Tag Archives: boys

Please, Stop Talking

I know I said I wouldn’t talk about boys but listen: I have no choice, I have to or else, there’s simply no way for me to articulate what I have to say, I apologise.

Let me first state the obvious: we are all entitled to an opinion. Whether we are asked to vocalise it is one thing but we all think things, there’s nothing anyone can do about that. What pisses me off is being on the receiving end of these completely unwarranted opinions and then having to receive the backlash of not agreeing with said person’s opinion.

Now, back to our regular scheduled programme.

There is an individual in my class who has taken an acute interest in my outward appearance and it’s grinding my gears. Really, really, grinding. I’m really over this notion that a woman can only wear makeup or decide to put an effort into her outfit or whatever and it automatically has to be for “the man”. If I say it is, then it is. If I don’t, who the hell do you think you are assuming it’s all for you?

It first started with a few hit and miss comments here and there like “Oh, who have you dressed up for then?” and “You look really pretty today, what’s happening?” Not only were these little sayings utterly unwarranted, they were backhanded as hell. So every other day, I look like trash or? Pardon? Then came the one that really just sent me over the cliff. Wait for it:

“If you wore makeup everyday, you would be perfect.”

Now, let’s take a moment to consolidate what this statement actually means, let’s break it all the way down. Let’s delve into the mind of this utterly filterless, brainless, sack of idiocy and try and decipher what this one-liner meant:

Your God-given, natural, bare face is inadequate for me to even consider finding you attractive (or looking at you or dating you, I have no bloody clue) and I have decided that it is makeup and makeup alone that can solve this conundrum. You have to look appealing to me at all times, so do it. Now.

Ladies and gentlemen, are you shaking your heads with me right now? Believe me when I say I didn’t take this comment lying down, oh no. It would have been a disservice to womanhood if I let such a thing come out of his mouth and leave it unchecked. But what gets to me above all of this is simply the fact that he didn’t get where he was wrong. He didn’t get that he couldn’t say stuff like that to me or to anyone and think it was okay.

This issue of male entitlement, I don’t think it can ever be solved. I think it’s a neurological thing, a difference in brain chemistry because it’s too damn common to just be down to conceitedness. I don’t understand how every little showcase of self-love has to be attributed to me wanting to please a member of the opposite sex. That’s not all I am, that’s not the entirety of what women are here to do. There are a gazillion and one intricacies that make me up but for some reason, a boy just wants to see it all as me wanting to impress him?

Here’s the big question: why do you feel this is so? Do you pay my rent or do you buy my groceries? Do you stay up all night and memorise chemistry mechanisms for me? Do you even care about my wellbeing, physically or even mentally? Are we emotionally invested in each other? Do you have anything to do with me besides sitting in the same classroom as me? Yet you just want to think every little iota of my appearance is based on warding off or attracting attention from the likes of you. You want to reduce me into nothing more but a billboard on legs, because that’s all it is, right? Give me a break.

I keep saying this and I will always say it: ladies, do you. I can’t stress this enough. Nobody can govern you, no one can police you. I know the privilege of self-expression isn’t as easy for some as it is for others but one day, I hope and pray, that a world will exist where women can do whatever the hell they want without having to explain or justify themselves. Until then, crush comments like the ones I’ve mentioned above and just generally tell people to shut up.

Love, your highly irritated friend,

Georgina ❤

Songs of The Week

Just One Resolution

I haven’t felt inclined to write for a long time. I could lie and say I’ve had too much to do but besides studying, I really don’t do much and even the amount of studying I do is debatable. I have tried though. I can’t count the number of times I’ve sat on my bed, my legs crossed, my lights low and my eyes glued on a blank document, the cursor blinking at me, patiently waiting for me to do something but I couldn’t. No one asked why I hadn’t posted anything and I was surprisingly grateful for that too. It’s pressure and pressure leads to me writing absolute crap. I know, you don’t have to say it.

But here we are, in 2016 and I’m doing this. Happy New Year, everyone.

I don’t have any resolutions. Well, I had one but I think I’ve seen the light and realised how truly idiotic it was. I’m turning 20 in approximately 5 months. The actualisation of this only just sunk in about 3 weeks ago. And as expected, I freaked the fuck out. In my mind, I have, or better yet, had a timeline of how I wanted my life to pan out. I’m a semi-existentialist; I like to think I have some control over my destiny. On my timeline, around this time, I wanted to be able to drive, be living away from home, fully settled into university, be encapsulated by a self-confidence that could shatter concrete and of course, be in love. And when I consolidated what I had anticipated for myself and what I actually am, the big jigsaw puzzle that was missing really sent me into panic mode. I started thinking I was broken, like there was something wrong with me and I vowed to myself that by the 6th of May, I would be in something that resembled a relationship, by fire, by force. The people who I told this to all said the same thing: “what’s the big deal?” and it exasperated me that they couldn’t see what I was seeing. But the fact that they didn’t see what was so monumental about being 20 and single made me re-evaluate everything too and I came up with this new resolution: I won’t babble about singledom anymore. I won’t talk about boys anymore, I won’t cry about how “lonely” I feel or how “jealous” I am at the blossoming relationships around me. I’ll wait but I won’t sit and wait and I don’t want this blog to sit either.

So, with that being said, prepare to be introduced to a different side of me, I suppose. I want to try all kinds of things on here, I want to write stories, I want to collaborate, if I can teach Mandarin on here, I swear I will. I want to try new things, I want to continuously remind myself that a world exists outside the realm of boys and relationships that I’ve so tightly wound myself up in. This will be my little experiment. I will be consistent and I will post once a week, I promise. I just want to be open here, I want to grow and let you all see. I’m excited about this, I really am.

Oh and this is the year where I will edit wisely and justify my text before publishing because having it all aligned to the left is a mess.

Alrighty, see you next week!

Georgina ❤

Songs of the Week (it’s been a while)

Hypothetically Speaking

Guys, I have a friend who’s been gracious enough to allow me to share her “story” on here. And no, this friend is not me, surely. I recall the conversation pretty well so I’ll try this in a transcriptional format. Shall we?

“So, what happened?”
“There’s this guy.”
“It’s always a guy.”
“And we barely know each other. I think we’ve spoken two times in a year.”
“Okay…?”
“And yesterday, I was almost falling asleep in the student union when he comes over and we start talking about all sorts of stuff.”
“Yeah…”
“He then asks for my number and asks if I’m doing anything on Thursday.”
“Surely, you told him you were busy.”
Now, you tell me.”
“Uh oh.”
“Thursday comes around and he texts me asking if it was okay for him to come and I was all like ‘sure, see you at 6’ or whatever. In my head, there were no warning bells going off, no feelings of apprehension. I mean, it seemed harmless this whole time.”
“Oh gosh.”
“So 6pm rolls around and he comes up to my room.”
And?”
“We didn’t last 30 minutes.”
“You’re joking.”
“I wish.”
“Did you…?”
No. I just couldn’t let it get that far.”
“But, pretty much everything that would build up to that point happened?”
“Yes. Don’t look at me like that.”
“You barely knew this guy.”
“I know. I don’t know what the hell happened. It just happened.”
“So after it all?”
“I didn’t feel any type of way, at all.”
“What do you mean? You didn’t feel devoid or overwhelmed? Nothing?”
“Not a single thing. I tried to think about it, about what it meant and I couldn’t think of anything. I couldn’t feel anything.”
“That’s so weird.”
“I know right? I just hooked up with a guy I hardly knew and I felt nothing.”
“Girl.”
Stop.”
“Think it’ll happen again?”
“I don’t think I could handle it. We both said it wouldn’t. The feeling of feeling nothing in itself wasn’t pleasant, I don’t want to push it.”
“Putting all this emotional turmoil aside, how was it?”
“Ah-may-zing.”

 

There was no way I could have this experience in my mind, whether it was mine or not, and not come up with some form of diagnosis to her lack of feelings towards it all. It would be cruel and unnecessarily nasty to not try to solve the mystery of no feelings when the individual going through this situation swims in a pool of feelings on a daily basis. This person can form an emotional connection to someone she’s never met, it’s almost on a spiritual level. So how does all that just vanish? How?

Honestly, I think it was a defence mechanism. Deep down, she knew the whole encounter didn’t mean anything past the physical level. Subsequently, her mind just decided to not waste valuable electrical impulses on creating a bottomless abyss of wallowing turmoil when she could be doing something much more productive. I don’t think she did anything wrong, hook-ups are hook-ups, they happen and that’s all there is to it. You can’t marry every person you’re attracted to on a primal level but if the opportunity arises to channel this energy into something beneficial for the both of you, why the hell not go for it?

I know the real thing she’s battling with is trying to justify it to herself and then to other people. Sometimes, our own rationale just decides to shrivel up and die and so we’re left with a great big question mark hanging over this very new and very grey area that we’ve newly been inducted into. I shouldn’t have an opinion about this but I do, can’t help myself. It’s just interesting to me. Just being hypothetical and empathetic, you know?

My week in comparison seemed incredibly dull: it’s just been a whirl of lectures and Pinyin translations. I got invited to a prayer meeting and I’m going. I need all the prayer I can get.

Georgina ❤

Song of the Week

Flirting With The Eyes

I’m sorry for my flakiness with this blog lately. I made an oath to post every week and I will keep trying my hardest to keep that oath. I’m just swamped in exam revision which is sucking me dry of creative juices. Don’t tell me that sounds dirty. Bear with me, please and thank you.

The 15th of April was the hottest day of the year (for the UK) so far. It was around 26 degrees and it was lovely and naturally, my skin had to breathe so I dressed down. I wasn’t naked, my chesticles weren’t in anyone’s face but I felt pretty so it must have exuded from me. That’s my big word for today – exude.

And here, we can see Georgina unashamedly seizing the moment to post a selfie in her post because, as you can see, she was indeed feeling herself that day.

And here, we see Georgina unashamedly seizing the moment to slip a selfie in her post because, obviously, she was indeed feeling herself that day.

I got on the train and I was minding my business, reading Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie which is going so well, listening to Deathcamp by Tyler, The Creator which is also amazing and I noticed this man. He was not my type at all. Well, I can’t really say that because I don’t truly have a type. I thought I did but opinions change, growth happens, eyes open. But, I wasn’t attracted to him, let me just say that. But, like I said, I paid him no mind. I couldn’t have even heard him with my headphones in so if he was confessing his love for me, I would have missed it. The train was rolling in to my stop so I got up and walked to the train doors to wait and this man got there before me and he was on the side of the doors with the buttons so me exiting the train was down to him pressing them anyway. Train stops, he presses the button and I get off the train. I’m standing on the platform, looking at the departure board for my next train and as I look away from it, the man is staring at me as he walks away. He’s not looking at me in a stalker, I-will-kill-you way but in a I-see-you way, in a damn-you-could-get-it way. Now, I’m a bit of a jumpy person, I cannot be helped. The time between me looking away from the departure boards and me acknowledging this man looking at me was half a second and he was quite close to me, not in my bubble but close so I did a little leap accompanied by a little yelp, a quiet yelp so he probably didn’t hear. And you know what he did? He chuckled at me and walked down the platform, looked at me one more time, got on his train and waved goodbye to me.

The whole thing was endearing but I want to break down the mental chemistry of what goes on in my mind when a member of the opposite sex gives me the eye. Just me, I can’t speak for every woman in cases like this, to avoid stereotyping, I don’t want trouble.

On one hand, I am losing my mind with self-pride. My thought process is simply “YES, YOU’VE STILL GOT IT. SLAY THESE BISHES.” It’s a confidence booster, I can’t lie. I’m that person that can live off my own confidence but silently craves assurance from other people. I won’t beg for compliments but I really want them. Even if the person looking at me isn’t someone I would go for, it still gives me a sense that not all hope is lost, you know what I mean? I feel desirable, I feel sensuous, I feel womanly. Is it sad that a simple look of interest can evoke feelings like this in me? Possibly. Am I ashamed to own up to it? Not in the slightest.

On the other hand, I’m also losing my mind with how socially unjust it is. Hear me out. My thought process is “AM I JUST A PIECE OF MEAT TO YOU? DO I LOOK EASY? IS IT BECAUSE I HAVE THE MOST GRABBABLE PAIR OF MELONS YOU’VE SEEN TODAY OR BECAUSE MY ASS FILLS OUT MY JEANS AND MY THIGHS HAVE NO INKLING OF A GAP BETWEEN THEM, IS THAT WHY YOU’RE LOOKING AT ME, WONDERING WHAT MY MOUTH DOES, WONDERING WHAT I LOOK LIKE UNDER THESE ITEMS OF CLOTHING, WONDERING WHAT I’D LOOK LIKE SPRAWLED OUT NAKED ON YOUR BED? IS THAT ALL I AM TO YOU?”

It’s all very conflicting. It’s incredibly gratifying yet totally unwanted all at once. I want to be the object of someone’s desire but I don’t want to be this object that is only meant to be lusted over. I want to be more than a thought that generates arousal for you. I want to be approached, who the hell doesn’t? I’m not about to die alone. It could be anything: you can slide up in my DMs, you can smile at me, you can do anything. Just don’t look at me as if you’ve already conquered me in the bedroom of your imagination.

But yeah, that’s just how it is for me. I’m a hot mess but a mess nonetheless.

Album of the Week: Tyler, The Creator isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, I know. He’s loud as hell and he says “fuck” as many times as I say “like” when I’m trying to explain something. But his music is good, I can’t say why I like his stuff, I just do. He’s grown so much from the Goblin era. He’s calmer, his music is a lot less angry. Give Cherry Bomb a try.

Georgina ❤

P.S. I made a Facebook, a bit late, I know but I’m trying to make a page for the blog but I want to make it all pretty so when it’s ready to be liked, I shall let you know. And you better like it, or I’ll kick your asses.

A Case of the Blues

I know I said I wouldn’t let Valentine’s Day get to me and I know I said I was a very single Pringle who was oh so ready to mingle (that still stands, gentlemen) and even though I am a kickass individual with a titanium outer shell, I’m still a cotton candy flavoured ball of fluff in the middle. I saw one too many flower bouquets and I almost exploded.

So as you all know, I suffer heavily from a bad case of judgetitis and well, I did something pretty shitty on Sunday. My friends and I were leaving the cinema, we had just finished watching Fifty Shades of Grey (a little disappointing but that’s what happens when you try to turn a crappy book into a decent film, it reeks of mediocrity no matter how hard you try. Soundtrack was good though) and I noticed this couple on the escalator heading out. They couldn’t have been much older than me. It was the lady who caught my eye. She was short and stout and she knew she was womanly, you know? She carried her body with pride, she rocked her flesh. She had a buxom like I had never seen before, she had a little blue turban on her head, killer weave underneath and her makeup looked good. In hindsight, she did actually look good. As she was walking away with her date, I just looked at her and I said out loud “if that’s her boyfriend, there’s hope for me then.” One of my girlfriend’s looked at me like I had just sworn at her and I might as well have. I couldn’t stop thinking about that girl and as I was walking home and I concluded that I am a confused little mess.

Absolutely no shade to thin girls but I would rather have thunder thighs than a thigh gap on any day. I admire big women, I admire their courage, their confidence, their ability to stay true to themselves and to their God-given voluptuousness when the world is cramming this seemingly desirable archetype of a body down our throats. Curves are works of art, they are beautiful, defined lines on a woman, lumps and bumps everywhere that carve us out from skin and bone. I’m not a size two and I am proud of that.

So why was I such a bitch on Sunday when I saw that woman?

Because I’m a jealous old cow.

I don’t feel overjoyed seeing couples, everyone knows this. I’m one of those “if I can’t be happy, no one can!” people but for theatrical reasons. I am wanting, okay? “So why don’t you put yourself out there?” you say. Well, I see it as how do you put yourself out there when there isn’t really anything to put yourself out there to? Do you get what I mean?

I think this is just a prolonged case of the blues weighing down on me. Writing is therapeutic for me and it’s even better knowing you are reading this, having an emotional response to this.

I guess, when I saw that lady, I mentally did a comparison as to what she could offer and I could offer and I couldn’t quite understand how she had done it. You know when you see people you know in relationships and you’re just thinking, “hold up, you were more than single 6 months ago, how the f*ck did you move so fast?”

I’ve been seeing it a lot lately and it leaves me utterly flabbergasted. I don’t get it, am I the only one? Is there some club everyone is joining that guarantees you will find a boyfriend?

I guess it’s down to experience. I’ve never been in a relationship with someone I’ve met here in the UK. Born and bred Nigerian boys all the way. I think there’s just something about Nigerian boys who were born and brought up here that literally repels me, maybe its’s the lack of awareness? I feel like there’s an actual brick wall between me and them whenever we try and converse, absolutely nothing is being assimilated. Sigh, the drought is real.

Anyways, about that lady: it was a bitch move on my part and if she ever reads this, I apologise for oogling at you like that. I don’t want your boyfriend (y’all looked cute though), I was just amazed at how you’d found him, that’s all.

Did any of this make sense by the way?

Quote of the Week: “Still finding myself, let alone a soulmate.” – Drake

Song of the Week: Jungle – Drake https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0lKH5dMNcq0

Drake’s got me all in my feelings, as you can tell.

Georgina ❤

Valentine’s Day

This is the first time in a long time that I haven’t even thought about giving a shit about Valentine’s Day. I’m not upset about me being a very single Pringle who is oh so ready to mingle (hey fellas), I’m not fussed about what other people are doing or their nauseating public displays of affection; all I’m hyped about are 2 things – I’m finally going to watch Fifty Shades of Grey that weekend AND the fact that I’m going to binge-play Sims for several hours. The simple things make me happy.

But, in the spirit of the season, I’m feeling nostalgic so I want to talk about the 2 times I actually received an actual gift on Valentine’s Day.

I think the first time, I was 14 or so. There was this guy in my class and it was practically an open secret that he had a thing for me but as always, I was in heavy denial. Let’s call him Dave. So, Dave was a sweet guy, actually. It’s always the sweet ones, right? He was tall and he always kept his hair low, socks white and his uniform neat. He had a chip in one of his front teeth but it wasn’t deforming. He had such a scruffy voice, not like a roadman but it was just deeper than what you’d expect if you saw him.

Anyway, Valentine’s Day rolls around, I’m sitting at my desk and he walks towards me with a bag and he says “happy Valentine’s day” and walks off. All his boys were outside, hailing him, as follows.

Can we appreciate Joe Biden losing it for a second?

Can we appreciate Joe Biden losing it for a second?

Then, all my girlfriends surround me and they’re screaming “open it, open it” and we see that he’s only gone and bought me a gazillion things:
A watch (it wasn’t the best watch but it was still a watch!)
2 novels (they were both romance novels, one was a bit more erotic than the other)
A bundle of sweets and chocolates
A card

I had never felt so bad in my life, simply because I didn’t feel like I deserved the gifts at all, I didn’t even like him romantically and he had gone and spent a small fortune on me. I couldn’t give them back either because I think that’s just awful: it’s even worse than not accepting a gift in the first place. So, I thanked him as best as I could but boy, things were awkward between me and him after that day. I haven’t spoken to him since I’d left the school. If you’re reading this, I’m sorry. We just weren’t meant to be.

The second occasion, I was 15, methinks.

This time, I was actually in a “relationship”. I don’t even think the situation was worthy enough to be called a relationship, honestly. I mean, we were 15 and we didn’t do what conventional 15-year old boyfriends and girlfriends did at the time (not now, kids are crazy now). We never even kissed in our whole 2 month long “fling”. We used to spend each and every lunch break in this treehouse, trying and seriously failing to make any conversation, I remember hinting so badly for him to freaking kiss me but he never did. We broke up via MSN. I remember him writing the date of when he asked me out and the date of that day like it was a funeral. That day was the 22nd of May, don’t ask me why I remember that. I know he’s reading this, aren’t you glad we didn’t prolong our situationship? It was a hot ass mess from the get-go anyway.

He got me this heart-shaped pillow that I think he doused in his perfume because it was like having him in my room, I could smell him all the damn time. Oh, and a box of Ferrero Rocher chocolates which I ate whole-heartedly.

From then until now, I’ve either been single or gotten myself a boyfriend after Valentine’s Day. I think the whole idea of the day is cute but simultaneously stupid. You shouldn’t have to wait for one day of the year to be romantic with your significant other, it should be a routine, don’t you think so? To all the couples who are going to go almost bankrupt in an attempt to impress a bunch of people who don’t know/like you, have fun. To all the sensible couples, please teach these fools. Last but not least, to all the couples who are determined to share every second of you and your boo getting all funky that day, we’re all looking at you like so:

Song of the Week: How Bout Now – Drake https://soundcloud.com/mrbusiness-3/how-about-now-drake

Quote of the Week: It has to be Tweets of the Week this time, I stayed up until 1am on Sunday as the Grammy’s were on and I was screaming with laughter.

Georgina ❤

If I Were A What?

I have an exam on Friday and now, university is really becoming real. I know what it’s like to sit in the library for 4 hours straight and read until your eyes feel sore. I know what it’s like to almost feel dependent on energy drinks (shout out to Red Bull, Monster and Relentless). I know what it’s like to not be able to sleep until 3 in the morning, knowing you have a deadline to meet and several topics to cover. I know how tempting and delighting it feels to want to binge watch The Walking Dead and How To Get Away With Murder, simply pushing your responsibilities out the window. I know what procrastination is. But hey, that’s life. Can I also point out that my university seems to be the only university in the whole world that is still open? Pray for me, for thou art this close to losing thou shit.

Anyway, that’s not what I’m here to talk about.

I was walking down one of the many stairwells in my university with my friend and out of the blue, she asked me if I had written this week’s blog post yet. The following transcript, more or less, sums up what came next:

A: “What would you do if you were a boy?”

G: “That’s so random, why would you ask me that?”

A: “That’s how I am, I’m random.”

G: “Well. I would bang my way through a bunch of girls. I’d have a million girls numbers saved on my phone as babe number 1, babe number 2…”

A: “Oh gosh.”

G: “Seriously.”

A: “That should be your blog post.”

Well, A, you got me thinking.

Before someone threatens to lynch me, I was JOKING. But then, I realised that I only said that because it’s a reality. A very possible and very real one. Too many boys like this exist, I can scream this from the rooftops and no one would bat an eyelid because it has been this way for, well, forever. It’s shitty, I know. Not all boys are like this, I’m aware of this but too many are like this. Do you know how many times I hear boys speculating over the body of a girl as she walks past? Or how many times, a fleet of boys turn their heads simultaneously as a girl walks by? I’m all for grabbing someone’s attention, I’m all for strutting what your mama gave you but what about personality? What about what she likes to do in her spare time, what her favourite colour is?

If I were a boy, I would be 6 feet tall (hopefully), I’d be that dark-skinned hunk that makes every single girl go weak at the knees. I’d be that guy because hello, who wouldn’t want to be that guy? But I wouldn’t ogle at girls (or at least, I’d try), I wouldn’t make you feel uncomfortable. I’d start conversations, I’d sit next to you or anyone who looked lonely and get to know you. I wouldn’t make you feel as if I wanted sex from you or was wondering how large your breasts were or how you looked naked, no. I would genuinely be interested in how your day went and how you were finding university and becoming your friend first. I wouldn’t make it my mission to nudge my boys as you walked by to make sure they were aware of how your ass moves as you walk. I might not even tell my boys about you because you’re not a conquest, you’re just a friend.

But then I remember that’s not going to happen because damn, who does that? I mean, I may be a boy but I’m not a freaking angel. I am Nigerian. It’s in the blood.

Why is Beyoncé the featured image? Why shouldn’t she be? Who doesn’t need to see Queen Bey grab her crotch? Hello?

tumblr_n9gbfjVQOE1tclcq4o1_500

On my course, I have zero guy friends. I say hi to two of them regularly-ish. One of them is so timid, I feel I might send him into cardiac arrest whenever I smile at him. The other is totally on to me (this isn’t even a matter of wishful thinking or paranoia. He is on to me. Ask anyone) and it is beyond obvious that a friendship cannot exist without it inevitably leading to undesirable territory. I want a guy friend, okay? In fact, no. I just want a friend who happened to be a male. Who was my age, who went to university with me, who didn’t see me as anything but a friend, who I could have intellectual conversations with and send ugly snapchats to without feeling I’d just made the biggest mistake of my life. Who could come to Starbucks with me and my friends or who I could go to wherever he wanted to go with his friends without there being this unspoken sexual tension hovering over our heads. I want. I am wanting, deeply.

I know people like this exist, platonic relationships exist. They cannot all be extinct, surely?

To my future boy bestie who will not eventually become the love of my life, this is my message to you: I will look for you, I will find you and I will befriend you.

 

Mini Rant of the Week: PERSONAL SPACE. I don’t think I can stress this vital aspect of life enough. We all have a bubble and this bubble is fundamental. This bubble protects us from ghastly scents of B.O, Ebola-laced coughs, dangerously motile dandruff and just helps us keep a hold on sanity. What really and truly pisses me off are members of society who walk right into my bubble when they have absolutely no reason for doing so. I’m standing at a platform and you come and walk within millimetres of my body when there is ample space for you to walk. What is the meaning of that? Can’t you see? Are you asking me to trip you up because it would be beyond a dream come true to extend my foot a few inches more and send you flying, it really would. Don’t invade the bubble. You’ve been warned.

Song of the Week: More like, album of the week. J. Cole’s “2014 Forest Hill Drive” was released last week and it’s really good. I’m loving how albums nowadays tell stories. It reminds me of Kendrick Lamar’s “Good Kid M.A.A.D City”, not production wise but progression wise. Everything gels. Preview it here, it’s gooood – https://itunes.apple.com/gb/album/2014-forest-hills-drive/id940845223

LION BABE – Jump Hi (Feat. Childish Gambino) it’s really really good too (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aHqsE2EOpJE)

Quote of the Week: “Don’t give ‘em too much you. Don’t let ‘em taint your soul.” – J. Cole

Georgina x

(P.S. 10 more days and it’s Jesus’ birthday, omg.)

(P.P.S. I got my second ear piercings on Thursday, am I a rebel or what?)