU of Southern California. My stepmother was the executive director, which is why I was in attendance without having to pay the $150 fee. It’s not that I don’t support the ACLU, it’s that I was barely twenty and had no money to speak of.
I was escorting my grandmother. There isn’t enough room in this essay to explain to you everything she was, I would need volumes, so for the sake of brevity I will tell you that she was beautiful even in her eighties, vain as the day is long, and whip smart, though her particular sort of intelligence did not encompass recognizing young celebrities.
I pointed out Robert Downey Jr. to her when he arrived, in a gorgeous cream-colored linen suit, with Sarah Jessica Parker on his arm. My grandmother shrugged, far more interested in piling her paper plate with various unidentifiable cheeses cut into cubes. He wasn’t Carey Grant or Gregory Peck. What did she care?
The afternoon’s main honoree was Ron Kovic, whose story of his time in the Vietnam War that had left him confined to a wheelchair had recently been immortalized in the Oliver Stone film Born on the Fourth of July.
I mention the wheelchair because it played an unwitting role in what happened next.
We made our way to our folding chairs in the garden with our paper plates and cubed cheeses and we watched my stepmother give one of her eloquent speeches and a plea for donations, and there must have been a few other people who spoke but I can’t remember who, and then Ron Kovic took the podium, and he was mesmerizing, and when it was all over we stood up to leave, and my grandmother tripped.
We’d been sitting in the front row (nepotism has its privileges) and when she tripped she fell smack into the wheelchair ramp that provided Ron Kovic with access to the stage. I didn’t know that wheelchair ramps have sharp edges, but they do, at least this one did, and it sliced her shin right open.
The volume of blood was staggering.
I’d like to be able to tell you that I raced into action; that I quickly took control of the situation, tending to my grandmother and calling for the ambulance that was so obviously needed, but I didn’t. I sat down and put my head between my knees because I thought I was going to faint. Did I mention the blood?
Luckily, somebody did take control of the situation, and that person was Robert Downey Jr.
He ordered someone to call an ambulance. Another to bring a glass of water. Another to fetch a blanket. He took off his gorgeous linen jacket and he rolled up his sleeves and he grabbed hold of my grandmother’s leg, and then he took that jacket that I’d assumed he’d taken off only to it keep out of the way, and he tied it around her wound. I watched the cream colored linen turn scarlet with her blood.
He told her not to worry. He told her it would be alright. He knew, instinctively, how to speak to her, how to distract her, how to play to her vanity. He held onto her calf and he whistled. He told her how stunning her legs were.
She said to him, to my humiliation: “My granddaughter tells me you’re a famous actor but I’ve never heard of you.”
He stayed with her until the ambulance came and then he walked alongside the stretcher holding her hand and telling her she was breaking his heart by leaving the party so early, just as they were getting to know each other. He waved to her as they closed the doors. “Don’t forget to call me, Silvia,” he said. “We’ll do lunch.”
He was a movie star, after all.
Believe it or not, I hurried into the ambulance without saying a word. I was too embarrassed and too shy to thank him.
We all have things we wish we’d said. Moments we’d like to return to and do differently. Rarely do we get that chance to make up for those times that words failed us. But I did. Many years later.
I should mention here that when Robert Downey Jr. was in prison for being a drug addict (which strikes me as absurd and cruel, but that’s the topic for a different essay), I thought of writing to him. Of reminding him of that day when he was humanity personified. When he was the best of what we each can be. When he was the kindest of strangers.
But I didn’t.
Some fifteen years after that garden party, ten years after my grandmother had died and five since he’d been released from prison, I saw him in a restaurant.
I grew up in Los Angeles where celebrity sightings are commonplace and where I was raised to respect people’s privacy and never bother someone while they’re out having a meal, but on this day I decided to abandon the code of the native Angeleno, and my own shyness, and I approached his table.
I said to him, “I don’t have any idea if you remember this…” and I told him the story.
He remembered.
“I just wanted to thank you,” I said. “And I wanted to tell you that it was simply the kindest act I’ve ever witnessed.”
He stood up and he took both of my hands in his and he looked into my eyes and he said, “You have absolutely no idea how much I needed to hear that today.”
Did I fucking ask to start crying tonight. No. No I did not.
“I used to feel disappointed in relationships all the time because I expected a lot back in response to the things that I would say or do. If someone didn’t love me exactly the way I imagined them loving me, then I would put myself in a cycle of constantly being disappointed. Recently, I decided that all you can really do is love people well—love them really, really hard—even if they are not fulfilling exactly the thing you need at the time. It’s a lot easier to love someone really hard than it is to control how you want your relationship to go. It feels better, too. If you let go of any expectations, then you have a better time all around.”
A ghost cat with some wise words! ✨Maybe things won’t work out the way you planned, but you’ll find a different way, a different path, or a different time.
I did the thing that I’ve been putting off for the past week… something related to my business that for some reason I built up in my mind as being a much bigger problem than it was.
And now it’s done and I am so beyond relieved it’s not even funny.
I can go get my hair trimmed tomorrow instead of stressing about it. Yesssss
I mean we live in a world where people are savvy enough to know that your branding is the first impression people will get of your business so it’s worthwhile to invest good money in a good logo.
But my experience is that people often leave logo design as an afterthought. And like… how??? I don’t understand? Not just as a designer but as a regular person how can you not invest in that?
I posted those resin studs in a forum on facebook today. I haven’t had the courage to post anything else I’ve made so far. I don’t know why honestly. My work is pretty good considering. But I happen to think those studs are stellar.
RepostBy @secretforesttreasures: “I made my first pair of #resin #stud #earrings using #bourganvillia #petals 🌺 with Sterling #silver posts. They’ll be available this weekend at The Shop at The Normandie Hotel @theshop_hotelnormandie .
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#Sundara #secretforesttreasures #resin #forher #resinjewelry #art jewelry #organic #uniquejewelry #customjewelry #artisanjewelry #handmadejewelry #handmade #abstract #nature #wood #ecoresin #floral #plants #TT #petals #trinidadandtobago #tandt #caribbean #trinidad #buylocal” )
I’m experimenting with some coloured faceted resin rings for my other brand Secret Forest Treasures. These are seafoam blue with copper foil. What do you guys think? .
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#Sundara #secretforesttreasures #resin #forher #resinjewelry #art jewelry #organic #uniquejewelry #customjewelry #artisanjewelry #handmadejewelry #handmade #abstract #nature #wood #ecoresin #floral #plants #TT #petals #trinidadandtobago #tandt #caribbean #trinidad #buylocal
Queens Park Savannah. Port of Spain. Trinidad and Tobago.
The Queen’s Park Savannah is Port of Spain’s largest open recreational space. Covered with low grass, the 3. 5 km (2 miles) perimeter of the Savannah, as it is called by locals, is lined with large beautiful samaan and poui trees. Originally part of the St. Ann’s Sugar Estate, the Savannah, now owned by the state, is Port of Spain’s main outdoor recreational park. On weekends and week day afternoons, the Savannah comes to life and is the destination for sports enthusiasts, health fanatics, joggers, family picnics, strolling couples and persons seeking to indulge in the sumptuous local street food served by vendors.
the absolute strangest part of Straight Culture™ is the widespread idea that men and women can’t be friends and it’s so offensive to me?? like this idea that a man can’t possibly enjoy a woman’s company unless they’re Banging and Romancing is not only grossly heteronormative, it’s also quite frankly misogynist and i for one am extremely tired
I’ve seen posts about shit going on, but I have no idea what it is, so either I’m not following anyone involved, or I’m completely obtuse (either is possible).
someone cued me in or I wouldn’t have known. it’s no use getting into it and it’s largely over now
Tagged by the beautiful and vivacious @pandoranora thanks for tagging me!
High School Senior Year
It’s your SENIOR year of high school! The longer ago it was, the more fun the answers will be!
Class of 1992
1. Did you know your significant other? Yes, we were in a long distance relationship
2. Did you carpool? No, I took the bus to school
3. What kind of car did you have? None.
4. It’s Friday night where did you go? Gosh it was really random. Anywhere and everywhere in the city
5. What kind of job did you have? None
6. Were you a party animal? Yes
7. Were you considered popular? Well it wasn’t hard, my class had 36 kids
8. Were you in band or choir? No… drama
9. Were you a nerd? I was known for being smart, nerd not sure
10. Did you get suspended or expelled? Yeah I got suspended my senior year… I think we all took a skip day
11. Can you sing the fight song? We had a fight song?
12. Where did you go to lunch? The cafeteria
13. Where did you go to high school? Escuela Campo Alegre, Caracas, Venezuela
14. What was your mascot? Panther
15. Did you have fun at prom? It was alright. My date ran off with someone else but that was ok we were just friends, she was sleeping with him. It’s a boring story
17. Do you still talk to the person you went to prom with? Not really. We’re friends on facebook but he turned into a weird performance artist and goes by another name now.
18. Are you planning on going to your reunion? There’s been a few. I want nothing to do with them.
19. Are you still in contact with people from high school? A lot of my class on facebook. But actively in touch? Maybe about five or so..
20. Did you skip school? yeah a few times
21. How old were you when you graduated? 19. I repeated 7th grade. Long story.
This has been a great season. I was worried. With the move to Channel 4 and with Mary Berry, Mel Giedroyc, and Sue Perkins leaving I was wondering how things would go. But … Noel Fielding, you can’t go wrong with Noel. His chemistry with Paul is great.
Yes I was also concerned about the change, but they have somehow managed to replicate the charm and the chemistry of the previous version of the show and I can honestly say there’s nothing about it that I don’t love. I also really like the cast. I’m rooting for Liam!
Drove out of UpMarket to discover I have a flat. Same place as last time (new tyre). What the fuck? I haven’t had a flat in a bazillion years and then I get two in like two months? What the FUCK man
A former Project Runway winner is standing two feet away from my table and I am doing my best psychically lure her over here but she is engrossed in a conversation with the people opposite my table.
Our parents are friends but we don’t know each other.
I’d love her to wear one of my pieces. She has amazing style.
I ran into the mom and sister of a guy I used to be close friends with about a decade ago.
We drifted apart a long time ago but I was once a fixture at their home.
He passed away suddenly a few months ago.
I asked them how they were doing and they both smiled brightly and said, “Fine!”
But there was an undercurrent of “please don’t ask us about it” in their energy. So I didn’t.
I get it. After my father passed away I didn’t want to talk about it either.
People mean well and want to express their condolences but it is such a massive life event that you cannot seem to get away from it.
I appreciated most the people who would simply ask me how I was doing. If I didn’t mention it they took my cue and didn’t bring it up. It was such a relief to stop talking about it.
So they steered the conversation in the direction of my jewelry and I followed. It was bittersweet to see them but they seem to be doing ok. Blessings.
soulsistrin 