It's what's inside that counts, even though what's outside is beautiful.

Everyone has hang ups, of every kind. Like for example I think my size 10/12, small breasted figure isn’t anything special, but I know many people that would die for it. What’s the most important though is the personality within that size 6/8/10/12/14/16/18/20/22 (whatever) figure. Again I’m not perfect, my mood swings could, figuratively speaking go from England to Australia. But this isn’t about me, this is about, how everyone in their own way is perfect.

Our personalities will always shine through, as long as we let them, we are amazing. We smile when we’re happy, we cry when we’re sad. Everything that we do we choose to do! Every bit of this is optional and we should choose it.

 No matter what anyone thinks, they are perfect. The only reason someone would perceive themselves as anything less is an attitude thing. Stupid diets and endless moaning won’t get anyone anywhere until they believe that they are beautiful and they can do anything they want to do.

Men are not an appropriate judge for this kind of thing. So why do we judge ourselves so well on what men think about this kind of thing? If they’re drunk, they go for anything with a pulse. If they’re not they hide behind the shallow comments and narrow thinking that they share with their friends. I don’t know why we feel the need to make ourselves into something we’re not for something that we don’t need.

The most amazing thing in life is not the men, it’s the love we share with our friends, the hope we invest in our friendships and we should spend every moment of our life laughing and crying in the arms of the people that love us unconditionally. Sure some of them come and go, but if they choose to go then they are not worth it, they are not worth you and they are not worth anything.

Whether someone is four minutes away or four hundred miles, you can always remember the time you spent dancing, crying and laughing. Those meaningful 3am phone calls, the films (scary or not), the private jokes, the stupid dancing to songs from films, the pizzas, the Lambrini and the endless fashion shows and outfit stresses.

Happiness is optional; it’s something we choose, not something we receive. If we want to be happy we should be. And why not be when we have so much going for us. Embrace new experiences, smile and never forget how amazing you are. 

Alcohol

Oooh, touchy subject. Personally I'm a fan. But I also have ridiculously strong opinions on it. Like everything I guess I'm very divided. 


The point I would like to start on is pressure. Pressure to drink alcohol. Under the influence, everything seems a lot more fun. Temptation is rife and it is almost always taken up on. Many affairs are started under the influence, a one night stand is almost unheard of without alcohol, and friends are made with it. 


I go to university and I would not have made the friends I did without alcohol, well I would of but it would have taken longer. For example we all had to do the, 'Hi, I'm Katie, I live in B block', thing but we didn't really talk to anyone outside our flat until pre-drinks and although I ended up friends with these people outside of alcohol, it sure got there a hell of a lot quicker with alcohol. For example I opened up about a few bits of my life to the girls, that I now constitute as 'my girls', after about four hours and that's no exaggeration. 


I have a friend, who decided to go sober in order to go on a diet, and she did it, and she still managed to have fun. She got to laugh at everyone who was drunk and she got to relate all the stories the next day. In fact one night I joined her sober, and apart from the awkward dancing and the realisation of how your friends act when drunk it really was fun. Alcohol isn't needed to have fun. 


Of course I didn't choose to stay sober for the last nights of term (neither for that matter did she) but it influenced many of my decisions (going to an 'after party' with a dj, finding the pulling of a letterbox off a wall absolutely hilarious and giving some random boy my number), I like to think these things would have happened anyway but who knows.. 


Another note on alcohol is that it does generally calm you down. It's good for nerves. But I guess this is on the right person. For example I was getting ready for a date recently and I was extremely nervous so my friend practically shoved a glass of Baileys down my throat, and after a while it began to sink in and I really did become a little more comfortable. 


The reason I'm writing this post though, is because apparently going sober is 'boring'. I personally disagree, I don't think that going sober is boring, I mean just because I'm not chatting up every guy, ditching my friends, making friends with people I don't know/ don't like, doesn't mean I'm not boring. Surely conversation is enough. Recently I went on a night out with almost all of my uni lot and I think between the thirteen of us I think we consumed about seven alcoholic drinks and I think that was the most fin I'd had in ages. We attended a pub quiz and we were practically rolling around in laughter at everything. 


You do NOT need alcohol to have fun. This is my strong belief, and if you do you must be a REALLY boring person.  

This song.

I feel like this song says a lot of words for a lot of people. It's context changes for everyone who listens. 


I was introduced to it by the person I work with, she's been through more shit in her life than you could see on Eastenders, but she still looks at it in a way which is different to me. 


I guess her being cynical and me being a hopeless romantic changes our views. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1OfsZyYPLoI

Happiness.

Happy

adj. hap·pi·er, hap·pi·est

1. Characterized by good luck; fortunate.

2. Enjoying, showing, or marked by pleasure, satisfaction, or joy.

3. Being especially well-adapted; felicitous: a happy turn of phrase.

4. Cheerful; willing: happy to help.

5.

a. Characterized by a spontaneous or obsessive inclination to use something. Often used in combination: trigger-happy.

b. Enthusiastic about or involved with to a disproportionate degree. Often used in combination: money-happy; clothes-happy.

This is the dictionary definition of happy. But what does happy actually mean. When are we really happy? Many people would say happy is something which is achievable only by ones self. Having dreams and wants are what makes happy. For we achieve what we want from life which causes us to be happy.

For example, I'm happy because I've made amazing friendships with amazing people. I'm happy because I have a goal in life and I'm in pursuit of it. I'm happy because everything I've done in life so far has been good. I have no regrets. Because regrets are not worthy of mention.

Being happy is normally a choice that you can make happen. For example my brothers and father support Tottenham so are happy when they win (which admittedly is hardly ever), my mother enjoys her job so she is happy when at work, my grandmother loves me and my brother so she's happy when we are with her and my auntie and uncle love walking and exploring England, so they are happy when they're walking in the Yorkshire Dales. This happiness is what everyone craves.

I'm happy when I'm at work, chatting with the customers, when I'm campaigning or talking politics with my chosen political party, when I'm studying the law or sociological theories, when I'm drinking with my uni friends or simply just chatting with any friends.

Happiness, like the quest for the one, is in the path of the beholder. It can only be what we make it. What we want it to be. We can only be happy if we make the most of what we are given.

I'm not completely pleased with this post but I'm going to leave you with the thought for now.

Harry Potter.

Sorry, but it had to be done. 

You just can't hide these things for long and now I've decided I quite like blogging, I figured I should rant about my favourite thing ever. Now don't get me wrong, I am definitely not the camp outside the store on the day of the release type, but I am the 'I can read all the books within two days' type. 

I actually started off with reading the second one first. Just the way I was given them, I have a memory of getting the third one on my brothers birthday and sitting in the corner of his party just reading it in the corner. I was soon hooked and as a quick reader I was all over it within hours. The last one was released the day before I went on a massive guide camp with my guiding unit. Of course, I'd read, so had very few others but many had not. There was a ban on discussing it and I'm one of the 'must analyse as much as possible' types. So it was torture. I put as much effort as possible into putting pressure on my closest friends into finishing it. 


In my imagination, I had all these characters conjured up, the films completely lived up to my expectations in the pictures. The films themselves get mixed reviews from me, I love them because they are Harry Potter films. However I came out of the sixth film feeling incredibly disappointed, this was true for many people from the look of reviews. I still grew to love it though when I started to study it in my media studies A level, it was inevitable anyway, considering my mild obsession.

Whenever I think of my childhood I conjure up images of Harry Potter and magic and Hogwarts. When I was in primary school, I used to play Harry Potter, I was always Ginny and me and my friends made things like wands, brooms and trunks etc. We really were so cool. 

Now, I must go watch the first half of the seventh with my little brothers. I'm sure this will be one of my never finished posts...

Mothers Day.

It's' okay, I haven't gone crazy, I'm perfectly aware that mothers day has been and gone this year. 


Also, I just have to promise that this whole blog is not going to be me moaning about men. Just this post. And my brothers.

I returned home from uni for Easter this weekend to see only one card on our side. One card. Four children. One card. Now forgive me, but this doesn't make sense in my head.. At all.


This one card was obviously from me, taking pride of place in the middle of the mantelpiece. My pathetic 'Ha-pea Mothers Day Card' complete with a mother and daughter pea.

(now it wasn't this one, but I couldn't find the one it was)

So obviously if I'd realised I would be the only child giving a card, I'd have got a nicer one, maybe more dramatic, prettier and more expensive (only to make them look even worse of course).

Now I'm sure you've probably guessed my brothers are all teenage boys. The only reason they've ever bought cards before is because I've either forced them to or they've signed mine. They had managed between them to buy chocolate and flowers (after prompting from me and my father of course) which she said she was perfectly happy with. But still, how much effort does it take to walk to the shop (where two of them essentially work) and buy a card for £1.50, write it and give it to her? 

I get the feeling from now on I'm going to be buying four cards and sending three unsigned.

The 'one'.

So, my flatmate/bestfriend/confidante has entered a quest. A quest to find the 'one'. Now I don't think he's taking it overly seriously seeing as every girl he walks past could be the 'one'. In fact I rang him the other day and he said 'ooh, I think the ones are walking past'. Now forgive my pessimism but with this attitude and his general approach to women (and I mean- 'Hey dude, the blonde one over there, out of ten?' -'She's stacked, maybe an eight') I don't think he'll be finding the 'one' any time soon.


The point in this blog though, for me was to analyse the 'one'. Now I am a hopeless romantic, I make no secret of it and I full on believe in the one. And you can call me sceptical but surely you shouldn't look for the one. Surely if it was meant to be, it will be. They will fall naturally in to your life's path. Fate! Or not...?


I can see where my flatmates coming from, a few weeks ago I took a shower, returning to find my facebook chat box up to him, he's written me a little monologue about how he's failed over some girl, because and I would like to be very clear here HE was too lazy to get up off his bum and go and visit her. Never mind the pretty much guaranteed sex which would normally drive anyone with an xy chromosome, he was too lazy to leave the comfort of our halls to walk to see her. So after some dramatic talk about how he feels like an idiot and what could've been, he decides to watch Dear John (no, I'm not joking- we went on to analyse it the next day)  and searching for ice-cream, he decided to find the 'one'.


This is the beginning of my contemplation. I mean he is quite clearly wounded and in need of some kind of rebound sex, just some fit girl who can make up for it. But no, he's decided he needs to find the 'one'. The last time I checked, he was twenty, moderately attractive and not short of attention from the ladies but now he's clinging on to anyone he sees and making them into things they are not. Sound familiar girls? 


I've had my fair share of male attention, there's the first crush, the unrequited love (both ways), the first boyfriend, the rebound, the one you will never quite be over, the weird dates and the infatuations. I could go on. But I've never felt any need to meet the 'one' yet. Of course I've planned it all, the wedding (in my local arboretum- in case you're interested), the honeymoon (Australia), the house(Central London till we have children then Warwick afterwards) and the children (Oliver, Bella and Rose).


Every guy who I'm with gets this treatment, a run through in my mind. I'd never say it out loud, and of course they always fit, I'll adapt them. Our plans in life are very flexible- we plan things but we will change them to fit the course of our lives. I mean that up there isn't my plan, not really- I bet none of those things will happen, but what can I do without dreaming. 


But back to the 'one', I mean when you meet the 'one', how do you know you've met the 'one'. During that time you're so caught up in the moment that you can't bear to think of being with anyone else. The thought of being single and having a night at home with a meal for one and a film fills you with dread. So surely you're with the one? 


The 'one' seems to be a very subjective concept. I have friends who I think are perfect for each other, and they may well have found the one, but maybe in ten years I'll look back at this and think who was I even writing about. It's a broad term, hard to pin point.


But for now I'm going to stop writing and wish you all the luck in finding the 'one'.