your humble narrator.
I feel like August was a roller-coaster month. The month went by so quickly, but also seemed to be a massive slog. Unusual during the summer that people typically never want to end, but I have never really been a summer person.
Good old British weather is having an identity crisis, one that I’d like it to fix if people would be so kind as to stop polluting the Earth. The heatwaves left me incapacitated and I seem to have done nothing but eat and spend money this month. Read more
If you haven’t read my previous post, go ahead and do that, because it’ll hopefully give you a good insight into the state of my brain at any given moment, firsthand. It may explain why I write the way I do (or, if you know me, act the way I do). You might be surprised. You might not be. You might have already diagnosed me. It’s 2025 and everyone’s autistic!
Back when I was a teenager spending as many free hours after school as possible carefully curating my Tumblr, I had this stupid Confucius quote seared into my brain a little more each time I created a new post (and, for an angsty teenaged youth, this was often).
“It does not matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop”
Inb4 anybody freaks out about the formatting (which I also hate): below is a stream of consciousness, my internal monologue as I was walking to the gym the other very dark morning. It’s so interesting to me that some people don’t have an internal monologue – but I suppose it is similar to me not being able to visualise anything in my head.
There are no breaks, no paragraphs, no clear new ideas (except the million ones condensed into one giant ball of everything my brain has ever contained). Everything is written exactly as it happened upon me, read it if you wish. Tell you more about it later. Enjoy.
A love letter to winter.
I gaily (but quietly, I hope) skipped down the stairs at 5:30am this morning. I put on my trainers, I filled up my water bottle. I fumbled around for my house key which, regrettably, is still only attached to one tiny keyring (Lego Voldemort) and slips away from my fingers much too easily, especially when I am wearing a glove.
My eyes flicked mechanically over to the CCTV screen (as it does prior to any time I leave the house, in case there’s a murderer waiting for me) and I immediately did a double take: I could only see a spectral wooosh of blurred white.
I walked back over to the window and peeled aside the netting to find that the street was covered in a thick blanket of fog. Nice, I thought. I checked myself – surely I should have recoiled? Surely I should be grimacing and clutching my chest and saying ‘what is this? I should be asleep. I can’t do it.’? But I wasn’t. There was no plea to return to the warm sanctity of my bed. There was simply alertness in my brain and elation in my heart: I was genuinely happy to be leaving the house. Whilst I have never been one to begrudge the dawn (I’ve always been an early bird, even when it’s dark), I sensed a change from the difficult mornings I had a few weeks ago as my body adjusted. I realised, in the gradual arrival of the end of the year, I had been factory reset to my default setting.
Every time you try to forget who I am, I’ll be right there to remind you again
I know. And yes I did mean this decade. And yes I am here again, a mere week after my last post. It’s pissing down outside, which makes it a fine day to rant.
We’re only halfway through February, we’ve barely grazed the new decade, and I feel like I’ve been hit in the face with a million lessons and gained another five years of life experience. I’m just hoping it doesn’t show on my face, so I’m frantically blurting it out onto a new post in the hope that it doesn’t settle into my fine lines.
Lesson number one, typing on a MacBook with long ass nails does not a good idea make.
Me, I’m your daddy.
Guys, I’m here to save your lives. It’s time to get psyched.
I mean, this is about helping you save your skin and your wallet at the same time. It’s about a face mask. A homemade face mask.
I’m not just raving about this because it’s cheap, even though it is in fact dirt cheap. I’ve gone through countless Lush masks (the fresh-faced ones), L’Oreal masks and Dr Organic masks. But none of them really work for me like this one, made entirely of things you should have in your kitchen already (if you’re brown, you will definitely have all these things).
Buckle up and sit tight, because I’m about to blow your mind. Here’s what you’ll need: